1.1.1.1.1.1 Chapter 5
1.1.1.1.1.2 Phobic Dreams
"Not afraid of the dark, are you?"
Jack flinched and twisted to see the speaker. But the voice shifted faster than she could and it asked again, with a deeper lulling tone.
"Not afraid of the dark, are you?"
It laughed. Female, male, young, old, something brooding and taunting.
Jack clawed at the thick blackness around her. Something was lashing out, striking at her arms. She could see the welts where hot blood gushed freely. There wasn't any pain but the wrenching terror around her heart.
"Help me, Riddick!" she cried and bent down.
Rolling on her haunches, rocking herself. Wet darkness closed around her.
"- afraid of the dark."
"not afraid of."
"dark are you."
Voices cried out, getting angrier. The slices intensified. Glimmers of teeth and bone and blood-soaked flesh, shone with the light of her eyes. She looked down in shock. Her hands weren't hers. They were larger, stronger and masculine. Riddick's hands.
She was trapped in his own prison.
"Not afraid of the dark, are you?"
The voice laughed at her and she realized her lips had spoken it. They trembled, before creasing into low chuckles. His hands, Riddick's hands, brought a shiv back and then thrust it into her chest.
* * *
Jack sat up in the bed and breathed hoarsely. Every muscle was taut. She was panting in time to an alien beat. Only, the metallic thud that had formed a backbeat to the nightmare continued in the real world. Jack looked edgily around the room before cursing and getting up. She slung on a shift that she alternatively used for training and pyjamas, and padded down the stairs.
It wasn't so much that she wanted to visit Riddick in the middle of the night, or even that his banging had been annoying her (she'd put up with it for 3 hours before getting to sleep), more that she wanted - needed - to get away from the nightmare. And when she couldn't grasp emotional distance, at least physical distance might help.
The thudding stopped as she approached.
Jack glared at the bathroom door and veered to the pilot's chair instead.
"Hello, hello." she murmured when she saw the message intercept blinking.
She noted who the sender was.
1.1.1.1.2 Who else?
The woman can't just trust me?!
Jack keyed in her employer's number and prepared to open a link.
1.1.1.1.3 Chrrr-brrrr.
It didn't take long before the other end opened.
"A little late for you isn't it?"
Coolly official, as she always was, Jack noted with a certain amount of respect.
"Something about hurtling through space that wrecks my conception of day and night," Jack responded lazily.
"What did you want?"
The woman's face on the viewscreen crackled with a burst of static, before settling back into shades of green.
"To check on my cargo."
"He's tied up at the moment."
"Cut?"
"Cut up? Yeah, a bit. Couldn't help it when I was fighting for my life."
The woman on the other end lifted her chin slowly, "I'm not paying you a planet's worth for *your* life."
"He's still fully functional, just. a little sliced."
The woman was obviously. vexed. She frowned in thought.
"Still locked out of cryo?"
Jack nodded in response.
"Clean him up. If he hasn't healed cleanly by the time you arrive, our arrangement may require altering," she stated calmly, "However, if he is in superb health, I might just add a moon to your planet."
The link shut off as it was disconnected from the other side, leaving Jack to flick her hand obscenely at a blank screen.
* * *
Riddick had been straining to hear the conversation in the cockpit but the wall inbetween had muffled it into indistinguishable tones. The second voice sounded high, implying the employer was also of the fairer sex. What was this?! Years of barely a casual fuck and suddenly women were queuing up. Admittedly, to kill him or trade him in.
Something tugged at Riddick's leg and he looked down in surprise. The line of metal, tied to his ankle-cuff was pulled firmly back into the wall. Quickly, his other ankle followed. Riddick found himself bound tightly against the wall, with his previous free-range of the bathroom non- existant.
1.1.1.1.4 Think of everything, dontcha?
Jack pushed the door open sleepily and entered. She was carrying a bucket and several bottles. Riddick squinted over at her and tried to make out what they had written on them.
"Lights dim."
The lights obeyed her voice, much to Riddick's relief.
"Hold still or I'll hurt you," Jack offered as she pulled the goggles over his forehead.
"Ahh," he whispered huskily, "Make me feel all warm and fuzzy."
Jack ground her teeth and moved his shirt carefully to the side. She concentrated on the stab in his shoulder first. It wasn't deep enough that she could be motivated to sew it. Dousing it with sodium peroxide, Jack chuckled as she felt his muscles tense in pain where her hand rested on his bicep.
"Your bedside manner is crap."
Jack started on bandaging the wound with a rough tug.
"You'll never be close enough to my bed to know."
She placed a square of regenerative poulstice on the wound before binding that on firmly.
Riddick watched as she clipped the bandage in place. Then her hands slipped down his shoulder, running in the grooves of muscle, to center on the second major wound. His bicep twitched as she ran a fingertip along the side. Riddick could feel her fingers were cool and slender. The skin was slightly calloused from extensive use and an image flicked into his mind. Fingertips running down from his navel, trailing a languid heat. Riddick tensed as pain once again brought him back to reality.
