Chapter 26

He stood there for a while, in exactly the same spot, not really sure what to make of this revelation. Yes, he remembered that kill well. It was one of the few that were spur of the moment, absolutely no planning. He'd just been taking one of his usual midnight strolls before he gained his infamy. Saw the guy strangling the woman through the door someone had left open, and felt the rage take over. It was an inward struggle for a moment. He wasn't sure whether or not he really wanted to get involved. Until that point, all of his kills had been contracted, and he'd checked them out to make sure they deserved to die. That was one thing Company made up that he knew she'd read in his file and not believed. He was a justified killer. Maybe he took justice into his own hands at the request and payment of another, but it was justice all the same. And it was one of the few times he'd killed a woman.

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache coming on. Fuck. Plain and simple. Was she serious about the thank you or just trying to make me not feel guilty? Hell, if she was trying to keep me from feeling guilty it sure as hell didn't work. Double fuck. Fuckity fuck. He sighed, sitting down again. He'd thought he felt like someone was watching him as he stood there over the bloody bodies, crimson sprayed all over the room, all over him. He'd just chalked it up to paranoia and scolded himself for intervening. And now he wondered what he would have done if she had come down. Knowing how he was right after a kill, he really had to think about it. Adrenalin running, senses heightened, mind focused, animal let loose. Hell, he really didn't know what he would have done. No sense wondering now. Not like that really changes anything. But it does. Would I have killed her on instinct, just because she was there and I was on a rush? He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. No kids. That was my rule. Never kill a kid. And if she was ten, like she said she was, that was kid enough for me. I doubt I would have. He sighed, now feeling at least a smidge better. He stood again, leaving the kitchen. A quiet sniffle caught his attention, and his stomach lurched again. Shit. He crossed the grand room and took the stairs two at a time silently, pausing outside her door. She was trying to keep it quiet, and had he not had such excellent hearing, he probably wouldn't have noticed. He turned the knob on the door and swung it open without a sound.

She was curled in a ball under her covers, looking at the wall opposite the door. Her shoulders would shudder every now and then, and he could hear her shallow breathing. Probably holding it to keep it quiet. Gotta hurt with broken ribs, he thought with a wince. He continued into the room, his socked feet moving silently across the metal floor. God damn, life is shitty. He leaned against the wall at the head of her bed, watching her stiffen as she finally sensed his presence. They both remained quiet, and every time she had to take a breath when she couldn't hold it any longer, it got harder and harder to fight back the loud, snorting sobs. The bed squeaked as it gave under his weight, and she let one loose, partly out of surprise and partly out of exhaustion from fighting so hard. She felt his arm wrap over her side, and then his body scoot across the bed to press against her back, and she leaned into him. She flinched as he lifted his arm, but he only pulled the covers away from her face, and she turned her head further into the pillow, trying to conceal her tears. He shushed her, brushing her hair out of her face before replacing his arm around her, holding her tightly to him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered between gasps. He hushed at her again, planting a soft kiss behind her ear. "I didn't plan on telling you." He shook his head, knowing she would feel it. Another loud sob pierced the air, and she cringed.

"Why weren't you going to tell me?" he asked quietly. Her face crumpled again, and he watched her fight for control.

"I knew it would make you feel guilty," she said once she could. "And that's the last thing I wanted."

"What, to make me feel guilty?" She nodded, letting out another snuffle. "Tell me you really mean the thank you and I won't." She closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

"One of them would have killed me if you hadn't killed them," she said, her voice strained from holding back the sobs.

"So why are you crying?"

"Because no matter how I worded things I knew you'd kick yourself," she answered. "And I don't want you to do that because of me," she added, the sobs resurfacing.

"Hey," he whispered, "look at me." She shook her head, hiding her face behind a hand. He stared at her wrist, taking in the scarring lacerations still working on their healing. God, she'd been through hell and back. "Dakota, look at me." Another shake of the head. "Well, then listen to me. I did what I did because I thought I had to. I had this rule. No women, no kids." She let out another sob, not bothering to hold back this time, and he waited for her to collect herself again so she'd listen. "Your dad… well, I thought I was protecting your mom, and then she said what she said and I just fucking snapped. I would never have hurt you." She was trembling now, still hiding behind her fingers as another sob escaped. "And knowing the circumstances now, behind all of it, I don't have one god damn reason to feel guilty about it, unless you can think of something." She snorted, and let out a ragged breath. "In a roundabout way, I guess I protected you." She nodded slowly, and he reached out to run his fingers over hers. She jumped slightly, and he frowned. "I didn't hurt you then, and I'm not gonna hurt you now, okay?" He twined his fingers in hers and pulled on her hand, his stomach twisting at the shape of her face, swollen and reddened, tearstains forming as more followed the previous tears' tracks. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, lids puffy, and plenty of tears were built up for the near future. His thumb ran over her cheek, watching the poised water run over his fingers, brushing them away as they fell. "I'm not going anywhere unless you ask me to," he whispered. Her eyes closed, setting more tears free, and he leaned down to kiss them to a stop.

