A/N: I'm back. Please don't have a heart-attack. I moved back to the States right after posting Chap7, and kinda ran out of any spare time in which to post some more. Sorry, sorry! Anyway, I'm spending Xmas with my dad, so I'm back in Ireland without much to do – hence the reason I hope to get the next couple chapters out quickly. I know my updates are normally like Sunday night, but I couldn't wait until then. So one day early – enjoy!
The rest of that day passed relatively quickly – Jack had homework, so they went straight home after school. Riddick got Shinzese take-away, and while they waited for their dinner to arrive, he dragged Jack outside to work on her self-defense.
He was pleased to note that even though both of their movements were slightly restricted due to the various injuries they'd accumulated, Jack hadn't forgotten what he'd taught her earlier. He added a few more moves to her repertoire – evasions and blocks mainly, but when the scent of Shinzese tong-wok sauce drifted past their noses, they unanimously abandoned fighting for food.
During dinner, Riddick got a call notifying him of a job that night. He took down the details, stowed the paper in his back pocket, and hung up without saying goodbye. Jack gave him an inquisitive look, but he shook his head and said nothing.
He didn't want Jack to know about his jobs – or at least know more than she did already. There was no telling about that. He hoped it wasn't much. How would it feel to see a news bulletin about a murder the night before and know that her guardian had been the killer? What would it be like to know that your babysitter was leaving for his job, so somebody would die before he could come home?
Riddick waited until she was in bed and asleep before he took a shot of morphine-12, grabbed his duster, and headed out into the night. Jack or no Jack, he knew what he was good at, and if he could make more money off it, all the better.
When he slipped back into the house a few hours later, it was still dark and quiet. He hoped Jack hadn't woken and found herself alone. But when he checked on her, she was still sleeping – more or less peacefully. He grinned and tip-toed across the floor to her bedside, before folding her arm back to her side and tugging the blanket over her shoulders. He tucked a bare foot back under the covers, and then watched her for a moment.
He had heard it said that people looked like children when they slept, but he found that this was not the case with Jack. She looked less like a girl and more like a woman. A woman who looked an awful lot like Carolyn.
Riddick scrubbed a fist across his eyes and shook his head. He really had been awake too long. He had laid Carolyn to rest, and she did not need to be dug up. Jack was Jack, and Carolyn was…well, dead. With a sigh, he snuck out of Jack's room, closed the door, and allowed himself to lean wearily against it for a moment before trudging downstairs.
He turned on the teakettle again and shrugged off his duster. He had gotten a bit of blood splattered on him so he needed to wash all his clothes – no sense in taking any chances. Stripping down to his boxers, he threw all the clothing into the washer-dryer combo and flipped it on. He padded barefoot into the kitchen long enough to drop a teabag into his mug, before returning to the laundry room.
Brandishing a scrub brush in one hand, he doused the boots in detergent and set to work – stopping only to sip his tea. By the time his clothes were dry, his boots were as clean as they ever were. He left them to drip dry in the sink and finally headed for bed. He didn't rest easy.
"Come on!" Carolyn was dragging him, urging him to go faster. "The ship…" He had to move faster, had to make it to the ship before the creature came swooping down to grab Carolyn. But he couldn't move, couldn't do anything more than moan and let Carolyn shoulder him along. His limbs were bound tight, his lips stitched shut. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move a muscle, couldn't tell her to run, to leave him, to save herself.
"Riddick, why aren't you running?" she shrieked, pulling desperately at his arm. "We have to get to the ship!" She shifted him forward until he was leaning on her shoulders so that she could carry him piggy-back. For a minute, they were pressed together, body to body, then something cold and reptilian slithered between them.
A screamed, "Riddick!" and she was gone.
Riddick snapped awake and lunged with his shiv, but there was nothing there, nothing but the dark of his room. He glanced at his watch – didn't need the night setting to read the time. 04:16. With a groan, he kicked off his tangled sheets and padded into the office, shiv still absently dangling from his fingers. Rubbing his eyes tiredly, he settled into the chair and picked up the stack of papers. No sleep for the wicked.
Jack groaned and felt blindly around for her alarm clock. When she located it, she promptly picked it up and dropped it on the floor. There was a satisfying clunk, and the alarm shut off.
