Author's Note: I'm thinking about changing the chapter titles up in the menu to real names instead of numbers. Would that make it easier to navigate? It might be easier for a new reader to figure out where they left off that way. Could I get your opinions?
Chapter Eighteen
She fell asleep first, right next to him. He watched her breathe for an hour. She was curled up, facing him. He couldn't stop staring. To him she was a paradox. She couldn't be what she was, and yet... she was. Tough and innocent, naive and worldly, unafraid yet so scared.
Eventually he moved. He could feel her body heat and it was disquieting.
She shivered and unconsciously hugged the blanket tighter around her, but did not wake up.
He sat on the edge of the roof, one foot dangling over. He fondled the blade he had taken back from her. He remembered being up in the tug, punching in the quardinants before making the jump to supralight. He had started by typing in the quardinants of the Lupus system. He'd enjoyed himself on Lupus Two, for the month he'd been there before the mercs came. But then he had remembered what had slipped from his lips in the hanger. I'll find you. What in the name of all planets had possessed him to make a promise like that? A promise he couldn't keep.
But he had kept it. After all, she had something of his. She should be made to return it.
So he told the tug to make for Helion Prime.
Why? Why would a little girl attach herself to him. He could provide her with nothing. Surely she must see that?
He pulled his hanging leg up under him, preparing to leap across to the next building. If he left now he could end it before it had even started. The longer he stayed the worse it would be for her. Besides, what did he need a kid draping herself over his shoulders for? This was his chance to be free. He needed to go. Now.
He pushed his toes into the bricks. The rest of his legs remained frozen.
Yeah, I'll be here.
Liar.
"Fine," he whispered, pulling back from the edge, "For now." He walked towards her, stopping a few feet away. He lowered himself, laying down. She'd see. In the morning he'd be there, just as he promised.
Imam awoke the next morning with a start. He strolled sleepily to the room he'd given Jack and knocked. The sun was all ready high, they'd both over slept. "Jack?" he called softly. She did not answer, so he knocked again. Cautiously, with his eyes on the floor, he opened the door a crack, "Jack?" His gaze darted up for an instant, long enough to take in the empty bed and the blankets scattered across the wood floor.
He moved downstairs, still calling her name, "Jack?" She wasn't in the kitchen, nor the living room. His search became steadily more frantic. "Jack?" He exited the house, looking up and down the street. On a hunch he made for the roof.
He climbed the stairs quickly, and let out a sighed of relief when he saw her, but tensed once more when he discovered she was not alone. Riddick was very near (too near for Imam's comfort), with his body angled towards her.
As is to be expected, Riddick awoke as soon as Imam joined them. He stood swiftly.
With out a word Imam descended. A look of disappointment shrouded his features. Riddick followed him down and into the kitchen. Imam began making breakfast in silence.
"Imam." he said quietly.
"I do not know how they do things..." he trailed off. No, he knew exactly how they did things were Riddick came from.
"Nothing happened." Riddick said deeply, daring the holy man to accuse him of indecency. "You know me better than that."
"Do I?" he revolved to face him. Riddick blinked and looked down; he was right, he didn't know him. Imam shook his head, turning back to his work, "I'm sorry."
Riddick pulled a chair from the table and sat, clenching his hands together in front of him.
"I know you wouldn't hurt her," Imam continued, "I see that now. You saved us both, you deserve more trust."
I don't deserve any trust, he said to himself. The thought saddened him slightly, but he did not let it disturb his hard exterior. He rubbed his eyes wearily. "I knew this was a mistake," he said, "It was all a mistake."
"Protecting life is never a mistake."
"I should go," he stood steadily.
Imam nodded, his voice soft, "If you must."
Riddick turned to leave. Barring his path was Jack. Neither man knew how long she'd been standing there. "Go where?" She asked darkly.
He looked and Imam, then back at her, "Into the city."
Imam paused. He knew that wasn't what Riddick had meant by 'I should go.'
"I need to get a few things before I can go for good." He slid sideways past her, "I'll be back before dinner."
The house was quiet that day. Imam spent his time readying the house for his wife. So Jack was, for the most part, left to her own devices. She amused her self for a while skimming through the library. Most of his books were from Old Earth. She wasn't very familiar with the planet or its system, so she didn't know what to expect. One of them was an ancient copy of a si-fi novel. Flipping through the pages she began to laugh. Reality is stranger than fiction, she thought. This Isaac Asimov was one creative individual, if nothing else.
Then there were the plays. He had a whole shelf dedicated to some guy named William Shakespeare. She opened one called 'Much Ado About Nothing', and soon closed it again. The man wrote gibberish.
She moved on to a book from Tarattis Four. It was called He Is Me, by Girsha Kar. It too was a novel. She hastily read the jacket, then palmed it under her shirt. She made her way back up to her room and shoved it under the bed. She lay down, burring her face in the pillow.
On the back cover of the book there was a poem. It was entitled the same at the novel its self.
Do you see what's in the mirror?
I look in, but nothing is clearer.
Do you see?
Let me be.
Do you see where he comes from?
The hollow, deep and terrible slum.
Do you see?
It is the key.
Do you see where he's going?
No you can't, I hate not knowing.
Do you see?
Set him free.
Do you see why he does these things?
How he flies on deep gold wings?
Do you see?
Forget my plea.
Do you see what's in his eyes?
They capture all, fear and lies.
Do you see?
Let them be.
Do you see who he really is?
His sole is electric. Crack. Fizz.
Can't you see?
He is me.
She sat up again, smiling broadly. After dinner she'd start reading.
Riddick came back before dusk, empty handed. She was waiting for him, straddling the banister. He frowned at her slightly, then walked by into the kitchen with out a word. She jogged after him. He extracted a plate of cold sliced chicken from the refrigerator and sat down with it, using only his fingers to feed himself.
She sat opposite him, spinning the chair around to straddle it as well.
He glanced up momentarily, but continued his methodical consumption. When there were only a few pieces left he pushed the plate to her. She pushed it back, turning up her nose, "Nah, I already ate."
He finished it off. Licking his fingers, he asked, "Letting your hair grow out?"
She scratched her head, "No. I haven't had a chance to shave it down since we got here."
He took the plate to the sink. "Leave it. Looks good." He left the kitchen, again she skipped after. "Where's Holy Man?"
She raised one shoulder, leaning against the wall, "Some where. In his bedroom, maybe?"
He smiled mischievously, "Good. Then he doesn't know I'm here yet."
She bit her thumb nail, "What does that mean?"
"Means you and I can have a little fun."
She straightened up and repeated herself, "What does that mean?"
"Meet me on the roof."
Author's Note: I don't know what it is, but something about this chapter bugs me. Hmm... how do you guys feel about it?
