Author's note: having watched Riddick several times now, I've really got some good ideas how to carry out the idea I want to run with ;-) And no, the biceps on Boss Johns have absolutely *nothing* to do with this story, nope, not at all ;-) Passage in italics is flashback. Rating increased due to the content of this chapter, you have been warned!

Johns sat on the small chair next to his bunk, looking at the young woman who lay sleeping on the bunk. Something about her tugged at memories deep in his mind but he couldn't quite get his brain to focus on the memory in question. He wrinkled his nose at the smell emanating from the girl, who apparently hadn't bathed in the several weeks since she had freed herself from her previous confinement. He was fairly sure that the smell would take some time to get out of his quarters, but he had more important issues to deal with than how his quarters smelled. Questions raced through his mind, questions he wanted answers to before he handed this young woman over to the Company.

His musings were interrupted by a gentle knock on his cabin door. After a few moments, the door swung open and a petite woman walked through the opening carrying a small bowl of water and some cloths.

"Everything ok Boss?" she asked, her voice low.

"Yeah, Mara, everything's fine," he answered with a slight smile. After losing Moss and Lockspur, and rescuing Luna, he had found himself short one person. While he had plenty of people wanting to join his crew, he had taken on an unlikely candidate in the form of Lucy Mara. At a little over 5 feet in height and with plenty of curves, she wasn't your usual female mercenary. But, while she didn't seem like the sort of woman who could take down some muscle bound convict twice her size, she was a lot harder than she looked. He knew, from first-hand experience, that she could put a guy flat on his back in under 2 minutes, and without throwing a single punch. He had been on the wrong side of her ire only once, but that was sufficient for him to be impressed enough by her skills to hire her.

"You want to stay while I clean her up?" she asked, one delicate eyebrow raised.

"No, I'll be in back, checking the gear," he replied, hastily vacating his seat. He paused by the door as he exited the room, his breath catching in his throat as he watched Mara kneel down, her vest top riding up at the back to expose a strip of pale pink skin.

Closing the door firmly behind him, he walked back towards the equipment bay, his heart hammering in his chest, as it did every time he was near her. The first time he'd met Mara, they'd had their disagreement and she'd put him on his back, ending up perched on his chest. Rather than being annoyed or intimidated, he'd found the whole encounter a total turn on. The problem he had was that he had spent every night since then having erotic dreams about her, and woke each morning with a cock harder than stone.

"Boss," Dahl said, as he walked into the equipment bay.

"Dahl," he acknowledged her with a nod. He caught the smirk that was tugging at her lips and his eyes narrowed. She met his stare openly, the glint of amusement in her eyes telling him that his issues with Mara were perhaps not as private as he'd hoped.

"How's Mara?" the blonde asked, her tone and expression innocent.

"Cleaning up our guest," he replied, not rising to the bait.

"Why don't you just do her, Boss?" she wanted to know, as blunt and straight to the point as she usually was.

"It's not a topic open for discussion Dahl," he warned, his tone cold.

"She wants you," she told him with a shrug, always one to get in the last word. With a shake of her head, she turned and walked towards the front of the ship, where all the tiny crew cabins were located. With a sigh, he moved to the back of the equipment bay and picked a sharpening stone out of a small drawer.

Taking a seat on one of the new hogs, he drew the small dagger that he now kept at the small of his back and began to run the stone along the blade. His father had taught him how to use a blade at the age of five but he hadn't seen the need to carry one, preferring instead to use a gun. After the encounter with Riddick however, he had taken the time to sew a scabbard into each pair of trousers he owned and always made sure he kept the dagger equipped. His mind wandered back to the night he and Riddick had had to fight their way back to the ships, surrounded by dozens, maybe hundreds of the mud creatures on that godforsaken planet. The guilt over leaving an injured man to face those creatures alone had not diminished in the months since that night, though some would say he should feel no guilt about leaving a man like Riddick in that situation. The memories of the planet came flooding back in sickening Technicolor as he sharpened his blade, the sound of the stone on metal strangely comforting. He was pulled from his memories by the sound of a startled yell from the direction of his quarters.

###

Mara knelt down beside Johns' bunk, waiting for him to leave before she would start cleaning up the waif laying on the hard sleeping platform. She heard him pause at the door and was thankful her back was to him, so he couldn't see the smirk that tugged at her lips. She found him attractive and she knew the feeling was mutual, especially after what she saw a few nights before they had gotten this job. What confused her was why, knowing how he felt, he made no move to do anything about it. She already knew from Dahl that there was no-one in his life; it was one of the first things she'd learned after she was hired on to this crew. The two women had talked openly about the guys on the ship and the men they'd had in their lives, including that Dahl and Johns had been involved briefly. Mara was a little taken aback when she learned that Dahl had been intimate with the infamous convict Richard B. Riddick, and more than a little surprised at how gentle and considerate a lover Dahl described him to be.

