Chapter 26 - Waiting
Riddick walked through the clinic without so much as a backwards glance. He couldn't afford to look back because he'd want to go back in there. Not that it would help Jack at all, but he wasn't selfless enough to care about that. It would help him to know that she wasn't going to die on him. He ran a hand over his head, the stubble reminding him that he hadn't bothered shaving in a few days. He'd been too worried about Jack. Wouldn't it just be the best cosmic joke for him to save this kid's life thirteen years ago just to have her die on him after trying to save him, after he'd already made the monumental mistake of letting himself care about her? That's the kind of cosmic justice he'd learned to expect in his forty-three years of life.
It took a great effort not to put his fist through something as he walked through the obscenely serene waiting room. He wondered absently who had decided that waiting rooms should be quiet, serene places. Quiet and serene was for self-reflection and contemplating the universe. When someone you cared about was hurt, those were the last things you wanted to do. If any of the designers responsible for that bit of wisdom had needed to actually spend time in one they'd know that there should be a lot of noise and distractions, like a bar, or maybe a gym with something you could hit. Fluffy chairs and pretty colors just didn't cut it.
He remembered back to the last time he'd been in a waiting room. He'd been seventeen, and Samantha had been sixteen. They'd lied about their ages, among other things, when they'd gone to the clinic, though why they bothered he didn't now know. No one at the home would have given a shit that he'd knocked her up, they just would have had one of the clinicians quickly abort the baby. But they would have made certain that the two of them were kept apart for the rest of their 'stay' and neither of them wanted that. He'd thought then that the two hours he'd spent in the waiting room of the clinic were the hardest he'd ever have to spend. *Boy, I was stupid as a kid,* he thought as he pushed through the swinging doors that led into the entry hall.
Even though he didn't really want to, his mind quickly did the calculation. If the baby had lived, if it had been given a chance to, his son would be just about Jack's age. *How fucked up is that?* he thought, wondering why he was even thinking back to something that happened twenty-six years ago anyway. Maybe it was just his brain's way of kicking him in the ass and saying "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, ASSHOLE!? SHE'S A BABY COMPARED TO YOU!" And why did it matter anyway? It wasn't like they had any kind of future together.
Moving through the living room and into the kitchen, Riddick opened the refrigerator and peered into the chilled interior. Milk, something that looked like juice, fruit, vegetables. What was he supposed to eat? He wasn't a rabbit. What he really needed was a good stiff drink. "Where the hell's the beer?" And then he remembered that Doc didn't drink anymore. "SHIT!" He leaned his forehead against the cool surface of the refrigerator door and closed his eyes. How was he supposed to relax when Jack was only a hundred feet away getting cut in half so they could take her insides out? And who's fault was that? His? Hers? "Stupid kid." Why the hell did she have to try to save him anyway? He'd had things under control. *Unlike now,* he thought bitterly.
Whatever it was he was looking for, he wasn't going to find it in the refrigerator. He felt restless, and pissed off, and caged in and he knew that wasn't a good combination. People generally got hurt when he was in a mood like that. Best if he just tried to calm his ass down and chill the fuck out. That was going to be hard without something to focus on, or something to beat the shit out of. Closing the door, he was proud that he didn't slam it, he left the kitchen and crossed back into the wide living room.
Needing something to do, Riddick found himself crouching in front of the low bookshelves that lined the wall under the wide front window. Why anyone built windows in an underground home, he had never figured out. Probably to keep the illusion of normalcy. He didn't really care, he was just glad there were books. Books had been his escape his whole life. The stories in comic books had allowed him to escape the confines of the home when he was a kid and his love of reading had grown from there. Which was good since there wasn't a whole hell of a lot else to do when you were alone on a ship out in deep space for months at a time. Doc was an avid mystery reader, so Riddick plucked one of the many paperbacks off the shelf, not really caring what the plot was as long as it would occupy his mind for a while.
Dropping down into an overstuffed chair, he took a moment to stretch the taut muscles of his back, shoulders, and neck. The angry energy was still there, humming under the surface of his skin, though he could feel it ebbing, leaving behind it a bone deep tiredness. For the last three days he hadn't had a chance to indulge the anger he had felt toward Jack for doing something so stupid as putting her life in jeopardy because of him. He hadn't allowed himself to feel that anger toward her because he'd had to take care of her, she'd needed him. Now he didn't have that buffer and the anger was back, warring with his concern for her. He also hadn't slept much in the past three days, even before then, so the lack of sleep was not helping his mood at all. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, trying to gather his emotions in check, he forced himself to relax. Feeling a killer headache coming on, he tried to ignore it. In an effort to distract himself, he opened the book and began to read.
