Disclaimer: Don't own TCOR – but Merrick, Marcus, Jonesy and the guards are products of my own imagination so if you want to borrow them, lemme know first.

Summary: Six years can be a long time. A long time away from him. A long time for something to go wrong. AU that picks up right after Dark Fury - some TCOR spoilers.

Pairings:slight R/J

Warnings: Language, mild violence…

Authors Notes: Sorry this update took so long… As always, thanks for all the feedback!

Chapter Eight: Nightingale

Riddick wandered aimlessly around the slam, attempting to sort out the thoughts and emotions that had so quickly turned his mind into a war-zone.

Another inmate stepped out in front of him, blocking his path. With a growl, he shoved the man out of his way and kept walking. Luckily for the other guy, he decided not to make an issue out of it and let Riddick continue walking without stopping him.

For a man who kept his thoughts and emotions private, he sure had a lot of them.

At the moment, nearly all of them were for her.

Anger at her stupid mistakes. Pride at her strength. Hatred towards the merc's who'd slaved her out. Surprise at who and what she had become.

Only one emotion was saved for himself.

Guilt.

After that scene on the merc ship, he thought he was doing the right thing leaving her with Imam and taking off on his own. Thought it was the best way to keep her from becoming any more like him than she already had. He thought it was hero-worship.

He hadn't realized she'd made it her new means of survival.

He mentally kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. Should have realized it the moment she killed someone in order to protect him. She'd crossed a line that day and there was no going back. Had he actually expected her to stay with Imam and lead a normal life after that? After everything she'd been through?

Riddick snorted. Yeah, right.

He turned a corner and slammed into something hard.

Looking up, he recognized the rigid obstacle as the same man he'd seen with Jack when he first arrived.

He glanced down at the bandages and the flat wooden rods in his hands. "Going somewhere?" he asked.

"Kyra's ankle needs to be taped," Merrick said, matter of factly. "Went to get something to wrap it with."

"A regular Florence Nightingale," Riddick muttered, more angry at himself for not thinking of it first, than at the other man's efforts. "You got a name, Nightingale?"

"Jonathan Merrick."

"Nightingale sounds better. I think we'll stick with that."

Merrick narrowed his eyes and moved to walk around him, but Riddick held out his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "What's your story, Nightingale?"

He sent Riddick an annoyed, but questioning glare. "What do you care?"

"Jack's an old friend," he said. "Lost track of her along the way, now I'm curious to know what kind of company she keeps."

Merrick was quiet a moment. "If you're wondering if I'm out to hurt her the answer is no. I watch her back, she watches mine."

Riddick looked doubtful, but said nothing.

"You know how it works," Merrick continued. "Sometimes in slam you need to make alliances to survive."

He quirked a brow. "Only when you're weak," was all he said.

He lowered his arm and Merrick shook his head, ignoring the comment, then started off in the other direction.

Riddick kept walking. The psycho-analysis could wait. Right now it was time to find a way out of this hole.

x x x x x x x

Toombs' ass was numb.

He shifted in the metal chair for the third time in as many minutes. Time was almost up.

For the past six hours he'd sat there, eyes glued to the vid screen, following Riddick's every move as he wandered around the slam. Watching him take a mental inventory of everything from the number of guards he encountered to signs of any possible exits.

He kept coming back to the same spot over and over. A door through which the guards continuously came and went. It was impossible to access without the retractable ladder being down and that only happened when a guard was using it.

Still. Knowing Riddick, he'd find a way to get up to it. Ladder or no ladder.

That only left the door.

It was only opened through the use of a key card, but that would be easy to swipe from a guard.

Toombs was almost positive that this would be his exit of choice. Now the trick would be to anticipate Riddick's break and be there to help him.

He rubbed the back of his neck, letting his vision blur and giving his eyes a rest.

It was strange having so much faith in another man's abilities. He knew that if Riddick made an attempt to escape he would succeed, just as surely as he knew the sun would be up in another hour.

You would think this knowledge would make what he had to do easier, but Toombs was still anxious. If he went through with it, his life as a merc was over. There was no way he'd be able to get out of this without killing at least one guard. And they'd have it all on tape.

The hunter would, in essence, become the hunted. He'd be the one with a bounty on his head this time.

But if he let Riddick leave without him, the chances were just as good that he'd die at the hands of the guards who wanted their money back.

A catch-22. There was no good outcome.

For now, all he could do was wait.