See Chapter 1 for disclaimer, rating, and summary.

A/N: Huge thanks to Ardath Rekha for the much-needed constructive crit., and all the kind folks at AoVD.

Chapter 4 - Bargaining Chips

The shot echoed through the stairwell, stunning Landers and his soldiers into silence. It rang through the cavernous space like a death knell before slowly melting away into nothingness. There was complete silence for about a full second.

Then Landers charged down the stairs, gun drawn, a dozen similarly armed men quickly following behind him.

He reached the basement well ahead of his troops. Without thinking, he stepped through the broken door.

Riddick was standing in the middle of the room, his back to the doorway, a gun in his hand. He didn't turn around at Landers's approach.

"Riddick?" Landers said cautiously. His hand tightened around the gun as he surveyed the dark room. A thin shaft of light from a small, open window near the ceiling cut through the darkness. The room looked empty, but something about Riddick's stance made him uneasy. The muscles on his back were coiled and tense, and his fingers were clenched around the gun so fiercely that the veins on his arms bulged.

Landers took a slow step toward him. "Riddick."

"Missed her," he said, his voice low and flat.

Landers frowned. "What?"

Riddick turned. His eyes were glowing with a strange expression that made their iridescence seem even more disconcerting than usual. He clenched his jaw as he looked at Landers. "I missed."

"You . . . ." Landers trailed off as his eyes widened in realization. His gaze immediately flew up to the open window, the only other possible escape route. He cursed inwardly.

At least it's almost dawn, Landers thought. Should make it easier to find her.

But then, the same could have been said for Riddick, and she'd apparently managed to elude that obstacle, as well.

Odd, that.

"She's good," Riddick said, as if he'd heard Landers's thoughts. "Fast. Surprised me."

Landers gave him a strange look.

Riddick's eyes regarded him coolly, but there was an underlying guardedness in their expression that Landers hadn't seen there before. A strange thought slowly flickered in the back of his mind, gnawing at him, but he kept his expression inscrutable.

"Right," he merely said.

A soldier appeared in the doorway. "Sir, your orders," he asked Landers.

Landers tore his eyes away from Riddick. "Outside," he said to the soldier. "She's on the run. All of you, split up and search the area. And keep an eye out for the other one."

"Yes, Sir."

The soldier left and Landers once again turned his careful scrutiny on Riddick. The other man narrowed his eyes.

"Something you find interesting?" said Riddick.

"Could be."

Riddick made a gruff sound in his throat. Wordlessly, he thrust the gun into Landers's hands, then stalked out of the room. Landers followed him to the stairwell.

"Did you graze her, at least?" he said to Riddick's back. "Any chance she might've left a blood trail?"

"Guess you'll know when your men find one."

They entered the lobby, where about a dozen soldiers stood in uneasy silence, awaiting further orders. Riddick's expression darkened at the sight of them. Landers chose not to notice. "Anything?" he asked, addressing one of the men.

The soldier shook his head. "Charlie and his squad are out looking for her right now, Sir, but they've got nothing so far."

"I'm not surprised. She got a considerable head start." Landers gave Riddick a sideways glance. "Get Allen on the radio. Tell him to hold off sending the rest."

"Yes, Sir."

Landers waved him away and faced Riddick.

He was leaning against the wall, his massive arms folded across his chest in a deceptively casual pose. Though outwardly relaxed, his eyes glimmered in warning as he stared at Landers with cold reprobation. "Thought I told you I wouldn't need your backup."

Landers raised his eyebrows. "Looks to me like you were wrong about that."

A muscle ticked on Riddick's jaw. He said nothing, settling only for a dark glare. There was an angry set to his face, an expression that was both troubled and dangerous. Landers wasn't sure, but he sensed that the expression wasn't directed specifically at him. He mentally filed that thought away to be examined later.

"Something tells me," he began, "that we won't be finding her today after all. What do you think?"

Riddick cocked his head. "I think that you don't sound too broken up about losing your target again."

"It happens. Granted, usually not this easily--" Landers shrugged, pretending not to notice the way Riddick's eyes narrowed, "--but it happens. Sometimes, this is the best we can hope for -- let her know that she still has our attention, keep her busy and on her toes. She'll show up again soon, like she always does. She's predictable that way." He pursed his lips, looking thoughtful. "She might even show up sooner that usual."