She rolled back over and settled back down. And rolled over again. And again. Finally she threw back her covers and sat up. "Fuck! I just want to sleep!" She shouted at the remains of her clock. But she was awake now, so she might as well go to school then. Damn.
Stumbling out of bed, she looked for a sweatshirt to throw on, couldn't find one, decided to steal one of Riddick's instead. With a mumbled curse, she padded down the hall to Riddick's room. Flicking on the light, she found the bed empty. "Riddick?" she called.
"Office."
Figures he would be up early. The room was dark, but it wasn't like Riddick needed light anyway. She peered into the darkness. "What're you doing?"
"Work."
The desk light flickered on, and she saw him pulling down his goggles. He was wearing a sweatshirt open on a bare chest, and looked like he hadn't slept a wink. "How'd you sleep?"
"Didn't."
So he had been up all night. "Well, okay then. You want breakfast? I can make some mean waffles."
He raised an eyebrow. "Are they toxic?"
"Highly."
He smiled and stood – revealing boxers and bare feet. "Sounds good then."
Riddick stared at his plate. "When you said you were making waffles, I thought you meant that you were actually going to make them."
Jack rolled her eyes and pushed down the lever on the toast-o-matic. "You want to cook? No? Well, then shut up and eat."
He shook his head wordlessly and doused his stack of waffles with syntho-syrup. When Jack's waffles popped up, she flipped them onto her plate and joined him at the table. They munched in silence for a while, until Jack finished her fourth waffle.
"I have 'art class'," she made the quotation signs in the air, "after school again, so pick up is still at three-thirty."
Riddick nodded and swallowed his mouthful of food. "Why do you call it 'art class'," he made the signs, "anyway?"
She shrugged and mopped up some syntho-syrup with her next bite. "I dunno, mostly just to keep Imam from knowing that I have detention all the time. I tell him about it every now and then – to keep him from getting too suspicious – but he doesn't need to know that I have it like everyday for the next four years."
"But art?"
Jack popped another bite in her mouth. Around it, she said, "Well it kinda is – art class, anyway. I usually finish homework in other classes, and you're not allowed to listen to music or anything, so I sit there and doodle in my notebook for an hour."
He considered this for a moment. "Why not some sport or something?"
"Well then Imam would need to buy me a kit and everything, and he'd want to see matches, you know? If it was drama, he'd want to see me perform. With art, I can show him my drawings, and if he buys me stuff, I can actually use it." She smiled into her milk. "I'm quite good, you know."
Riddick raised an eyebrow. "Oh really. So you do have more talent than just being annoying?"
"Ha ha ha, very funny. Seriously, you wanna see? Let's discover if the cave-man can recognize decent art." She scampered off, leaving Riddick to clear the table. He chanced to see his sweatshirt – which now had grease and syntho-syrup stains on it from carrying the plates, and a little milk slopped near the pocket. He really needed to get one of those cape-things he always saw chefs and mothers wearing in ads to protect their fronts. Called like 'ap-ons' or something.
Jack returned just then, carrying something wrapped in foil and a pad of paper. She set the foil blob on the table and smiled. "Tad says thanks for the extra portion of lunch goo, and I saved you some of his mom's cake." She hopped onto the table next to it and opened the notebook.
Riddick saved the piece of cake from being squashed, and peered over Jack's shoulder at the drawings. They were good. Really good. The page he was looking at was a caricature of what looked like it might formerly have been a teacher – it was flabby and hairy with horn-rimmed glasses and spit flying out of massively rouged lips. The page after was a skeletal man with one foot in a grave, holding hands with the Grim Reaper.
The next picture was a serious sketch, a boy with spiky hair and stud earrings leaning back in his chair, eyes closed. "That's Roz. If I could date anyone in the school, I'd date him."
Riddick frowned. "That just ruined the picture for me…"
She laughed. "Don't worry, he'd never be caught talking to a loser like me. It's funny looking through these, I haven't used this sketchbook in a while. Forgotten what's in here…" She flipped the page, but then hurriedly closed the book. "Well that's it, what'd you think?"
"Hold up." Riddick snagged the notebook from her hands and flipped to the last page. "What was this drawing?" He looked down at the half-finished sketch, full of eraser marks and dark scribbles. It was a large teacher with small eyes and smacking lips stroking a little baby and holding several schoolgirls in one hand.
