Disclaimer: There's a poem by William Blake called The Tiger that I quote bits of.

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Dissonant Truth

"You win, huh?"

"Well, if I let you win, you might not come back for a rematch."

He laughed, loudly.

"I think I'm in love with you." She told him gently.

Dangerous, Zem. Do you want to push him away now that he's here?

"That's not love, that was an orgasm." His low voice sounded slightly amused.

"Orgasms feel great. Being in love with you hurts like hell."

"You can't be in love with me; I'm a murderer and a criminal."

"Which makes you an amateur on this ship." Zemma grinned in the dark.

He laughed again, just once, almost ironically. They were silent a moment. Zemma watched Riddick's face change ever so slightly as the weight of her words were digested, as he realized she wasn't just kidding with him.

"You can't be in love with me. What I am… what I do… made you cut and run to your safe new daddy. You haven't even seen Nor since you discovered she aint a cuddly lil house cat. Once you saw what she's really about."

Ouch. That's true, isn't it?

Yes. I guess it is.

"I deserve that." Zemma whispered. She reached out and stroked his arm in apology, 'I'm sorry' on her lips but…

"You wanna fuck, that's fine. But I'm no more your pet than Nor is. You can't keep us safe from what we are just to keep you company."

Zemma sighed. "Nature of the beast. I'm getting that." She continued lightly stroking his skin in little whorls and designs, and he let her. It was a concession of sorts. He might let her keep him company if she didn't try to change his Now.

The way you tried to change Nor's Now, even just to protect her. If you had let Nor be, she probably would have killed J'Pheth before the situation became more complicated.

I needed to know about his men, though.

Virtually everyone on these ships can be considered 'his' men. They are all programmed to be faithful. You didn't need it.

Zemma sighed. She couldn't avoid her truths any more than Riddick's.

"You can't be in love with me. Everyone who gets close to me dies." His voice was softer than before; more introspective than the harsh reality he'd just slapped her in the face with.

"I have a better track record than 'everyone'." She didn't know how accurate that was, but she planned on making it fact, none-the-less. The maiden would practice till it got easier.

"I'm a loner."

Was he trying to remind himself, or her?

"Leader of an armada… going where, by the way?"

"Something I wanna check out."

"Good enough." She shrugged one shoulder. She didn't care where they were headed or why.

"You think you love a killer?"

"No. I think I'm in love with a killer. Learning to love you will take time."

He didn't comment and there was nothing to read on his face. Perhaps he would let her take the time, then. She fell asleep slowly, her hand still trying to make little motions on his arm. She knew when he left the bed with the lightest touch of her cheek, but didn't wake up. The Now was sleep.

Zemma woke to the smell of breakfast and stretched languidly, holding onto the last little bits of her dreams and memory of the night before. She felt very serene. The philosophy of 'Now' was much clearer in her mind than the day before. It wasn't just about 'deal with it when it gets here.' It was about acceptance, facing truth, and being at peace with it. She hoped she could hold onto that clarity beyond the dimness of her bedroom.

Jaron had some blasted awful music playing, something from his Japanese collection. It was far too 'Monger like for her tastes, and likely for her benefit. She got up and showered quickly, the discordant sounds following her even in there. Then she dressed in her silken bedclothes and left the sanctuary of her room.

"I'm up. I'm up! Can you play something quieter now?" She smiled at Jaron, who took an extra second to look at her face before complying. He was grinning as he turned from her.

"If you say anything that sounds like 'I told you so' I will think of something dastardly to wake you up with tomorrow." She told him as she sat down at the table.

Jaron punched something up with string instruments, her favorite, and light vocalizations in a language she didn't know. Probably Japanese also. At least she didn't have to shout over it.

"If I ask you about opening your gift, would that count against me?"

Zemma thought about it as she spooned up breakfast. "I guess not," she smiled. She wondered how much he knew. Certainly he was aware that Riddick had visited; they hadn't stayed quiet after the first half hour. Did he know about the figurine? It meant a lot to her and she would be disappointed if it had been Jaron's idea.

"Well?" He raised his eyebrows, waiting for answers as he dished up his own breakfast.

"It was the cloak he had made for me weeks ago. I thought I'd left it in one of the access vents." She left off there, waiting to see what he knew of it.

"I wondered why it was so dusty. But what was the little item he wrapped up in it?"

Riddick had packed hers himself? Zemma smiled, her mind on the night and not the breakfast before her.

"Zemma, if it's none of my business…" But Jaron was smiling at her, curious.

"It's a little statue to match my cat figurine." She found herself blushing at that and didn't know why.

Jaron looked pleased for her, and thoughtful.

"Ready for more work today?"

Which translated as 'you've had your rest, are you ready for more bruises?'

"Yes," she laughed. "But there's something else I want to learn, if you can help me?"

Jaron looked warily at her, but was still smiling. "Yes?"

"I want to learn to fly."