*****************************************************
Thanks to the larcenous heart of one of their residents, the contents of a decommissioned med ship had made their way to D2. Doc was grateful for the much needed upgrade no matter how it had been acquired. The equipment might not have been brand new or top of the line, but it was a damn sight better than anything they'd had before, and it was a lot better than you'd see on a lot of ships or outer rim posts. All in all, Doc and Amy couldn't complain.
Doc had to admit that Amy was another godsend. She had joined their community a short time after being released from a minimum-security prison in the Erinyes sector, having been imprisoned for twenty years for poisoning her abusive husband. During her time in prison, she had studied medicine and nursing. Though she could never hold a degree, she hoped that some day she could get a job in a clinic somewhere she would be able to help other abused women.
When she was released, no one would hire her for anything more than the most menial of labor, so when she'd met Trevor, one of D2's 'hunter/gatherers' (the people who would go off planet to get the supplies the community needed), she'd been more than willing to go back to the planet with him. It had taken a little time, but she and Doc had eventually clicked, then they'd more than clicked. After a while, the two of them became a unit. They finished each other's sentences, anticipated each other's needs, and when they worked together it was as if they had always been a team. Doc didn't know what he would do without her, and Amy couldn't imagine her life without Doc. It might not have been passion, but it was love.
Doc looked down at his patient. The gunshot wound itself hadn't been so bad, Rick had done a good job of patching the kid up and it had just taken some internal and external stitches to fix that part up. Doc had been a good surgeon, and he'd always prided himself on his stitching, so there would be hardly any scars at all. The other part, however, was a little more complicated. The surgery to remove Jack's kidney would require two small incisions on her side for the instruments and a larger one just under her belly button where his hand would enter her abdomen. Plus, it would take a good deal longer.
Four hours later, Amy checked on Jack's vitals and smiled. "She's doing good, want me to cut back the anesthetic?"
"All done here, go ahead and cut her back." Doc was finishing up the last of the sutures. Standing back, he looked over his handiwork, a smug look on his face. "I guess I still got it." He set the instruments to the side, and stepped outside the sterile field to wash his hands. "I can get her back to the recovery bed, why don't you go ahead and check on Rick, make sure he hasn't broken anything. Maybe get him a sandwich or something, I doubt he's eaten."
Amy moved over to Doc's side, carefully arranging all the instruments into a basket and setting it inside the small sterilization unit that would wash the instruments with ozone enriched water and disinfect them with the same ozone gas that infused the air in the room. "So this is the man that helped you to escape?"
He hadn't told her everything, but she knew enough to know Riddick wasn't someone to mess with. Doc finished washing up and planted a loud kiss on Amy's mouth. "One and the same." He smiled at her as he pulled out the antigrav gurney and activated it. "So just don't sneak up on him or startle him and you'll be fine."
"Thanks for the warning." Raising an eyebrow at him, she pulled off the scrub coat she'd been wearing and threw it in the bio-wash unit. She moved over to the sink and washed her hands in the sterilized water, glad for the ozone generator that had come from the med ship. Allowing her hands to air dry, she watched as Doc gently moved the girl to the gurney. "You sure you don't need any help with her?"
"No." The gurney barely moved under her slight weight. "Little thing doesn't way more than a pin," he moved the IV over to the gurney and started back toward a door that led to another new part of their little clinic. "Is the oxygen unit set up?"
Amy stopped at the door. "All set." She watched as Doc pushed the antigrav gurney through the doors and smiled. She knew he was always very concerned about his patients, and that's why he wanted to personally get her settled into the recovery bed. He'd watch her for the next little bit until he was absolutely certain she was doing well.
Moving through the clinic and back into the house proper, Amy saw Riddick lying back in one of the armchairs, his long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. Though his head was propped against his hand as if in concentration, the book he had been reading was lying open, facedown on his stomach, and the steady rise and fall of his chest told her he was asleep.
She decided to let him sleep for a while; he certainly looked like he could use it. Moving as quietly as she could, she went into the kitchen and pulled out a pot of vegetable soup she'd made the night before. Ladling some into a large mug, she heated it quickly in the microwave and added some healing herbs from the cupboard. She appreciated modern technology when it came to healing, but she also knew the benefit of the old and tried homeopathic remedies too. Of course, her knowledge of herbs and plants had also gotten her thrown in jail, but you had to take the bad with the good.
Moving back into the living room, she sat the cup of soup down on the table and debated whether or not to wake Riddick up. *He really does seem exhausted, maybe I should just let him sleep.* Grabbing a throw off the couch, she moved to the side of the chair. Without a second thought, she did as she would for Doc if he'd fallen asleep reading and reached for the book.
