Ch. 12

You tear me down

And then you pick me up

You take it all

And still it's not enough

You try to tell me

You can heal me

But I'm still bleeding

And you'll be the death of me

"Death of Me" Red

It had to be a curse. Murphy's law. Whatever it was. Until this moment, Riddick hadn't really believed so many things could go to shit so fast. Fuck, even on T-2 they'd had the settlement and the skiff. But here he was, getting proof first-hand that God truly was out to get him. Not that he'd needed it.

There was no true night and day in space. The skyplex reflected that. The corridors were only slightly less crowded, most of the vendors having packed up for the night cycle and slipped off to wherever it was that they hid while a new set of businessmen set up shop. River dropped their pouch of coin down the front of her shirt just before they slipped out of the room full of bodies. Riddick'd gritted his teeth and not looked as she wiggled things around till she had everything situated. There was a slight bump under her belt once she was done. He figured it was as good a place as any to keep the pouch from getting stolen.

The blood was the bigger problem. Between the surprise attack and killing the forger, she had it up her sleeve and in spatters across her chest. She'd gotten most of it off her skin, though. That was really the best they could hope for. Himself, he'd have to be careful what he brushed up against and hope they could make it back to the docks quickly.

The color of his shirt helped.But what with the drenching from the water bowl and trying to get clean afterwards, he was just this side of dripping. He sent a warning to her with eyes and mind. She tried to take the shower first when they made it out into open space, wasn't a thing in the universe could save her from slow death. He'd just wash her blood off with the rest.

She snorted and crouched deeper in the shadow of the boarded-up booth serving as cover for the moment. It wasn't an amused snort. The look she shot him was serious. He growled in return and tipped his head back to catch a look around the corner. He wasn't sure why they were bothering to hide like this, so close to the docks. The floodlights of the loading bays burned his eyes all the way through the goggles.

One minute they'd been walking down darkened corridors, River busy explaining how she'd met Saddler getting papers for her semi-official adoption by the Captain. Saddler's boys had jumped her, same as Riddick. Then again, when she needed the set of under the name Frye.

Apparently the forger was not above trying to see exactly who it was that needed such high grade false identities and hoped to provoke some sort of reaction. All he'd gotten was another pile of dead men and a promise that if he ever tried such a stunt with her again, she'd kill him instead.

She was amazingly mute though, on the business with the accounts and the computer chip, but he could guess easily enough. Holding all Saddler's accounts hostage would've put a serious crimp in whatever the man had going on besides forging papers.

Riddick only had a second or so to appreciate her initial strategy before the girl had grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him bodily into the shadow of a booth, hissing "Down. Down. They have found the quarry."

That was ten minutes ago. Try as he might, he couldn't get an explanation out of her. She wasn't paying attention to him anymore. She stared straight ahead, eyes glassy, fingers twitching in unknown patterns on the metal plates beneath her.

Slowly, he leaned over and took her chin between thumb and forefinger, turning her head to face him. Her pupils were blown. Her scent indecipherable, what with the rancid grease pooling around the base of the booth serving as their shelter. He could feel her breath, though shallow. Her heartbeat under his fingers was a match. He growled quietly, "Getting tired of these fits, girl. Mind telling me what's up?"

Her fingers stilled. Her eyes focused on his. "Hunters. Third level. Laser sights and tranq bullets. Two on the ground. Don't intend to let her into the gangways. No cover in the loading docks. Corner her, take the man. Gotta be worth something if he's tailing her." Her voice changed from a hoarse whisper to something more normal as she frowned. "Told you. The girl is trouble."

He fought down a laugh and sat back, reaching for his ulaks and bringing them around in front of him. "Girl, you been trouble ever since you popped outta that cryo box." She flinched. His animal growled a warning, but he continued. "All kinds of entertaining, though. Been worth it."

She sighed and turned back to her survey of the docks. "Should make his choice. Should run."

He snorted and shifted to crouch. "What, take the ship and leave you here for them?"

It had the desired effect. She turned and glared, one hand on the blade at her hip. "Other way," she hissed. "Can't read half the buttons anyway." And with that she was up, headed for the next booth and its scant cover.

That's when the shit truly hit the fan.

She collided with a huge man, a mobile mountain in a tattered coat. A lion's mane of hair added to the effect of some sort of legendary giant shrunk down to fit in a man's world. Riddick reached for her before she finished stumbling back. The stranger turned as Riddick caught her shoulder. There was half a second of silence before dark eyes widened behind an impressive mustache-beard combination. Then the stranger barked a surprised "River?"

