Thanx to all those who R&R regularly (you know who you are)! I love you guys (wipes a tear). I'm starting to lose steam with this particular story but you guys keep me going! And to those of you who leave one-time reviews…I love you too!

These last two chaps for me have been grr …but I really hope you guys enjoy it. Yes? No? Let me know…

A.P.

Five Years Ago- New Mecca

"Touch it again and I'll tape your eyes shut."

Jack lifted the blindfold she had been picking at, peeked through her lashes at the man standing in front of her and smiled guiltily. His face remained deathly serious, silver eyes gleaming menacingly in the dim light that filtered into the room. She stopped smiling and dropped the bandana back I place. They had pinned blankets over the window, but he wanted it pitch black for her.

"Riddick, can I ask you something?"

"No."

She ignored him and asked anyways, "Why do I have to learn to fight in the dark if you'll be here." She didn't see the shadow of guilt pass across his face.

"You want me to train you or not," he asked shortly, "if you'd rather go play with your dolls, fine. Stop wasting my fucking time."

He was mocking her. Why would he – why should he – waste his time with some little scrap of a girl?

She didn't take the bait. "Yes, I do."

She inhaled slowly demanding her body to relax, sightlessly take stock of her surroundings.

His voice came from behind her. When did he move?

"Then start fuckin' actin' like it." Cold, his voice was so cold. Thirty minutes ago at breakfast he'd been laughing as she teased Imam about getting her nose pierced. She liked it when he laughed, really laughed…

Now he's distracting me. Concentrate. Air feels warmer, heavier to the left.



Her arm struck out surprisingly quick…and hit nothing. She was rewarded with a stinging slap to the back of the head. She growled in frustration, but didn't open her eyes. She couldn't see the smile playing about his lips.

"Predictable."

His voice came from the right, close and scornful, "Don't tilt your head."

The slap had stung, so she threw her right elbow out; equally hoping to connect and terrified of the consequences. She hit nothing, and another slap was delivered, this time behind her left knee.

"That fucking hurt," she hissed, fighting the urge to reach down and rub the prickling skin.

"A shiv in your gut hurts more," he replied harshly, circling the girl as she stood with her fists clenched at her sides, "now pay attention." He could feel the frustration emanating from her petite frame, and it irritated him. Being a hothead would get her killed.

"A temper tantrum ain't gonna get you shit," he ridiculed. He stepped forward and flicked her on the nose, retreating before she could ever hope to retaliate.

"'Cept that."

She cursed him and received a painful flick to her ear.

Snarling she swung out blindly and he watched from six feet away as she tore viciously at the air and then dropped her hands back down. Her fingers curled and uncurled, as if itching to wrap themselves around something…like a neck…possibly his.

His smiled widened. If anything, Jack being angry was entertaining. No one would know it, but the girl could spit venom out of that pretty little mouth. She'd even surprised Riddick a few times. But right now, for her own sake, she needed to learn to control that fire, to use it.

He began again. "Listen, Jack. What do you hear?"

"Your big mouth," she replied sourly under her breath. He heard her. This time it was a pinch on the side, it really hurt.

"We're done," he rumbled dryly, heading to the door.

"No," she shouted quickly, eyes flying open, "I'm sorry. I'll try for real this time."

He stared her down until she smiled hopefully, and then he returned cuffing her lightly. "Keep playin' around and I'm gonna let Imam take you to mosque."

Her eyes narrowed apprehensively, "You wouldn't."

Lips curving into a mean smile, he stepped forward towering over her.

"Every. Single. Day."

Her eyes snapped shut, "I'm ready."

He began to circle her again, "You hear…"

She scrunched her face up , trying , trying – Airbeing pressed out…swishing…

"The mat under your feet."

Good kid, gettin' better.

"You feel…"

"Hmmm…I feel…body heat. You're hot."

His lips twitched and he couldn't help it, "Thanks, Jack, but you're not exactly my type."

She blushed scarlet for a second; but then snorted and smirked, "Too bad no one else would have you." Asshole.