Riddick's eyes opened as he felt someone standing next to the chair and his hand flashed out, grabbing the person's arm by the wrist, his large hand closing around the small wrist and squeezing it until he heard the cry of astonishment and pain from the woman. When he looked up he saw Amy standing there, a look of fear and surprise on her face. It took a moment for him to gather his bearings and remember where he was, what he was doing there, before he released her arm. His voice was low, unrepentant as he spoke. "You shouldn't sneak up on someone like that."
Amy's voice was just as low and unrepentant as her fear abated and a snap of temper surfaced. "I poisoned the last man who manhandled me." She dropped the throw over his lap and took a step back. Rubbing at the angry red mark of Riddick's hand on her wrist. "Doc asked me to come out and tell you he'll be out to talk to you soon."
Throwing the light blanket over the back of the chair, Riddick sat up, rubbing his face. *How long have I been asleep?* His stomach growled as he smelled the fragrant vegetable soup. "How's she doing?" He wasn't sure if it was hunger or something else that caused his stomach to clench. The anger from earlier had diminished making room for the concern once more, though he could still feel the foul mood lingering just under the surface. He was going to have to figure out whether he wanted to hug Jack or strangle her before he saw her again.
Amy's temper faded when she saw the look of concern flit briefly over his face. "She's doing really well, Doc just likes to be there for a little while, just in case." She knew she didn't have to explain the whys to Riddick. "He'll be out in a bit."
Relief washed over him, though he'd save the victory party until he got to talk to Doc. The younger man nodded, he knew why Doc needed to be sure, it was hard to have ghosts of the past following you around all the time. If anyone knew that, it was Riddick. He watched her as she turned to walk away. "Thanks."
Turning back to look at him, she said nothing for a moment. "He thinks you should eat." She pointed at the soup on the table and a wicked grin crossed her face. "I added a little something extra to it, enjoy your soup." Still smiling, she crossed the entryway and disappeared through the clinic's doors.
Picking up the cup, he sniffed at it, eyeing it warily. Didn't she say she'd poisoned someone? But Doc wouldn't let her work with patients unless she was safe, right? Hunger finally won out and he took a large bite of the warm, delicious soup. *Oh well,* he thought, *I didn't piss her off until after she'd made the soup so I'm probably safe, for now.*
Riddick walked through the clinic without so much as a backwards glance. He couldn't afford to look back because he'd want to go back in there. Not that it would help Jack at all, but he wasn't selfless enough to care about that. It would help him to know that she wasn't going to die on him. He ran a hand over his head, the stubble reminding him that he hadn't bothered shaving in a few days. He'd been too worried about Jack. Wouldn't it just be the best cosmic joke for him to save this kid's life thirteen years ago just to have her die on him after trying to save him, after he'd already made the monumental mistake of letting himself care about her? That's the kind of cosmic justice he'd learned to expect in his forty-three years of life.
It took a great effort not to put his fist through something as he walked through the obscenely serene waiting room. He wondered absently who had decided that waiting rooms should be quiet, serene places. Quiet and serene was for self-reflection and contemplating the universe. When someone you cared about was hurt, those were the last things you wanted to do. If any of the designers responsible for that bit of wisdom had needed to actually spend time in one they'd know that there should be a lot of noise and distractions, like a bar, or maybe a gym with something you could hit. Fluffy chairs and pretty colors just didn't cut it.
He remembered back to the last time he'd been in a waiting room. He'd been seventeen, and Samantha had been sixteen. They'd lied about their ages, among other things, when they'd gone to the clinic, though why they bothered he didn't now know. No one at the home would have given a shit that he'd knocked her up, they just would have had one of the clinicians quickly abort the baby. But they would have made certain that the two of them were kept apart for the rest of their 'stay' and neither of them wanted that. He'd thought then that the two hours he'd spent in the waiting room of the clinic were the hardest he'd ever have to spend. *Boy, I was stupid as a kid,* he thought as he pushed through the swinging doors that led into the entry hall.
Even though he didn't really want to, his mind quickly did the calculation. If the baby had lived, if it had been given a chance to, his son would be just about Jack's age. *How fucked up is that?* he thought, wondering why he was even thinking back to something that happened twenty-six years ago anyway. Maybe it was just his brain's way of kicking him in the ass and saying "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, ASSHOLE!? SHE'S A BABY COMPARED TO YOU!" And why did it matter anyway? It wasn't like they had any kind of future together.