The girl flinched and cried out. Blood and sour fruit rose in the air. Riddick turned her around and saw the stain spreading on her shoulder. Her eyes fluttered and her heart slowed even as her breath raced. "Run," she croaked, and he felt a push of something inside his head as she went boneless.

Later, he'd wonder what possessed him. There was an opportunity, beating him over the head. A ship primed and ready to go. The Sasquatch she'd been going on about obviously knew her and looked to be big enough to be a fair protection against any more bullets or tranq darts or whatever the fuck they'd hit her with.

She'd been shoving him towards freedom from the minute they got away from the Necros; and it was his own fucked up idiocy that kept ignoring the opportunities to cut any ties and get the hell out of the way of her brand of trouble.

His animal laughed at him as the possibilities flew through his mind. He had slung her over his shoulder and took off before he even realized what he was doing. The big man with the beard yelled and tried to block his way, but there wasn't time for delays. Two on the ground, she'd said. To corner them. Her leap from behind the booth had given the sniper a chance, though, and the fuck had taken it. That left Riddick not knowing where the others were. Nothing to scent for, too much cover for them, too little for him. All he could do was hope they weren't in front, because that's where he was headed.

The shots behind him didn't prove anything. Could be mercs, could be the Sasquatch. Riddick dodged again, crouching low, doing his best to keep to the shadows. Zigging and zagging from one patch of cover to another, Riddick finally ran out of options. Landing with a grunt against the one of the pillars that marked the divide between loading bays and the rest of the station, he shifted the girl around to his lap and took stock. He was, in short, fucked.

The sniper may or may not still be in place. It was impossible to figure out what his line of fire was without knowing exactly where his perch was. Safe to assume he could cover the whole corridor. The bystanders had, for the most part, run at the first audible gunshot. No one wanted to get hurt, and few were out on legitimate business anyway. That left the street mostly deserted, worse and worse for him. The giant of a man still shooting his mouth off and waving his gun around, though thankfully it was at someone else now. Lean and dark, he had his hands up and appeared to be trying to talk the Sasquatch down. Riddick spared a mental snort at how he'd picked up on that particular label. It applied, that was for sure. Movement in the corner of his eye made him turn his head just slightly, and he watched as another man, larger than the other unknown but still wiry, stepped out of the shadows on the opposite side of the corridor. He was moving carefully, checking every nook and cranny as he worked his way down the row. Riddick knew he wouldn't go far if he'd gotten any sort of fix on where the girl had gone down.

Muttering curses in his head; Riddick edged himself just a bit deeper into the shadows and did an inventory. His ulaks, a shiv in his boot, the gun on his hip, and three more blades in his belt. Goggles he couldn't take off without blinding himself. An unconscious girl who'd practically begged him to leave her to the hunters. And how fucking stupid had he been not to listen? A quick visual scan of her body netted him two more blades in belt sheaths and at least one more strapped to a leather cuff on her wrist. A pouch of coins-his mind froze. A plan started to form.

The merc across the street had reached the bottom of his search pattern. The shouting from the Sasquatch had turned into threatening growls as he patted down the second merc, who looked like he wished he'd just shot the man instead of talking him down. Riddick felt his lips twitch. Either the rules were stiffer for mercs here or they just didn't want to deal with the aftermath of shooting not-so-random bystanders. The comm unit that the mobile mountain was holding to his lips may have had something to do with it, but if he wasn't careful, the second hunter was either going to drop him or have their sniper do it for them.

Quickly as he could, without making any noise or letting any part of him emerge from shadow, Riddick tore open the laces of the girl's belt and unwrapped it. A yank and he had her shirt pulled up enough that he could reach under and grab the bag of coin. Her limbs flopped as he shifted her around to his shoulder again, and he wrapped his free arm around her thighs to pin her in place. One last glance around the pillar to judge the distance between him and the alcove that guarded the Hound's hatch, another to get a final lock on the enemies, and he hefted the bag. Sirens were starting in the distance. He snorted to himself. Apparently paying off dockworkers and authorities only worked so long as people weren't shooting. Fine by him. He planned to be gone when they showed up.

The pouch of money made a satisfying noise when he threw it over the heads of the Sasquatch and the merc and a good ways beyond. As one, they jerked around in the direction of the clattering coins as they rained and skidded over the floor. The merc on the other side of the corridor brought up his gun, aiming towards the noise.