Riddick straightened slightly. "How's that?"

As if on cue, a trio of soldiers entered the lobby, dragging a fourth man in handcuffs between them. The man's clothes were torn and bloodied in spots, and his left eye was so swollen that it was almost completely closed. The soldiers unceremoniously threw him at the floor in front of the two. The man grunted in pain and glared balefully up at Landers, who barely blinked.

"Lucas Hobbs," Landers said, looking down at the captive.

The man narrowed his eyes, reared his head back, and spat on Landers's shoe. One of the soldiers immediately struck out, kicking him in the ribs. Lucas grunted at the blow and slumped to his side, breathing heavily. He squinted up at Landers with his good eye. "If it ain't the prodigal son," he rasped.

"Shut up," said one of the soldiers. He raised the butt of his gun and brought it down sharply on the back of Lucas's head. Lucas wavered on his knees and then crumpled to the floor in a heavy heap, his eyes closed but his breathing steady.

Landers spared him a cursory glance before nodding at the soldiers. "Take him to the jail and keep him sedated. I want guards on him at all times." The men nodded, then roughly carried Lucas's prone body outside to a waiting vehicle.

Riddick had watched the scene with an impassive silence. He tilted his head and looked at Landers, a question written across his face.

"He was on a fire escape on the top floor," Landers said. "If he'd gotten away, I know he would've found some way to warn Jack and Barrows. It's a good thing all his equipment slowed him down. All of it stolen, too, I'll bet."

"Her scope-man," Riddick said, nodding a little. "She got friends in low places."

"He's one of her more troublesome ones." Landers shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Whether he knows it or not, we have the upper hand now. Catching him is almost as good as catching her."

"He's good for information, you mean."

"Among other things, yes."

Riddick's doubt was evident on the small furrow on his forehead. "Doesn't look like the type to squeal."

"And we don't expect him to," Landers said. He tilted his head pointedly. "Methods of persuasion -- don't tell me you've never used them before."

"I perfected the art. I'm just saying -- sometimes they fade on you before they can tell you what you want. And then you gotta have a backup plan."

"I do."

"And?"

Landers took a deep breath and turned his gaze to the exit. Through the open door, they could see the soldiers shoving Lucas's heavyset body into the back of one of the sandcats. "I know that unless we beat it out of him, he won't divulge any information. Thing is, he won't have to. There's probably nothing that he can tell us that we don't already know, anyway. It's his relationship to Jack that matters.

"He's important to her. Or at least, she seems to think so. When she finds out we have him, she'll come looking for him. And we'll be ready."

"That simple, huh? Hang around, wait for the fish to bite, then reel her in." Riddick raised a brow, a twinge of mockery in his voice. "That's putting a lotta faith on the enemy, don't you think? What if she don't bite -- back to the drawing board?"

Landers looked at him with ice in his gaze. "You don't spend four years of your life chasing the same person without getting to know a few things about them. Take my word on this one." He leaned toward Riddick, a dark, knowing expression on his face. "Her weakness is that she cares too much. Jack's good at running, but she gets clumsy sometimes when she's not thinking of herself. She's predictable that way, too."

A frown flitted across Riddick's features, but it was gone before Landers could analyze what it meant. Riddick turned his gaze to the nearly empty street outside. The first streaks of dawn slashed through the sky like orange fire. The sandcat which held Lucas's unconscious body slowly rumbled to life.

"You said that she won't leave this place," Riddick said abruptly. "You told me she was 'bound' here." He paused and fixed Landers with a searching gaze. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because she told me."

Then he turned and moved toward the door, leaving Riddick alone in the darkened lobby.

*****

From her place in the alley beside the far end of the apartment building, Jack looked at the crowd of men surrounding the truck at the front door. The soldiers were shoving Lucas into the tight space in the back of the sandcat. Their roughness and swagger reminded her of big-game hunters emerging triumphant from the wilds, their quarry's impotent carcass dragging behind them. Her hands balled into fists, but she kept still, careful to stay within the tall shadows still falling from the building.

