Chapter 17
Riddick woke with a deep yawn, shifting under the covers. His eyes opened slowly when a hand trailed down his chest and around his side. A contented sigh and a lazy grin. He blinked a few times, clearing the fuzzy vision after sleep and looked down at her, curled against his side. His whole body tingled. I haven't slept that good in ages, he thought with a quiet snicker. He lifted a hand, smoothing her messy hair. She pressed closer to his side, toes curling as she stretched her legs. He felt her eyelashes flutter against his skin. He couldn't stop the loud yawn, and she pulled away to look at him. When he opened his eyes, the look on her face was priceless, so he filed it away.
"Your face disappeared," she said quietly, a playful smirk taking over. He shrugged, reaching over to tuck a tuft of hair behind her ear. She smiled at him weakly, letting her gaze drop from his. Every time she glanced up at him, he was looking back at her expectantly. She finally just focused on a scar on his chest, watching his stomach contract as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.
"Okay?" he asked quietly. She nodded, but only slightly. "Sure?" She glanced up at him quickly, and then looked away again. He sighed, shifting onto his side so he could look at her without straining his neck. She moved as well, burying her face in his neck, breathing in deeply. "Talk to me, Jack," he pressed.
"I just feel weird now," she said with a quiet sigh.
"Weird how?" She shrugged her answer. His fingers trailed a lazy path up and down her side and she shivered, moving her arm to cover her chest. He noticed, but didn't say anything.
"Just weird." He nodded, as though it were actually clarification.
"Hungry?" he asked, feeling the need to change the subject.
"Not really," she said with a small shrug. She watched him stand, stark naked, and walk out of the room, quickly snatching up her clothes strewn about the room and pulling them on. Good God, I have to pee, she thought with a wince, rushing down the hall.
She hurt. All over. The smell of toast wafted through the air, making her empty stomach gurgle. She smirked and brushed her teeth quickly. Morning breath sucked. She glanced down at herself, clothed in rumpled sportswear from yesterday, and made a face. Back to her room to change into pajamas.
He'd gone back to his room and pulled on boxers before returning to the kitchen. She smiled, watching him fry bacon, a visual image of a naked man being splattered with grease dancing in her head. A snicker escaped, despite her efforts to suppress it. He turned slightly, eyebrow arched.
"Just thinking about it being a good idea to be at least slightly dressed if you're playing with hot grease," she said as she rummaged through the fridge. He shook his head with a slight smile.
"You're sick." She shrugged, the sly grin remaining. She sat across from him, sipping her water as she watched him eat.
"What's on the agenda today?" she asked, instantly regretting it when the corners of his lips turned upward and his eyebrow rose. Her cheeks heated, and she hid behind her water. He cleared his throat.
"Got a shipment to pick up and then we're on our way," he said, not voicing the thoughts running through his head. She nodded.
"Where to?"
"I don't know yet." She glanced up at him quizzically. "I'll find out when I get the shipment." Her lips formed a silent "oh."
"No repairs?"
"Not that I know of," he answered. "Might want to run diagnostics before we leave though."
"I can do that while you're picking up the shipment." Silence settled over them as she swirled the water around in her glass. He watched her with interest. Something seemed a little off, but that was understandable, he figured. The first morning after was always awkward. Hell any morning after is awkward. "Any regrets?" she asked timidly, still staring into her water. He only stared at her for a moment until her eyes met his.
"Not at all." She nodded, looking back down into her water. "You?" She paused too long for his comfort before shaking her head. "Would you tell me if there were?" Her eyes met his again, holding his gaze for a moment.
"I guess," she said, dropping her eyes from his again. His eyebrow arched.
"You guess?"
"You want the truth?" she asked quietly.
"Yes, I want the truth." There was a touch of frustration in his voice.
"I don't know yet." He shook his head slightly.
"You don't know yet," he repeated. She nodded. "You don't know about what yet?" She swallowed, stammering silently for a moment before sighing.
"Regrets." Her voice was quiet and timid, as though she were afraid of what his reaction would be. He just scrunched his eyes shut and rubbed his forehead, suddenly tired. She watched him carefully as he leaned forward, head in his hands.
