Chapter 13
Jack shuffled into the kitchen, squinting at the eerie glow the refrigerator light cast across the room. She let it shut on its own, taking a swig out of the milk jug.
"So that's who's been drinking out of the carton and leaving it open." She jumped, dropping the jug to the floor, a wave of milk rippling out across the room. Without looking in his direction, she stooped to pick up the jug and reached for the nearest towel. "Better not cry," he said quietly. Her eyebrow rose, but she concentrated on mopping up the mess. "Spilled milk, you know?"
"Ha fuckin' ha," she said flatly. "Do you ever sleep?"
"Not hard, no," he said with a shrug invisible in the dark. "I catnap." She nodded, rinsing the towel in the sink. "You really need to relax, Jack."
"You really need to quit scaring me like that." The room fell silent. She dropped the soaking towel in the sink, not really knowing or caring if it was completely rinsed out, and looked over her shoulder. Two silver orbs stared back at her, disappearing every now and then as he blinked. Goose bumps rose on her skin. She cleared her throat and wiped off the milk carton, setting it back in the fridge. "What happened to the contacts?" she asked nonchalantly, closing the door quietly.
"I ripped one." She nodded, sitting across from him with the animal crackers she'd just removed from a cabinet. He watched, amused as she bit off the head of what slightly resembled a horse, followed by its legs, and then split the cracker horizontally between her teeth. It was methodical, and highly entertaining to him. He smirked in the darkness.
"Gonna get new ones?" He didn't answer, so she just figured he shrugged. "Probably find an eye doctor around here somewhere that can hook you up," she added, fishing through the bag for another horse-like cracker.
"Why do they call those animal crackers when they're more like cookies?" he asked, reaching out to dig through the bag. She stopped, cocking her head to stare at the headless horse cracker in her hand.
"I don't know," she mused. "Never thought about it." The headless horse met the same fate as the one before it. "Guess they're kinda in between crackers and cookies. Not really sweet like real cookies, and not salty like crackers." He chuckled quietly, and the room fell silent again, save the intermittent crunching as animal crackers were mutilated between Jack's teeth. She stopped, pushing the bag away with a finger, and leaned back in her chair.
"Feel better?" he asked, watching her content half-smile, caused by the cookies, fell from her lips. Last time I asked that question I didn't exactly get a good response, he thought quickly, shifting in his chair. "Amazing how something like a little horse-lookin' thing can make everything seem so far away, huh?" he added, crunching on a seal.
"Actually, I just wanted something in there in case the alcohol decided to make an encore appearance," she said with a smirk. He smiled. "Didn't settle too well."
"Stress and alcohol don't mix well, do they?" She shook her head. "Tell me a secret," he said suddenly. She looked over at him, a quizzical expression posed. "Something no one else knows." She thought for a moment.
"When I was six," she said, a small smile working its way onto her face, "I used to sneak out my window and sit on the roof pretending to smoke rolled up pieces of paper." Her smile grew as his quiet laugh echoed against the walls of the kitchen. "I could never find a lighter or matches, not like it would do me any good." She snickered. "Probably light the house on fire." Another moment of silence. "Your turn," she posed. He sighed.
"Well." He cleared his throat. "I used to sneak out of the house when I was little and go down the street to sit in on a mass." She looked at him, mouth hanging open. Now that her eyes had adjusted to the darkness again after the assault of the refrigerator light, she could see him shrug. "Foster parents were still asleep. I went to the midnight masses every Sunday for about a month before they found out."
"That's not a secret then," she said quietly.
"What do you mean?"
"If your foster parents know…" she trailed off, the expression on his face telling the whole story. "How old were you?"
"Twelve." She couldn't bring herself to ask. "I got home one night and the cops were there. Wouldn't let me go in." He was staring down at a half-eaten seal, turning it in circles between his fingers. "Never did find out what happened."
"You didn't?" He shook his head.
"Didn't really care," he said quietly. "I was on my own after that."
"At twelve?"
"Like you've got room to talk," he said quickly, a playful smirk playing on his lips. She shrugged.
"Did you ever go back?'
"To the foster house?"
"No, to masses." He shook his head.
"Nah," he said. "Didn't have any reason to." She wasn't sure if she wanted to ask what that meant, so she let it go. For once, the silence that settled over them didn't bother her. In fact, she welcomed it in a way. And then something struck her.
"I'm sorry, Riddick." She watched his eyes lock on hers and looked away. "About the whole bar thing."
"Don't worry about it."
"No really," she insisted. "I don't know what got into me. I shouldn't have run off without telling you where I was going, and I shouldn't have let my temper get out of control." He just waited. She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "And I shouldn't have gone off on you."
"Jack—"
"You were just worried about me."
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I was."
