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

Give And Take

"Lights on."

Zemma started the bath and went to fetch some changes of clothing.

"You look close to my size. What would you prefer? Lounging around stuff, or my daily grays?"

"I wanna see you in the silky stuff."

Zemma shrugged one shoulder. Jack followed her into the bath.

"You gonna take a bath with me? I wash your back, you wash mine?"

"You don't have to try so hard, Jack. I get it. But don't you get that I live here with Riddick? Or is that the whole point?"

Jack shrugged. "Damn, that's not a tub, it's a fucking swimming hole!"

Zemma nodded, though she'd never seen a swimming hole. She started stripping out of her 'Riddick costume'.

"Holy hells woman! Did he do that to you?"

Zemma paused realizing her bruises must look rather ghastly in normal light.

"No. Riddick wouldn't do this. They're from Jaron. He's training me to fight better."

"I thought you looked pretty amateurish out there."

Zemma smiled, un-offended. It was their first attempt to use Nor in a real life situation, she'd been paying more attention to that than her techniques. Zemma waded into the hot soapy water to scrub the makeup off her face and wash her hair. After a minute Jack joined her.

"You sure you don't wanna wash my back?"

"Knock it off, kid," a low voice rumbled.

Jack startled, but didn't look behind her at Riddick, now standing in the doorway.

So much for questions. Zemma washed her hair, and climbed out to shower off the soap.

"Take your time," she told Jack. "Food will be awhile." Riddick was still standing in the doorway, watching her.

Don't blush, Zem. He probably just heard Jack's comment about the bruises. It's not like he's ever really looked at you in the light.

He hasn't looked at your face, either.

She ignored that thought, as she tried to ignore him pulling up his goggles and pinch his face to drop his lenses. Just as she tried to ignore his frown as she dried and got dressed. She knew she was a map of blue, green and yellow marks.

He was outside the door to the bath with his back to the wall when she came out.

"Why'd you let him do that to you?" He asked quietly.

Zemma shrugged. "He says I'm getting faster, but I don't know if I believe him." She tried to keep her voice light.

As Riddick stood away from the wall he touched his nose with his thumb. "You are." He preceded her into the darkness.

Liar.

Zemma smiled to herself.

"I want you to quit practicing with Jaron." Flat voice, impossible to read.

Zemma twitched up her lenses to see him better. No body language either. The man didn't just have a poker face, he had a whole poker body when he wanted. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or angry. She waited.

Riddick went to the bar and poured himself a glass. She hadn't seen him swig out of a bottle since that first day. He was examining the glass, perhaps merely enjoying it's contents, or thinking the same thought? Thinking about Jack?

"Why."

Riddick took a drink out of the glass. "Because I'm asking you to."

It seemed to Zemma, in the few months she had known him, that Riddick never did anything without purpose. The trick was to figure out the rationale.

"This is too important to me to just give up without some reasoning." She wasn't saying 'no', exactly. As they looked at each other, the light refraction of their blue lenses dulling the details of each other's faces, Zemma thought about Riddick telling Jack, 'You should have stayed in New Mecca.'

Just because he told her to?

She thought of them staring at each other, and of Jack finally looking away. Zemma kept her face relaxed, and didn't blink.

"You want to become a better killer? Is that it?" There was some irritation in his voice, and something else.

Regret?

Zemma frowned and almost looked away. "A better killer? Is that what you think it's all about?"

Is that what has you worried? Night and day, my love, I am neither Kyra, nor Jack.

"I'm never going to be like Nor…"

Like you.

"Killing someone face to face will always be a shock for me," she paused. "But it wont stop me from doing what I have to do."

And neither will you. It's what I give you. It's what I must have in return.

Zemma reached out and touched his hand lightly. She spoke a word in Furyan. Riddick eyed her. It wasn't 'prick'. Zemma smiled.

Point for me.

She repeated the word. "That's 'why'. Why do you want me to stop improving myself?"

"Train with me."

The simple, quiet request made her pause. Zemma leaned into him and kissed him on the cheek. She spoke another word. "That's 'yes'." She squeezed his hand.

"Geeze, you two, get a room." Jack reappeared in Zemma's 'daily grays.' The utilitarian clothing had straps and buckles to make it one size fits most, by height. She was still adjusting it to fit her slighter frame. "So how's the battle going?"

"As expected," Riddick spoke over his shoulder at her. He looked back to Zemma. "Vaako is pissed about being grounded."

"Who's Vaako?" Jack asked.

"A commander. First Commander." Zemma told her.

"We should change that to Jaron." Riddick said.

"He doesn't mind his status as second."

"But it's apparent to everyone, especially Vaako, that he isn't just Second. Why are you protecting Vaako?" That was not Riddick's happiest voice.

Zemma bit her lip. She didn't want to lie outright, but perhaps her thinking had been faulty? "Tell him you're holding him in reserve. If the battle doesn't go well we'll need him to save the day."

"I did. It pacified him. Now, answer the question."

Jack was watching the exchange closely.

Zemma took a deep breath and counted to twelve. She wasn't a hundred percent sure about Vaako's heritage, or that it would matter one iota to Riddick.

"I suspect he's Furyan; he doesn't know it."

"Who else have you shared this with?"

"Just Jaron…"

That was not Riddick's happiest face. Even by the light of her lenses she could see that much.

"And you waited till now to tell me?"

"Only because I'm not sure." Zemma kept her voice neutral and her face blank. She squeezed his hand.

"Don't keep anything more from me." His voice was a plain and simple threat. He walked from the suite, again.

Zemma sighed.

"That was entertaining," Jack piped up. "What else do you do for fun around here?"

Zemma turned to look at the teenage girl, so mature in some ways, childish in others. Or maybe it was a mask. A killer? Probably; at least a criminal. Yet she really was no more used to children now than her 'Monger counterparts. "I'm learning to play poker. Know the game?"

"Hell yah!"