The day was dying a slow death. The sun kissed the ground and burned everything away; plant, earth, flesh. He remained unharmed, unfazed as his surroundings were vaporized.

Out of the clouds of ash stepped a familiar pair of boots. Well worn, tucked neatly underneath the cuffs of a dusty blue work suit. He was reaching for a shiv before the badge even came into focus.

In his head, in his bones, he knew that there was a thrumming, sucking sound as everything around him turned to dust - but all he could hear was the crunching of boots on baked earth.

Johns smiled, stretching scarred lips across a sun weathered face.

"You're dead," Riddick said, annoyed at the uncertainty in his voice.

"We're all dead, sentinel, if you don't wise the fuck up," Johns responded. "Me. You. The priest. Even your little girl." He pointed, and for the first time Riddick noticed the small body of a girl lying on an altar some distance away from them. She was in the eye of the storm, like them, protected from the world's unraveling. But if she wasn't dead already, she would be soon.

Riddick swallowed hard.

Johns laughed, threw back his head and roared; and even with the earth splintering apart around him Riddick felt that familiar black hatred bubble up in his chest.

"You should've stayed dead," he growled. He took one last heartbreaking look at the girl, turned back to Johns. And leapt.

It was okay, he decided. It was okay that Johns was alive because that meant that he got to kill him again. And this time there was no rush. No interruptions. No need to not make it last as long as it possibly could.

But the body underneath his did not feel like Johns's. The throat underneath his fingers was much too slim, much too soft.

He opened his eyes. The color of Jack's face was a strange hue. Her eyes were wide and panicked. It took a minute to register her nails digging into the back of his hand.

He let go, as if burned. "Fuck. Dammit." He sighed, pulled her up into a sitting position. She leaned over, coughed until her lungs rattled. And then she settled enough to glare at him.

"What the hell-"

"Bad dream," he interrupted. "Thought you were de- thought you were Johns."

She coughed again and he felt guilty and stupid in equal parts.

"You okay?"

But she was already scooting into her own unused bunk on the other side of the room, making an extra effort to shoot him an ugly look.

Riddick sat up on the edge of the bed, disoriented. The room was moving in impossible ways. Muttered something indecipherable to even him. And then Jack was upside down. And the steel floor was much, much closer to his face then it should've been. And then nothing.

He woke slowly. Registered the empty anesthetic smell of the med bay. His med bay. He was in his ship. On a gurney. Jack was gone but her scent was there.

He sat up experimentally, felt like someone was attempting to reattach his temples to the rest of his head by means of a staple gun. His skin felt itchy and stretched too thin, like he'd been lying in the sun, in the sand, for a long time.

The door slid open and Jack walked in carrying a huge pitcher of water. She stopped short when she saw him. "You're awake."

He made an indistinct grunt.

She set the pitcher down and ran a cold hand over his face. "What happened?"

He shrugged, and knew with painful certainty that his left shoulder had taken most of his fall.

"You had a dream. I think."

I was killing Johns, he thought. I was killing him again because he killed you.

That wasn't right though. Johns hadn't killed her. At least Riddick hadn't seen him do it. He shook his head trying to clear his thoughts. Immediately regretted it.

"You were choking me."

He sighed, reveling in the feel of her hand on his face. It was cool, and alive, and not withered and bloody like it had been- that was just a dream.

"Sorry."

"You scared me. I thought you were dying."

He slotted his eyes open. "From a dream?"

"You were screaming, Riddick. I've never heard anyone scream like that."

He was sitting up before he realized he was moving. She was staring at him, unabashed. He decided to focus on the door behind her. "How long-"

"A couple hours," she finished, handing him a glass of water. He drank it like he'd never see it again. "Everything's set for landing. I secured the cargo, the coordinates. You can rest."

"You did that?" He was impressed, and he guessed he showed it because she smiled beautifully. A momentary distraction from the ugly bruises on her neck.

"Yeah. Not a big deal, really." She smiled again, this time a little ruefully. "Thought about resetting the coordinates. Taking us somewhere far away before you woke up. I couldn't figure out how to make a jump." Her grin faded, and then disappeared.

Stupid kid. Should've hailed the next passing freight and jumped ship. Gone somewhere nice and safe and far away from all this bullshit.

But even as he thought it he knew that he'd have tracked her down. And he very much doubted that he would be able to be nice about it.

"You don't want to go into the black, kid." It hurt to talk, his throat felt raw and parched. "No place for someone like you."

She looked defiant, ready to fight...and then it was gone.

"I don't have a lot of options," she said, voice arch. "But I'd prefer living on some shitty mining outpost than being dragged around on a chain by my best friend who's pretending to be my jailer. Or not pretending. Whatever."

His mind had gotten sidetracked at 'best friend' and he found himself wanting to pursue that train. "I'm your best friend?" He put on a lecherous grin, just to be safe.

She slotted her eyes at him and snorted. "Like I said, I don't have a lot of options."

He did grin at that. And then he laughed. And then he sobered. "We're going to Nibiru-"

"I know."

"- to refuel and restock. Got some business there, " he continued, wondering where the hell the words were coming from. "And then ...we'll see."

Her skin was slick with sweat, straining underneath his hands. He gripped a little tighter, just enough to clear his mind, just enough to hear a choked rush of air whistle past her lips.