Jack was biting her lip in concentration as she threaded a needle through his skin.
"Damn, Jack!"
She looked up with wide, green eyes. "Most of the pain should be numbed by the anaesthetic."
Riddick looked at her blankly.
"You know. that thing I was rubbing over your arm for." she trailed off, looking oddly at him. Jack shook her head and went back to sewing.
"Why didn't you stitch the other?"
"It would heal well enough. This one's gonna see more action."
Riddick nodded and watched as she continued to puncture his skin. The pain wasn't even noticeable anymore.The anaesthetic must be fully working. Instead, Riddick concentrated on the sliver of metal skewering his skin, pulling it with it as it went through. Drops of blood welled up over the thread, soaking it red.
"What's that mark?" Riddick squinted at something futher down his arm. Jack was holding his arm at a bad position for him to view it easily.
"That," Jack said with a grin, "is the other tatoo."
Immediately he tried to lift his arm, to examine her artwork. The curves were smooth and the lines straight. It was a single character, seemingly. All black except for a red shadow. Whether that was ink or just his skin recovering, Riddick had no idea.
"What is it?"
Jack forced his arm down so she could finish her stitches.
"It's Celtic. A rune."
Riddick stared at her, inviting her to continue.
"It means 'Mine'. That's what you are now," Jack stated lowly.
His face showed his surprise. Her words seemed to convey a meaning he was utterly unprepared for.
"It's my trademark," she retorted.
Cocky bastard probably thought it was a personal wish.
Jack moved over to the sink and wet a washer. She pulled the cool material over his cuts, wiping away the dried blood on his arms. Her hands kept up the circular motion as she rubbed at his skin. But her eyes were staring intently at the wall, watching the pictures her mind painted on it.
"Long hair. Feminine."
"I haven't cut it in a very long time," she stated softly. He heard what she left unsaid.
Haven't cut it since *you*.
"All done," Jack added as she tossed the washer at the sink and left hurriedly. Riddick hung his head in exhaustion and with an ache of something else. Her footfalls retreated back towards the stairway for the upper level before he remembered she'd forgotten something.
"Jack!"
The footsteps stopped.
"The wire on my legs," Riddick yelled. They were still tied back against the wall, making it impossible for him to get comfortable. The footsteps sounded up again, but still headed away from him. He could swear he heard her laughing.
1.1.1.1.1.2 Phobic Dreams
"Not afraid of the dark, are you?"
Jack flinched and twisted to see the speaker. But the voice shifted faster than she could and it asked again, with a deeper lulling tone.
"Not afraid of the dark, are you?"
It laughed. Female, male, young, old, something brooding and taunting.
Jack clawed at the thick blackness around her. Something was lashing out, striking at her arms. She could see the welts where hot blood gushed freely. There wasn't any pain but the wrenching terror around her heart.
"Help me, Riddick!" she cried and bent down.
Rolling on her haunches, rocking herself. Wet darkness closed around her.
"- afraid of the dark."
"not afraid of."
"dark are you."
Voices cried out, getting angrier. The slices intensified. Glimmers of teeth and bone and blood-soaked flesh, shone with the light of her eyes. She looked down in shock. Her hands weren't hers. They were larger, stronger and masculine. Riddick's hands.
She was trapped in his own prison.
"Not afraid of the dark, are you?"
The voice laughed at her and she realized her lips had spoken it. They trembled, before creasing into low chuckles. His hands, Riddick's hands, brought a shiv back and then thrust it into her chest.
* * *
Jack sat up in the bed and breathed hoarsely. Every muscle was taut. She was panting in time to an alien beat. Only, the metallic thud that had formed a backbeat to the nightmare continued in the real world. Jack looked edgily around the room before cursing and getting up. She slung on a shift that she alternatively used for training and pyjamas, and padded down the stairs.
It wasn't so much that she wanted to visit Riddick in the middle of the night, or even that his banging had been annoying her (she'd put up with it for 3 hours before getting to sleep), more that she wanted - needed - to get away from the nightmare. And when she couldn't grasp emotional distance, at least physical distance might help.
The thudding stopped as she approached.
Jack glared at the bathroom door and veered to the pilot's chair instead.
"Hello, hello." she murmured when she saw the message intercept blinking.
She noted who the sender was.
1.1.1.1.2 Who else?
The woman can't just trust me?!
Jack keyed in her employer's number and prepared to open a link.
1.1.1.1.3 Chrrr-brrrr.
It didn't take long before the other end opened.
"A little late for you isn't it?"
Coolly official, as she always was, Jack noted with a certain amount of respect.
"Something about hurtling through space that wrecks my conception of day and night," Jack responded lazily.
"What did you want?"
The woman's face on the viewscreen crackled with a burst of static, before settling back into shades of green.