Riddick rolled himself around the pillar and sprinted for the docks. The sniper must have seen him, because something whistled past his head. At least three different voices starting shouting. Another gunshot. He ducked instinctively. But it either missed or it wasn't aimed at him in the first place. The running footsteps though, they told him to get his ass in gear and find cover before someone got serious about putting him down.

He made it all the way to their berth and down the short gangway without further incident, not even stopping to catch his breath as he plowed into the hull of the ship with his unburdened shoulder. Pounding on the entry pad with his fist, he set the girl down and propped her against his leg, grumbling to himself all the way. Stupid fucker, he thought to himself as he pulled his gun and leaned against the wall.

The wiry merc was the first one around the corner at the other end of the ramp. Gun up, he eased past the half wall that sheltered the alcove, as if he expected Riddick to have moved further on. Did they even know which ship to check? Could he not hear the cargo bay opening?

Apparently not. The merc had a comm stuck in his ear. Riddick could hear the shrieking curses coming through it from where he was standing. It'd be enough to distract anyone. It was enough to kill him. Riddick grabbed a shiv from his belt and threw. Wrong handed and weak, it still dropped the man. Then Riddick lurched for the girl, grabbed her by the shoulder, and practically threw her through the cargo bay doors just as the second merc came running up.

Riddick flinched as a bullet ricocheted off the hull next to his head. His ears rang with the combined noise of the gunshot and metal striking metal. He snarled. A second later the merc fell, the back of his head and bits of his jaw painting the deck. Still growling, Riddick stepped backwards into the ship, toed the girl's legs out of the way, and hit the button for the doors from the inside. The giant would be next. He'd ghost that fucker, too. Guns weren't as fun as knives, but they had a shitload of advantages when it came to range.

He could see the man huffing and blowing as he came around the half-wall, but his gun was at his side and he seemed more frustrated than murderous. Riddick grinned at him through the clear panel set in the airlock doors and had the satisfaction of seeing the man's skin turn several different shades of enraged before the exterior hatch closed and the man was lost from view.

One breath, that's all he allowed himself before holstering the gun, bending to scoop the girl into his arms, and sprinting for the cockpit. No time to stick her in the infirmary; he didn't want her tossed around if he had to get creative with the flying, or if the controls just plain decided not to obey. He had a bad moment when he realized that he couldn't prop her in a corner and that holding her in his lap wouldn't to let him reach everything on the console. Growling, he glared at her. She didn't respond. He roared at her in his mind. No answer.

Muttering curses on himself, women in general and River in specific, he set her in the pilot's seat, nudged her knees as far apart as they could go, swatted his animal back towards its hole, and sat down on the edge of the chair. It made getting to some of the levers and toggles awkward, but he managed.

One ear on her breathing and the other listening for sounds of anyone trying to get into the ship, Riddick's hands flew over the control panels. He jerked in surprise when the comms hissed and a voice came over the speakers. But it was just port control, confirming his departure. Evidently no one had told them about the bodies he'd left outside. They unlatched the restraints holding the ship against the skyplex without question. He did, however, get a burst of Chinese for the speed with which he left. He guessed it was bad manners to hit the gas right out the dock. Well, they could go fuck themselves for all he cared.

It took some doing and a bit of educated guessing, but he picked out a course and set the autopilot. Then he stood to get a better look at the girl. She sat in the chair, rumpled, bleeding from a shallow penetration wound to the shoulder, skin still luminous and hair still dark. He rumbled out a growl as he ran his hands over his head; and some part of his mind that wasn't in the present noted that he needed to find a razor or resharpen a shiv. It both was and wasn't something he had time for now.

What the hell had he just done?

~HHYFN~

River woke in stages. Her surroundings were quiet. No mass of minds with all their thoughts to press her round. No, she felt only one, with its cares and angry mutterings. But for all that, it was still a pool of calm water, so deep that it would take great force to stir what lurked at the bottom.

She almost took refuge there. Until her muzzy brain caught up with her instincts and she started picking out individual thoughts. Then her heart raced and her breath to caught. That in turn led to the owner of the mind coming over to rest a heavy hand on her head. She supposed it was a valid excuse. Last time she'd regained consciousness around him there had been screaming, clawing, and bruises to the cranial region on both ends. Also, with his hand on her head, he could tell if she was fevered.

She laughed at that in her mind; until she caught the memory of how he'd dug the shards of the tranq bullet out of her shoulder. At least she wasn't chained down. She may have had to hurt him for that. And he may have liked it.

