Author's Note: I do not own Riddick, more's the pity. I did not create Slam, merely this interpretation of it. I did not have any hand in the creation of Pitch Black. I did however create Spook, and the other characters not seen in Pitch Black.

She winced when her eyes opened. For the first time in she knew not how long, her eyes were opened and the bandages removed. There were spots floating before her eyes, but they soon disappeared.

The world around her was flashes, ever-moving blurs of color. She rubbed at one eye with the back of her hand. The shapes remained blurred.

It was interesting. The blurs seemed to move as she did, their bright colors flickering. She stared intently at one shape, watching the reds and creams swirl over it, the glow around it that made it look like a light was shining brightly behind it. She moved closer to it as some of the blurring started to fade.

She squinted, a headache starting to grow from trying to sort out what the images defined by the shifting, dancing glows were.

Reds, bold pinks, patches of orange danced over the form. Whites glinted bright off a few edges, giving lines over the form. The reds mottled with darks, strange counterpoint to the blurry image, like an illusion of depth. The pinks flitted across the surface, even a touch of a golden green tone where she couldn't interpret the relevance of the colors. The brightest white were two burning white points, and she stared at them, watching the eerie blaze of color.

She lifted her hand, bringing it out in front of her. The same eerie colors danced over it, and only by knowing it could she make it out. She flexed her fingers a few times. The colors swirled, shifting with the play of the muscles and tendons. Her face broke into a smile, and she let out a short laugh, turning her hand, twisting her arm. The colors did follow a pattern. Slowly she began to recognize it.

She looked around her. That low blur, that must be the cots. She bent, and a touch confirmed the guess. Beside it she could make out the solid form of what turned out to be her stack of books. She opened the top cover.

The inside was covered with a strange scrawl that looked like insects. She touched the page with one finger. They were normal paper, at least for all she could tell by touch. She adjusted the distance between the page and her eyes a few times. She squinted. That seemed to help. She tilted her head. That helped even more. The book turned, and her hands again opened the worn cover.

"Supposing truth is a woman," She read. The smile grew. She could still read.

Although it was silly to believe that I wouldn't be able to. Riddick can read, after all. It stands to reason that I'd be able to as well. And the text is actually easier than the books themselves were.

Riddick warned me that my vision would be blurry... Said there'd be spots, but that those would be gone fast. It seems like the main problem is, well, learning to see again. That'll just take time...

She could see the doorway, bright and glaring, a fiery hole blazing against the muted deep blues of the wall. She pulled the long, straight blade of her shiv from her leg. The tones of the blade were so strange that she nearly dropped it. The glows were all wrong on the metal, so different from what they had looked like before. It was almost a matte color, with color exploding around the edges. It was a remarkable change.

Her eyes shifted back to the other shape, the large one in the middle of the room. The understanding there evaded her still. She moved closer. It was a tall thing, but she couldn't figure more than that. At the widest point, the colors were muted, dark blues, only an occasional point of crimson, except for a wide band of the glowing cream, red and pink. Her eyes traveled up to the embers of light again.

"You just gunna stare at me all day, Spook?"

She started, pulling away from the huge form. She could feel the chuckle from him, the waves of his amusement washing over her. She blinked. All of a sudden, his body was right against hers. His scent enveloped her as his arms slipped around her. He lifted her, then deposited her on the cots.

"No fair. Can't see yet." She sounded almost petulant, and she pouted at the blur that was Riddick.

"It'll come to you. You just need to stop trying so hard. Look for the familiar things." That earned him a scowl.

"I can't recognize the familiar things. It's all blurry, and funny shades. See the fact that I didn't even recognize you." She flopped onto her back, letting her breath out through her lips, settling her head on her crossed wrists. "But you want to know what bothers me most?" A deep encouraging sound rumbled through him. "It's been QUIET lately. We were able to get me Shined and healed without a hitch. No one's tried to kill me, or even LOOKED at me weird since you insisted I move into the cell block. I don't get it. Even you must have noticed it."

"Truth be told, Spook, I have." He sat on the edge of the cot, elbows resting on his widespread knees. "It's part of why I haven't wanted to leave you alone. I've made you into a handsome target by keeping you. I'm not soft, but I'd rather not see anything happen to you."

"Decided you like human contact, boss?"

"No. Just decided maybe you're not that bad, despite being a nosy little bitch." His large hand stroked her hair in a brief caress, taking the nasty edge out of the exasperated words. And her light touch fluttered briefly on the back of his hand.

"You're not soft, Riddick. Even the meanest dog wants a pack. Doesn't change him from being the biggest baddest son of a bitch out there. It's instinct."

"Instinct." Riddick shifted his seat so he could lean back against the wall beside the girl's head.

I know all about instinct, he mumbled inside his head. Instinct is that little voice inside my skull. Instinct is the taste of blood on my tongue, the feel of licking my shiv clean, the feel of the shiv sinking into the Sweet Spot. That's instinct. Instinct is blood and death and the feeling of life pouring over my hands. Instinct is cutting the life out of someone before they do the same to you. Instinct is pure gut, pure savage doing. Instinct was even the feel of some bitch beneath you. Instinct is taking what's your damn right as the Big Bad. Instinct isn't this weird feeling inside. It isn't instinct that gives this unfamiliar feeling that this girl seems to keep around me like a collar and leash. That's no damn instinct that I've ever heard of.

"Never had instinct telling me to keep a person around before."

"Humans are communal animals. It's why in here there're gangs. Humans need to have other humans around them." She tilted her head to one side, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she slowly spoke. "Even in here, where we're all so fucked up, the need for other humans is too great for us to overcome."

"Oh? Even hiding Rabbits?" He spat the words at her, looking down at her.

Her gaze looked up to him, her eyes wide and honest.

"Hiding Rabbits especially." And then, without a trace of a smile, "even if we express that instinct by attaching ourselves to the most terrifying predator in the entire realm of Hell and then wake up each morning amazed that so far we've been right."