"Oh…oh, that's nothing…just something I dreamed up…just Mr. Menthiz…" Jack sounded quiet and uncomfortable.
Riddick stared at the picture silently for a moment, face perfectly still. "You have a teacher who's been molesting you?"
Jack flushed and ducked her head. "I-how did you…no…no, nothing like that. He just…I dunno, pats your shoulder, and whispers in your ear and stuff. At least, that's all he's ever done to me. I dunno about the other girls – I don't talk to them."
"Does he ever touch you anywhere else?"
"No, not really. Just rubs your shoulders sometimes."
"What about this whispering? What does he say?"
She wrapped her arms over her elbows. "It's nothing, Riddick. Let it go."
"No. What does he say, Jack?"
"No seriously, Riddick. You can't go to anyone, okay? I shouldn't be telling you this."
Riddick looked over at her, hunched on the table, cheeks flaming, and softened. He walked over to the wall and flipped the kitchen light off. In the dark, he took off his goggles and settled on the table next to her. "Jack. Tell me."
He felt her shudder slightly, but she was silent for a moment before she hesitantly began to speak. "Just little things. How beautiful he thinks I am. How nice I look in my uniform. How he doesn't care if I leave my top button open and my tie down in his class. How he gave me extra-credit on my test. How the other boys don't appreciate me."
She paused for a moment before continuing. "This has to stay between us, okay? 'Cause I can't take anymore strokes against me – I can't be labeled as the one who tattled, the one who couldn't take it. And anyway, who are you going to tell? Who's going to believe an escaped convict and an orphaned juvenile delinquent? It's not like we have any incriminating evidence anyway. Nothing he has said or done is really that out of the ordinary. He just makes it seem so dirty. Something that should be totally innocent, makes me feel like I need to take a shower in acid."
Riddick was silent. What could he say? He couldn't be there in her classes to protect her, just as he couldn't follow her around the campus to make sure knife-wielding bullies didn't jump her. And she seemed genuinely distressed about him revealing anything.
"All right, Jack. I won't say anything." He felt like he should give her a hug, but wasn't sure if she wanted a man to touch her at the moment. "But I can give you a little advice on how to handle this guy. And I want you to tell me if he does anything else – even the littlest thing, if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I want to know."
She nodded. "Okay."
He sighed. "Since you don't want to accuse him, you just have to keep him from doing anything to being with, right?" At her nod, he continued. "Well bastards like these are usually wimps underneath. They pick the easy ones – quiet, shy, introverted girls. Targets who are unlikely to say anything, or are too shy to stand up for themselves."
Jack nodded at his generalization, so he continued. "You have to stop being one of those victims in his classes. Be loud, be mouthy. Throw spitballs, paper airplanes. I don't care if you get more detention – I'll take care of that. But at the same time turn in your homework on time – don't give him an excuse to get you in his debt. If you could somehow figure out if he does this to other girls, that would be even better. If even one more person can collaborate your story, it will back you up enough to take him to court – when you want to, of course."
Riddick squeezed her shoulders. "I should go to the school board, the principal, the superintendent, the cops. This is not okay. But since you don't want me to, I won't. It's your decision to make. But you better tell me if he does anything more. Okay? Will you promise me that?"
Jack felt up to where his neck was and gave him a hug. "Yeah, Riddick. I promise. And thanks. For listening, and for not saying anything."
He patted her back awkwardly and flipped on the lights again. "On a different topic, maybe we should see about getting you in actual art classes…"
She smiled up at him. "You're all right for a murderer, Richard B. Riddick."
He rolled his eyes. "Gee thanks, Mom. You really made my day there."
After getting Jack signed in at school, Riddick found a comm. booth and pulled out the number book. "M…m…ma…mc…me…mef…mek…mel…men…" He examined the list. "Ah, Menthiz. A Mr. Josh P. Menthiz, 7 Royaz Drive, New Mecca." Riddick smiled. "I wonder if he's expecting visitors?"
"Jesse Staton!"
Riddick sighed impatiently as a cute little blond kid met his mother and they hurried off after signing out. Finally, he stepped to the front of the line. "Kyra Fry." He called and looked towards the detention line. Nothing happened. He didn't bother calling again – Jack would had heard if she was there.
