I awoke to whiteness and a numb sensation of pain and general discomfort. For one gut wrenching moment as my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I was sure I had died. I sat up swiftly and was immediately overcome by a nauseating wave of dizziness; however, as my head became clearer, I was better able to perceive my surroundings. I didn't quite believe what I saw.
Everything was white. The sheets, the walls, the curtains at the amazingly bright window… shit! Even a small rug on the fuckin' white floor was white! It was enough to make a person sick. I looked down at my hands. They looked small and foreign, resting on my lap. It took me a full 5 seconds to realize that the reason they seemed so alien was because they were clean. I had become accustomed to the curves of blackness outlining my cuticles, hiding underneath my ragged nails. My hands were as sterile and white as the room. Good god! It looked as if my nails had even been buffed!
As I overcame the initial shock of my surroundings, images began flooding my mind, terrifying in their clarity. The crash, Shazza's body being torn apart, the eerie blue glow of phosphorescent worms reflected in Fry's hair, Paris and his all too familiar hands pulling me into relative safety, the scattered remains of cargo and cryotubes littered behind the crash site…. Papa. My breath caught in my throat at the startling rawness of the pain and, for the first time since the crash, I allowed myself the luxury of grief. There was no comfort for me. My Papa was truly dead, and the fact that I still lived seemed the ultimate betrayal of his love.
After far too short a time, my mind began to mock my tears. "Jack, you big idiot! You don't even know where you are! Get a fuckin' grip and assess the situation, dammit!" Lifting my reddened eyes from my hands I took a good look at the room, expecting to find something, anything, that would let me know what the heck was going on. "Where the hell are you, Jackie girl? What the fuck happened?" My next thought froze my blood in my veins. "Where the fuck is Riddick?"
As if an unseen force were reading my mind, the single door opened allowing a figure to enter. "Wearing white," I thought sarcastically, "it figures." Remembering Papa's words that the second speaker is the one who bears the power, I kept my mouth shut.
"Ah! I see you're awake! We were beginning to get worried." According to her wide smile this woman's fetish for white didn't extend to her teeth; kinda disconcerting really. "How are you feeling?
"Where are my companions?" I didn't like how croaky I sounded, but that's what a period of intense dehydration will do to you.
"They're resting." She moved closer to the edge of my bed, gently taking one of my wrists and checking my pulse. "We had a difficult time getting young Richard to leave your side, but after his collapse he was in no position to argue."
A surge of warmth spread through me. Embarrassment, pride, confusion, there was no telling. "Will he be alright?" I asked, feigning meekness. It may be time to play a bit of a game once more.
"Quite." Her lips pinched together momentarily. "How old are you, child?"
I ignored her. "I want to see them." I paused a mere fraction of a moment before including a rather demanding, "Now!"
She raked me up and down with her glance, not unkindly, but critically, and sighed. "I can assure you that they are receiving the best possible treatment…." Whatever other words of consolation she was about to spew were drowned out by a loud bellow from the hallway, followed by a bang on the wall near the door, running feet in soft-soled shoes, and soothing murmurs. "It seems that your friend is awake." She smiled that tight, fake, smile again before moving toward the door. "I hope you keep your visit short; both of you are still in recovery. My name is Alice, if you need me." She opened the door and coolly stepped out a fraction of an instant before Riddick practically fell in.
As relieved as I was to see Riddick, I still noticed the look Alice gave him as she closed the door. It wasn't one of revulsion or disgust, or even lust or appreciation. It was a look of inordinate satisfaction. My eyes narrowed; I was going to have to keep an eye on this Alice creature.
I turned my attention over to Riddick, realizing abruptly that his hands were all over my body, giving me a thorough inspection. I didn't bother stopping him; his distraction gave me time to check him out. He was still pale, but definitely stronger. It made me wonder just how long I'd been out of things.
Riddick's scrutiny ended and, apparently satisfied, he took my hand and made himself comfortable on the edge of my oh-so-very-crisp-and-white bed. My lips curved in a smirk. "Find anything?" My brain included 'you like' to my question, but I couldn't bring the words to my lips. Fuckin' wasted opportunities…
Riddick released my hand and poked me playfully in the ribs. "Nothing a good whipping wouldn't cure." He paused, eyes scanning my face. "How are you feeling?