Moving through the living room and into the kitchen, Riddick opened the refrigerator and peered into the chilled interior. Milk, something that looked like juice, fruit, vegetables. What was he supposed to eat? He wasn't a rabbit. What he really needed was a good stiff drink. "Where the hell's the beer?" And then he remembered that Doc didn't drink anymore. "SHIT!" He leaned his forehead against the cool surface of the refrigerator door and closed his eyes. How was he supposed to relax when Jack was only a hundred feet away getting cut in half so they could take her insides out? And who's fault was that? His? Hers? "Stupid kid." Why the hell did she have to try to save him anyway? He'd had things under control. *Unlike now,* he thought bitterly.
Whatever it was he was looking for, he wasn't going to find it in the refrigerator. He felt restless, and pissed off, and caged in and he knew that wasn't a good combination. People generally got hurt when he was in a mood like that. Best if he just tried to calm his ass down and chill the fuck out. That was going to be hard without something to focus on, or something to beat the shit out of. Closing the door, he was proud that he didn't slam it, he left the kitchen and crossed back into the wide living room.
Needing something to do, Riddick found himself crouching in front of the low bookshelves that lined the wall under the wide front window. Why anyone built windows in an underground home, he had never figured out. Probably to keep the illusion of normalcy. He didn't really care, he was just glad there were books. Books had been his escape his whole life. The stories in comic books had allowed him to escape the confines of the home when he was a kid and his love of reading had grown from there. Which was good since there wasn't a whole hell of a lot else to do when you were alone on a ship out in deep space for months at a time. Doc was an avid mystery reader, so Riddick plucked one of the many paperbacks off the shelf, not really caring what the plot was as long as it would occupy his mind for a while.
Dropping down into an overstuffed chair, he took a moment to stretch the taut muscles of his back, shoulders, and neck. The angry energy was still there, humming under the surface of his skin, though he could feel it ebbing, leaving behind it a bone deep tiredness. For the last three days he hadn't had a chance to indulge the anger he had felt toward Jack for doing something so stupid as putting her life in jeopardy because of him. He hadn't allowed himself to feel that anger toward her because he'd had to take care of her, she'd needed him. Now he didn't have that buffer and the anger was back, warring with his concern for her. He also hadn't slept much in the past three days, even before then, so the lack of sleep was not helping his mood at all. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, trying to gather his emotions in check, he forced himself to relax. Feeling a killer headache coming on, he tried to ignore it. In an effort to distract himself, he opened the book and began to read.
*****************************************************
Thanks to the larcenous heart of one of their residents, the contents of a decommissioned med ship had made their way to D2. Doc was grateful for the much needed upgrade no matter how it had been acquired. The equipment might not have been brand new or top of the line, but it was a damn sight better than anything they'd had before, and it was a lot better than you'd see on a lot of ships or outer rim posts. All in all, Doc and Amy couldn't complain.
Doc had to admit that Amy was another godsend. She had joined their community a short time after being released from a minimum-security prison in the Erinyes sector, having been imprisoned for twenty years for poisoning her abusive husband. During her time in prison, she had studied medicine and nursing. Though she could never hold a degree, she hoped that some day she could get a job in a clinic somewhere she would be able to help other abused women.
When she was released, no one would hire her for anything more than the most menial of labor, so when she'd met Trevor, one of D2's 'hunter/gatherers' (the people who would go off planet to get the supplies the community needed), she'd been more than willing to go back to the planet with him. It had taken a little time, but she and Doc had eventually clicked, then they'd more than clicked. After a while, the two of them became a unit. They finished each other's sentences, anticipated each other's needs, and when they worked together it was as if they had always been a team. Doc didn't know what he would do without her, and Amy couldn't imagine her life without Doc. It might not have been passion, but it was love.
Doc looked down at his patient. The gunshot wound itself hadn't been so bad, Rick had done a good job of patching the kid up and it had just taken some internal and external stitches to fix that part up. Doc had been a good surgeon, and he'd always prided himself on his stitching, so there would be hardly any scars at all. The other part, however, was a little more complicated. The surgery to remove Jack's kidney would require two small incisions on her side for the instruments and a larger one just under her belly button where his hand would enter her abdomen. Plus, it would take a good deal longer.
Four hours later, Amy checked on Jack's vitals and smiled. "She's doing good, want me to cut back the anesthetic?"
"All done here, go ahead and cut her back." Doc was finishing up the last of the sutures. Standing back, he looked over his handiwork, a smug look on his face. "I guess I still got it." He set the instruments to the side, and stepped outside the sterile field to wash his hands. "I can get her back to the recovery bed, why don't you go ahead and check on Rick, make sure he hasn't broken anything. Maybe get him a sandwich or something, I doubt he's eaten."
