A/N: This is my first time writing a Pitch Black story. So…yeah. Tell me how it is?

Disclaimer: Riddick, Fry and all other related characters from Pitch Black belong to USA Films. No intentional copyright infringement is intended through their use.

Not for me

He gazed into the dark blackness of space, broken only by the sight of far-off stars, some planets, and the tainted Plexiglas of the skiff. Beside him, Jack slouched in the co-pilot seat, almost asleep, staring blearily out at nothing, at something.

Behind them, where two rows of seats lined the walls of the skiff, Imam sat, praying, handling his rosary beads with heavy grief.

He was the only one without a name. Not now, not since the very instant Fry had died saving him. Not since he had told Jack that Riddick had "died somewhere on the planet."

He was the one without a name.

#####

Boneyard:

Riddick had been hiding, waiting for one of them to separate from the group, so that he could take the person down, take whatever supplies he could to remain alive on the damned God-forsaken planet. After all, he was a murderer: he had no compulsions about killing others so that he could live.

Bone striking an almost musical rhythm on the weathered ribs of the dead animals caught his attention, and he quickly leaned flat against the curve of a bone, Johns passing by below him.

After a few moments, when he was sure that the merc. had gone off, Riddick jumped to the ground softly, and was about to move off when he saw Fry alone.

Alone.

He could take her down easily, this Captain of the Hunter Gratzner. She was nothing to him: just a mere pile of flesh he could slice.

He slid his newly-carved bone shiv from his boot, raising it up, eyes on the black of her shirt showing through the gaps of the ribs.

Heavy boot-steps made him draw back into the shadows of the bones. He heard liquid sloshing about in a bottle.

"Probably makes it worse. Dehydrates you even more."

"Probably right."

Fuck. He should probably take out the woman now, and then Johns. The merc. couldn't stand against him even with his big gauge.

Riddick raised his shiv again, moving closer to Fry, his boots making no sound in the dry sand. The conversation of Fry and Johns covered any other sounds he might have made.

Then Fry moved away.

Fuck.

"Better keep moving."

"What'd Owens mean, about not touching the switch?"

Riddick paused. He was intrigued. That question was too innocent to be simple.

Fry made a few small attempts to divert the question Johns asked, but he cajoled her, and, feeling the weight of her sins too heavy to bear, she spoke.

"During the landing...when things were at their worst...Owens was at his best. He's the one who wouldn't let the pilot dump the passenger cabin."

"The pilot being…"

Johns's voice trailed off, but the answer was obvious enough.

Fry.

Riddick grinned to himself. Here was a woman after his own heart, and maybe even better than he was. She was willing to sacrifice over forty passengers to save her own fucking ass.

She was too good for him to kill.

He angled the shiv against her hair, slicing off a few strands of them as she and Johns left.

Too good indeed.

#####

Main cabin:

He was chained, and Fry approached him.

Now this should get interesting. He almost smiled to himself, but stopped: that would freak the Captain out, sure, but he wanted to see how afraid she was of him first.

"So where is he?"

Riddick didn't answer. Why should he? He didn't kill Zeke, though he sure would have.

"Tell me about the sounds. You told Johns you heard something before…"

Sounds. Ah…the sounds…the voices calling to him, begging to be silenced; the spurt of blood as he ran his knife over skin and veins…

His silence frustrated her, he could tell. She made some threats, but to him, those were as vague as the bones he had broken, the necks he had crushed.

Just as she was about to turn away in anger, he teased her.

"You mean the whispers."

Oh, that certainly freaked her out.

"What whispers?"

He decided to be frank with her about the whispers calling to him. "The ones telling me to go for the sweet spot—just to the left of the spine, fourth lumbar down: the abdominal aorta. There's a metallic taste to it, human blood. Copperish. But if you cut it with peppermint schnapps, that goes away."

Fry was afraid, that much was clear. He didn't have to see it in her eyes or her stance. He felt it, absorbed the very smell of fear that tinged the air.

But she did not move. And, for one who didn't know him, but knew fear all too well, he had to give her credit for her courage.

