Taking Measure

Zemma put her head on Riddick's chest and listened to his heart, their legs still intertwined, their bodies still sweaty.

"What was her name?"

Riddick didn't hesitate, "Carolyn."

"And the cleric?"

"Imam."

"How did he die?"

When he didn't respond she picked her head up and looked at him. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed together.

"Oh." 'Mongers, of course, on that last planet, where he thought he was burying Jack. Where Jack was supposed to stay with the cleric. In the end, would Jack have lived if she had obeyed him? In the end… well that wasn't the Now. The Now was that she had taken her life in her own hands, and become something both alien and eerily familiar to Riddick.

Just as Riddick was both alien and familiar to her; he always surprised her, but she understood him too. He always had a purpose, he always approached a problem with the intent that he would solve it, and…

And he's a control freak.

Zemma giggled.

"Something funny?"

"Nothing really, my brain just makes strange leaps sometimes."

"You should get some sleep, I ordered breakfast for five."

"Hmmm."

"You don't mind?" He almost sounded as if he were expecting her to mind.

"Why would I?" She couldn't think of a reason, but then her mind had gone from one kind of mush to another.

"Some women would want to know more than four hours ahead of time to expect guests."

"Oh."

"You don't wanna know who?"

There's such a long list of people I actually talk to.

"I'd guess Jaron, Jack, and Don. Do I win something?"

Riddick laughed. "You don't care that Don's coming? After what you thought you heard?"

"I have to face him eventually. And I have to apologize eventually. Breakfast is as fine a time as any. I'll put on a good face."

And watch his pretty carefully.

"You seem pretty relaxed after spending all yesterday working yourself up."

"Point for you," she smiled against his chest. "You balance me."

Riddick ran his hand over her hair.

"How many women have you been with?" She asked suddenly.

"What?" He sounded rather surprised. She almost never surprised him.

Point for me.

"You said 'most women', like you've been with lots of women, but from what I could tell, you didn't have a lot of time in your life for relationships. Prison at eight, escaped at what, eighteen? More prison and more escapes. You're about my age aren't you?"

"Why?" Guarded again.

"Why not? Why shouldn't I know about women?" Zemma rolled over, crossed her arms on his chest and rested her chin on them, looking at his face. "The past doesn't scare me, just the future."

"There was some time for some women."

Zemma waited. "That's it?"

"That's it."

Zemma shrugged and rolled over, putting her head on his shoulder.

"Go to sleep," he told her. Subject closed.

'Closed', my ass. You can be stubborn if you want to, but so can I.

"Was there time for Carolyn?"

Zemma found her head dumped on the bed as Riddick suddenly sat up and looked at her.

Oops. Too far.

"What?"

"You said she made you a man, I assumed you meant character, and not sexually. Am I wrong?"

"No. There was never time for Carolyn." Flat, emotionless again.

"I'm sorry," she told him.

"For what?"

"I'm sorry you never had that time. But I'm glad you knew her. She must have been something."

"Go to sleep." He sighed as if exasperated, but he was smiling just a little.

"What?" She asked.

"You are the strangest thing…" He pulled her into his chest and tucked blankets around her chin.

"But…" She didn't really have anything more to say, she was just teasing him.

"Shhh. Sleep."

Control freak.

Zemma smiled to herself and counted his heartbeats until she fell asleep.

…

Zemma woke first, at least, she was pretty sure she did. He could be so still sometimes, and be completely aware. Tricky bastard. She tried sliding away from him, but sure enough, he grabbed her without opening his eyes.

"Going somewhere?" There was mischief in his voice.

"Bathroom, closet, to the bar to make tea… should I tie a string to my foot so you don't lose track of me between here and there?" Her voice was facetious.

"Hmmn." He seemed to be considering the idea.

Zemma spoke a few choice words in Furyan. That made him open his eyes and look at her.

"And that means…?"

"If you can pronounce it right you can ask Jaron," she laughed. "Just don't tell him you heard it from me."

"Do I need to take you over my knee again?"

"You want me to lock you out of this suite?"

He laughed and let her go. She scrambled off the bed before he could actually take a swipe at her ass. She showered and dressed, and still he wasn't out of bed. As she was braiding her hair the door call chimed. He still made no move to get out of bed.

"If you think I'm serving you breakfast there, you better think again," she told him as she left the room.

He always does things with a purpose… what's the set up?

Don was the set up. He was the first to arrive.

"Commander W'Rdah," Zemma nodded respectfully and waved an arm to invite him in.

"NeeW'Neta," he paused at the door and looked uncomfortable.

Zemma controlled her face at the change of status he had just afforded her. She could see there was something on his mind but didn't feel he should stand outside the door with the guards while he debated it. She took his arm and led him inside.

"Breakfast hasn't arrived yet but I was about to make tea. Would you like some?"

W'Rdah nodded once, then straightened his shoulders and stated rather formally, "Yes, thank you."

Zemma pictured a child being smacked in the back of the head and told to stand up straight and be polite. She turned to fetch the tea and smiled to herself… Poor Spyri.

What was taking Riddick?

Zemma called for music, and one of Jaron's garden scenes she liked. The string instruments seemed perfectly timed with the movement of the trees and she found the combination soothing. It also didn't show much blue sky.

"I must apologize to you, Commander, for missing class. I know your time is valuable and you have been very considerate taking me on…" Zemma glanced up at him.

He was standing at military rest, not looking at her. His face was blank but his body language tense. He was much better at being unreadable than the dead J'Pheth had been. Still, she needed to get a bead on this man. Jack had supposedly been misunderstood by this man, and so the actual target of his statement, "I could kill this girl." Zemma needed to be sure.

Don't you trust Riddick to be sure?

No harm in knowing for myself.

Zemma crossed the room and sat in one of the oversized chairs. "Sit down, Don." Her words were soft, kindly. She felt rather brazen calling him Don. She'd only done it once before, but he had come through with the poker chips after that. Besides, this was her suite, and Min was packed away with other childish things.

W'Rdah sat on the very edge of one of the couches.

"I know you don't have very much reason to like me…" Zemma started.

Don's head came up at this and Zemma was taken aback at what she saw in his eyes. He was surprised. Had she been reading this man wrong the whole time? She had taken his attitude at face value. She was simply used to dislike. There was no one in her experience to relate to this. Jaron was a father figure, Riddick a new entity as a lover, even Lord Vaako was merely indifferent to her presence. Zemma waited to see what would play out, feeling a little lost, not knowing the right face to wear.

"Zemma," W'Rdah began. "I've been hard on you."

Zemma controlled her face. Another first, calling her by name.

Don looked down and his hands. Jaron tended to converse slowly too, picking his words carefully. Zemma watched his whole body but he gave so very little away she had to wait for him to speak. Though at this point she wasn't sure he even intended to continue.

"I met your father once when he was young."

Zemma froze inside, yet another conversation about her father's inadequacies. Outwardly she kept a benign smile on her face, but he didn't look at her.

"I thought I knew the measure of him. I wasn't impressed."

Zemma waited and wondered why Riddick was taking so long. Had he finally gotten out of bed?

"I was wrong about him, too."

That snapped her attention back to Don W'Rdah. He was looking at her now. Was she reading apology from him? He normally looked cold and forbidding. This was a new face.

"Be careful of that Jack," he whispered.

A short buzzer sounded. Tea was ready. Zemma got up to get it, still composed, but her mind reeling. Don had only spoken five sentences to her, but they seemed to change the entire nature of him.