Chapter 9
She glanced over at him nervously before pulling a stolen gray sweatshirt over her head. He noticed her hands were shaking slightly, and he reached out, taking each one of hers into his own. A small, forced smile passed over her face quickly before the nervousness returned.
"You can't have that look on your face when you go in there," he said quietly.
"I know," she whispered with a small nod. "By the time I get there, it'll be gone." Her eyes rose to meet his. "Promise."
"Are you sure about this?" Another small nod, and he returned it, turning to the door, one of her hands grasping his tightly. They walked next to each other slowly, her eyes focused on the ground in front of them. Had he not been walking with her, it would have been a bad move on her part, and she wouldn't have done it. He paused a few doors away from their destination, his hold on her jerking her backwards. She looked up at him in confusion, and he sighed. "Last chance," he warned.
"I know," she said with a nod. She sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, that cold, intimidating glare was replaced. "I'm sure." He nodded, tucking a stray section of hair behind her ear.
"You really trust me this much?" he asked. She paused, mouth slightly ajar for a while before she finally shut it and nodded. He stared down at her, finally returning the nod. "You're gonna be fine," he said quietly. She inhaled deeply. "Promise." A small smile, and he led the way.
He held her hand, cringing as she squeezed at the insertion of the needle. The slow drip was started, and his other hand reached out, smoothing the hair away from her forehead. He glanced up at Doc and shook his head.
"Not yet," he instructed. She felt Doc hovering at her other side and Riddick's eyes turned back to hers. "Just a few more minutes," he whispered. She nodded, swallowing thickly. Her lids grew heavy, and her hand went slack in his as her eyes closed slowly. He nodded at the doctor, who secured the straps over Sarge's forehead and chin, holding her in place.
Riddick was fascinated as he watched the procedure. Sure, he'd gone through it, and without the luxury of the tranquilizer – watched the whole damn thing. It was a different perspective, though. He could only see what was being done to him, not around him. The whole process was intriguing. His respect for the doctor increased a notch or so.
"It's not like her." Doc's voice broke through Riddick's thoughts.
"What?" Riddick asked. The doctor looked up at him, pausing in his work for a moment.
"When she first came to me and asked about getting a shine job, I asked her who she was going to have look after her." He shrugged, and Riddick waited. "Said she could take care of herself, so I put it off for a while," he shook his head, returning to his work.
"Put it off…" Riddick pressed. The doctor nodded.
"Told her I didn't have the equipment, blah, blah," he sighed. "There's no way anyone could take care of themselves right after this." Riddick cringed as Doc sliced into her other eye. "Can't see for a few days, and after that, everything's blurry for days. Not to mention it hurts like hell." Riddick nodded, reminiscing.
"I remember," he said quietly. He took a breath and paused, prompting the doctor to glance up quickly before returning to the task at hand. "What color are her eyes?" Doc's hands paused over Sarge as he looked up at Riddick.
"Blue." Riddick nodded. "Very vivid blue." The room fell silent again, Riddick watching every movement Doc made. "Who did yours, if you don't mind me asking?" Doc asked.
"Doc at Butcher Bay." He received a knowing nod.
"I know him." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "He's the reason I got transferred here. He knew the right guards well enough to complain about the competition. They knew this place was opening soon, so they put me in for a transfer." He shrugged. "Better business."
"Haven't noticed a lot of shines," Riddick commented.
"Haven't done a lot here," Doc admitted. Riddick growled slightly, and Doc glanced up. "No, I've done plenty of shine jobs, Riddick, just not at this particular prison. It's still young enough that the inmates don't really know a lot about them, especially the ones who are new to the system all together." Riddick nodded slightly, still not satisfied. "I actually worked for a mining company before, well, prison. Paid me good money," he said with a small smirk. "Learned the procedure well enough to be able to do it with such primitive tools and still have a high success rate," he finished proudly.
"How high?"
"Only lost one, and he didn't tell me he had seizures." Riddick snickered. "Had one in the middle of surgery, and, uh," Doc cleared his throat, "the scalpel slipped." The room fell silent again as Doc continued the surgery, Riddick returning to his fascinated stare. "Almost done," Doc finally said, using a small tool on Sarge's eyes. "She'll be sore for a while. I'll give you something to give her for it." Doc glanced up at him. "I have an associate who's very good at finding things," he said with a smirk.
"Monkey?"
"Yes," Doc answered, putting down his tools. "He's a good man." Riddick snickered. "All things considering," Doc added. "Good hitman, and a damn good pickpocket." Riddick watched the doctor undo the straps securing Sarge's head in place, and helped him hold her up as her eyes were wrapped with fresh gauze. "She'll bleed for a while. Not much, but don't freak out. It's normal."
"I remember," Riddick said with a nod.
"Make her rest. Don't leave her unattended." Doc looked up at him, staring into another doctor's work. "And whatever you do, do not trust Red to watch her if you have to leave." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "Rumors," he said with a shrug. "Ask Twosy or Balls. If you can find someone to be a messenger for you, get Monkey to do it. I'll make sure he stops by regularly." Riddick nodded.
