Chapter 7
Riddick woke to a hollow, rattling cough. This time, though, it wasn't his. He pried his eyes open, and looked down at her, her face crumbled into a disgusted and uncomfortable scowl. She sniffed and flopped over onto her other side, burying her face in his chest. An amused smirk slid across his lips, but fell when she opened her eyes, suddenly pushing away from him. His eyebrow arched slowly. Another cough racked her body and she shook her head.
"Fuck." She sighed, flopping onto her back, pulling the blankets over her head.
"Sarge?" Riddick's head snapped up. Red leaned against the barred entrance to the cell. She coughed again, and Red's eyes met Riddick's.
"Hole," he said quietly, and Red nodded, lips forming a silent 'oh.'
"What do you want, Red?" Sarge mumbled, voice muffled by the pile of blankets.
"Hadn't seen you in a few days," he said, eyeing Riddick. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fucking fabulous, Red," she groaned. Riddick smirked.
"Missed some damn good fights," Red commented, nodding at Riddick.
"Damn." Sarge's voice was flat. "Now that I know what I missed, can I go back to sleep?" Red snickered.
"Yeah," he said quietly, face falling to a serious, concerned expression. "I need to talk to you though."
"So fucking talk."
"Alone," he clarified. She snapped the blankets over her head and looked at him, face unreadable.
"You can say it to me, you can say it to him," she said, nodding in Riddick's direction. "He's a fucking convict, too, remember?" Red's eyebrow rose. "I'm serious, Red. You want to talk? Fucking talk."
"Never mind," Red mumbled quickly, shaking his head. "Go back to sleep." She nodded in satisfaction and pulled the blankets back over her head, waiting until his footsteps were out of earshot.
"I don't like him," she said quietly. Riddick chuckled, lying back down. She heaved a sigh.
"He seems to have taken a liking to you," Riddick offered, laughing at the light smack she gave him.
"Probably wants to fucking propose or some shit," she moaned, making a large show of shifting to her side. "You're warm," she added quietly, peeking out from under the edge of the tattered blanket. Riddick grunted, eyes closed again. She stared at him until he cracked one eye open to glance at her.
"C'mere," he muttered. An arm slipped around her shoulder, pulling her against his side. She settled her head on his shoulder, eyes closing as a hand flattened on her lower back, the other resting over her hand on his chest. She didn't see the pained expression as her lips pressed against the side of his neck.
He inhaled sharply as Jack's lips pressed against his, responding fervently. He didn't dream often, but when he did, it was about her. His hands cupped her cheeks, holding her against him as they kissed, a quiet moan vibrating through his chest. Her lips moved down his neck, softly biting now and again. He squirmed under her as his shirt slid up his torso, her hands barely skimming the skin exposed. Muscles tightened as her lips trailed a wandering path down his chest to his stomach, and a little lower. Nimble fingers hooked in the waistband of his pants, and his eyes opened. Stone walls surrounded him, the entrance to the cell blocked by metal bars and a chain with a simple combination padlock. The adoring kisses continued around a side, teeth gently pinching the skin above his hip, and his eyes closed again. Something's not right. His eyes slammed open again as the bed creaked quietly.
"Sarge?" The kissing paused, and he glanced down, a blob under the blanket at his waist. The covers were thrown back, and he swore. Her head dropped, and she fell onto her side next to him. He sighed, sitting up to pull his shirt down where it belonged.
"Sorry," she whispered, rubbing her forehead. She glanced at him, watching him press his fingers into his temples. "I'm sorry," she repeated. He shook his head.
"I just can't okay?" She nodded slowly, watching him stand and drop into his bed, facing the wall away from her.
"You pushed him." Twosy's voice wasn't angry or condescending. Merely matter of fact.
"I know," she mumbled, nodding slightly. "I just thought—" She stopped suddenly, shaking her head as her eyes closed, a pained and regretful expression marring her features. Twosy sat next to her slowly.
"You thought what?"
"I thought if it was voluntary…" she shook her head, grimacing. Twosy nodded, understanding. If she gave herself willingly her abuse would go away.
"It won't Sarge," he said gently. "Not if it's not mutual, it won't go away." She nodded.
"I know that." She sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking."
"Give him time," Twosy advised. "You don't know when or if he'll be able to move on, but pushing him into something like this certainly isn't going to make it easier on him." She nodded. "Or you, either," he added.
"He really loved her, didn't he?" she asked quietly, fidgeting with her fingers. Her head snapped up, attention suddenly drawn to a ruckus down the hall. It quieted, and she returned to her fidgeting.
