Because some of you asked, the name of my other fic, a movie crossover with Riddick and Logan (Jack is making an appearance too, it seems) is called Shiv and SNIKT. It's in the Movie Crossovers section. You can't miss it.
Oh.. These guys aren't mine. I'm poor, don't sue me.
Advertisements and disclaimers aside, here's chapter 4!!!
Chapter 4 - Expose
Riddick and I sat side by side in complete silence for what seemed like hours, shoulders brushing, listening to each other's breating. Imam had long since stopped praying, but he also remained mute. None of us slept; we were too afraid that if we slept we wouldn't wake up again. I was the one who spoke first.
"Thirteen hours to go. We just might make it."
Even though my words were hopeful, my voice resonated with the despair and anxiety we were all feeling. Imam didn't even bother to acknowledge that I'd spoken; all I got from Riddick was a small sound in his throat, more like a grunt then anything else. A small level of annoyance rose within me and I was compelled to make this men sit up and act alive, no matter what.
So I started to take off my shirt.
Imam's curiosity was piqued. "What do you think you are doing, child?"
"I'm unbinding myself, it'll help me breathe." I was already breathing as well as I could, considering the state of the filters, but hell! They didn't know that!
Imam just rolled over, I presume to afford me more privacy, but Riddick opened his eyes. "You're what?"
"Unbinding…." I was struggling to get my multiple shirts off; it was taking more of an effort then I had anticipated.
"Oh…" He sounded weakly amused. "Here kid, lemmie give you a hand." He reached out and helped lift my shirts over my head until all that remained was my torso, naked aside from the tightly wrapped sports bandage which I'd worn since first boarding the Hunter-Gratzner. It had become molded to my flesh in parts with sweat and rain and blood and assorted alien goo I didn't want to think about. All I knew is that I wanted it off. Immediately.
Riddick hissed a sharp intake of breath. "Jack. That's gonna hurt like hell to take off."
I shrugged. "I know. It's always bad after a long cryosleep, but Papa always used to…" I trailed off, silently cursing myself. My physical weakness was loosening my tongue too much.
"I'll help you."
"That's o.k. I can do it."
"I want to."
"Don't worry about it!"
"Dammit Jack!" He paused, then grinned. "Accept someone else's help for a single fuckin' time in your life!"
I had to smile as he threw my own little speech back into my face. Without another word, I lifted my arms and Riddick began to unwrap me. It was a slow process. Part of the outside layers had adhered to small folds of skin in my armpits and had to be removed very carefully; quick removal would take some of my skin along with it, as Papa and I had painfully learned.
"Fuck, Jack!" Riddick's voice sounded strained and I knew he'd found some small scars. "How many times have you done this?!"
"Lots." There wasn't much else I could manage to say. I was concentrating too hard on controlling the pain.
Riddick kept talking. I wondered, fleetingly, if he was doing it on purpose to distract me from the pain like Papa used to.
"I read once about the Chinese of ancient Earth. They had a practice where they bound the feet of young girls…"
"Feet? Why would anyone bind feet?" I gasped at the removal of a particularly attached strip. Papa would often tell me stories of ancient Earth, but he had never mentioned anything like this!
"To keep them small. The book had pictures of these tiny little high-heeled shoes; I don't know how even a petite woman could have walked around on feet that size." Riddick scraped at the edge of the bandage with a fingernail, lifting it gently away from my skin. "Eventually, women got a bit more of a voice and the mutilation was stopped, but it was a difficult transition."
"Why's that?" I was truly interested. "It seems to me that everyone would be happy about it."
"Young girls suffered a lot; it was extremely painful to unbind feet after the process had already begun, more painful then the binding itself, apparently. The cure was harder to bear then the disease, so to speak."
"That's horrible! Those poor girls!" I was so repulsed by Riddick's story that I barely noticed enough to turn my back towards him when he removed the final strip of bandage concealing my breasts. My hands rose to them instinctively, gently peeling off the small patches of cotton I used to protect the sensitive nipple. Riddick balled the sports bandage up and threw it into a corner at the rear of the skiff.
"I'm going to need that, y'know." I said dryly as I slowly eased my lightest, cleanest shirt over my head. I felt Riddick's hands helping me before I heard his voice.
"You're not going to wear that thing ever again."
When I turned to him, I was met with a hard expression and more coldness in his steely eyes then I had imagined possible. His hands were still on my waist from helping me with my shirt, his fingers digging harshly into the softness of my flesh. It was clear at that moment that Riddick was in a dangerous mood. I licked my lips and pondered my next words carefully.
"Riddick," I murmured, trying to sound as reasonable as possible. "When we find people it's best that they meet me as a boy."
"No." His fingers loosened, but he didn't release me, instead encircling my shoulders with one arm and drawing me towards him as he leaned back against the bulkhead. "Not with me, Jack." My heart skipped a beat, but I squashed the tiny rise of excitement almost as soon as it was born.
I pushed against him weakly, pretending to be unhappy with the end of our conversation and his physical closeness, but not strong enough to really fight him. "Let me go, Riddick."
"You need a to rest against something a little bit softer then the hull of a skiff, Jack. You're too sore and we've still got half a day left." He was right, of course, and as firm as his chest was, it was warmer and softer then any bulkhead. I let him ease me down to lie at his side, head tucked securely onto his shoulder, right arm sprawled lightly across his abdomen. It felt infuriatingly right to be beside him like this, cradled in his arms. To lighten my own mood I gently wiggled the fingers of my right hand against his ribs. To my perverse glee, he was ticklish!
"Stop that!" He actually squirmed! "Shit! Stop that, Jack!" He caught my hand and held it with his own, looking down into my mirthful eyes. "Now let's get some sleep," he whispered.
My good mood vanished. "We might not wake up."
"Yes we will. Trust me." Riddick closed his eyes, but tightened his grip slightly. He hadn't released my hand either but, to be honest, I didn't mind. Especially since his thumb had started a slow, circular caress of my palm. I took as deep a breath as I could manage and closed my eyes, entering a dreamless sleep in Riddick's embrace.