"To check on my cargo."
"He's tied up at the moment."
"Cut?"
"Cut up? Yeah, a bit. Couldn't help it when I was fighting for my life."
The woman on the other end lifted her chin slowly, "I'm not paying you a planet's worth for *your* life."
"He's still fully functional, just. a little sliced."
The woman was obviously. vexed. She frowned in thought.
"Still locked out of cryo?"
Jack nodded in response.
"Clean him up. If he hasn't healed cleanly by the time you arrive, our arrangement may require altering," she stated calmly, "However, if he is in superb health, I might just add a moon to your planet."
The link shut off as it was disconnected from the other side, leaving Jack to flick her hand obscenely at a blank screen.
* * *
Riddick had been straining to hear the conversation in the cockpit but the wall inbetween had muffled it into indistinguishable tones. The second voice sounded high, implying the employer was also of the fairer sex. What was this?! Years of barely a casual fuck and suddenly women were queuing up. Admittedly, to kill him or trade him in.
Something tugged at Riddick's leg and he looked down in surprise. The line of metal, tied to his ankle-cuff was pulled firmly back into the wall. Quickly, his other ankle followed. Riddick found himself bound tightly against the wall, with his previous free-range of the bathroom non- existant.
1.1.1.1.4 Think of everything, dontcha?
Jack pushed the door open sleepily and entered. She was carrying a bucket and several bottles. Riddick squinted over at her and tried to make out what they had written on them.
"Lights dim."
The lights obeyed her voice, much to Riddick's relief.
"Hold still or I'll hurt you," Jack offered as she pulled the goggles over his forehead.
"Ahh," he whispered huskily, "Make me feel all warm and fuzzy."
Jack ground her teeth and moved his shirt carefully to the side. She concentrated on the stab in his shoulder first. It wasn't deep enough that she could be motivated to sew it. Dousing it with sodium peroxide, Jack chuckled as she felt his muscles tense in pain where her hand rested on his bicep.
"Your bedside manner is crap."
Jack started on bandaging the wound with a rough tug.
"You'll never be close enough to my bed to know."
She placed a square of regenerative poulstice on the wound before binding that on firmly.
Riddick watched as she clipped the bandage in place. Then her hands slipped down his shoulder, running in the grooves of muscle, to center on the second major wound. His bicep twitched as she ran a fingertip along the side. Riddick could feel her fingers were cool and slender. The skin was slightly calloused from extensive use and an image flicked into his mind. Fingertips running down from his navel, trailing a languid heat. Riddick tensed as pain once again brought him back to reality.
Jack was biting her lip in concentration as she threaded a needle through his skin.
"Damn, Jack!"
She looked up with wide, green eyes. "Most of the pain should be numbed by the anaesthetic."
Riddick looked at her blankly.
"You know. that thing I was rubbing over your arm for." she trailed off, looking oddly at him. Jack shook her head and went back to sewing.
"Why didn't you stitch the other?"
"It would heal well enough. This one's gonna see more action."
Riddick nodded and watched as she continued to puncture his skin. The pain wasn't even noticeable anymore.The anaesthetic must be fully working. Instead, Riddick concentrated on the sliver of metal skewering his skin, pulling it with it as it went through. Drops of blood welled up over the thread, soaking it red.
"What's that mark?" Riddick squinted at something futher down his arm. Jack was holding his arm at a bad position for him to view it easily.
"That," Jack said with a grin, "is the other tatoo."
Immediately he tried to lift his arm, to examine her artwork. The curves were smooth and the lines straight. It was a single character, seemingly. All black except for a red shadow. Whether that was ink or just his skin recovering, Riddick had no idea.
"What is it?"
Jack forced his arm down so she could finish her stitches.
"It's Celtic. A rune."
Riddick stared at her, inviting her to continue.
"It means 'Mine'. That's what you are now," Jack stated lowly.
His face showed his surprise. Her words seemed to convey a meaning he was utterly unprepared for.
"It's my trademark," she retorted.
Cocky bastard probably thought it was a personal wish.
Jack moved over to the sink and wet a washer. She pulled the cool material over his cuts, wiping away the dried blood on his arms. Her hands kept up the circular motion as she rubbed at his skin. But her eyes were staring intently at the wall, watching the pictures her mind painted on it.
"Long hair. Feminine."
"I haven't cut it in a very long time," she stated softly. He heard what she left unsaid.
Haven't cut it since *you*.
"All done," Jack added as she tossed the washer at the sink and left hurriedly. Riddick hung his head in exhaustion and with an ache of something else. Her footfalls retreated back towards the stairway for the upper level before he remembered she'd forgotten something.
"Jack!"
The footsteps stopped.
"The wire on my legs," Riddick yelled. They were still tied back against the wall, making it impossible for him to get comfortable. The footsteps sounded up again, but still headed away from him. He could swear he heard her laughing.