"You wanna let me know when you figure that out?" His voice was tight in his throat – gravelly. He looked up at her out from under furrowed brows, waiting for her answer. She nodded slightly. "Promise me," he continued.
"I promise," she granted. He leaned back in his chair with a slightly satisfied nod, crossing his arms over his chest. She noticed his foot jiggling, jarring the table to create ripples in her water. "When are you picking up the shipment?" He glanced over at the clock on the microwave.
"Few hours." She nodded slightly. Conversation seemed overrated right now. To both of them.
"I'm gonna take a shower," she said finally as she stood. He watched her leave the room and let out a frustrated sigh.
She doesn't know if she regrets it, he thought, a foul but saddened expression twisting his face. I could never forgive myself. He shook his head, leaning his elbows on the table and dropping his head into his hands again.
She couldn't scrub hard enough – or long enough. Her skin was reddened, but she just kept scraping her washcloth back and forth as quickly as she could. The water was starting to lose its heat, but she didn't notice, just stared into nothingness as she tried to wash the uncomfortable feeling away. A violent shudder broke her trance, and she shook her head, wiping away the tears she hadn't noticed falling.
She dried off slowly, wrapping the towel around herself before pressing her ear to the door. It sounded like he was down in the cargo hold, so she darted down the hallway into her room. She pulled on a pair of baggy cargos and a big, fluffy sweatshirt, finishing with her socks and boots before heading into the cockpit to run diagnostics.
Time seemed to be crawling by as she watched the ellipses flash while the program worked at its snail's pace. She felt herself tense, and knew he was watching her. Those three flashing dots suddenly became very intriguing.
"If I'm not back in two hours, lock up and stay low." His voice made her jump, and she just nodded slightly. She started again when she felt his fingers lace through her hair. "You gonna be okay?" he asked quietly, a concerned expression clouding his eyes. She nodded again, forcing a small smile. Her fingers tightened around the armrests as his lips touched her cheek, an eyebrow twitching downward quickly, and then he was gone.
He sighed, twisting the dial to close the hatch to the cargo hold, watching as the ramp raised and locked into place. After making sure the new shipment was secure, he headed upstairs to the main cabin, which was eerily silent. He found her sleeping on her bed, clutching a pillow tightly to her chest, shaking slightly. She seemed so restless, and yet didn't move at all, save the trembling. He sighed, rubbing his eyes as he sat on the bed next to her. She stirred, but didn't wake. Time, he knew, was of the essence right now, but he couldn't take off unless she was strapped in somewhere safe. As much as he hated to, he reached out and ran a finger down the side of her face, watching her jerk in her sleep. She still didn't wake. He just lay there next to her for a while, watching her. Finally, he shook her, watching her start, jolting up and looking around, eyes wide.
"We gotta go, Jack," he said gently, placing a hand gently on her back. She looked over at him, as though she didn't recognize him, and blinked a few times. "Got a new shipment to drop off. We have to get moving soon," he explained, a concerned expression returning. She shook her head, rubbing her eyes, before nodding and standing on shaky legs. He watched her for a moment, thinking she might fall over, but then followed her down the hallway into the cockpit.
"I ran diagnostics while you were gone," she said quickly, busying herself with her harness.
"Find anything?" She just shook her head, adjusting the straps. He nodded in satisfaction. She watched him reach over for the com handset.
"Watch tower, this is Solar Eclipse requesting permission for takeoff," he said after clearing his throat.
"Permission granted, Solar Eclipse." They both let out a sigh of relief. "Please proceed to runway 2F3." He replaced the handset and glanced over at her. She was just fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. Neither said a word as they approached the runway and took off. She waited until he activated the autopilot before unharnessing and standing, stretching lazily.
"You cold or something?" he asked, glancing over the clothes she'd chosen. She glanced down as well, then shrugged. His eyebrow rose. She managed a small smile.
"Hungry?" she finally asked, glancing toward the kitchen.
