Legacy of Circumstance
Chapter 2
Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Ally!
Oh and // and // signify a flashback/memory
---
"Jack... oh god, Jack. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Riddick rocked back and forth.
Cradled in his arms was the lifeless body of the only person he'd ever loved. Cradled in his arms was the girl he'd murdered. The tears had stopped some time earlier, but the suffocating pain and guilt still gripped him.
Dozens of ways to disarm Jack with minimal injury filled his mind, overwhelmed him. He could have done it different. He should have done it different. He could barely breathe. His mind raced, but he couldn't seem to think. She should have still been alive, if not for him. What was she doing? Why didn't he stop her?
"Why Jack? Why?" He said in a hoarse whisper against her ear. Riddick waited expectantly for her reply, for some crude remark.
Nothing. The only sound was his labored breathing.
His large hand soothed her smooth scalp. The cooling skin caused a shiver to run down his spine. Riddick's chest heaved, and arms tightened around her broken body. He had a remote awareness that he should be doing something when he buried his face in her neck. It started to nag him, but he pushed it away. He wanted to sustain her warmth, to give her his own.
Soon after, the nagging overcame him. He had to get up, and clean up his... mess. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, tilted his face down and brushed his lips against hers, one last time.
"I love you, kid." He breathed. What he wouldn't give for another moment, for another chance to tell her that one more time. Then he'd wish for another moment.
Riddick stood and carried her to the back room. He placed Jack on a table with extra care. He had to collect his bag, but couldn't stop staring at her. Right in front of him, but gone forever. His fault. His shiv was still protruding from her chest. He couldn't bear to touch it.
It'd been a long time since he was squeamish around death or gore. The site of a shiv, his shiv, planted in her body made Riddick want to vomit.
His attention was drawn away from the injury to peculiar markings on her arms. Riddick's brow furrowed. The trembling in his hands didn't go unnoticed as they touched ugly jagged scars.
How long did she want to die before coming to him? When had she ravaged her arms with a blade? He could only guess the answers, but he understood why now. It all made sense. He rested his head on her stomach, and rubbed her arms. Everything was his fault. Big Evil himself couldn't even protect her from a random lowlife rapist. If only he had prevented it....
Riddick retrieved his bag and carried Jack's body a meager five blocks to his coroner.
The infamous stoic mask was no where to be found, he couldn't wear it to save his life. Riddick was so jarred his hands still trembled, even his lip quivered while glancing at her. He brushed past the startled, gaping coroner.
"Prepare her to be taken off planet, for proper burial." Riddick managed to say after convulsive swallowing. He gently placed her body on a table and adjusted her limbs to make her appear more comfortable. Riddick held her hand, which was still dwarfed by his.
The coroner opened his mouth and snapped it shut several times before speaking, "H-how long before burial?"
"Huh?" He was dazed, "Oh, sixteen weeks."
"Is there- do you have clothes?"
"Clothes?"
"To be buried in." The coroner replied with slow deliberation, almost tempted to ask what was going on instead.
Riddick was silent for a moment just staring at her. "I'll find something for her." Riddick looked up at the coroner with a sharp jerk of his head. He snarled, "No fuckin' funny shit. You clean her up right, or I'll make ya beg me to kill your sorry ass."
His words had the desired effect and the coroner flinched taking an involuntary step backwards. Riddick reached for his spare shiv when the feeble coroner opened his mouth to speak.
Pure animalistic rage consumed Riddick; one quick move and he was on the coroner. His large hand closed around the frail coroner's throat and squeezed. Before comprehension came to Riddick, they were on the floor with the coroner underneath him, desperately clawing at his arm.
Riddick stared down at the coroner's flushed face, it twisted in horror, and the gagging sound competed with his own hard breathing. Riddick's heart pounded and muscles tensed in preparation for the fight of his life, but nothing was there. No one was left to kill, except an old coroner looking to make some extra money.
Finally, Riddick released his grip and stood. Roaring with fury, he whirled around and violently cleared a counter. The various contents flew to the floor making clanking and shattering noises reverberate throughout the room. When silence ensued he was squatting on the floor with his face buried in his hands rocking back, but only for a moment. As quickly as he sat he shot up and was at Jack's side. He touched Jack's ghostly face tenderly, willing her to live again. He ignored the coroner who still struggled to breathe, but now stood with the help of a counter.