"He just pissed me off so much," she exclaimed, falling forward to lean her elbows on the table. "He wouldn't leave me alone. And his pick up lines totally sucked, and that didn't help at all." Riddick laughed. "I'm serious!"
"I know you are. It's just funny."
"No, it's not."
"No, I don't mean the situation was funny. Just that you remembered his pick up lines sucking." He shrugged. "It just struck me." She finally laughed.
"Yeah, I guess."
"What was it, anyway?"
"What was what?" she asked.
"His pick up line."
"Oh, uh," she thought for a minute. "Something about that being a long face for such a pretty girl or something cheesy and creepy like that." She sighed. "I've heard some good ones before, and that didn't qualify." Riddick snickered.
"So what would you consider a good one?"
"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "Give me one." His eyebrow rose.
"I don't have any, Jack."
"Aw, come on. Every guy has at least one."
"Not I," Riddick said, leaning back to cross his arms over his chest. "Never needed 'em."
"Don't flatter yourself," Jack spat with a snort. "The best one I ever heard was 'Are you wearing Star Wars underwear? 'Cause your butt is out of this world'." She started at his roaring laugh.
"That's a good one? Hell, that's cheesy."
"Well, you do better then," Jack challenged.
"I told you I don't have any," he insisted. She sighed, leaning back in her chair again. His face grew serious again. "Why did you have a long face anyway?"
"'Long face," Jack repeated. "Where the hell did that phrase come from anyway?"
"Don't dodge, Jack." She sighed.
"Just have a lot on my mind right now."
"Well, get some of it off your mind." His suggestion seemed so simple but she knew it wasn't.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"I just can't, Riddick." The tone of her voice should have told him to quit pushing, but he didn't listen.
"That's not a reason. 'Why not' is a question that calls for a reason, not a good attempt at dodging."
"You wouldn't understand," she said, hoping he would drop the subject. No such luck.
"Try me." She could feel his eyes boring into her, and she just shook her head. "Why?"
"Will 'because I don't want to' work?" she asked quietly.
"For now."
"Well, then because I don't want to." She smirked. "For now, I guess." He sighed.
"When are you gonna start trusting me again, Jack?"
"This isn't a trust thing," she said, rubbing her eyes. "I need to work this out on my own."
"Fair enough." He stood.
"Where are you going?"
"Try to get some sleep."
"Oh," she said, her face falling slightly.
"Why? What's up?"
"I was just enjoying the conversation." She shrugged. "Before it got deep and Jack-centered." Riddick chuckled, drawing a smile.
"I thought you wanted deep conversations."
"Well, the animal cracker thing was entertaining," she mused, smirking.
"Animal cookie thing, you mean." She shrugged.
"Yeah, whatever."
"How's your head feeling?"
"Like someone took a mixer to it," she said quietly.
"No, I mean your cut," he clarified with a snicker.
"It hurts," she said, reaching up to feel the bandage. His hand shot out and pulled her fingers from her forehead. She looked up at him, her eyes questioning him.
"Don't touch." Her eyebrow rose. "Don't want to get it infected."
"Geez," she said, making a face. "My hand's aren't that dirty." He let his fingers lace between hers and tugged on her arm, pulling her out of the chair.
"You need to get some sleep too."
"I'm not tired," she said, stifling a yawn.
"Yeah, right," he said, settling an arm around her shoulder. "After a day like today you've got to be tired." She shrugged against him, letting him lead her down the hallway back to her room. He lingered at the doorway, still holding her firmly against his side. She stood there for a moment before looking up at him. "Night, Jack," he said quietly, planting a kiss on the top of her head. She didn't move away from him, losing herself in those silvery pools staring down at her. Her hand, growing a mind of its own, snaked up to touch his cheek, and the silver disappeared behind closed lids. She felt him press against her hand and let her thumb trace a line from the side of his nose to where her other fingers rested. His eyes snapped open, the absence of her skin against his leaving a cold, empty feeling.
"I missed you," she whispered. His arms wound around her waist, pulling her off the floor into a crushing bear hug.
"I've always been here," he responded, silently sniffing at her hair. Jasmine. A small smirk.
"I'm sorry about everything," she said, her words muffled into his shoulder.
"Don't be." He let her go, setting her back on the floor and tousling her hair. "It's done now. No point dwelling on it." She nodded with a shrug. "Get some sleep." She didn't move away from him, and, for some reason, he couldn't stand to be this close to her any more. He sent her a meager smile and turned.
"Riddick?"
"Yeah." He turned slightly.
"Never mind." He watched her crawl under the covers and shut the door, rubbing his eyes as he walked back to his room. He couldn't stop the gravelly groan as he flopped onto his bed, shaking the cob webs out of his head. What the hell am I doing?