"You go ahead," he said, "I'll be there in a minute." She gave him an odd look, but nodded and turned to leave. He watched, leaning sideways against the back of his chair, heaving a sigh.
She was staring absent-mindedly at the apple she was eating, spinning it between her thumb and middle finger between bites. He smirked and started a pot of coffee, standing watch until the light flicked off.
"Glad to see you're not having simulated gravity problems any more," he said, taking a sip before he sat. She smiled, picking at the skin on the apple.
"I replaced that damn thing," she said, glancing up at him and back down.
"When?"
"Yesterday," she said with a shrug. "You were asleep in the cockpit." He nodded, lifting his mug again, watching her eyes follow his movement but not reach his eyes. "You have nice hands," she commented quietly. His eyebrow rose.
"I have nice hands?" he asked, the smirk on his lips giving his voice a playful lilt. She just nodded, as though it were common knowledge. "My hands are anything but nice." She shrugged.
"I think they're nice," she said, sounding somewhat defeated.
"Jack, you know what my hands have done." There was a touch of agitation in his voice, no matter how hard he tried to cage it. She reached out, running her fingers over his.
"Yeah," she replied, lifting her eyes to his. "I do." His eyes narrowed. "I still think they're nice." He focused his attention on the steam rising from the mug, clutching the handle more tightly than before. "Graceful," she added, prying his fingers open to take his hand into hers. She leaned forward, pausing to whisper "Beautiful" before settling her lips on a knuckle. His eyes closed, fingers tightening around hers.
She stood suddenly, leaving the room. He drew in a sharp breath and let it out slowly, running a hand over his head. He really needed to shave. His neck popped as he worked his head back and forth before standing and heading into the bathroom. He heard her in the dojo and sighed. Evidently she had something to work out of her system, from the sound of the contact she was making. Poor punching bag, he thought with a smirk. She might be a little wisp of a thing, but she's got some bite to her bark. He'd never told her she'd left bruises.
After a quick glance in the mirror to make sure he hadn't missed anything, he crossed the hallway and leaned against the doorframe. She definitely had a rhythm going. Right, left, right, left. Two beats of a pause. Right, left, right, left. Two beats of a pause. He didn't know each beat had a thought connected. What have I done? Dammit. What have I done? Dammit. His eyebrow rose as he watched her.
"Got something to take out on someone?" he asked. She paused, cuffing her nose and bouncing a couple of times before hitting the bag again, a frustrated growl beating the sound of her fist making contact. He sighed and shoved off of the wall, walking into the room. "Sure seems like you're pissed off about something." Another hard punch, followed by a couple of kicks. "I didn't mean to break your rhythm," he said quietly, watching her pause and drop her stance, rolling her head to ease the building tension in her shoulders before going at it again. "If I'd known you'd hit the damn thing so hard, I would've put in more bolts to hold it up," he said, a smirk in his voice. The smile on his face fell quickly as she whirled around, grabbing him around the neck and dropping her weight, pulling him to the ground with her.
"Don't you know it's rude to interrupt?" she asked harshly.
"If you wanted a fight, you could have just said something," he said, breaking out of her hold. She was sent sprawling across the floor, chest heaving. He stood, staring down at her. "What happened to you?" he asked quietly, suddenly taken with the reddened skin on her arms and belly, exposed by her choice of sportswear. She glanced down.
"Heat rash," she said quickly, standing to take a defensive stance. He just stood there, still watching her, not making any move toward a sparring match.
"Don't fuck with me, Jack," he warned, turning his head slightly. She knew that look. It wasn't usually one that meant he was going to give her a big hug.
"I got a little overzealous with the washcloth," she said, still in her posture.
"You wanna tell me why?"
"Are you gonna spar with me or not?" she asked quickly, hoping to avoid the long questioning she was sure would follow if she answered him.
"Jack," he warned. She sighed. It sucked how all it took was one word in that tone of voice to make her spill it.
"I felt dirty," she spat, dropping her pose to rest her hands on her hips. "Now are you gonna spar or what?" Her attitude disappeared as his demeanor changed. His jaw set, the muscles clenching and unclenching, nostrils flaring with each exhale. This is not good, she thought, cringing. "Riddick," she said gently, reaching out to touch him, but quickly recoiling as he jerked away from her. He pointed toward the door, and she nodded, swallowing nervously.