Or her stupidity.

"Why don't we try the truth now?"

The truth? Riddick smiled inwardly. Sometimes, the truth could be much worse than what one can imagine.

"All you people are so scared of me. And most days, I take that as a compliment. But it ain't me you gotta worry about now."

"Show me your eyes, Riddick."

That surprised him, he had to say. The eyes were the windows to one's soul, it has been said. And though he'd never been one for believing in those sort of fucking crap, he was one to make sure all his potential weaknesses were protected.

"You'd have to come a lot closer for that."

It was a challenge: a challenge for her to face him, to face one who could break her easily, even if he was chained up. It was a challenge to her to look into his soul, and see if she would cower at the lack of a soul she found there…found deep within the surgical shine of his black-greenish pupils.

Fry took a few steps closer. His ears judged the distance she had away from him.

"Closer."

This one had courage, Riddick admitted. Courage to kill off many useless fuckers, and to face her potential demise.

He lunged forward suddenly, his face and open eyes just inches away from her startled one.

They both noticed Jack standing off to one side, gazing at Riddick with interest.

This kid was good, too. But more from stupidity. He asked for surgical shine.

Riddick gave him an answer.

"I can do it," Jack said.

Ah…but can you really, kid?

"Leave!" Fry ordered sharply. "Leave."

Jack left.

Fry turned back to Riddick, who had settled back onto his seat.

"Did I kill a few people? Sure. Did I kill Zeke?" Riddick paused. Much as he would like to lay claim on having taken the man's life, he didn't ghost this one. And besides…he didn't want to let Fry down. "No. You got the wrong person."

"Then where is he? He's not in the hole. We looked."

Riddick was pissed at himself. Didn't want to let Fry down? What the fuck was he thinking of? He should let her go kill herself, for he had seen what had gotten Zeke.

"Look deeper."

#####

Interior of skiff:

He saw Fry alone, sitting at the controls, checking over the skiff again with the one power cell they had brought over from the Hunter Gratzner. He moved in before the hatch closes down.

She did not hear him.

The areas for the power cells are still empty, save for one. And he had a feeling he knew why.

"Looks like we're a few shy," he commented.

Fry whirls around, and he knew that she knew fear once again, left alone with him.

He loved that. It thrilled him.

"Power cells," he explained.

"They're coming." Her voice was a whisper, breathless, maybe from the lack of oxygen on this planet, maybe from something else.

"It's strange," he drawled, "not doing a run-up on the main drive yet. Unless," he paused a moment, placing a note of curiosity in his voice, "unless he told you the particulars of my escape."

"I got the quick and ugly version."

Ah…now she was even more afraid of him than before. He savored it, savored the taste of fear, of power over others, of power over…her.

"And now you're worried about a repeat of history," he guessed. And why shouldn't she be? He'd just as soon fucking ghost them than worry over their lives.

"It has entered our minds."

Ah.

"I asked what you thought."

"You scare me, Riddick. That's what you want to hear, isn't it? There, I've admit it. Can I get back to work now?"

The taste of fear rolled off her, tinged with a hint of…excitement.

Riddick smiled as she turned her back on him, sliding back into the pilot seat. She was a brave woman.

It thrilled him.

He walked over to her, leaning his arm against the backrest of her seat. Maybe he could get Johns into trouble. Maybe he could get them to kill off each other. "You think…you think Johns is a do-right man? You think I can trust him to cut me lose?"

He tested her. She didn't move. But the lack of movement on her part told her everything. And anger filled him then, that this fucking woman here…this woman thought she could do-right, after trying to jett. the main cabin. But he was impressed. She could kill off so many, yet not be inflicted with conscience.

"Why? What'd you hear?"

"Well, I guess…if it were tickeration, he'd just…X me out huh? He'd kill me." Another pause. "Then again, I am worth twice as much alive." He read her tensed posture, the disbelief. "Didn't know? Your Johns ain't a cop. He's got that shiny badge and all, but he's just a merc. And I'm just a payday. That's why he won't kill me, see? The creed, is greed."

