Riddick

Mnemosyne is gone for hours this time. It's exactly what I didn't want to happen. I should be cool and comfortable in the shade here, but I'm already alternating between chills and overheating. I can feel my heartbeat in my leg, even though I know that it shouldn't hurt that much. As time wears on, I'm fighting to cling to consciousness, zoning in and out of my predicament. That little Company spitfire still hasn't come back. If my lights go out without protection around, I'm surely going to end up snake-bait. But on the other hand, if I fight to stay awake, I'm forcing my body to work harder to repair itself. I should already be healing... she's given me food, and rest... this just isn't right.

Finally, I give up.

I have to. I'm just doing myself harm otherwise. My head rolls forward, and for a few moments, darkness overtakes me.

But then, I start to dream... I know it's a dream, because I'm sitting on the Necromonger throne again. Vaako's voice is there, like dripping poison in my ear, but I can't hear the words he's speaking. Everything is muted, slow-motion, because among the throngs of the quasi-dead, I see her.

"KYRA!" Her name rips from me before I can stop myself. I'm up from the throne, my hand wrapped around Vaako's neck when everything lurches with a sickening twist. My stomach rolls, and suddenly, where Vaako once stood, eyes bulging, gnashes a bioraptor, all teeth and piss, trying to get to my face.

I hear voices in the darkness as I grapple with the bioraptor. Jack, Imam... Fry. No one else got in after them. I refused to get attached to anyone, or anything. But this isn't how it ended on that little planet, we escaped... I didn't drag Fry back to the skiff to find Imam and Jack both gone, blood splattered all over the metal. I didn't bolt into the rain with a death wish..

And my legs certainly didn't give out beneath me.

My mind shifts again, mud and rain and dirt being replaced with the sterile pristine floor of the Basilica, stained only by the growing pool of Kyra's blood. My Kyra, my Jack... the kid who'd never judged me. I crawl, dragging myself inch by inch across the floor, desperately needing to get to her..

And then a new voice, shouting my name through the fog. I'm confused for a moment, my hand is so close to Kyra's, so close to touching her, and dragging her into my arms. I pick my head up slightly, trying to focus, trying to find the new voice, and suddenly, I'm dragged backward.

"NO!" My fingers dig into the metal, causing it to crumble into sand in my grip. I fight forward, dragging myself an inch or two. One leg responds, kicking backward, striking solid flesh. As soon as I'm free, I'm pushing forward with that leg, dragging my other, some dim part of my brain telling me that I'm broken... shattered...

Kyra's still there, her bright blue eyes pleading, her fingers outstretched toward mine. In one final moment, I lunge forward. And my fingers close on nothing.

Like a fire, it comes: the rage. Boiling up inside me, ripping through the vestiges of rational thought and destroying them like strips of paper, leaving nothing but ash in its wake. I'm angry at everything, at my body for betraying me, at Kyra for leaving me, at Fry for her sacrifice, at Imam for his patience. I'm about to unleash it; I'm about to turn on whatever had stopped me from getting to Kyra in time, when my vision blossoms with scarlet. The crumbling metal of the Basilica shatters to reveal a wasteland of dry, red sand, for just a moment before true darkness takes me.

Everything else is splashes of images.

… Mnemosyne, her hair tied back with wire, bent over my leg.

… Her pacing back and forth, shoulders hunched in frightened defeat.

… Cool water down a parched throat.

… That voice, always nearby, talking softly into the metal box.

… The need to tear and rip and fight this impossible enemy.

And finally, darkness. The kind of darkness that only I can see in. My thoughts are startlingly clear: the knowledge of the planet, the situation, and the woman who has been selflessly taking care of me. The stone slab is above me, and the entrance is covered by what looks to be a portion of the skin of the big serpent. My head rests on something soft, something delicious...

I turn slightly, taking a deep breath. I feel like I could bathe in her scent and die happy. Women, of all creatures, smell the best, and just the right mixture of dirt and sweat and female clings to Mnemosyne's skin. My head lays in her lap, one of her hands resting lightly on my chest. She's asleep; her long, slow measured breathing doesn't change when I indulge the desire to nuzzle closer.

And touch, I have to. I find her hand with mine, and I run my fingers as far up her arm as I can. Her skin is so soft, smooth beneath my hand. I feel her heartbeat quicken, I feel the way I push into her dreams with nothing but a touch. I drag my fingers back down her arm, and beneath my head, her thigh quivers. I'm about to push my luck, when in a sharp breath, she's suddenly awake. Her hand jerks away from me like I'm repulsive. Her body is sending me other messages though. In the dark, I know she can't see me. Instead, her hand hesitantly returns to my chest, moving upward until she cups my chin.

She presses a palm to my cheek, and runs the other fingers overt the crown of my head. I choose that moment to make a sound, a low rumble of pleasure deep in my chest. She starts a little, before exhaling a sigh of relief.

"The worst is over," she whispers. Her relaxation is palpable, taking a sour edge off her scent.

It takes a few tries to make any sound louder than the rumble. "How long?" I sound terrible, even to myself.

"Fifteen solars. This is the third night." That hand resting on the crown of my head, hasn't stopped moving, tracing lazy little circles in the fuzz stubble that's grown. It's not entirely unpleasant, and despite myself I let my eyes drift shut again. "You're going to have a hell of a scar, Riddick."

"What?"

"Happened? Infection. Deep tissue... I.." Her hand stalls, for just a moment, before going back to tracing those lazy swirls. "I honestly didn't think you'd make it. I've never seen anyone heal like you do."

I can't help but chuckle, and it comes out painfully, a harsh rasping noise. Almost as quickly as I start, her hand slides from the side of my face, to cover my mouth. Concern wrinkles her brow, and I fall silent with her. Outside the curtain comes a rattling hiss. We wait, in tense silence, but after a few moments, the noise stops, and the soft slither of scales against sand moves away. Reaching up, I take her hand in mine, prying it away from my mouth. But before I can draw breath, she's already whispering the explanation.

"They overran me the first night... trying to get to you. But the big one's skin is like a repellant. They won't get close enough to touch it, so we're safe as we can be in here."

"The cycle?"

"Five standard solars of light, one standard night. The planet has a drunken wobble." She pauses, giving my hand a squeeze. I didn't realize I was still holding onto her, so once her gesture is done, I let my fingers slide away. "They come to collect me in six days, Riddick."


Author's Note: Reviews? Anyone? Is it really that bad? Or is there just no real opinion developed yet? Pace picks up in the next chapter or two, I promise! ~A.S.