The kid had balls.

But still…no reason to be letting her get mouthy.

He stooped so they were almost nose to nose, "Lots of women would have me, Jack. And lots already have."

He waited for anger, maybe jealousy. He saw the way she looked at him sometimes, felt guilty for liking it.

Instead he saw her lips tugging into a smile.

And then he felt the cool metal slide along the inside of his arm.

Gotcha. She smiled smugly, tapping the shiv lightly against his skin, "Brachial artery, sixty second bleed out."

He couldn't help but grin, she was so damn cocky.

"Nice."

Opening her eyes, she smiled radiantly. It was a simple comment, but Riddick used praise pretty sparingly. Her smile faltered though, he didn't miss it.

"You're a tough little bitch when you wanna be," he said ruffling her hair and watching as her face lit up.

"Thanks," she said spinning the blade around and handing it to him, "took me a while to work up the nerve."

He poked her in the ribs as they sat down and began stretching again, "You scared of me, kid?"

She snorted and shook her head.

He watched as she went through the routine he'd taught her. She had progressed rapidly in her training, much faster than he would have expected for someone so young. But today, neither her heart nor her mind was in it. It bothered Riddick, perhaps more than it should have. Training with him had always been her favorite part of the day; it had unconsciously become his too.

"You okay," he asked casting a sideways glance. Her face froze, tightened like she was in pain, and then melted back in placid concentration.

"Mm hmm," she replied reaching over to grab her toes, "just tired."

"Liar."

She looked at him, seemingly chewing over her words before saying them. It bothered him; she usually just popped off at the mouth.

"You're training me different," she said thoughtfully, picking at the mat distractedly, "teaching me kill moves, permanent stuff."

She was right. The morning after his run in with the mercs he had begun an intensive curriculum of defensive and offensive moves with her. He'd even started to let her work with weapons; secretly of course… he didn't want to deal with the holy man's shit fit.

"You might need it." After I'm gone.

She stared at him, trying to expose any fault and sigh of deceit. He kept his face pointedly blank, and she looked away. Her unease was making him anxious, uncomfortable…guilty.

Way too attached to this fuckin' kid.

He shifted, clearly unsure of what to say…or if he should say anything.

Change the subject, change the subject…..

"You wanna stop trainin'?"

She looked at him like he had just grown a second head, "Are you nuts? Hell no, I don't wanna quit…how the hell am I supposed to be able to take you?"

He threw back his head and laughed loudly; and her smile came back full force.

"In your sleep, kid…that's the only time it'll happen."

"Please," she said throwing her towel at him, "give me six more months and I'll kick your ass all over this cabin."

Don't have six months, Jack…gotta learn it now.

"Whatever, just don't tell the holy man I'm lettin' you use shiv's," he said pointing a finger in her face, "he'll shit a brick."

Jack snorted in laughter and wagged her finger in Riddick face as she gave her best Imam impression, "Mr. Riddick, it is entirely inappropriate for a young lady to be learning such violent behavior. She should be in school, being taught the classics, religious studies and the blah blah blahs."

"School starts soon enough," he said quietly, "right now...you train."

She wrinkled her nose at the mention of school, "Don't remind me…hey, wanna go for a run? I'll beat you to the stream."

He gave her a head start; she ran like hell, flying through the house, clearing the couch in one smooth leap, ducking and dodging through the trees outside the cabin. She approached the stream incredulously.

I won. I can't believe I actually…

Something thudded on the ground behind her and she spun in a perfect kick only to find her ankle suddenly held hostage by Riddick's huge paw.

"Took you long enough." They laughed about it.

Five day later he was gone.

She awoke to find a note in his neat block letters pinned to the wall by his favorite shiv:

Jack,

I'm glad I went back for you, kid.

Keep that blade sharp.

-R.

She flew out of the house, Imam on her heels, telling her it was for the best. She would've run the whole way, but he relented in exhaustion and called for a transport.

When they arrived she bobbed and weaved through the maze of ships. Please, god. Please don't let him be gone. Not yet, please.

