No POV
Death watches over his mistress as she slumbers, knowing that after so long, though she wishes to pass on, he will keep her from doing so. Maybe because he's never had a Master or Mistress, though the previous candidates were definitely not people he would ever want to have served for the rest of time. They had all been too… pompous, flaunting what was rightly his power, that they had somehow gained the control of for however brief a time.
But Harriet… or Jamie for now… she is so much different.
She grew up with a less than caring uncle and cousin who always wanted to beat her, but an aunt that refused to allow a single dark, fiery hair on her head to touched. In truth, this aunt had wanted a daughter for years, and was glad that, when she lost her sister forever, she at least got to have a niece to care for. But her husband feared the child's magic, to the point she was given no choice but to teach the poor child to do the chores, and teach her in secret, while giving the image of an uncaring, jealous woman. But the woman, for the small things she tried to do for the girl as she grew, was granted the chance to go on to live with her sister in the afterlife upon her own death. Her foolish husband and son, for wishing all the harm on his Mistress as a child, had suffered in agony when their time came in a car accident years later before dying, whereas the woman had not even felt a thing.
And now, he watched over his Mistress, the only one worthy of his respect and protection. She hadn't wanted the powers of becoming his Mistress, but had accepted him after a short time, and didn't use his powers as he had expected her to. Rather, all she usually asked was for him to ease the passing of those who deserved it, and to not mislead her. He hadn't thought any person to be so kind towards that which could destroy their lives without hurting them in the least, but she had proven him wrong. This was why he had aided her through the betrayals of the Wizarding World, and helped her to hide among the faceless crowds, and did her bidding without question, for she hardly ever called upon him for anything but an unbiased opinion.
But now, he could feel the imminent destruction, and knew he would be collecting the souls of many on this vessel. Something outside was not right, something that would test his ability to protect his Mistress and friend. And then he sensed it, danger to the Captain she has called friend for many years, one of the few she has trusted with her secrets. A man who she had befriended when he was still a teen a few decades ago.
Not just the danger to the captain, but to most of the passengers. Of course, he would protect the few who could prove to be of some use to his Jamie soon, but they would be few, and might not survive the even greater danger they would soon face. By the time the alarm went off, he had tampered with the captain's pod to keep him asleep, and numbed him to the pain of the comet fragments just before they struck. He felt regret for not being able to protect the man, whom he had also come to respect, but he would be offered a place with his Mistress's friends and family once they said their goodbyes.
Alas, when the ship began to fall apart, he could not bring himself to kill the fake cop, who he knew she would need for his ability to calm the others he saved and to plan, but he regrets not at least hurting the filthy addict. But his main goal in all his existence was nearly destroyed by all the flying debris. Almost as if everything had slowed down as the ship bounced a final time, the sharpest of the debris shook loose and flew towards his Jamie, and her neighbor. Pulling his powers from the Hollows he had been given permission to use, he redirects the deadly metal to merely damage the man's pod, ensuring that he can escape easily once they've stopped moving.
But the shrapnel still threatens his Mistress. In her pod, just as she had awoken, she had been thrown around enough to hit her head, badly enough to fall back into unconsciousness, oblivious to the danger flying towards her prone body. He could only do so much at once, so while saving the man, he was only able to redirect the debris aimed at her to mostly miss her, but failed to keep one from punching through the glass and into her side. Still she didn't respond to what had to be an agonizing wound, though not life-threatening in outward appearance.
As the ship finally jerks to a halt, he calls the souls of all the dead passengers to him, and sends them through a portal to the afterlife, having known that they would not realize they were dead yet. Some of them old, many in their adulthood, and the sad few children he couldn't save from himself. His work done, he fades into the background, collecting the restless souls of those who still wandered the planet after their untimely deaths many years ago.
Riddick POV
I was certain those sharp bits of metal would at least scratch me, but they all seemed to just damage the pod I'm stuck in, breaking the useless cryo-tech that didn't put me to sleep. The door's broken too, and I find myself out of that tiny piece of shit that didn't do a thing to pass the time. I can smell blood, odd for dead people stuck inside of sealed pods. And the source is close, so close, and very familiar… almost like I'm right on top of it…
Through a new rip in my blindfold, I can see the damaged pod the girl took right next to mine, and I can see her labored breathing, and the blood staining her nice clothes. I don't know if she's gonna make it, but I figure I owe her, for pissing off Johns the way she did back when we boarded. I dunno what it is about her, but I want to help her, the scent of her blood overwhelming, and the scent of her underneath that coppery substance is the most beautiful I've smelled in a long time. Even though I already confirmed it with my eyes when she raised the blindfold before, it's something else to smell it on top of that. But what in the hell is it about her that I can't think of…?
