Disclaimer: Characters, plots and locations of the Riddick universe do not belong to me.
To Take a Few Days
Imam breathed a weary sigh, leaning back in his chair. He cradled his aching head in one hand while the other lay curled over the armrest. Just minutes ago Jack had been raging in her room, reminded of what Riddick had done to her when she received a news bulletin online which stated that Riddick was in fact not dead and was on the run once again.
Her harsh words echoed in his head and Imam shook his own head, wishing that Allah would calm her fiery soul. He could not blame her for her anger, but there had to be a balance that she could find. Or else a terrible fate would befall her. That was at least how Imam felt.
Now, in the safety of his library and the tranquil peace of the house returned to him, Imam could rest. His quiet words of prayer eased his headache and granted Jack some peace as well that did not involve silent sobbing or any other emotionally painful activity. He could only assume that she was plotting a way to run away or reading. He hoped for the latter.
Breathing in deeply, he sat up and pulled a leather bound journal towards him, a good deal of its pages worn. This was one of his few possessions that he had had before the crash. He had wisely sent it ahead of him, for his temple to keep safe until his arrival. It chronicled his life and he had figured at the time that if he were in cryo-sleep, he would be unable to write so why not send it ahead? He could write down his experiences later.
He had not expected those experiences to be so painful. Yet he documented them, for the world to know if it ever found the journal. But he was thankfully pass that part and was able to write down his nearly every day. Soon his pen scratching against the paper could be heard throughout the house, the only identifiable noise.
…not know what should be done with young Jack. She is restless and cannot find peace of mind. I fear for her future, as I have written many times before. I know it would be foolish of me to try to turn her to religion, for her faith in all things intangible was lost long ago. But I will continue in this path of adversity, she is a challenge Allah has presented me with and I find it not within me to back away.
But to better things, my ability to teach the young children of the religious school has spread far and over the next few weeks other teachers will be coming to Helion Prime to see me teach. I hope to stay constant in my teachings, for being under the critical eye of others will not be an easy task. Yet I find myself always as absorbed in the material as my students, so I do not fear that much. I wonder if I will meet any fellow instructors with such a past as mine…
"I have never seen students so entranced!" She exclaimed, adjusting her scarf. "My own do not pay attention as half as much as yours do."
"One's own students always seem half as great as another's," Imam replied, a smile on his face. This was the last instructor to visit him. He had never been so surprised when he had discovered that a woman had been waiting in his classroom. While it was not unusual, every other visitor had been male. He wondered if it was a sign from Allah.
"Wisely spoken, Imam." She smiled and he was caught unaware by her beauty. "Now tell me, do you know of a place I can stay for a night and find a good meal?"
Imam closed his eyes for a second and prayed that Allah would control Jack's heart.
"There are many unused rooms in my home and always plenty of food to go around. This is, of course, if you find this invitation appropriate." She laughed gently at his manners.
"I cannot thank you enough." For a moment, she breathed deeply and looked around.
"Lajjun, is there something a matter?" He glanced around, finding nothing out of the ordinary in the busy street.
"Nothing, I just marvel at how beautiful this city is. So, Imam, lead the way." She linked her arm through his and he pulled her through the crowds, every second hoping in his heart that Jack would welcome her into their home.
Far from what I predicted, Jack warmed up to Lajjun, who respected her fiery spirit. When they first met each other, I saw suspicion and caution in both of their gazes, yet in those few moments, there was silent acceptance. Jack did something that she had never done to any visitor.
She reached her hand out and shook Lajjun's hand, while saying,
"My name's Jack, what's yours?"
Lajjun was soon deeply befriended by young Jack, and often I think Lajjun told Jack stories and about customs and livings of other people all over the universe.
That and when Jack's hair finally grew, instead of pulling it back, she kept it down. When I asked she replied that Lajjun thought it made her prettier.
You have my eternal thanks, Allah, for this blessing.
"Jaja!" A delightful call echoed down the hallway and Imam looked through the open door of his library to see Jack sweep up little Ziza into her arms.
"You imp, how many times have I told you that my name is Jack?" Jack teased while tickling Ziza's stomach.
"Jaja! I have a secret!"
"Do you? Will you tell me?" Imam could not describe the happiness he felt when he saw a gentle delight in Jack's eyes and posture. Lajjun was a better blessing than he could have imagined.
"No!" Ziza stuck out her tongue and wiggled her way out of Jack's arms and to the floor. Getting up, she flew down the hall and Jack followed behind, her longer steps catching up with his daughter's. "It is a secret!" Ziza kept running, right out the front door.
"Ziza!" Jack called and in a few loping steps swooped her off her feet, cradling her protectively. For effect she glared at a few passer bys before returning back into the house, where Lajjun waited with a stern look.
"What did you think you were doing, Ziza!" Her mother exclaimed as Jack set her down. "You are blessed to have such a protector as she!" She gestured towards Jack, who clearly felt awkward in the situation.
"Lajjun," Jack had been glancing at the door. "I do not believe the problem is Ziza, but the door. Why was it open?"
Imam came from his library, surveying the scene and having a sinking feeling. This open door meant more than just his daughter skipping out into the street. Another door had opened in all of their lives and when he looked at Jack, the door was widest for her.
"Jaja," Jack looked down her leg to see Ziza, fisting her hands into her pants. "What will happen?"
"Nothing at all," she replied with ease, putting on a smile. "Come, what was that secret you had to tell me?" Jack led her away from the front room, one of her hands resting atop the girl's head.
"Imam…" Lajjun glanced at the open door before hurrying to it, closing it tightly shut. "Who would've done this?"
"I know not, but we will see," he hugged his wife tightly to his side.
It has been three weeks since Jack has left us, and I do not believe she will be returning. I could ask so much of Allah, to quiet her soul. That open door meant many things for us, especially for Jack. It was her time to go perhaps, but she would be safer here, undoubtedly.
Lajjun and Ziza are very sad still, Ziza is distressed that nothing of Jack's is left behind. But I believe that it was Jack intended, to leave no trace of her existence. Hoping that she will become a faded memory, forgotten. But we will not forget her.
And on whatever planet he is, I am sure he will never forget the small girl who refused to fear him.
End.
---Oooh, another one-shot! I'm just full of them, it's true. Hope everyone is liking this path right now.
Behind this particular one I just wanted to take a view from Imam, who, while is presented often in stories, doesn't really have enough I think. This is a start then.
-Shamrock