As it was, she didn't have to do any screaming. They were alone on the ship; too far from any populated place and outsider's thoughts. She lay still, letting her body catch up with her brain before finally opening her eyes and meeting his. She would have called it deja vu, but the situation lacked a few points of comparison. For one, no heart monitors. He could do that himself. For another, the aforementioned lack of restraints. And lastly, he had no interest in intimidating her. In fact, his thoughts were such a roil of confusion that she had difficulty pinning anything down.

Neither said anything. She had questions. Many of them. But choosing one from the pile of options and deeming it most important proved hard with the drugs still in her system. She could feel her mind fraying around the edges. Panic clutched her. She did not need a fit right now. She needed to be coherent. A real person instead of the mad puppet. But she couldn't focus, couldn't set her feet on one path and keep her attention there instead of on the myriad other words and thoughts that teased around the edges. Not for the first time, she cursed overdeveloped ability to scent. And she blessed it. He may be able to smell the confusion and charcoal coming off her, but at least he couldn't read her mind.

She couldn't keep herself mentally upright, though. If she'd been standing, she would have fallen over immediately. Frantically she cast about, needing something to use as an anchor. In Riddick's mind, the animal sat up and growled. It was mad at her for not seeing the obvious. At him for the tension winding through his body since she woke. Panting, she threw out her metaphorical arms, wrapping them around the jaguar and burying her face in its shoulder. It purred, a low rumble that vibrated down to her bones, and she whimpered in gratitude.

But not mentally.

He yanked his hand away. Worry. Anger. Arousal. They slammed into her mind like a tidal wave. The jaguar bared its teeth and hissed as she cowered in its shelter. The man faltered, growling back, but the tide ebbed. Somehow he managed to pull it all back inside, where it couldn't overwhelm her. Imminently grateful to both halves of the whole for the relief, took the opportunity to get her own thoughts sorted; to find the most important question in her pile of options.

She wasn't sure if the one she chose was really the most important. There were others, such as "Where are we going?" and "Did you break the ship?" But they all boiled down to one, really. It popped out of her mouth before she was entirely aware of her choice. "Why," she whispered, and then coughed. Her throat was dry.

He covered his reaction by picking up a glass of water nearby and helping her sit up so she could drink. His hands felt good, huge and warm on her back, gentle on her head as he braced her while she lay back down. His long fingers ran through her hair as he drew his hand away. She wanted to tell him to stay. But she was too focused on the answer to the question.

Trying to deflect the thoughts bubbling in his mind, she clarified, focusing on sounding sane. "You will be just as wanted as I, now. They will report. You have killed in my defense."

She could see the memories, the satisfaction he'd felt at taking the mercs down. They really were stupid, between shooting early, allowing Monty to distract them, and not expecting Riddick to be willing to kill. She wished she'd gotten a chance to Read them before losing consciousness. The information they had on her would be vital to her long term survival. And now Riddick's.

He rumbled deep in his chest as he tried to come up with an answer for her. The jaguar rose from its protective curl around her and begin to pace in response, its eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring as it focused on the man. She wanted to crawl over and lay her ear against his ribs. To stand upright and proud in his mind instead of curling in a ball and waiting.

But she sensed that if she pushed this in any way, she'd never get the truth. He'd say something hurtful instead. Still truth, maybe, but the harshest truth possible. She could bear it if he chose that course, but she wanted it to be his choice.

She knew the minute all his mental turning and running and diving for cover failed him and the truth as he saw it reached up to hit him over the head. The jaguar may have had something to do with the suddenness of it. It had moved away from her, entirely focused on the man, and perched in the tree above his head. She bit her lip on a giggle when it swatted him in the face with its tail, simultaneous to him reaching his logical dead end. Riddick narrowed his eyes at her. She endeavored to look innocent. She didn't think he'd be impressed with her visual interpretation of the goings on in his mind. In fact, she suspected he'd spit out one of his ugly truths instead of the one he'd just found.

His words were a surprise beyond anything she'd braced herself to hear. "Don't know."

She wanted to cry.

She nearly did.

He knew. He knew she'd heard his mind. He was lying and telling the truth, all at the same time. He had discovered that he wouldn't leave her. Couldn't. Not willingly. He'd fight tooth and nail to keep her with him, mow down a thousand more Reavers, a thousand times a thousand thinking men, if it meant he didn't have to break the ties that had formed between them. He even had an inkling of why, all wrapped up in events going back to the first man he'd killed for a girl he wouldn't name, even in the relative safety of his mind. The jaguar kept that name for him.