Even if there's not much I can do with my hands chained, I grab the upper panel of her pod door and wrench it open, finding it to be easy from all the damage. But the lower one is a bitch to open, making me nearly pull a muscle in my arm before it opens enough to get to her. I pull off the blindfold and look at her carefully, lifting my hands to the long shard of metal pinning her to the pod, but not over anything vital. I brace myself and pull that piece of shit out of her, earning a pained whimper as she wakes up, her glowing eyes somehow showing up green to my mostly purple, pink, black, and red vision.
"Ngh…" she breathes, her almost glowing green eyes opening the slightest amount as I press on the wound in her side. "R-Riddick?" she whimpers.
Damn Johns and this bit!
"You have t-to hide… he's wa-waking up…" she trails off, reaching up with a shaking hand to undo her restraints, similar to the seatbelts of ancient Earth cars. She presses the red release button, and falls right into me, slumped and panting as I lower her to the ground by her arm. "Go Riddick…" she whispers as she falls unconscious once more.
I take her advice, and with a curious gaze back to her well-clothed, but bloody body, go deeper into the ship, finding a good hiding place among the pipes above a slightly clear path in the broken ship.
Jamie POV
Hands, rough and callused from hard work, press down on my injured side, as a woman's voice calls gently to me.
"Hey, are you in there?" an accented voice, so similar to those of ancient Australia, pulls me back into consciousness, pain lancing through my skull.
I groan at the pain all over me, and force my eyes open, finding it to be Shazza putting pressure on an injury in my side. "What the bloody hell happened?" I groan, forcing my eyes to stay open.
"I'm not sure, Jamie," she mutters, before cursing under her breath. "I can't stop this bleeding, but it's not gushing." She meets my gaze almost sheepishly. "Maybe you could try asking that friend of yours to help with this?"
I hiss as I try to shift. "I guess I should, huh?" Death, would you mind? I ask, almost hesitantly.
Of course, Mistress. Please have the woman step back.
"Shazza, stand back so he can take care of it," I order her, and she obeys almost without thought.
The injury seals within seconds, not leaving even a scar, but does leave a small sting to remind me of where I had been injured, before the horrid headache vanishes. You are healed now, Mistress.
Thank you, Death, I whisper, before taking the hand Shazza offers me. "Thanks for that, Shazza."
"You're welcome. But we have more problems than that, I'm afraid, including the fact you are covered in your own blood," she informs me with a gesture. I look down to find that my shirt has been torn in multiple places along the sides and up the sleeves, and my pants are only in slightly better condition, though both are stained with a generous amount of blood. "Maybe you ought to clean yourself up a bit, or change clothes."
"I'll agree with you on that," I sigh, picking at the hem of the ruined shirt. "At least I have a few options, but I'm thinking not to bother with any kind of attempt to save this outfit. What kind of environment are we looking at?"
Her lip curls a bit in disgust. "A desert by the look of things. When I stepped outside, there were two suns, and the air was rather thin."
I wince as I reach into my bag, silently calling for light pants and shirt. "Please tell me there isn't much sand in this one?" I ask as I pull out the tan cargo pants and light blue hooded vest.
"Thankfully no. The ground is a bit soft under the surface, but it's mostly gravel on the top." I sigh in relief, and allow her to help me peel off the ruined blouse, wiping off as much of the blood as possible before I pull out my wand, wordlessly casting a silent scourgify to clean myself a little more. "There are also a handful of other survivors, but the docking pilot, Carolyn Fry, said the Captain didn't make it. And the Nav Officer, Owens, is somehow still alive, but not for much longer, so she kicked us out when we couldn't get the anestaphine for him."
I bite my lip, feeling a slight stinging in my eyes for the loss of two great men, among dozens more that I know didn't make it in what I know to be the crash landing. "Anyone else?" I ask as I pull on the shirt, using her hand for balance as I kick off my boots before peeling off the formal black pants, and clean my legs with another charm.
"There's four children that made it, Zeke and I, that cop, Fry, an antique dealer, a priest, and Riddick, besides yourself. We don't know if anyone else made it, but we were rather reluctant to hope after looking at how long the crash site spans," she murmurs as I pull on my fresh pants and retie my boots. "There's only twelve of us that made it, Jamie."