"Close it," he demanded, his voice quiet, but dangerous. She slammed it behind her, running down the hall to her room, and slammed that door as well before collapsing onto her bed. She didn't know what she'd said to make him act that way, but he sure as hell just scared the shit out of her. That was the look he got before he really got unstable.
A loud crash made her jump, and she shrunk further toward the wall as she heard him destroying the dojo. Metal clanged, pads bounced against walls, equipment collided, but what scared her most was the growl. That animalistic, inhuman growl she hadn't heard since that God forsaken planet. She didn't realize she was trembling.
And all was suddenly silent. For a long time. She sat there, straining to hear something – anything – for a good half hour.
She couldn't handle it anymore. Going against all good judgment, she got up and opened the door, glancing around, listening. The dojo door was still closed, and there was absolutely no sound behind it. God, I hope he didn't hurt himself, she thought with a worried cringe. She tiptoed toward the door, reaching out a shaky hand to grasp the knob and turn. It swung open silently to reveal a completely disheveled room. Worse than I thought. She glanced around, surveying the damage. Much worse than I thought. He was leaned against the far wall, hands pressed against it above his head, his head dropped and chest heaving. She gulped back her nervousness and moved silently across the floor, carefully watching her step as she neared him, forcing her hand to reach out and press against his back. Muscles twitched under her hand, but she wouldn't let herself pull away.
"Riddick?" He shook his head. Maybe I should have waited. "Are you okay?" He was almost panting, a slight vocalization with each breath. She moved around to his side, but he turned his head, twisting his face away from her. Her hand traveled up his back to rest on the back of his neck, thumb moving slowly across his skin. "Look at me, please," she begged. His shoulder twitched, but he didn't reply. She sighed. Well, if he's not going to look at me, I'm going to look at him. She ducked under his arm, putting herself between him and the wall. He turned his head further away from her, but he couldn't hide the cuts he'd given himself. A couple of bruises were already starting to surface. Worry filled her eyes, and she reached up to grasp his chin. He wouldn't budge. Her patience was starting to wear thin. "God damn it, Riddick, just fucking look at me," she ground out, eyes narrowed. He finally turned to her slowly, his face screaming don't fuck with me, but his eyes gave him away.
"Don't push it, Jack," he warned.
"Explain," she commanded, staring back up into those sad, silver eyes. He sighed and pushed away from the wall, but she grabbed his shirt and pulled him back, grabbing a shoulder to throw him back up against the wall. She was surprised she pulled it off, but figured he'd tired himself out during his little rampage. He glared at her, but it was forced. "You fucked up the dojo for a reason." Another shove into the wall for emphasis, but it wasn't really intentional. "Spill it." He heaved a sigh.
"You felt dirty." The weakness of his voice stunned her, and she let up a little. He shook his head.
"You don't think it was because of you, do you?" The twitch of his eyebrow and his gaze dropping was all the answer she needed. She could have sworn she heard her heart break. "Jesus, Riddick," she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning against him. He tensed, restraining himself, trying not to touch her.
"What was it then?" She pulled away from him, searching for an answer, and finally giving up, just nodding.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, stepping away from him.
"So it was me, then," he stated. She sighed.
"This is new to me, Riddick," she explained. His face twisted and he slid to the floor, head in his hands. "You didn't do anything to -"
"What, Jack? I didn't do anything to what?" She shut her mouth, waiting for him to continue. "You don't know if you regret it, and you felt dirty. What exactly didn't I do?" She sighed and crouched down in front of him.
"You didn't do anything wrong," she said quietly. He shook his head, a sadistic snicker shaking his shoulders. She reached out, running a hand up his arm. "You didn't hurt me." He looked up at her. She smiled slightly and leaned forward, pressing her lips to his cheek. "No regrets," she whispered. He pulled away, standing and leaving the room. She shook her head, standing and glancing around the room. Heaving a sigh, she started to pick up the mess.