"Get up, Jack. Ain't s'posed to happen like this. Get up. Come on, get up kid." His voice cracked rising in pitch as he shook her slender shoulders in desperation. "Oh Jack, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He held onto her tightly again.
"Mr. Riddick." The coroner was facing him from the other side of Jack.
Riddick tore his gaze from Jack to look at the older man. He didn't know what was written on his face. Did he convey to pain and loss? Could the man see all the guilt that was tearing him apart? The man's face had softened while staring back at him, though it was still flushed.
"I'll take care of her." The words were kind.
Riddick looked back to Jack for a long moment, and then nodded. Slowly he moved away from Jack's body giving her a silent goodbye. His fingers trailed over her room temperature palm and down her fingers to the very tips before finally breaking away. He walked out of the door without sparing the coroner another glance. Riddick had things to do.
****
Riddick took the coat from his bag and quickly pulled it on to cover the blood stains. The strange stares didn't stop. It felt as if everyone could read him, see through him. They knew he had just murdered the only person who gave a fuck about him. He hurried into a store trying to escape the numerous accusing looks.
Riddick glanced around the large store: dresses lined the walls, countless rows of racks carried expensive clothing, and perky sales women eyed him from their customers' hips. Riddick closed his eyes tightly. He had to be calm and collected, just find some clothes and get out. He opened his eye to a stout woman standing unreasonably close to him. He blinked.
"May I help you?" She didn't sound as cheerful as she appeared.
"I need clothes." His gravelly voice sounded rougher than usual.
"Well, Sir, there is a men's clothing store just down the way. I'm sure they'll-"
Flat anger laced his voice as he cut her off. "For a woman." That's right, she was all grown up. The child was long gone.
"Oh, well what kind of clothing are you looking for?"
Riddick paused; he didn't know. The woman watched him expectantly, waiting to hang on his every word. "Something nice. A... dress." He sounded how he felt, unsure.
"We have lots of dresses, you'll have to be more specific than that."
Riddick scowled at the cheery smile the woman gave him before leading him to the dress section. What kind of dress was a good question. He didn't see the memory sneaking up on him, but it hit him like a ton of bricks.
//He crouched down behind a rack of dresses and peeked to watch a merc run by. "Kid, still got the bag?"
No answer. Riddick glanced back to see Jack standing and holding up a long dress.
"Isn't it breath taking Riddick?" She said.
Riddick grabbed her arm and gave her a rough pull to the floor. He covered her mouth with his meaty hand when she yelped in pain. "We ain't here to shop. Now shut up and stay down before someone shoots ya.'"
He tried to ignore the hurt look in her eyes, and poked his head out into the aisle. The coast was clear. He took the bag in one hand, and Jack's arm in the other. Abruptly, he stopped causing Jack to walk into him.
"Leave the dress. Don't need fuckin' alarms goin' off."
"But Riddick-"
"Leave it." He warned her with a scowl. He watched Jack's shoulders slump in defeat. She reached for a hanger. He started to feel guilt creep over him; she didn't have many things. He noted the dress, memorized its features. Maybe he would get around to picking one like it up, someday.//
Someday didn't seem to come though. He never bought her any dress. Riddick started to search through the racks with determination. The woman continued to ask questions, but he ignored her. They had to have something at least similar to it. On the third rack Riddick began to lose hope when he saw it. The long flowing dress was then in his hands, nearly an exact match.
"This. I want this. It has to be a smaller size. And blue." Riddick shoved the dress at her insistently.
"I believe we have that one in stock. Let me go and see. What shade of blue did you want, Sir?"
//Riddick sprawled out next to Jack on the small cot. He ignored her scowl when she almost fell off. There was a long silence. Jack snuggled against him, getting comfortable for sleep.
"What color was it Jack?"
"What color was wha'?" She murmured drowsily.
"The dress. What color was the dress?"
Jack sighed, "blue, blue like the Medina Ocean." //
"Sir?" The woman brought him back to reality.
"Huh?"
"What shade of blue would you like?"
"Blue, blue like the Medina Ocean." He repeated.
------
I heard that dentists have the highest profession suicide rating because of the FEEDBACK loop. Hint hint.