They'd roughed him up good. Jack winced as she noted the blood on his shirt and the purpling bruises on his face and arms. Lucas was a big man; it took a lot to subdue him, much less knock him unconscious. Whatever it was that the soldiers had done to him, they'd done it well.

Jack pursed her lips grimly. But not well enough that it killed him. Why would I risk my neck for a dead guy, after all?

A worm on a hook -- that's all he was to them. In this battle, Lucas was the potential crack in her armor. Jack knew it, and not surprisingly, so did Landers.

Jack shook off a troubling feeling that had abruptly settled in the pit of her stomach. Landers and Riddick, the tall, silent monuments to her demons. Somehow, she'd thought that she could outrun them both. It had worked with Landers so far, but Riddick was another thing altogether. His memory clung to her like a thorn just under her skin, bleeding her from the inside, and she knew that over the years she'd become dangerously accustomed to it. His appearance on what she considered her turf only seemed like an affirmation of what she'd secretly feared.

You can't let him go.

She frowned as the scene in the basement flashed through her memory with uncanny vividness. Speaking of letting go . . . what the hell had that been about? He'd had her. She'd looked straight into those endless eyes and had read her death in them. Or at least she thought she did.

A soft, sudden footstep behind her caused her to whirl around, her heart pounding. Instinctively, Jack grabbed the person by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the brick wall. Her eyes widened when she saw who it was.

"Nigel?"

"Jesus, Jack," Nigel hissed, raising his hands to ward her off. "Go easy on the cripple, all right?"

Jack blew out a tense breath and released him. "Sorry. You okay?"

Nigel rolled his eyes and brushed himself off. Jack noticed that his clothes and face were smudged with soot. "Define 'okay.' I just fell through a fuckin' laundry chute tryin' to escape a bunch of overgrown bulldogs with guns. And did I mention my ankle hurts like hell?"

"A laundry chute?"

Nigel bristled. "Long story. Anyway, I got out, didn't I?"

Jack bit her lip and drew him further into the shadows. She looked warily around the corner at the soldiers to see if they noticed their presence. Once satisfied, she settled her grave expression on Nigel. "They have Lucas."

"I know," he said, his voice dropping to matching hers. "I heard a gunshot."

Jack shook her head. "No, I don't think they shot him. He looked like shit though. Unconscious. Best guess is they're gonna take him to the jail."

Nigel frowned. "Coulda sworn I heard a gun."

Jack bit her lip. "That was Riddick. He and I had a little . . . confrontation."

"Rid--" Nigel's eyes widened. "Goggle guy from the paper? He shot at ya?"

"I, uh . . . I'm not sure."

Nigel drew his eyebrows together in confusion. "Elaborate?"

"It was weird."

"Even better. That means I'll probably get it."

"Look, Nigel, I don't know what happened and I was there. He just--" Jack paused, ran a hand through her hair, and took a deep breath.

She'd seen his finger close around the trigger. The next few seconds had condensed themselves into a small eternity in her mind; disbelief had paralyzed her, but her awareness of what might come had magnified every detail to monstrous proportions. She'd been acutely aware of her entrapment, of the cold wall behind her and of the warm, hard body that seemed to be crushing the breath out of her, so tightly had it been pressed against hers. His face had been clenched in concentration (indecision?), almost unrecognizable, and she couldn't bear to look at him. She'd slammed her eyes shut, unconsciously grinding her teeth together until her jaws ached. She'd waited for the big moment, waited for him to kill her, to pull the damn trigger already, all the while hoping to God that he wouldn't miss, or slip, or something, because otherwise it was gonna hurt like a son of a bitch . . . .

And suddenly, he'd pushed himself away from her. She'd slowly pried her eyes open, her skin chilled and prickling where his warmth had just been. He had stood just a few steps away from her, seemingly oblivious to the sound of approaching soldiers, his gun arm hanging limp at his side. The expression on his face had made the breath hitch in her throat. Even now, she couldn't find the words to describe what she'd seen in his eyes, what unexpected confusion, so alien on his face, she'd seen twisting his features.

He'd stood there like a statue, breathing heavily, just staring at her. Then he'd said it, and she'd felt the rumble of his voice like thunder in her blood. "Jack."