Amy moved over to Doc's side, carefully arranging all the instruments into a basket and setting it inside the small sterilization unit that would wash the instruments with ozone enriched water and disinfect them with the same ozone gas that infused the air in the room. "So this is the man that helped you to escape?"
He hadn't told her everything, but she knew enough to know Riddick wasn't someone to mess with. Doc finished washing up and planted a loud kiss on Amy's mouth. "One and the same." He smiled at her as he pulled out the antigrav gurney and activated it. "So just don't sneak up on him or startle him and you'll be fine."
"Thanks for the warning." Raising an eyebrow at him, she pulled off the scrub coat she'd been wearing and threw it in the bio-wash unit. She moved over to the sink and washed her hands in the sterilized water, glad for the ozone generator that had come from the med ship. Allowing her hands to air dry, she watched as Doc gently moved the girl to the gurney. "You sure you don't need any help with her?"
"No." The gurney barely moved under her slight weight. "Little thing doesn't way more than a pin," he moved the IV over to the gurney and started back toward a door that led to another new part of their little clinic. "Is the oxygen unit set up?"
Amy stopped at the door. "All set." She watched as Doc pushed the antigrav gurney through the doors and smiled. She knew he was always very concerned about his patients, and that's why he wanted to personally get her settled into the recovery bed. He'd watch her for the next little bit until he was absolutely certain she was doing well.
Moving through the clinic and back into the house proper, Amy saw Riddick lying back in one of the armchairs, his long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. Though his head was propped against his hand as if in concentration, the book he had been reading was lying open, facedown on his stomach, and the steady rise and fall of his chest told her he was asleep.
She decided to let him sleep for a while; he certainly looked like he could use it. Moving as quietly as she could, she went into the kitchen and pulled out a pot of vegetable soup she'd made the night before. Ladling some into a large mug, she heated it quickly in the microwave and added some healing herbs from the cupboard. She appreciated modern technology when it came to healing, but she also knew the benefit of the old and tried homeopathic remedies too. Of course, her knowledge of herbs and plants had also gotten her thrown in jail, but you had to take the bad with the good.
Moving back into the living room, she sat the cup of soup down on the table and debated whether or not to wake Riddick up. *He really does seem exhausted, maybe I should just let him sleep.* Grabbing a throw off the couch, she moved to the side of the chair. Without a second thought, she did as she would for Doc if he'd fallen asleep reading and reached for the book.
Riddick's eyes opened as he felt someone standing next to the chair and his hand flashed out, grabbing the person's arm by the wrist, his large hand closing around the small wrist and squeezing it until he heard the cry of astonishment and pain from the woman. When he looked up he saw Amy standing there, a look of fear and surprise on her face. It took a moment for him to gather his bearings and remember where he was, what he was doing there, before he released her arm. His voice was low, unrepentant as he spoke. "You shouldn't sneak up on someone like that."
Amy's voice was just as low and unrepentant as her fear abated and a snap of temper surfaced. "I poisoned the last man who manhandled me." She dropped the throw over his lap and took a step back. Rubbing at the angry red mark of Riddick's hand on her wrist. "Doc asked me to come out and tell you he'll be out to talk to you soon."
Throwing the light blanket over the back of the chair, Riddick sat up, rubbing his face. *How long have I been asleep?* His stomach growled as he smelled the fragrant vegetable soup. "How's she doing?" He wasn't sure if it was hunger or something else that caused his stomach to clench. The anger from earlier had diminished making room for the concern once more, though he could still feel the foul mood lingering just under the surface. He was going to have to figure out whether he wanted to hug Jack or strangle her before he saw her again.
Amy's temper faded when she saw the look of concern flit briefly over his face. "She's doing really well, Doc just likes to be there for a little while, just in case." She knew she didn't have to explain the whys to Riddick. "He'll be out in a bit."
Relief washed over him, though he'd save the victory party until he got to talk to Doc. The younger man nodded, he knew why Doc needed to be sure, it was hard to have ghosts of the past following you around all the time. If anyone knew that, it was Riddick. He watched her as she turned to walk away. "Thanks."
Turning back to look at him, she said nothing for a moment. "He thinks you should eat." She pointed at the soup on the table and a wicked grin crossed her face. "I added a little something extra to it, enjoy your soup." Still smiling, she crossed the entryway and disappeared through the clinic's doors.
Picking up the cup, he sniffed at it, eyeing it warily. Didn't she say she'd poisoned someone? But Doc wouldn't let her work with patients unless she was safe, right? Hunger finally won out and he took a large bite of the warm, delicious soup. *Oh well,* he thought, *I didn't piss her off until after she'd made the soup so I'm probably safe, for now.*