"How long will she be out?" Riddick asked, glancing down at Sarge.
"A couple days," Doc said quietly. "You're staying through lockdown." Riddick's eyebrow rose, and the doctor nodded. "Just in case." Riddick looked back at Sarge. "I want her close overnight." Riddick only nodded, and Doc disappeared. Evidently the prison understood the need for a convict doctor, and supplied him with a larger, more complex cell. The lights flickered and went out. Didn't have time to get back to the cell anyway, Riddick thought with a quiet sigh. It was going to be a long few weeks.
Riddick's head snapped up, instantly awake at the sound of approaching footsteps. Doc stepped out of the shadows, nodding at Sarge.
"How'd she do?" Riddick glanced down at her.
"Fine, I guess." Doc shuffled over, looking over his patient. He checked her pulse, changed her dressings, and finally nodded, satisfied.
"You can take her back now," he said quietly. "Here," he continued, fishing through his pockets. "Tylenol. One every four hours." Riddick chuckled. "Or thereabouts. Your guess is as good as mine," he said with a smirk. "If things start smelling funny, bring her back." Riddick knew. "And remember what I said about watching her." Riddick nodded.
"Thanks," he said quietly. Doc nodded.
"Once everything's healed and she can see, send her back for payment." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "25 and some medical extras," the man said quickly, knowing his previous comment left room for interpretation. "You might want to come with her as well. She'll still be getting used to it." Riddick nodded, drawing the sleeping woman over his shoulder. "Oh," Doc said quickly, rushing over to a table. "Here." He handed Riddick a wad of fresh gauze wrap. "Keep it clean."
"Richard?" Riddick glanced up from the letters Imam had written to Twosy, who was now standing in front of their locked cell. Twosy glanced over at Sarge, lying on her bed with gauze around her head, and back at Riddick.
"She got her shine." Twosy sighed, leaning against the bars. Riddick stood and unlocked the chain, letting the older convict enter.
"How is she?"
"She's fine," Riddick said quietly, his eyes lingering over her. "She'll be out for a while, and then sore as hell, but she's fine."
"I never understood it," Twosy said quietly, shaking his head. Riddick chuckled.
"You wouldn't, unless you had one," Riddick said simply. Twosy only shrugged, the bed creaking as he sat next to Sarge. Riddick watched him adjust her hair, caress her cheek, and hold her hand, gently stroking the skin back and forth.
"She's in good hands," Twosy commented, not looking up. Riddick cringed, thinking back to Jack's description of his hands.
"Can you stay with her a minute?" Riddick asked. Twosy finally looked up. "I need to run to the canteen." The man nodded. Riddick stood, stretched, and left.
He hated feeling rushed, but he also didn't want to leave Sarge in such a state, no matter how much Twosy cared about her. He knew she'd be safe with him, but he still didn't want to be too far away. He hurried through the slop, noting it didn't turn his stomach as much when he did that, and headed back to the cell, relieving Twosy of watch duty. He chained the door after Twosy left, and sat on his bed, just staring at Sarge. She'd not moved since he brought her back, and he was getting curious. He rose slowly, moving toward her silently, and reached out. Strong pulse, regular breathing, and not more than a drop or two of blood seeping through the gauze. So far, so good, he thought. He sat there for a moment, just watching the rise and fall of her chest.
He heaved a sigh and crawled onto the bed behind her, wrapping his arm around her protectively. The lights flickered, metal groaned, claws clattered, and the lights went out. Riddick chuckled to himself. She's gonna shit when she sees those things, he thought with a smile. His eyes closed slowly, senses suddenly more aware of the woman next to him. A sharp inhale granted him a whiff of her hair. It was clean, but not fragranced, like Jack's had been. He cringed, scrunching his eyes closed tighter before letting them flutter open. You can't keep comparing her to Jack, Dick, he chided himself. She's not Jack. She'll never be Jack. He sighed, lifting his arm to clear Sarge's hair away from the side of her face. Unconsciously, his fingers continued, tucking the dark strands behind her ear and brushing it over her shoulder between them, exposing her neck. He leaned forward, touching his nose to her skin. She needs you right now, he told himself. She's blind, and will be for a while. Just suck it up. He sighed, closing his eyes again as his arm flexed to pull her closer to him. Before he could think about it, his lips pressed lightly against the nape of her neck, drawing a shudder from her. His eyes opened, and for the first time, he noticed the tattoo of a dragon on the back of her neck, just above her shoulders. He stared at it for a while.
It wasn't detailed, just a silhouette. The dragon was mid-flight, wings stretched, tail floating gracefully behind, and a forked tongue snaked out to test the air. As far as he could tell, it was black, the eye probably a different color. But it didn't look like a prison tattoo – it was too well-done for that. The lines were clean, color even. He felt entranced by it, unable to tear his eyes away. Finally, sleep overtook him, and he gave in.