She hesitated, not knowing whether to trust his words or not. Riddick smiled again. Oh, she would confront Johns, that much he was sure of. But would she turn to trust him?

Another burst of anger shot into him. Why the fucking hell did he want her to trust him? So that he could kill her off? See how another killer died at the hands of a greater?

That must be it, he decided, as Fry spoke firmly, "Save it, Riddick. We aren't going to turn on each other, no matter how hard you try."

Oh, but you will, Fry. You will.

Still…

"I don't truly know what's going to happen when the lights go out, Carolyn. But I do know that once the dying starts, this little psycho-fuck family of ours is gonna rip itself apart."

A beeping sound is heard, and he glanced at the monitor. Hull integrity a hundred percent? He nodded to himself. Good, 'cause he was gonna leave this fucking planet first chance he got, with or without Fry.

He turned to leave. "Ask him about those shakes. Ask why your crew-pal had to scream like that 'fore he died."

That was sure gonna shake her up. Good. He loved her mad.

The hatch opened, and he left.

#####

Near boneyard, night:

"Ain't all of us gonna make it."

Riddick remains silent. Let the motherfucker talk. Let him think that Riddick was on his side. Let him lower his guard.

"Six of us left," Johns continued. "If we could get through that canyon and lose just one, that'd be quite a feat, huh?"

"Not if I'm the one." And it was true. He would do anything to survive, because that was what he was: a survivor. He murdered to stay alive.

"What if you're one of five?"

Fucking motherfucker was suggesting killing, Riddick knew. But Johns wouldn't be the one who died, not in his own view. He wouldn't be the one doing the killing either.

"I'm listening."

"Battlefield doctors decide who lives and dies. It's called triage."

Fucker. "Kept calling it murder when I did it."

"Either way, figure it's something you can hold on to." Johns tried to brush it away.

Riddick would play him. "Sacrifice play. Hack up one body. Leave it at the start of the canyon. Like a bucket of bait."

"Trawl with it," Johns said. "We've got cable. We can drag it behind us."

Even knowing that it was a trap, Riddick was impressed. "Nice embellishment."

"I don't wanna feed them, just keep them off our scent."

Riddick knew who Johns would sacrifice. It was the most logical one—the smallest member and the one most inconvenient to survival: Jack.

He wouldn't admit it, but the girl had grown on him in a manner. She would do anything to survive. That reminded him of him when he was younger, when he knew what he had to do to survive.

He tried to give those behind a hint of danger, turning to look before Johns caught him.

"God! You mad! Don't look!"

Riddick didn't.

"All right. You do the girl, I'll keep the others off your back."

He stopped. Paused.

Johns took that as hesitation, and he taunted. "Aw, don't tell me you're 'fraid."

"Just wondering if we don't need a bigger piece of bait."

A challenge. A threat. A wonder and a question to be carried out.

Johns knew who Riddick talked about.

They fought. It was survival now. Survivor and merc.

Johns couldn't see in the dark. But Riddick didn't need to see to ghost the merc. Their cat-and-mouse game had gone on for so long, Riddick knew Johns's scent…knew his moves…knew his thoughts.

They fought till he tired of it, and until the flare burnt out.

One rule: stay in the light.

Johns didn't. And Johns died.

He went back to the group. They huddled together, away from him.

"Where's Mr. Johns?"

Riddick shot Imam a look. "Which half?"

Jack started to break down. "We're gonna lose everybody out here."

He was mad. He had just saved the fucking kid and she was breaking down? What happened to seeing something of himself in her? "He died fast. And if we got any choice about it, that's the way we should all go." He walked over to Jack, anger evident in his soft tone. "Don't you cry for him. Don't you dare."

She didn't. And Riddick, seeing that, smiled.

#####

Skiff:

"Strong survival instinct. I admire that in a woman."

And he really did. He was gonna leave them trapped in that cave till they tiled of thirst or something else. And he was gonna leave.