Chapter 2
Many thanks to my wonderful beta, Ally!
Oh and // and // signify a flashback/memory
---
"Jack... oh god, Jack. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Riddick rocked back and forth.
Cradled in his arms was the lifeless body of the only person he'd ever loved. Cradled in his arms was the girl he'd murdered. The tears had stopped some time earlier, but the suffocating pain and guilt still gripped him.
Dozens of ways to disarm Jack with minimal injury filled his mind, overwhelmed him. He could have done it different. He should have done it different. He could barely breathe. His mind raced, but he couldn't seem to think. She should have still been alive, if not for him. What was she doing? Why didn't he stop her?
"Why Jack? Why?" He said in a hoarse whisper against her ear. Riddick waited expectantly for her reply, for some crude remark.
Nothing. The only sound was his labored breathing.
His large hand soothed her smooth scalp. The cooling skin caused a shiver to run down his spine. Riddick's chest heaved, and arms tightened around her broken body. He had a remote awareness that he should be doing something when he buried his face in her neck. It started to nag him, but he pushed it away. He wanted to sustain her warmth, to give her his own.
Soon after, the nagging overcame him. He had to get up, and clean up his... mess. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, tilted his face down and brushed his lips against hers, one last time.
"I love you, kid." He breathed. What he wouldn't give for another moment, for another chance to tell her that one more time. Then he'd wish for another moment.
Riddick stood and carried her to the back room. He placed Jack on a table with extra care. He had to collect his bag, but couldn't stop staring at her. Right in front of him, but gone forever. His fault. His shiv was still protruding from her chest. He couldn't bear to touch it.
It'd been a long time since he was squeamish around death or gore. The site of a shiv, his shiv, planted in her body made Riddick want to vomit.
His attention was drawn away from the injury to peculiar markings on her arms. Riddick's brow furrowed. The trembling in his hands didn't go unnoticed as they touched ugly jagged scars.
How long did she want to die before coming to him? When had she ravaged her arms with a blade? He could only guess the answers, but he understood why now. It all made sense. He rested his head on her stomach, and rubbed her arms. Everything was his fault. Big Evil himself couldn't even protect her from a random lowlife rapist. If only he had prevented it....
Riddick retrieved his bag and carried Jack's body a meager five blocks to his coroner.
The infamous stoic mask was no where to be found, he couldn't wear it to save his life. Riddick was so jarred his hands still trembled, even his lip quivered while glancing at her. He brushed past the startled, gaping coroner.
"Prepare her to be taken off planet, for proper burial." Riddick managed to say after convulsive swallowing. He gently placed her body on a table and adjusted her limbs to make her appear more comfortable. Riddick held her hand, which was still dwarfed by his.
The coroner opened his mouth and snapped it shut several times before speaking, "H-how long before burial?"
"Huh?" He was dazed, "Oh, sixteen weeks."
"Is there- do you have clothes?"
"Clothes?"
"To be buried in." The coroner replied with slow deliberation, almost tempted to ask what was going on instead.
Riddick was silent for a moment just staring at her. "I'll find something for her." Riddick looked up at the coroner with a sharp jerk of his head. He snarled, "No fuckin' funny shit. You clean her up right, or I'll make ya beg me to kill your sorry ass."
His words had the desired effect and the coroner flinched taking an involuntary step backwards. Riddick reached for his spare shiv when the feeble coroner opened his mouth to speak.
Pure animalistic rage consumed Riddick; one quick move and he was on the coroner. His large hand closed around the frail coroner's throat and squeezed. Before comprehension came to Riddick, they were on the floor with the coroner underneath him, desperately clawing at his arm.
Riddick stared down at the coroner's flushed face, it twisted in horror, and the gagging sound competed with his own hard breathing. Riddick's heart pounded and muscles tensed in preparation for the fight of his life, but nothing was there. No one was left to kill, except an old coroner looking to make some extra money.
Finally, Riddick released his grip and stood. Roaring with fury, he whirled around and violently cleared a counter. The various contents flew to the floor making clanking and shattering noises reverberate throughout the room. When silence ensued he was squatting on the floor with his face buried in his hands rocking back, but only for a moment. As quickly as he sat he shot up and was at Jack's side. He touched Jack's ghostly face tenderly, willing her to live again. He ignored the coroner who still struggled to breathe, but now stood with the help of a counter.