"Yes, I think so," Twosy said quietly. "And to her credit, it couldn't have been an easy thing to do.
Outside Twosy's cell, out of sight, Riddick cringed. He knew she was sorry, that she didn't mean to push him. Still hurt, though. He stifled a sigh. The conversation continued.
"She was a lucky girl," Sarge said, a small smile playing on her lips. Twosy only nodded. "She saw the good in him no one else thought was there."
"And to your credit," Twosy said, "so do you." She nodded.
"You know," she said suddenly, shifting in her seat, "Everyone thinks we convicts are heartless. Cold, uncaring killers. Evil to the core." She shook her head in disgust. "No matter how many people down here like that reputation, we're all human."
"How right you are," Twosy said with a nod.
"And that's what makes this place so fucking dangerous," she continued. "We start to care about people here, make friends or whatever. And then something happens – someone dies in a fight, or in the hole – and all hell breaks loose because we made the mistake of caring again."
"Don't get cynical on me, Kody." Riddick glanced over his shoulder toward Twosy's cell door at the mention of a new nickname for her. "Stop caring and you'll die on the inside." Sarge sighed. "That soul of yours – that character in you – is what keeps me going every day." She smiled up at Twosy weakly. "I never had children, praise whatever supernatural powers may be. But if I ever had a daughter, I'd want her to be you." Riddick thought he noticed an emotional quiver in the man's voice.
"Murders and all?" Sarge asked with a snicker.
"Hey, just because a damn court says it's unjustified doesn't make them right," Towsy insisted. Sarge laughed.
"So what do I do, wise man?" she asked, voice smiling.
"Give him time." She nodded. "Just let things happen," Twosy advised. "If it's meant to be, it will be."
"How fatalistic of you," she said, a patronizing tone in her voice. Twosy just shrugged.
"You get to be that way at my age." She smiled at him, nodding to avoid another lengthy philosophical discussion. She could never win with Twosy. Riddick just stared at the ground, even as he heard her walk toward the cell door and into the hallway, halting at the sight of him. His eyes rose to meet hers painfully slowly, expecting to find a scared face staring back at him, but it was remorseful instead. She forced a small smile and walked by him slowly, reaching out to squeeze an arm gently as she passed. He sighed and shoved away from the wall, entering Twosy's cell.
"Shrink me," he said, flopping onto Twosy's bed and striking a pose one would expect to see on the face of someone at a psychotherapy session. Twosy only glanced at him quizzically.
"I'm guessing you were eavesdropping," he finally said. Riddick shrugged noncommittally.
"I was coming to talk to you anyway. Figured I'd just wait outside since I didn't have an appointment," he gruffed, coaxing a small smile from the older convict.
"She really cares for you," he said quietly, staring down at his hands in his lap. Riddick sighed. "I know you don't think you could love again, and that's a normal and completely human response." Twosy paused, looking Riddick in the eye. "But you can."
"What if I don't want to?" Twosy's eyebrow rose.
"We all want to," he said. "Humans are social creatures." He shook his head. "Just because you move on doesn't mean she's been replaced," he added. "She'll always have a special place in your heart, Richard. I can tell you the Sarge doesn't take things like this lightly."
"Things like what?"
"Attraction. Giving oneself to another, especially with what she's been through," he explained. "She's been here for six long years, Richard, and not once has she offered herself to someone before." Riddick's eyes closed. "Are you listening to me?"
"Yeah," Riddick said. "Less distraction this way. Pay better attention." Twosy didn't protest, but his eyebrow rose slightly.
"You have a strong presence, Riddick. Most people fear that. Jack didn't, and neither does the Sarge." Riddick's cheek twitched, a cover-up for a cringe. "I'm not telling you that you should fall into her arms and pledge your undying love for her. I don't expect that to happen, even on your best day." Riddick couldn't help but chuckle at that mental image. "I'm not even telling you to give her a chance." Riddick's eyes opened. "What I am telling you, though, is that no matter how hard you try not to be, you will always be capable of loving. Thank Jack for bringing the humanity back, Riddick, and don't ever let go of her." Twosy cocked his head to the side for emphasis, noting the seriousness of Riddick's face. "She's the best thing that ever happened to you. Sarge knows that, and she accepts the fact that she'll never take Jack's place. I doubt she even wants to, knowing how much you cared for her." Riddick swallowed the lump in his throat. "But you do have to let her go and live on."
"I can't." Riddick surprised both of them with the weakness in his voice.
"Yes you can," Twosy said gently. "You have to in order to maintain the strength that makes you who you are." He paused pensively. "Who you need to be to survive."