Thinking about the latest conversation between the women, only a few days before, brought up the memory of what she had seen and heard the night she found out Johns was attracted to her.

Woken by bad dreams, and unable to go back to sleep because of the feeling of unease she couldn't explain, Mara slipped quietly out of her quarters and down to the equipment bay. In the darkness of the bay, she began the Tai-Chi movements that had always helped relax her enough for sleep in the past. An hour passed quickly and eventually she felt as though she was ready to head back to her bunk and try again at getting some sleep. As she padded silently back towards her quarters, she froze, hearing her name whispered in the darkness. The longing in the tone made her frown and it took all of her concentration to hear where the whisper had come from. She crept forward as she realised she could see the faintest amount of light coming from ahead. With a start, she realised that she stood at the threshold of Johns' quarters, and that he hadn't fully closed his door. Knowing it was wrong, but unable to resist, she peeked through the open door and clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle the gasp she felt rise in her throat at the sight that greeted her. Johns lay on his bunk, naked as the day he was born. The thin blanket was thrown back, covering him only from the knees down. What drew her attention, however, was his impressive erection. Her heart beat faster as she watched him writhe gently on his bunk, his hand stroking his cock as he moaned. She froze as he breathed her name, terrified she'd been caught red handed spying on her boss. His eyes remained closed and it took a moment for her to realise why he had said her name. Holding her breath she watched him, mesmerised, as he brought himself to his climax, moaning her name as he came. Her heart pounding in her chest, and turned on beyond belief, she silently slipped back to her quarters and her dreams that night were far from chaste.

The click of the door closing behind him brought her sharply back to the present. With a shake of her head, she turned back to the girl on the bunk. Carefully removing the items of filthy clothing the girl wore, Mara stripped her down to her underwear and gasped in horror. Every inch of the girl's skin was covered in bruises, scars or both. Some scars were dull and fading, indicating the wounds that created them had been inflicted years before. Others were still red, indicating the wounds had been inflicted within the past few months, just before she had escaped. The bruises were of about the same age, though several around her wrists and on her thighs indicated she had been assaulted since she won her freedom. Mara cursed, torn between wanting to clean up the poor creature before her and immediately reporting the obvious abuse the girl had suffered to her boss. Biting back the snarl that rose in her throat, she picked up one of the clothes and drenched it in the water, wringing it out and gently washing away the dirt covering the girl.

As she cleaned away the grime, the bruises and scars became more evident and Mara drew in a shuddering breath. The torture inflicted on the poor girl went beyond cruel to a new level of evil, one which was reserved for the likes of the Company. When she turned the girl over, however the full extent of the physical crimes against the girl became more apparent. Four evenly spaced marks about an inch in diameter marred the girls back and Mara openly cursed, knowing full well what the scars represented. The poor child had been subjected to an experimental cloning technique! She knew that when she had fully cleaned the girl up, she would find similar scars on her feet, her groin and her skull. She rolled the girl back onto her back and sat back on her haunches, unconsciously rubbing the back of her skull where her hair hid an identical scar. She knew she had to tell Johns what she knew, but was aware that she would also most likely have to divulge exactly how she knew what she knew. It was a sore subject at the best of times but it was one she wasn't sure she ever wanted anyone to know, especially not her attractive employer. She knew, from bitter experience, that once someone found out what had happened to her, they treated her differently.

Like she wasn't entirely human anymore.

She studied the girl beside her, wondering why this particular child had been chosen to be subjected to the procedure. It certainly wasn't by choice, of that much she was absolutely certain. Was she a runaway, with no family to miss her? That was the usual type they went for. Pretty, strong, alone and usually damaged were the criteria they judged suitability by. At least, that's what her torturer had told her when they put her through the same ordeal. She watched as the girl's eyes flickered open, supressing a sigh at the startled half scream the girl gave as she tried to scramble away and found herself too weak to do so.

"Don't worry," she reassured the girl, holding her hands up to show she meant her no harm. "I'm not going to hurt you. We're here to help."

"You're mercs," she accused, her tone laced with hatred.

"Yes, we are," Mara told her honestly. "We were given a job to recover and return you. But we're not going to."

"Why should I believe you?" the girl spat out, cowering in the corner of the bunk.

"Because of these," the older woman replied. Turning her back to the girl, Mara lifted her top so that the girl could see the scars on her back. The sharp intack of breath told her that the girl recognised them. Lowering her top, she turned back to face the girl.

"You've been through it too?" she breathed, her bottom lip trembling.

"I have," Mara confirmed, knowing how much suffering the girl was hiding behind her brave face. "My name is Lucy Mara, but everyone just calls me Mara. And you are?"

"My name is Jack," the girl said, lifting her chin defiantly. "Jack B. Badd."