Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.
I'm sorry I've been spelling Marshal wrong all this time, forgive me if I take a few days to fix it through all the chapters.
I just got the book, I'm not very far into it. The armored cats are my interpretation -grin- that's why this is AU -wink-
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Fear and Acceptance
"Zemma? What's wrong?" Jaron put his reader on the table.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Nature of the beast.
Breathe!
Jaron took Zemma by the shoulders and led her to the couch he had been sitting on. When he sat down next to her she tipped her head into his shoulder and bit her tongue to control the tears.
"Zemma, are you hurt?"
"No."
"Did you go see Riddick?"
"No."
"Plan on answering me truthfully sometime tonight?"
"Not even if my life depended on it."
Jaron laughed softly. "Why don't you start by telling me what didn't happen then."
"I didn't run straight over to the Marshal's suite and tell him about all this crazy shit I'm feeling because I've never felt it before and can't explain it even to myself. So instead I broke into Lord Vaako's room and found Dame Vaako."
Jaron turned so he could look at Zemma. "She's alive?"
"More or less. Less probably. She must have attacked her husband with one her poisoned rings and ended up on the business end of it instead." Zemma was rushing a bit. "She's, it's like she's frozen. He's been trying to take care of her."
"That explains his look. But I couldn't find fault in his duties so I let him be."
"I tried talking to him a little bit…"
"He caught you there?"
"W'Rdah called him on the bridge and told him someone was breaking into his rooms." Zemma's voice was cold and flat. She wouldn't demand Jaron do anything about his man but at the same time she hoped he would.
"Spyridon doesn't like you, Zemma. He doesn't trust the daughter of the Purifier and someone who has spent her whole life fooling people."
"I can't seem to fool you for a minute."
Jaron shrugged.
"Wait a minute. Spyridon? Spyri? His own mother didn't like him very much did she?"
Jaron laughed again. "Never call him that, or he will stick a knife in you, and I will lose a good man." But Jaron was grinning mischievously.
"Just watch Vaako," Zemma's voice dropped back to business. "We gave the Lady a nano-shot but I don't know if it will help. His mental state is pretty much wrapped around her."
"Which brings us back to…"
"No, Jaron. I'm just a foolish woman with an infatuation for the man I gave my virginity to. Tell me it's perfectly normal and I'll recover my senses in time."
"It's perfectly normal and you will recover your senses in time." He parroted her flatly.
"Now say it like you believe it and make me believe it too."
"Zemma, you feel like my daughter, if he makes you happy…"
"He aggravates the hell out of me when he's not making me crazy."
Jaron didn't comment on this but just kept looking sympathetically into her face.
"No, Jaron. It's not like that. He doesn't…"
'I'll give you something else.'
"He's a beast, he doesn't love anyone," she finished lamely.
Jaron stood up. "It's late, I'm going to bed. Open your box, Zemma."
His voice sounded a little odd to her ear. She'd irritated him with her whining, she thought.
So get over it or keep it to yourself.
Zemma picked up the brightly wrapped box on the way to her room. On her bed she debated opening it. She already knew what was in it, didn't she? Jaron had told her. But he had also told her to open it. The whole 'fucking charade' had been for her benefit. Right?
'I'll give you something else.'
Open the damn box.
She peeled the paper carefully apart and sat holding the lid closed.
What are you afraid of? Open the damn box.
I'm afraid he'll have done something kind and my heart will just hurt more for it.
And what have you done for him? The least you can do is open the damn…
Zemma lifted the lid.
A black cloak. She lifted it out and noticed it was dusty.
HER black cloak, left in the bowels of the ship a lifetime ago.
Oh, Damn it.
Something smaller fell out of the cloak into her lap. She unwrapped it, her heart pounding and her throat tight.
It was a tiny metal figurine. It was a reproduction of her armored cat figurine. Complete with blue chips in its eyes.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
Her figurine was sitting on the table at her bedside. But she didn't place the new one there. She called the lights out, kicked the box off her bed and undressed in the dark; one hand still holding the little cat.
Nature of the beast. Can you accept it?
Zemma cried into her pillow.
What choice do I have? Damn it.
Zemma fell asleep in the silken Japanese style bedclothes Jaron had given her, the gift still in her hand.
And woke some hours later to a strange noise. A figure was standing in her doorway. She twitched up her lenses.
Riddick.
What the fuck?
Zemma didn't say anything but guessed he must know she was awake by the change in her breathing. How long had he been standing there? He was silent as the darkness, had he made a noise to wake her up? She waited.
Riddick didn't say anything but crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed heavily. Elbows on his knees, hands dangling, head tilted to the floor, it reminded her of something but she was too bewildered to figure it out right now. She smelled soap and strong alcohol.
Drunk?
A minute passed and still he said nothing. He picked up her cloak on the floor and turned it in his hands, still looking down.
Zemma reached out and stroked his arm. But he didn't look her way. She sat up and ran her fingers across the exposed skin of his arms. Then reached under his shirt and rubbed lightly at his back.
Guess this means you forgive him.
Can't forgive the nature of the beast.
Just gotta accept it.