She was drenched with rain, and panting, her face white. But still she stood defiant. "I promised them—" Pants. "—that we'd go back--" Pants. "—with more light."

He was silent.

"I trusted you…trusted that some part of you wanted to rejoin the human race."

"Truthfully, I wouldn't know how." And it was true.

She couldn't persuade him. How could anyone persuade a killer?

"Just give me more light. I'll go back for them."

He tosses her the light he had broken.

"Please just come with me." She was pleading now. Not a good sign. Not in one whom he almost admired.

"I've got a better idea. Come with me."

She gives him a horrified look. Riddick didn't move. He was serious. He wouldn't kill her if she came. If she left, he'd leave her to die too.

"You're fucking with me. I know you are."

"You know I am?" he taunted. "You don't know anything about me. I will leave you."

She crouches down, hands covering her face. Her tears mixed with the rain.

"Come on," he cajoled. "C'mon. Here, I'll make it easy on you." He reaches out, giving her an opening. "C'mon." He really did want her on board.

Fry slides upwards on the ramp, slowly, with Riddick's hands on her gently. Then, she stands up, and both of them turn as they hear the screeches of the raptors.

Riddick was almost ready for her to change her mind: he knew that ordinary people couldn't leave their conscience, couldn't kill it. But he was hurled backwards into the mud as Fry flew at him.

"I will not abandon them!" she screamed at him. "I will not abandon anyone on this rock with those fucking things, even—"

He threw her off him, and twisted so that he now towered over her, holding his shiv at her neck. Being so close to her made him excited.

"Get it off me."

"Shut up!"

She made him mad. Yet, he was strangely curious as to what she'd sacrifice for the others. "You would die for them?"

"I would try for them."

She was evading an answer…not being sure. He wanted her to be sure.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Dammit, yes! Yes! I would die for them!"

He pulled off his dark goggles to get a better look at her face, so filled with fire, with fear. "How interesting."

#####

Somewhere in Skiff City:

He stumbled, and fell, gasping from the deep gash in his left shin. Two of the fucking raptors had caught him in-between them, after he had agreed to help Fry go back for Jack and Imam.

He regretted it, regretted going back, regretted helping any of them.

Now they were all safe at the skiff. He had sent them ahead. Sheer fucking nobility was going to get him killed, right after he had done off those two fucking raptors.

He gave another cry of pain, then, through the heavy sound of rain, heard another hurried set of steps. Must be another one of those fucking raptors.

He listened, waited for it to near, then raised his shiv and got ready to attack.

Fry gasped.

He almost laughed to hear that.

"It's me! It's me!"

He didn't want to die on this motherfucking rock. Not under the threat of those fucking assholes. He would die while fighting. Not like this.

He felt Fry's smaller hands upon him, helping him up. Still, he knew he was too heavy, and the fucking wound wouldn't let him move properly and without pain.

Fry was almost hugging him, leaning her against him, chest to chest. "C'mon, I said I'll die for them! Not you!"

Riddick wanted to laugh again. After all he had done, she still wouldn't die for him.

He stumbled again, and they backed another few steps, Fry using jerks and short moves to support them both.

In his pain, he didn't see the raptor flying towards them, and only when there was a jerk of their bodies did he know that danger had found them.

Time did not stop. Nor did it slow down.

It stretched out into eternity, into the deepest reaches of their souls, as eyes stared into the other.

Then Fry was snatched from his arms, and that felt too much, as if a hook had torn out what feelings he had gained in the short time with her.

His leg couldn't support him. Not without her.

"Not for me." She had promised him that. She had broken it! Fry had fucking broken her promise! "Not for me!"

#####

"So whaddya we tell them? You gotta have a name."

Riddick glanced at Jack. He didn't want a name, didn't need one.

Not for me…

Fry had died for Riddick when she had promised she wouldn't.

Riddick. Him.

No. Wait. Not anymore.

"Richard Fry."

He saw Jack and Imam smile at him.

He smiled back.

And Fry hadn't died. Not for him. Not for Richard B. Riddick.

--finis