"Pretty damn confused. Where the hell are we? Last thing I remember is the skiff…" I could feel myself starting to blush at the memory of falling asleep in his arms and cursed my traitorous blood vessels. Ducking my head slightly, I covered as much as possible. "Is Imam o.k.?
"He's up and at it already with the natives." At Riddick's gesture, I scooted over, giving him room to rest against my pillows and stretch out his bandaged leg. If possible, the feel of his body beside me made me blush even more. Fuck, fuck, fuck….
"Are you o.k?" I whispered.
Riddick gave a dry chuckle. "I'm fine."
"What happened?"
"Proximity alarm woke me up; you and Imam were down for the count. People here got my emergency signal and communicated some landing coordinates. They even had a med. crew waiting."
"Nice folks," I grumbled. Papa had taught me that you 'don't ever git sumptin' fer nottin' (he would always say it that way too!). I was just starting to wonder when we would have to pay up.
"They're o.k." Riddick turned onto his side, elbow bent, head in palm. His free hand reached once more for mine. "You had me worried, Jack." My heart lurched painfully in my chest as he continued. "Med. crew couldn't revive you, couldn't even find a damn vein to rehydrate you…" His voice caught. "They told me you weren't gonna make it."
I couldn't bring myself to look at his face, so I focused instead on our twined fingers. "That Alice lady said you stayed with me." I swallowed dryly before I looked up. I wished I could see his eyes, but his dark goggles were firmly in place. "Thank you."
"I couldn't just leave you, Jack." His tone was light, almost mocking. A man can't simply disregard his fiancée when she's not well."
My eyes must have bugged a mile out of my head because Riddick started laughing so hard he started to roll off the edge of the bed and had to compensate by rolling even closer to me. Half breathless he managed, "What else was I supposed to tell them, Jack?"
"Well… I… you…." I was getting pissed off at Mr. Chuckles here because I was so flustered. "You could have said I'm your sister!"
"Hmmmm.. Now why didn't I think of that?" I could see my small white face reflected in his goggles as he leaned closer. "You aren't my sister, Jack." His lips were warm, dry and soft, but I felt as if I'd had a branding iron pressed against my forehead. As he leaned back from the brief kiss, he tilted his head in amusement. "By the way, I like your hair."
My mouth hung open like a guppy-fish as I reached a tentative hand to my head. Sure enough, my entire scalp was covered with about 3 inches of lightly curling hair. I gulped, my shock at my sudden engagement momentarily forgotten in a prickle of cold fear. "But…. how long have I been out?"
"You were unconscious for a week."
"Then…. how?!"
Riddick smiled. "They started treating your scalp with follicle stimulators the day we arrived. Something about a shorn head being a sign of disgrace."
"Oh." Who the heck were these people? "So why didn't they make you grow some?"
"I'm not a girl. Seems that it's only a disgrace for a female to be bald." Riddick rubbed his hand across his head pensively. "Stuff grows in too fast as it is!"
He hopped off the bed and made his way over to the window. "So," he leaned against the sill and folded his arms, "you hungry?"
I hadn't realized it until he said it, but my stomach was having a hard time doing Riddick induced flip-flops because it was growling so hard. "Very."
"Howzabout a little tour with a stop at the kitchens?" Riddick ambled over to a blindingly white dresser and started to rummage in a drawer.
"Sounds great…. what're ya doin'?
"Getting you something to wear. That shift you got on isn't decent."
"Just as long as what you find isn't white."
Riddick chuckled. "Had enough of this room already, haven't you!?"
"Damn Skippy!" I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and started to slide out. Imagine my surprise when I kept on sliding!
Riddick caught me before I hit the floor. "Shit, Jack! What the hell are you trying to do?!" He set me back on the edge of the bed and crouched down in front of me. "You aren't strong enough to be stepping out on your own." He reached back and picked up the garment he had dropped and handed it to me. "How's this?"
"At least it isn't white." I grumbled as I shook out the midnight blue cloth. The material was sheer and light, but strong. It was soft and gently caressing in my hands, inviting even. I lost no time in changing.
When I had finished, Riddick leaned over and picked me up. With one
move he swung me onto his back and swiftly wrapped my arms around his neck
and my legs around his waist. I clung to him, luxuriating in the
smooth sway of his hips against my thighs, hands spayed across his chest
as I was transported through the doorway into the unknown. A small
part of me warned that I had the Devil, himself, as my guide.