"You know this, kid," he sighed, letting his weight rest on his elbows on either side of her head.

"What do you do?"

She made another gurgling noise. Oh. Shit. He relaxed a little, taking a small step back. The second his foot left the ground her heel slammed down on his instep. He went down on his knees hard. Her knee connected with his chin and his vision exploded into tiny dots. She placed a decidedly accurate hit to his left shoulder and tried to dart away but he caught her ankle, twisted, and she was on the ground underneath him, cursing a blue streak.

She played me. Knew I'd back up. Damn.

He grinned down at her. "That was fucking fantastic. But now what?"

She shrugged, obviously irritated with herself. "Now I'm dead. You have a thing for choking me."

He didn't like that for a lot of reasons. Mainly because she was giving up too easy.

He shook his head, "You will be, with that attitude. Think."

Her eyes went hot and angry, lips twisted into a sneer. "I don't know," she spat. "Jesus. You act like you actually want me to be able to take you down."

He blinked. Is that what this is? I want her to be able to fight me off? He shrugged it off.

"Listen, if you can't get past me, how're you going to get away from someone who's really trying to hurt you?"

"Wait for you to come save that day," she responded flatly.

Enough of this shit. His voice went cold and steely on its own accord. "What would you have done in New Syria? If you knew I wasn't coming for you?"

She jerked, whipping her head around to glare at him. "I wouldn't have slipped Imam sleeping pills." Her face fell then. "Asshole. I'm done. Get off."

She drugged Abu? What the fuck? Why didn't I know that?

He rocked back onto his heels before standing. She didn't bother to get up, just crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head away.

"You drugged him? Why?"

Gotta remember to lock those med cabinets again.

She made a rude noise. " You really think he just let me walk off the fucking ship?"

Huh. Riddick frowned. I almost killed him for that.

"That was stupid."

"Duly noted. I've had seven years to meditate on it, thanks."

"So have I." He hadn't meant to say it out loud. And he sure as fuck hadn't anticipated the force behind those words.

There was a long silence.

"I know. I won't do it again. Pinky swear. You can just leave me on the ship." She was smiling again, all wistful like she already knew the answer. He gave it to her anyway, just to be clear.

"No." He felt his lips twitch. "Hell no."

"You think I'll run?"

"I think you'd try."

And I was dumb enough to teach you how to pilot.

He sighed, ran a hand over his face.

"We talked about this. Can't keep you safe if you're not with me."

She wasn't buying it. Didn't matter, not in the long run. But the thought of having to hold her down when he put the chains on set his teeth on edge.

"Why can't I just go with you then?" She sat up, drawing her legs against her like a shield. "Why do I have to be on a - a fucking leash?"

Because beautiful girls don't just pop up in shit holes like Nibiru without drawing way too much fucking attention. He crouched down and ran his hand along her jaw, tried his hardest to sound comforting. "Don't make this difficult."

She made a hurt noise, pushed his hand away. "God, you sound like Johns."

He had to try very hard to keep his hands to himself.

Stared hard at her for a long time, not really trusting himself to speak.

After a while, her face went flat and distant like she was dreaming she were somewhere else.

He stood abruptly, strode over to the door.

"Get washed up." He exited, switching the lights off as he went.

The city was quiet. An eerie subdued silence, suffocated. But underneath that he could swear he heard screaming. A million outraged voices whispering at once. Of rebellion. Freedom. A million years too late.

"Abu."

He jumped, turned to look at a point somewhere above his wife's head. It'd become impossible to look her in the face anymore. Into red rimmed eyes and a mouth framed in premature frown lines.

"Yes."

"There are…men. At the door." Her eyes slotted over to where Ziza was playing. "They have guns."

There was nothing to say, so he said nothing.

Lajjun closed the distance between them. Her hand was gentle on his arm, but her eyes were gleaming with an intensity that frightened him.

There was the sound of boot steps from the house. Tentative at first, searching, and then with purpose.

Potent fear, painful in its onslaught, rushed through his body.

How much faith, Father?

Not scathing. Not cruel and enticing like he'd always remembered. But challenging. It had always been a challenge. How foolish he felt.

I never knew.

The fear ebbed, receded until it was nothing more than a slight shaking of his hands.

A company of heavily armed men rounded the corner to the garden, hands resting lightly on their weapons. Ziza looked up from her toys and smiled at them. She waved. One waved back.

Lajjun whispered something to him frantically, fingers digging into his arm. He heard nothing but the fear, something that surprised him.

There was nothing to fear. Not anymore. He looked back down to her and smiled genuinely, lovingly. Bent down and kissed her. Remembered the first time they'd made love, how she'd smiled against his lips. How beautiful she'd been.

"Tonight," he whispered into her hair, watching the men over her shoulder. "Leave this place tonight."

He pried her fingers from his arm gently. Walked over to Ziza and plucked her up out of the sandbox. Hugged her until she started squirming. Putting her down took monumental effort.

She giggled, skipped over and hid amongst Lajjun's robes. He took one last look at his wife and wondered how he'd ever felt fear. She held her head high, despite the tears running down her face, and nodded once.

Abu inclined his head. Turned and walked to the group of men. Spread his hands, welcoming. "Brothers."