"Kyra Fry!" shrieked the teacher with a nasal voice – right in Riddick's ear. He poked his wounded eardrum with his pinky finger, and looked dismally at the empty schoolyard.
"She's not here, Miss!" someone called. "She got up to go to the toilet just before the bell."
It was if someone had stuck his finger in an electric socket. Every nerve was instantly tense. He had to find Jack. Distantly, Riddick realized that he was making some excuse about how she had probably headed home and he'd track her down, but his mind was focused on other things. He forced himself to walk away from the school, but as soon as he was around the corner, he sprinted a block down, and approached the school from the back.
Riddick easily scaled the chain-link fence and vaulted the barbed wire on top. As he landed lightly on the other side, he could hear sounds of a scuffle. These bullies thought they were different, but they were nothing new to Riddick. Smiling grimly, he leapt onto a dumpster, and from there onto a portable classroom. Perfect view of the fight.
Jack was backed into a corner, fists bunched and hair mussed. Four guys surrounded her, but one was bent double, heaving on the pavement. Another had blood trickling from his nose, though still on his feet. Riddick didn't like the fact that one of the standing guys still had a knife. Jack braced a foot on a chink in the brick wall at her back and launched herself at the knife-wielder. No finesse, just a flying lunge. Riddick supposed it was a good move – he'd never taught it to her, so she couldn't really be expected to do it perfectly – and it accomplished her goal.
They both went tumbling, rolling over each other on the ground. Jack had both hands wrapped around the knife, and her opponent was trying to stab her with one hand and beat her senseless with the other. Riddick shook his head. You focus on one thing in a close quarters fight. Beating senseless or stabbing – pick one! Really, kids these days. No technique.
In all the rolling about, it looked like Jack had gotten an elbow in the guy's stomach, and she was able to roll off him. Scrambling, she pressed a knee on the hand wrapped around the knife. The guy shrieked, and she released the pressure enough to whip the knife from his grip. He flailed at her with his free hand – she hadn't been expecting the hit, and it glanced off her shoulders, knocking her slightly off-balance. But she was on her feet quickly, knife held threateningly out towards her adversaries, who were helping their injured man up.
Riddick began slowly clapping, and everyone's heads jerked up towards him. Jack's face – scratched and dirty – lit up when she saw him. The other guys looked like they were going to scatter, but Riddick raised a hand. "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anybody. Stay." He smiled.
"Rick!" Jack cried, looking a bit worried. "Don't you think they really should leave?"
Riddick shook his head. "Now why would I think that? They're quite amusing, really. Four guys and a knife for a little girl, and who comes out on top?"
"Who the fuck is this?" One of the boys had finally spoken up.
"My big brother, Rick. You'd better beat it before he beats you!" Jack threatened.
"Oh, but Kyra dear," Riddick said in a singsong voice. "That's not my real name, now. I bet your friends really want to know it – don't you guys?" He pushed back his sweatshirt hood and slid his goggles off his eyes. "Do you know who I am now?"
The boys were silent, then one of the uninjured ones gasped. "Y-you're Richard Riddick!"
They all looked at each other, then grinned. "Cooooool!"
"Dude, I so have your action figure-"
"Can I have an autograph?"
"Hey, I was
gonna ask th-"
"I want one t-"
"You are so ama-"
"Where'd you get eyes li-"
"Mom was gonna get me conta-"
"Quiet." Riddick's soft command silenced them all. He was a bit put-off – since when had he become the new fad? That had to stop. Next thing they'd have vid games and trading cards of him. "So you all know who I am?"
The boys nodded, grinning. "Richard B. Riddick!" chirped one. "You're like my hero, dude! Totally famous!"
"And do you know why I'm famous?"
Another boy chimed in – really, they were all dumb as rocks. "You like escaped from prisons and stuff!"
"And do you know why I was in those prisons?"
Now they looked a bit confused. "Well you killed some people, right?"
Riddick allowed himself a small smile. "Right. I'm an escaped convict, a murderer – not an action hero."
"But…but, duuuuude!"
Riddick sighed. "You see Kyra's neck?" he gestured to Jack, who had been forgotten up until now. She blinked at him, but all the boys did turn and look at her neck. There was still a gauze bandage across it, and all the tussling must have torn the scab, because a bloodstain was slowly spreading on the white cloth.