She found him walking across the tarmac. He wasn't pleased to see her there. Glared at Imam as he walked up behind her. He told her it was true, he had to go. Told her it was for the best. Told her to be good. Left her, sobbing into Imam's robes as the man kneeled in the dirt besides her.

Five years later she found herself in a similar position. Only now she was was alone.

Jack sat on the floor of the bathroom in the captain's quarters clutching the old tear stained slip of paper in her trembling hand. Her silver encased diary lay open beside her.

Glad I went back for you, kid.

"You always came back," she whispered brokenly.

Not anymore, a hateful voice whispered in her mind, never again. She curled into a fetal position as a fresh wave of pain engulfed her.

Glad I went back.

It was getting hard to breathe. A strangled sound – part anger, part unbearable agony – slipped from her lips as she bit down on her fist trying desperately to remain silent.

His black duffle bag lay open next to her. She had lain awake until Davis had started snoring before she pulled the bag out from underneath the bed and locked herself in the bathroom with it.

She wished she would've left the damn thing closed, shoved it back at Farris when he handed it to her that morning.

It occurred to her then that everything he owned in the world – as far as she knew – was crammed into one bag. He had had no home save for the ship he sold before boarding the Ishtar, he'd given that up for her.

In the adjacent room she heard the creak of the mattress as Davis rolled over. She pushed slowly off the floor, listening intently. He snorted, the mattress creaked again.

Pulling herself up from the floor she faced the mirror. Three days of no sleep, little water, and even less food had taken its toll on her appearance. Her face was pale and drawn; lips chapped and cracked; bloodshot eyes dull and flat.

Inside it was worse. Her soul had been fractured, her youthful buoyancy siphoned off as the days drifted, crawled by. Every minute seemed like a lifetime. It hurt, physically hurt, when a thought of Riddick slipped past her barricades. She heard his voice in her head as she attacked the punching bag in the gym, felt the weight of his arm across her waist as she lay awake in bed night after night, his scent assailed her senses as she stood in the shower. She was hollow, running on fumes…a wraith with her own personal phantom.

He wouldn't get out of her head. Wouldn't give her a moments peace. Her inattentiveness had gotten him killed, and his was his revenge, to torment her until she ended up shoving a gauge in her mouth a pulling the trigger.

Outside the door the bed creaked loudly, she heard feet hitting the floor. Hastily she shoved the note and her diary into the bag and threw it into the shower. She pulled the shower door closed just as Davis walked into the bathroom.

Squinting in the bright lights he wiped a hand over his stubbly chin, "What're you doin' awake?"

"I couldn't sleep," she whispered looking at the floor.

"Take some pills," he grunted trying to push past her to the toilet. She tensed unconsciously as he neared the shower stall; he paused and turned to look at her.

She wrapped her arms around herself, refusing to meet his eyes. He reached his hand out slowly as if to touch her face, hesitated, and then ran it down her chest until he was cupping her breast. She shuddered in revulsion. He squeezed twice, like she was some specimen he was examining and she knocked his hands away.

"I'm not a piece of fuckin' fruit," she seethed. Oh, how he disgusted her. The coward. Had he not been such a chicken shit, so eager to save his own stinking skin, Riddick may still be alive.

The dull film of apathy washed away from her eyes, looking into them he saw how they absolutely sparked with repulsion and hatred.

His look changed from cruel amusement to stone cold malice.

"You look like shit," he said turning back to the toilet, "go get some fuckin' sleep."

She reluctantly backed out of the bathroom and slid under the cover of the bed waiting for him to return.

Fifteen minutes later he was snoring again. She slipped from the bed, grabbed the duffle bag and made her way down into the engine room.

Fuck this, she thought, there's nothing left for me here.

The next five days passed smoothly for her, the pain was raw but acceptance set in…she couldn't do it anymore. They had three days until they got to Trelios she was going to jump ship and maybe, if god hadn't completely abandoned her, she could scavenge together the remaining bits of her life. Riddick had called her a tough little bitch once; she was almost looking forward to proving him right.