"Mmmm." Food cooking. Breakfast. Imam must be cooking this morning.

Jack stirred under the fluffy blanket, stretching.

Then, like a bullet, it came back to her. Riddick, the cell, everything. She sat up so fast her head spun and looked around the room. She was in her Captain's quarters.

Had it all just been a dream? She held her head in her hands for a minute trying to think clearly. If she had dreamed all of it then who the hell was cooking breakfast?

She vaulted out of the bed, opened her closet and looked for her weapon's locker. It wasn't there. She checked the night side table for a small laser gun she kept there. Nothing. Shit! He'd cleaned her out. Now what?

Without warning the door slid open and Mr. Evil himself walked in. "Good, you're awake. You hungry?"

She was stunned. What was going on? Didn't he understand she was here to capture him?

"What?"

"I'm not much of a cook but it's edible." He motioned to the open door.

"Where are my things?" Jack spoken as evenly as she could.

"I dumped them. Do you want to eat or should I just go ahead?" He was looking at her like she was a crazy person.

"Dumped them?"

"Jack, you seemed overly concerned about a few toys. Did they have some sentimental attachment?" The bastard was smiling at her now.

He'd put her weapons kit out the airlock. Thousands of credits worth of technology. It had taken her years to buy and learn how to use all that stuff and he'd just shoved it out an airlock. Anger rising inside her was threatening to choke her. Added to her outrage was the knowledge that without that edge, she'd never be able to get him back in that cell. He was too big and powerful and no amount of martial arts training was going to help her now.

This just sucked.

"I'm gonna eat." He turned his back on her and left.

She sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at the floor. Okay, what was she going to do now? A surge of joy entered her. Maybe he hadn't gotten everything. There could be a few tranq darts in the pocket of her jacket. All she'd have to do was hit him with one of them and she'd be back in business. She pawed through her clothes closet and found two darts in the side pocket of her flightsuit jacket. Pay dirt!

She passed the dresser mirror on her way to the door and caught a glimpse of herself. Oh my God! Jack couldn't believe how horrible she looked. Big dark circles under her eyes, her hair hanging in big greasy tangles. Riddick must think she was pitiful, not to mention hideous, she thought lamentably.

What do you care she shouted in her head? He's just a common criminal. She tried to reassure herself of that all the way down the corridor and into the galley. Delicious smells assaulting her, making her stomach growl. She gripped the dart tightly in her hand and tried to calm down. He'd taken the gun so she had to get close enough to jab it in him. He couldn't suspect anything or she'd never get near him.

Riddick was sitting at the table with a half-eaten plate in front of him and a computer flexi. He looked up as she walked in. "You want a plate?"

She stopped, confused. Why was public enemy number one cooking for her? Why was he being so nice? What the hell was happening here? She pushed it to the back of her mind and concentrated on her plan.

"Sure. It smells good." She attempted to look defenseless. Not terribly hard considering that all she had was a tiny dart in her hand. It was suppose to be immediately effective but she was still scared. Strike and run was the plan.

He turned to the counter and Jack moved in behind him slowly. "Where'd you learn to cook?" Oh God! Could she have thought of a more inane question?

"Don't know. Just did." He sounded completely at ease---well, as at ease as Riddick ever got.

His shoulders were big. A good target. Impossible to miss and he was wearing a tank top so his skin was bare.

Nice skin she thought distractedly. Kinda toffee colored. She remembered how he'd looked under the twin suns of T2, all bronzed and glistening. Stop that, she shouted in her head.

Squashing her admiration, she brought her hand up and stabbed him with the dart. Quickly, she backed up.

Riddick felt the sharp prick and knew what it was. Shit! This stuff always gave him a Goddamn headache. It never knocked him out. He had no idea why but he'd been shot five times ----- six times now and he'd never gone down.

He turned in a flash and watched Jack back up into the counter. The panic in her eyes when she realized that she couldn't move and that he wasn't reacting was priceless.

Instinctively he followed her and pushed her into the corner of the room. She was feeling along the counter ledge, probably for a knife. He put his hands down on either side of her and leaned in, his face inches from hers.

To give her credit, she didn't freak out. She stood as tall as she could and faced him. Impressive, he admitted to himself.

"Why'd you do that?" He asked quietly pushing down the anger.

She gulped but her eyes stayed fixed on his.

"I don't want to fight Jack. I don't want to hurt you." Well, maybe a little.

A little nervous laugh slipped out of her. "Yeah, right."

"Look kid, I'm going to apologize for saving my own ass five fucking years ago. What I am going to do is pretend that you didn't haven't shocked, tied and stabbed me in the last day and then I'm going to sit down and finish my meal."

He moved out of her space and backed away into his chair. He pulled the tranq out of his shoulder and tossed it on the table and then started to eat. Nice and slow Riddick he thought. Don't scare her anymore. Just let her relax.

He repeated this mantra in his head several times, fighting the urge to knock her out for being such a psycho.

Bewildered, Jack stood in the corner for a minute or so trying to figure out what his game was. Why wasn't the sedative working? Shouldn't it being taking effect by now?

Eyes narrowed, she watched him eat. One mouth full after another. He didn't seem groggy. The instructions on the box had advertised complete immobilization of the target. Riddick was definitely not immobile.

God! That food looked good and he looked good eating it, muscles rippling as he lifted his fork.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. Maybe more sleep would snap her out of this --- fascination she'd developed for his body.

He startled her out of her recriminations. "Tranqs don't work on me. You can stand there until universe implodes and I'll still be awake."

Figures! "I guess being the Spawn of Satan has some advantages eh?"

He laughed softly, the sound wrapping around her, embracing her.

More sleep. She needed more sleep. Maybe then she could get her shit together and stop thinking of Riddick as anything but the asshole that he was. Not thinking clearly. She made her way down the corridor and back to her cabin. Seeing herself in the mirror again she changed directions and headed to the bathroom. A shower would probably help.

When she stepped into the room she realized that Riddick had been in there. He must have had a shower. There was water pooled in the stall and a wet towel on the back of the toilet. She stared at the tiled cubical and for a moment imagined his nude body under the spray of the water. The rivulets of water running over his caramel skin, along the ridges of muscle------.

Oh Christ! She laid her head against the cool wall. This was out of control. She tried to pull all the hatred back into the forefront of her mind but it was difficult. Since she'd brought him here he'd done nothing inherently wrong. Nothing that she could point her finger at and say 'you are the bad guy'.

Jack didn't hear Riddick as he came up behind her. Didn't know he was there until he put one hand on her shoulder and she reacted utterly on intuition when she swung around and punched him as hard as she could.

He hadn't been expecting it and she made direct contact.

They both gasped. He in pain and her in shock.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He appeared his unflappable calm self but she felt the anger.

"Why are you sneaking up on me like that?" She shot back.

"I wasn't fucking sneaking. I was worried about you. You don't look so hot and I thought maybe you needed some help." He rubbed his sore jaw and she winced in spite of feeling that he deserved it.

"You! Helping me?" She asked incredulously. Richard B. Riddick helped no one but himself.

"Yeah, you know --- like I when I helped you by taking out Johns because he wanted to use you for bait, like I helped you when I came back for you. Twice! You remember that don't you?" He stalked off, obviously furious.

Jack slid down the wall feeling totally shattered. Everything that she'd thought. Believed for the last five years was crumbling down around her. She had been convinced that he was responsible for all the misery she'd suffered and now it seemed ---- it seemed like a lie.