"Get up, Jack. Ain't s'posed to happen like this. Get up. Come on, get up kid." His voice cracked rising in pitch as he shook her slender shoulders in desperation. "Oh Jack, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He held onto her tightly again.
"Mr. Riddick." The coroner was facing him from the other side of Jack.
Riddick tore his gaze from Jack to look at the older man. He didn't know what was written on his face. Did he convey to pain and loss? Could the man see all the guilt that was tearing him apart? The man's face had softened while staring back at him, though it was still flushed.
"I'll take care of her." The words were kind.
Riddick looked back to Jack for a long moment, and then nodded. Slowly he moved away from Jack's body giving her a silent goodbye. His fingers trailed over her room temperature palm and down her fingers to the very tips before finally breaking away. He walked out of the door without sparing the coroner another glance. Riddick had things to do.
****
Riddick took the coat from his bag and quickly pulled it on to cover the blood stains. The strange stares didn't stop. It felt as if everyone could read him, see through him. They knew he had just murdered the only person who gave a fuck about him. He hurried into a store trying to escape the numerous accusing looks.
Riddick glanced around the large store: dresses lined the walls, countless rows of racks carried expensive clothing, and perky sales women eyed him from their customers' hips. Riddick closed his eyes tightly. He had to be calm and collected, just find some clothes and get out. He opened his eye to a stout woman standing unreasonably close to him. He blinked.
"May I help you?" She didn't sound as cheerful as she appeared.
"I need clothes." His gravelly voice sounded rougher than usual.
"Well, Sir, there is a men's clothing store just down the way. I'm sure they'll-"
Flat anger laced his voice as he cut her off. "For a woman." That's right, she was all grown up. The child was long gone.
"Oh, well what kind of clothing are you looking for?"
Riddick paused; he didn't know. The woman watched him expectantly, waiting to hang on his every word. "Something nice. A... dress." He sounded how he felt, unsure.
"We have lots of dresses, you'll have to be more specific than that."
Riddick scowled at the cheery smile the woman gave him before leading him to the dress section. What kind of dress was a good question. He didn't see the memory sneaking up on him, but it hit him like a ton of bricks.
//He crouched down behind a rack of dresses and peeked to watch a merc run by. "Kid, still got the bag?"
No answer. Riddick glanced back to see Jack standing and holding up a long dress.
"Isn't it breath taking Riddick?" She said.
Riddick grabbed her arm and gave her a rough pull to the floor. He covered her mouth with his meaty hand when she yelped in pain. "We ain't here to shop. Now shut up and stay down before someone shoots ya.'"
He tried to ignore the hurt look in her eyes, and poked his head out into the aisle. The coast was clear. He took the bag in one hand, and Jack's arm in the other. Abruptly, he stopped causing Jack to walk into him.
"Leave the dress. Don't need fuckin' alarms goin' off."
"But Riddick-"
"Leave it." He warned her with a scowl. He watched Jack's shoulders slump in defeat. She reached for a hanger. He started to feel guilt creep over him; she didn't have many things. He noted the dress, memorized its features. Maybe he would get around to picking one like it up, someday.//
Someday didn't seem to come though. He never bought her any dress. Riddick started to search through the racks with determination. The woman continued to ask questions, but he ignored her. They had to have something at least similar to it. On the third rack Riddick began to lose hope when he saw it. The long flowing dress was then in his hands, nearly an exact match.
"This. I want this. It has to be a smaller size. And blue." Riddick shoved the dress at her insistently.
"I believe we have that one in stock. Let me go and see. What shade of blue did you want, Sir?"
//Riddick sprawled out next to Jack on the small cot. He ignored her scowl when she almost fell off. There was a long silence. Jack snuggled against him, getting comfortable for sleep.
"What color was it Jack?"
"What color was wha'?" She murmured drowsily.
"The dress. What color was the dress?"
Jack sighed, "blue, blue like the Medina Ocean." //
"Sir?" The woman brought him back to reality.
"Huh?"
"What shade of blue would you like?"
"Blue, blue like the Medina Ocean." He repeated.
------
I heard that dentists have the highest profession suicide rating because of the FEEDBACK loop. Hint hint.