Disclaimer: I do not own Riddick. If I did, there would be so many more movies and Jack would not have died. I, however, am forced to use this nonprofit means of expressing my idea about this fantastic character. So don't sue me.

Rating: This is rated M because of swearing, sexual tension, sexual references, gore, and general Riddickness.

A/N: Here's chapter two. And in response to a review I got, no, this will not end with Kyra dying. Far from it. It made me so mad that the movies ended that way. The similarity between this story and the movies is going to end pretty soon. But now, on with the story!

Chapter Two

Riddick chuckled to himself as the kid clutched at his arm like it was the only thing between her and imminent death. Which, not that long ago, it had been. He attempted to ease his wrist out of her grip, assuring her that nothing was going to happen to her. She relaxed slightly at that, but still wouldn't let him go. The kid was strong for such a small piece of meat.

"Relax, kid, I'm not going anywhere," Riddick said, sitting on the edge of the bed and drawing his shiv, letting it rest on his knee. At the sound of the slight hiss it made coming out of its sheath, Jack relaxed even more, finally letting go of him. Riddick grinned. Of course the kid would be comforted by that sound.

Riddick watched her, pondering. What was she dreaming? Why did she trust him to keep the monsters at bay? Didn't she know that he was one of the monsters? Why wasn't she afraid of him? Stupidity? Some would say it was that. Some would say that he was a man who could never be trusted, who could never atone for his sins. But the thing was, Riddick didn't see them as sins. He had done what he had to do in order to survive. And he was never going to apologize for that. The kid admired him. He had never been admired before. Hated, reviled, feared, looked down upon, yes, but never admired, never cared about. So for now the kid had his protection. He had gotten her off that rock alive, and it would be a waste of all his blood and pain if she died.

There were hands on her, hot hands pinning her to the ground. She struggled, thrashing around, trying to get free, but they held her fast. She could feel her skin bruising as they squeezed tighter. Hot breath tickled along her cheek and neck. She could smell the reek of sweat and alcohol rolling off of him. She screamed and cried and begged him to stop, to let her go. He just laughed, ripping her clothes away.

His hands turned to claws. Eerie shrieks replaced his laughter and now it was her skin being peeled away. She could feel the creature's claws digging into her, tearing apart her muscles. There was blood everywhere. Every nerve was on fire. She waited for the peaceful blackness of death to envelop her, but it didn't. She just kept bleeding and bleeding. The pain grew as the blind creature dug its teeth into her, pulling out her intestines. She opened her mouth and screamed, blood choking her as her punctured lungs fed her shrieks of agony. She just wanted to die, oh please let her die!

"Jack!"

It was the man again. His fingers were buried in her bloody stomach as he thrust against her, laughing as he played with her lungs, squeezing them, wrenching another scream from her. Oh, why couldn't she just die?

"Jack, wake up! C'mon kid, snap out of it!"

Jack jerked awake. She felt hands on her and she panicked. Striking out blindly in the general area of her attacker's face, Jack twisted away from the strong grip, moving with speed and strength at odds with her thin frame. She bolted away from her attacker, pressing up against the wall as far from him as possible.

Slowly her panic receded. She blinked, surprised to find herself crouched against the far corner of the skiff, arms out defensively. She looked over at Riddick, who was standing by the bed, Imam hovering worriedly behind him. Riddick's hands were held out towards her, palms up, like the way you'd approach a skittish animal. He was watching her intently. There was the smallest red mark on the side of his face.

"Easy there, Jack," he said, getting up and slowly easing way towards her, hands still in plain sight. Jack relaxed slightly at the sound of his voice. She lowered her arms and stood, trying to release the tension in her muscles.

"Sorry," she said quietly, looking fixedly at the floor, heating creeping up her cheeks as she realized what had happened. "Bad dream."

"Yeah, I gathered that," Riddick said, stopping about halfway between her and the bed. "But those things can't get you here, so you can ease down now." Jack bit her lip and nodded, still feeling ashamed of her reaction.

"Come here, kid," Riddick said softly, holding out a hand to her. Jack looked up at him, studying him. His face wasn't gentle, but then again, nothing about Riddick was gentle. But he was smiling at her, that small smile that said it was okay, nothing imminently bad was happening. Jack chewed on her lip for a moment, then stepped forward away from her shelter and took his hand.

Riddick didn't pull on her or fuss, just steadied her as she walked back to the bed and sat down, studiously avoiding looking at Imam's worried face. She let go of Riddick and crossed her arms over her stomach, hugging herself, wishing they would just leave her alone and let her sink into her blank oblivion.

"Jack, my child, are you alright?" Imam asked, crouching down in front of her while Riddick stood behind him, arms crossed, observing. Jack nodded, still refusing to meet Imam's gaze.

"Do you wish to talk about the demons that are haunting you?" Imam asked, reaching up to touch Jack's face, but stopping as she involuntarily flinched away. Jack shook her head, trying to repress a shudder. Bad enough that he appeared in her dreams. There was no way she was letting him take over her waking moments too.

"My child, it might help-" Imam began, but Riddick cut him off.

"She said she didn't want to talk, holy man. The girl's dead on her feet. Leave her alone and let her go back to sleep," the convict said. Imam turned to him, mouth open to protest, but one look at Riddick's face and the holy man quickly reconsidered. He gave Jack one last worried look, then stood and walked back over to the back of the skiff to pray.

"Thanks," Jack said quietly, eyes fixed on her knees. She didn't want to look up, to see the disappointment and disgust in Riddick's face at her weakness. Suddenly his hand was in her view, shiv held out in the palm of his hand. Jack looked at it, then chanced a glance up at Riddick. His face was neutral, but there was something in his eyes that made her feel just a little bit better. Not sympathy. Riddick would never insult her by pitying her. It was more like… companionship, camaraderie.

"To keep away the nightmares," Riddick rumbled by way of explanation. Jack looked at him, then hesitantly took the weapon. The metal was cool against her hand, a welcome contrast to her feverish skin. The blade was heavier than it looked. It was solid, comforting. Jack closed her hand around the handle and instantly felt a little better.

"Thanks," Jack said again, looking up at Riddick and smiling, before laying back down, shiv clutched tightly in her fist as she curled up in a ball facing the wall. Riddick waited for her breathing to slow and the tension to go out of her muscles before he grabbed the blanket at the end of the bed and gently tucked it in around her sleeping form.

A/N: Alright, Imam is really starting to bug me. I write a Jack/Riddick scene and suddenly I think, where's Imam in all this? So then I have to go back and rewrite him in. So I'm thinking about killing him off. What do you all think? Should I kill him or keep him?