Author's Notes: This grew out of my own insecurities, and became what it is. I seem to want to spew out ficlets whilst I work on two – yes, two – longer Pitch Black fics. Might be worth noting at this point that 'Chronicles' isn't out here until August 27th, ergo I haven't seen it yet, and know nothing about it and want to know nothing about it.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Dedication: Teek. My 'Riddick'.

She was tired, cold, and waiting for the inevitable.

It wouldn't take long, she was sure. She probably would be alone again by the time she reached the hotel. He'd slip away into the shadowed alleys, leaving her by herself. She'd not be able to check into the hotel – no money – so she'd sleep on the streets until she found someone who'd give a job to a thirteen-year-old. Or until a whorehouse picked her up. The latter idea was more likely.

He wouldn't stick around. She wasn't that dumb. He'd not left them on the planet, but she was a danger to him now. She could get him into trouble, and not just for the obvious. A twenty-something guy travelling with a teenage girl? It'd draw attention like honey drew bees. She was a liability he couldn't afford.

Hell, if it came down to it, he was one that she couldn't afford. It worked both ways. She could evade unwanted attention by herself in her boy's disguise. He, even if he tried not to be, was a magnet for attention and trouble. She couldn't afford that, not with her circumstances.

But she didn't want to be alone again.

She almost hit herself for allowing that thought to form. It was a weakness, and she'd tried to drive weakness out of herself.

They were getting closer to the hotel, and still his measured steps matched hers. She began counting them. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen...

She cut herself off. It wasn't helping, just serving to make her more nervous. Her mind started counting again, and she made a conscious effort to stop.

The hotel loomed above them. Five floors of cheap rooms. Maybe he meant to pay for a room for her for a few nights, until she found her feet. He might do that.

But then his hand touched the small of her back, and he guided her into the hotel reception.

"A room. Two beds," he said brusquely to the receptionist, who, used to such clientele and safe behind a metal grill, nodded and entered something in her computer.

"I'll need a thirty credit deposit," she told him, barely smiling. He slid a cred chip through a hole in the grill. She took it and swiped it through the computer. "The room's forty credits a night, meals extra, and will be added to your bill when you leave," she told him. "All guests must be
logged in. Computer access is available on request. Enjoy your stay." She slid a key through the slot to him, and added the cred chip. Someone called to her from through a door, and she disappeared.

"C'mon," he said curtly to her, starting for the stairs. "First floor."

She followed him, bemused. Two beds? Why would he get her a room with two beds? She only needed one – heck, she'd slept on cold metal floors with no blankets, before.

She trailed him up the stairs, and along a corridor. She stared as he looked at the numbers on doors, muttering curses under his breath. He shoved the key in a lock finally, and entered the room. She hesitated, then followed.

"Lights, dim," he muttered, and the lights came on according. She could see now, and dropped her rucksack onto one of the beds, the one nearest the window. A door in the opposite wall was ajar, revealing a bathroom. The room looked like a thousand others; plainly decorated, sparsely furnished, and as welcoming as hell to those who hadn't just been to Hell itself.

She bit her lip, and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. It didn't have a lock. Figured. She turned on the tap, cold water even though she was cold, wet a flannel and scrubbed at her face. Scrubbed until her cheeks were red and her eyes bloodshot. Then she rubbed with a hand towel until her face was dry again.

She thought that she'd given him enough time to leave, now. He'd be gone, of course he would.

Slowly she reached out a hand, turned the handle, opened the bathroom door. He was still there, lounging on the bed, arms folded behind his head. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and she stared.

"What?" he demanded, sounding a little annoyed. "You thought I'd be gone?"

"Yes." She didn't feel the need to expound on that answer. Everyone else had left her; why hadn't he? It wasn't right.

He frowned. "I told you I'd stay."

She shrugged. "Didn't have a reason to believe you."

He sat up. "I told you, kid. I'm not gonna leave you."

She fidgeted with the hem of her sweater. "I don't have a reason to believe you," she said again.

He reached out a hand and pulled her into a hug. She stayed tense for a long moment, then slowly began to relax, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere, Jack," he said in a low, rumbling voice. "And if I do, you're coming with me."

"Why would you want a tag-along?" she demanded, not moving. "I'm just a liability, Riddick."

"No, you're a strong kid who shouldn't be alone," he corrected her. "And I like you, kid." He leaned back again, so they were lying next to each other on the bed. "You remind me of someone I used to know."

"Who?"

"I'll tell you when you're older."

A smile grew on Jack's face. If he was going to tell her when she was older, that meant that he planned on being around when she was older.

Maybe he wasn't going to leave after all.

Finis