He understood why she kept trying to push him away. It'd been a figurative age since he figured that one out. But he hadn't left, even then. At that point he'd been willing to wait for a while, to see if she'd force the break. But there, in that corridor, with her making a final attempt to get him to go, he'd refused. For the last time. She'd have to shoot him and dump him out the airlock to get rid of him now.

But none of that passed his lips. He didn't want to admit it. Not to himself, not to anyone. He was Richard B. fucking Riddick, Furyan, escaped convict, murderer. Not a lap dog; not on a leash. Nobody's pet. As hard as he'd fight to stay with her, he fought equally hard against the idea of being tamed.

Little did he know she didn't want him tamed. She wanted the animal. The man. The rumbling mass of muscle that would be happy to tie her up and leave her in her bunk rather than let her take the shower first or let her dance her feet raw again. She wanted the man who'd bandaged those feet, glowering all the while. The man that left food out for her when she missed a meal. The man who'd picked her up in that corridor when he had every reason in the world to leave her lie and haul anchor. He could have had the ship to himself; his mind wouldn't be open to poking and prodding. No more wrenches thrown at his head. He'd be free.

She was so wrapped up in thought, he surprised her again. "Couldn't leave you."

Then he was there, mouth warm, lips both soft and hard. He was trying to put everything, all the conflict and realizations, into the kiss. In River's opinion, he was doing very well. But there was more. With the kiss he gave, he tried to show, and he demanded in return. He demanded acknowledgement, not only of himself as a man, but of the jaguar and the whole they made between them. Flawed, imperfect, conflicted and violent, he'd chosen to tie himself to her.

She did her best to push her acceptance back at him. She knew the jaguar was able to send some of it to the man, but she also knew that her clinging hands on his arms and the effort she used to lever herself up would have to do for now.

It was also not enough.

She pulled back. He followed until she tipped her head to one side and found the cartilage of his ear with her teeth. His body went rigid. A groan slipped past his lips to vibrate through the shell of her own ear.

She whispered. "Words are stones."

Riddick snarled and pulled away, halfway across the room before she could blink. She lay there, the leftover tranqs in her system keeping her from following. Anger radiated off of him like a small sun. She knew he was moments away from a brilliant display of his Furyan bloodlines. She thought she'd like to see what could only be found in his memories. The temptation to push him that one step further was almost overwhelming.

Sanity reared up and slapped her down. River had to bite her lip as she fought for control of her mind. It was the tranqs. It had to be. Not the man in front of her, beautiful as he was dangerous. She wanted his lips back on hers, his hands on her skin, in her hair. But most of all, she wanted the words. He hadn't truly decided back on the station. Not in the way a course was plotted, with calculation and an eye on the end goal. He'd reacted on instinct, merging with the animal to become Furyan. And as much as she wanted him, the nagging fear stayed with her, taunting her with the knowledge that as long as the words remained unspoken, he could beat down the jaguar and choose the course of wisdom. Choose to leave her and save himself. She didn't know if her heart could handle the aftermath of taking him at his mind's word and not that which came from breath and lips and tongue. What would Book would have thought of this requirement of proof? Was she like Thomas, requiring proof instead of having faith? She had the feeling that in the end, he would have understood.

Riddick, on the other hand, retreated so far inside himself that she might as well have tried reading a blank wall. But whether he knew it or not, his outward appearance gave him away. The dim light did nothing to hide the impressive bulge in his pants. His jaw clenched as his hands clenched and unclenched. Vein were stood out everywhere. He glared, head down between his shoulders like a bull about to charge. And his skin was a curious mix of enraged red and the faintest glimmers of cerulean.

She didn't know how long they stayed like that. At some point she realized that she only heard one breath for the two bodies in the room. His animal laughed before it shoved the awareness in the man's direction. The shock of it snapped him out of the haze of rage, confusion, lust, and too many other emotions to name. For a second, for half a breath, she thought he was going to come for her again.

But he was still in too much turmoil to read. When he turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, she nearly cried out for the surprise and pain of it. She clutched at the bed, breath stuck in her throat, when he paused at the door. But the man, the Riddick, didn't turn his head or speak.

Step after careful step, he left her. And while her heart of hearts was breaking in pieces, the weapon couldn't find it in herself to blame him.

Author's Note:Progress? Progress! Just not the kind River would like. Things aren't headed the way Riddick planned either. Poor babies. Thanks everyone who is giving favorites and kudos and most especially reviews! Reviews are treasures and I love them.

These two and their cohorts and their worlds? Not mine. Much as I wish it otherwise, I won't get a red cent from any of this and nobody would believe me anyway if I tried to claim them.