"That wasn't me. That was a bunch of guys – ten of them, wasn't it Kyra? Yeah, they thought we'd be easy prey. They threatened Kyra here, hurt her neck. I killed every single one of them. Did you hear about it on the news? Over in the Qyte District, two nights ago. There was someone else last night, but I don't know his name – when I get a job, I don't need names. Which means I don't need yours, because you should all know that I don't really mind killing a few more people – even kids."
They boys had stopped looking so excited, now they looked rather scared.
Riddick smiled, and crouched, staring down at them from the roof of the portable. "Even you." He watched their expressions take on a downright panicked cast. "Now, I'd hate to have to hunt each and every one of you down and kill you – too much bother. So you know what you're gonna do? Take a guess."
One of the braver boys stuttered out, "W-we're not gonna tell anyone."
"Right. Who are you not going to tell?"
"No-not gonna tell anyone."
"Your parents?"
"N-no…"
"Your teachers?"
"No…"
"The cops?"
"No…no."
"Mercs?"
"N-no one."
"Good. And what about Kyra here? Are you going to leave her alone?"
"Y-yeah."
"Are you going to insult Imam, her guardian?"
"No…"
"Are you going to try and get revenge for her beating you?"
"Noooo…"
"What about for her bringing me into this? Are you gonna try and get her for that?"
"No, we sw-wear."
"Very good, boys. You're actually quite smart when you try. Do you know why you're not going to tell anyone, or trying to mess with Kyra anymore?"
"B-because y-you'll k-k-killll us…"
"Right." Riddick stood, and glared down at them. "Now beat it, and I might not follow you home."
The boys turned tail and disappeared so fast it was almost like magic.
Riddick pushed his goggles back on and rubbed his eyes. "Fucking hurts to be in the sun for so long." He grumbled, leaping easily to the ground.
Jack looked up at him, uncertainly.
He sighed. "Sorry I went all scary on you, Jack. I was just trying to get those guys to leave you alone."
She nodded. "I just…haven't seen you like that…since The Planet. Kinda freaked me for a bit." She held out the knife to him, hilt first.
Riddick shook his head, and smiled. "That's your knife now, Kyra Fry. Keep it for when you need it. You should always have a knife with you."
Looking at the blade a bit uncomfortably, Jack nodded and grasped the hilt herself.
He grinned. "We'll get you a sheath for that beauty. For now, slip it in the side of your boot. That way, you won't stab yourself when you walk." As she did as he instructed, Riddick had a vision of her in five years, in a maximum-security prison. He shouldn't be giving her a blade. If she had a blade, he'd have to teach her how to use it. And if she knew how to use a knife, then there was always the potential that she would make use that knowledge.
But when she stood and looked up at him, he knew there was no going back. It wasn't all his fault either – circumstances had forced her into a position where she needed defense from a blade. And now she had a blade herself. He'd just have to make sure she knew when it was appropriate to use it, and the repercussions of using it when it wasn't. But for now, he just smiled down at her. "C'mon, let's get home."
A/N: So. Worth it? I hope so. Again, sorry for making you wait so long. I know this bit about the teacher was awkward and melodramatic. And the fight thing was a bit far-fetched. But again, I'm trying to throw every parenting crisis existing at Riddick in this week. Mwahahaha. Anyway, I hope you can get over the corniness.
Of course I'd especially like to thank my wonderful reviewers who not only reviewed but stuck around to harass me about updating. I didn't mind, and you can contribute this belated update to them. They are: shamrock920, Death By Teacup, zilly-pill, FluidDegree, unknown, Jamie, maddy, mynee, blade assassin, TeaCat, TrunksgirlBlaze27, Lady Em-Chan, ElleloveMax85, Killer Queen-formerly Angelit…, SueBe, lil loupe, Gremlin, dagon90, HeresJohnny, Animagious-White-Tiger, FuryanAngel, lamyka, Stiggy, bluecatdevil, EADABUG, shamrock920 (reminder review… I 3 u), FuryanAngel (reminder… luvs!), Cathar, shadowcat, DiabloCat, chrmd red black rose.
Thanks everyone! I'm almost to 100 – come on, you can do it! Just 19 more… Love you all!