"But can you love someone when you know you killed her parents?" she asked shakily. He paused, watching her eyes open, her lip quivering again as the silence continued. "Because if you can't, I want you to drop me off at the closest port so I can move on." He smiled slightly.

"Can you love someone when you know he'd kill your parents again in a heartbeat if they even thought about hurting you?" She blinked. "Because if you can't I'm going to drop you off at the closest port so I can move on." She couldn't help but laugh, and he smiled as well.

"Hell, do you even believe in love?" she asked quietly, still chuckling every now and then. His eyebrow rose. "I don't know," she continued with a shrug. "I think I just believe in compatibility and attraction. Fuck that 'wishy washy emotion you can't explain but you just feel it' shit." He grinned. "I think I think that love is just a combination of compatibility and attraction and insanity."

"You think you think?" he asked, his voice slightly amused.

"Yeah, I'm not really sure," she said slowly, looking up at the ceiling as though it had the answer. When she looked back at him, he was staring down at her, his face serious.

"So you're really okay with me, then," he pressed quietly.

"Are you getting overly self conscious on me?" she asked, eyebrow quirked.

"Not really. I just don't want you staying here because you're scared shitless of me for killing your parents," he said quietly.

"Do you want me staying here?"

"Only if you want to be here," he answered.

"You know," she said slowly, "I always thought I'd live my life by myself. Not let anyone in and take the chance I'd get hurt, or weighed down and not be able to make it out if something happened. I never wanted to be with someone – really be with someone a hundred percent." He waited, but she didn't continue.

"And now?" he pressed.

"Now I don't know. I mean, I'm getting old." A smirk worked its way to her face. "Maybe I don't want spend the rest of my life solo." Riddick grinned, recalling the time he said those words to her not too long ago. "I think it might be occurring to me that I might actually enjoy having someone around." He chuckled.

"Smartass."

"Yeah, well," she grinned, "It's one of my more endearing traits."

"Sadly, yes," he snickered.

"And that's why you love me." It was out before she could stop it, and both of them suddenly fell serious again. "Fuck," she mumbled. "Freudian slip." Her eyes closed, and she sighed.

"How are your ribs feeling?" he asked quietly.

"Nice subject change," she commented, forcing a quiet chuckle. "Where the fuck did that come from?" He shifted beside her, and her smile grew. "Oh, that. Right." She sucked in a deep breath, wincing as her side caught. The whimper got out before she could stop it. "Sorry, doll," she ground out, the pain in her side growing. She felt his lips brush against the crook of her jaw.

"You need to rest anyway," he said with a small shrug. "That kind of physical activity requires energy and stamina, neither of which you're quite up to yet."

"Hell, dope me up on some of that codeine in there and I'll be fine," she snickered. He shook his head, laughing into the side of her neck. His teeth closed on her earlobe, and she smiled.

"Nah," he whispered, directly into her ear. "I love you too much to fuck you while you're strung out." Her eyes fluttered open, and he pulled back to look at her, flashing her a charming smile. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a short, gentle kiss before pulling away to lie on his side next to her. She couldn't help but grin as she leaned back against him, his arm returning to its position around her side. She intertwined her fingers with his, placing a kiss on the inside of his wrist. She felt his smile against the back of her neck, and felt goosebumps rise on her skin. "So tell me about this tattoo," he said, planting a kiss on the nose of the dragon posed on the nape of her neck.

"Got it in the military," she said with a shrug. "There was a shop on base that was pretty inexpensive, and talented, so I indulged myself."

"I didn't figure it was prison work," he said quietly.

"Why's that?"
"Too clean." She smirked. "Most prison tattoos I've seen aren't bad, but nowhere near as smooth as this one. The lines are straight, color's even, far as I can tell." She nodded. Good call on his part. Hell, she'd seen some really shitty prison tattoos that looked like someone let a two year old kid play with the tattoo machine.

"We still have a problem," she said after a moment's hesitation.

"What's that?"

"Anders," she answered quietly. He sighed, ruffling her hair.

"I'll get on the news feeds tomorrow, hook into the hospital records and see what I can find out."

"You don't have to help me, Riddick."

"Fucking with you is fucking with me," he said with a shrug. "I got a beef with him now." She smiled slightly. "We'll work it out. But you're not doing anything until you get that rib fixed, hear me?" She nodded, squeezing his fingers, satisfied when he squeezed back.

"Everyone you've killed, did they all deserve it?" she asked.

"More or less. What about you?"

"Well, that's a complicated question," she said with a sigh.

"How's that?"

"Well, when orders say kill so and so, you do it. Orders is orders. As far as those go, I know not all of them deserved it, but there was nothing I could do." She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Those are the ones I feel guilty about."

"Ironic."

"Huh?"

"Well, the ones you feel guilty about are the ones Company says you had a reason for and didn't question," he explained.

"Yeah, I guess."

"What about the others?" he asked, referring to the kills she'd made that didn't come from orders.

"More or less deserved it," she said. "Some definitely more than others." He let out a monstrous yawn, and she snickered. "Tired?"

"Nope."

"Liar."

"Yep," he said through another yawn. She shook her head, feeling his breathing even and slow, then drifting off herself.