There had been something odd in his inflection, as if even he hadn't been sure if he was cursing her or warning her. She didn't stay long enough to ask. Her legs had suddenly come to life underneath her, and she'd bounded toward the window, scrambling over assorted boxes and trunks to vault herself through it. He did not try to chase her, and she didn't look back. It wasn't until she'd rolled herself onto the dusty sidewalk that she heard the gunshot from the basement.

Jack frowned at the memory. What are you playing at, Riddick?

She snapped back to the present as Nigel waved a hand in front of her eyes. "Hello in there?" he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "What happened to ya?"

"I -- I was just thinking," she said. "Lucas."

Nigel looked grim as he nodded, listening to the hum of the sandcat just around the corner. "Surprised they didn't do 'im the first chance they got."

"They're taking their time. They know I'll come for him."

Nigel's eyes snapped to her face. "And once ya do, they'll just kill ya both," he said sharply.

"You think I don't know that?" said Jack, frowning at him. "Look, what do you suggest? You want me to just leave him there?"

Nigel was silent for a moment. "You'd hate me forever if I said 'yes,' wouldn't ya?"

Jack narrowed her eyes. "Yes."

Suddenly, they heard the sandcat's engine roar to life. Jack tensed, then threw Nigel's arm around her shoulders and pulled him behind a large trash container a few yards away. Holding their breath, they crouched against the rusted metal while the sandcat rumbled past the alley. They waited until the sound receded into the distance.

"There he goes." Nigel wavered on his good leg, sighing. "Well? How're we gonna do this?"

Jack looked critically at his foot. "We need to get that wrapped up."

"And Lucas?"

"We'll get him back," she said simply. She wrapped her arm around his waist and helped him steady himself.

"I'm not letting you just charge in there, ya know." Nigel fixed her with a firm glare. "You leave all that sacrificial lamb shit to the people who don't know no better."

Jack felt an unexpected anger rush over her. "Damn it, Nigel, I'm not a fucking robot! I don't know how you expect me to put aside my conscience just because I'm supposed to be this woman on a mission," she hissed, trying hard to keep her voice from rising. "I'm not, all right? I can't."

"Jack, how much good do you think it's gonna do us if ya wind up dead? We almost got killed right now, and we weren't even on the offensive. Now you wanna run over to their watering hole an' expect to make it out alive? Look, I love the guy, but he ain't worth risking your life. An' if he was here, you know he'd tell you the same thing."

Jack turned her eyes away from him and pursed her lips in a tight line, as if trying to close off her face to avoid hearing his words.

Nigel wouldn't have it. "Jack?" he said at her silence. "Look, I meant it."

"I know you did," she said quietly after a moment. "And I meant what I said earlier. We'll get him back."

"Shit, Jack, would you just think with your head for once?" Frustrated, Nigel tried to push her away, but Jack held on to him, shaking her head adamantly.

"Listen to me. I've got an idea, all right?" She lifted a finger, cutting off his protest. "It's damn risky, but if we do this right, they won't have a choice but to give him back. Just trust me."

"You ain't been listenin' to a word I've said, have ya?"

"Nigel, please." The gravity in her eyes disarmed him. "This is Lucas, here."

"This ain't about Lucas, an' you know it. It's about you." Nigel shook his head and sagged against her, resignation and weariness mixing on his pale features. He looked completely drained of energy as he stared at her. "Oh, hell. Wha'd you have in mind?" he finally said.

Relief swept over her face. Jack opened her mouth to reply but quickly closed it. She tilted her head to the side, brow furrowing as she heard several voices float toward them from the direction of the building's front entrance. A single pair of footsteps was slowly approaching.

"Later," Jack whispered. Without waiting for his reply, she pulled him along the narrow path, their fleeing silhouettes cutting slender and black against the foggy light coming from the other end of the alley. By the time the soldier reached the mouth of the alley, Jack and Nigel had disappeared.

The soldier gave the alley a brief scan before calling to someone over his shoulder. "Nothin' here either."

A moment later, a second soldier appeared beside him. "Didn't expect there to be. Least we got one of 'em, huh?"

"Not the one Landers wants, though."

The other gave a snort. "Yeah, he wants her, all right." Shaking his head, he shifted his gun to his other shoulder and nudged the other man. "C'mon. We ain't findin' her here."

Shrugging simultaneously, the men moved away.