I close my eyes, realizing how bad the losses were. Out of the forty-three people aboard this vessel, only twelve made it. "So many gone…" I whisper.
She shakes her head. "I could hardly believe it myself. Imam and his boys are praying for the dead, and for guidance outside. Maybe I ought to introduce you to them while the others root around in the cargo bay for supplies." She begins to lead me out, and we pass Riddick, chained to both the floor and around a support beam, bit and blindfold back in place. "Zeke and I wanted to see about rigging up something to help with breathing in this thin air as well, if you wanted to try and help us."
I give her a wry grin. "You don't seem to remember my talent for mechanics, do you?"
She shudders in memory. "I had almost forgotten that. Maybe you could find something else to keep yourself occupied."
"Yeah, I'll just go and introduce myself to… Imam, you said?" I clarify.
"Yes, Imam and his three sons. Suleiman is the oldest, then Hassan, and his youngest is Ali. I told them I was worried about you when you didn't come out with the others, and he showed some concern."
"Then I would have to just go and tell him that I am perfectly fine." At her look, I pull out a water bottle from the bag for her. "I've got at least four cases with me, and they all refill when they get low. I'll be sure to distribute one to everyone."
She lightens up, but frowns when she doesn't see everyone where they had previously been as we step out. "They must have gone to search the cargo bay while we were in there."
"No problem, this way I can distribute the water to everyone all at once." I offer her a hand. "Want to apparate there?"
She gains a slightly green tinge, but accepts the hand. "Please do it quickly," she mutters, and I pour my attention into reaching just a few feet outside the door to the cargo bay.
The familiar sensation of being forced through a ridiculously small straw takes me over, almost stealing my breath for but a fraction of a second, before I land perfectly in my destination, barely able to hold Shazza upright before she falls over. "You alright?" I ask, as she looks pale and green.
She covers her mouth and breathes through her nose, and I lead her quickly away from the entrance, just in time for her to empty her stomach onto the dry desert floor. I hold her hair back for her, rubbing soothing circles at the base of her neck to try relaxing her extremely tense body. When she finally stops retching, I move her into a shaded space away from the mess, casting a simple cleansing charm over her, before forcing her to rinse with the water.
"I don't think that was such a brilliant idea," she mutters before rinsing her mouth.
"No, I have to agree with that." She rinses once more, before I offer her a breath mint. "Let's see about getting in there and seeing everyone then, hm?"
"Yeah, Zeke's bound to be getting worried about us by now," she agrees, pulling me along into the slightly cooler shade inside the dark cargo bay as I hide the Elder Wand in my bag once more.
We approach who I can only assume to be Imam and his smallest child, Ali, just as a woman calls out, "I don't suppose this would help you any, would it?"
The holy man shakes his head, shoulders slightly drooped with disappointment. "Alas, it is not permitted, especially while on Hajj."
"You do realize there's no water, right?" Johns drawls from within.
"Actually, I do have some water," I pipe up just as Imam is about to answer, catching his attention as I hold out two of my water bottles to him.
"No, I couldn't accept it. You will need it, young one," he denies, though I can see his worry for his children shining in his eyes.
I give him a gentle smile, and hand a bottle to the child with him, before pressing the other into his hand. "I have more than enough for all of us here. Besides, your children need it. If not for you, then accept it for them. They need you as strong as you can be."
Before I can pull my hands away from the bottle, he grasps them in his own. "You are a kind person, to think of others and offer what you have for their sake."
It reminds me of the gratitude I got for defeating Voldemort as a child, but at least for something I can do easily and consciously. "It's nothing to me, as I would rather give aid than not when I have the opportunity." I turn to those within the chamber. "If you would, I'll give each of you a bottle now." Then I spot the large number of bottles of booze in a clearly fake sarcophagus, and one of them already opened in Johns' hand. "Unless you would rather dehydrate yourself further with that."
He looks between me and his bottle. "I think I'd rather drink something I know hasn't been poisoned."
I look at him square in the eye, pulling another bottle from my bag and cracking the lid open, and taking a swig from it myself. I then close the bottle and toss it to him. "Satisfied it isn't poisoned?" I ask, more snark in my tone than I've had to use in a long time.
He still gives me a wary look, but drinks from the bottle anyway. "I suppose."
"Good." I then grab a bottle for Carolyn and the dealer in there with him, tossing them in before marching off to find the others in another compartment of the cargo bay.
Hope you enjoyed. Don't own either Harry Potter or Chronicles of Riddick