(Disclaimer: Besides original characters, I don't own anything you hear in this story. Not getting paid for it either, which is a drag.)

(A/N: LANGUAGE/VIOLENCE/SMUT ALERT again. Not for the kids. Not that you would be letting your children view this as bedtime story material ANYWAYS...)


You're shining still behind the clouds
Saying I won't figure you out
I like it true, but let me try
And try and try for the rest of my life

I'm not scared of being alone
I'm not scared of being alone, being alone.

Why should the fire die?

Wake up. A whisper to my mind and my eyes shot open. The room even looked like sex. The pale yellow wallpaper gave off a thick hazy feeling as the peeking sunlight gently kissed it. Things were oddly placed on the dresser and the lamp in the corner had fallen down, lying unbroken but disoriented on the carpet. Did we fuck on the dresser? No, no. Just the bed. Quite a few times, too. Were we drunk? I didn't feel light-headed.

I rolled onto my side and saw the broad back turned away from me, arms limply hanging at his sides. No doubt he was awake; he never really did sleep and if he dozed, the slightest movement woke him. My mother had found out the hard way, constantly coming in and finding two silver flashlights staring at her from the couch. The bed reeked of sweat and body fluids, the sheets sticking to my skin as I pushed myself up. No, it didn't smell like love. It smelled like ass. Just straight up body lusting. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sighed. Putting on a robe, I quietly exited my bedroom and found that the kitchen light was on. I stepped inside and found my mother sitting at the table, the morning paper out, a cup of coffee steaming beside her. As I pulled a chair from the table, she put down the paper and smiled at me, taking in my appearance.

"So you finally slept with that man?" The blood drained from my face. Did I really look THAT bad?

"I, um, eh..." I stuttered and she just smiled, looking back at the paper.

"I see the way he looks at you. I'm just surprised you let him do that. I've never seen such bantering in my life..."

"Ma, please, just drop it. I'm not really in the mood."

"You two go at it like two cocks in a cage fight."

WRONG choice of words, Ma. Cock was the last word I wanted to hear. The front door suddenly slammed and my mother sighed.

"There he goes again."

I tried to take my mind off of the night before, doing everything outside of my bedroom. Shame I didn't have work, but being around men would've made my skin crawl. Especially the ones with toffee-colored skin and strong necks and a hard jaw. Riddick didn't come home until after my mother had left for her shift, quietly slipping into the front room. I was rearranging my clothes according to colors, which consisted of black, grey, tan, and green; a beautiful mix of exotic colors. There was a creak in the floorboards and I sighed. I felt weird in his presence.

"What?" It came out more hateful than I meant it. I sighed and he didn't move from the doorframe. I turned around to face him, taking a deep breath. His arms were firm beside him, fists clenched. Sorting something out in his head. "Listen, Riddick, I..."

He held up his hand, stopping me. "Temper, Kate."

I swallowed my retort. Best not to provoke him into a smart-ass word-off. He stepped a little closer and I put my hands on my hips, taking in a deep breath.

"You mad about how you might've enjoyed it?"

"No, I just think you could've asked me first..."

"Asked? And what would your answer be, huh?"

Probably no. I gritted my teeth. How did he constantly prove me wrong?

"And how many times has a man touched you like that?" His voice was low now. "Probably never thoughta you. Probably took what he wanted and left."

How men had there been?

None.

Zero. It was a cold number. I had just never been in love enough to let someone take me over like that. Sex required love (or a considerable amount of lust) and I had never felt that way about anyone. My teenage years were spent fighting with my parents and making up with them and not being allowed to go to school because of the system. I taught myself to read and add, and writing I picked up in the Slam, along with ragged old copies of Earth authors. My life was full of confinement, not enjoyment. So sex was a thing just out of my grasp.

"Well, you're the first."

"To what?" Now he sounded concerned.

"Ever touch me. Like that. Or touch me, period." Just another weakness Riddick would use against me. Kate, the trash-talking prude.

"You serious?" He was stepping closer.

"Why would I lie? You'd find out sooner or later," I replied and he stopped. The room stood in silence and I waited for him to say something. Anything.

"You were in the Slam and never got jumped?"

"Nope," I shrugged, "but they tried. I just made the right friends."

He moved back into the shadows and I stood. I wasn't going to sit in this tension-fest any more. So we had sex. Big deal. Let's move on with our lives.

"I like you, Kate." His hand was touching my arm, sending chills up my body. I knew it was hard for Riddick to admit to liking anyone. Especially a woman. Women were weak in his eyes; we always lead to something bad. He spent a lot of time thinking about Carolyn and about the planet. Killing Royston was easy but watching Carolyn being ripped out of his arms was devastating. Riddick had died on that planet. He died in Carolyn's arms. "I trust you," he whispered and moved a bit closer. I smiled. This was the Riddick I had been deprived of. The one who had smiled at me on the ship, asking to come wherever I was going.

"Why can't you always be like this?" I sighed, letting him gently trace his mouth over my neck and ear. He made a low sound and began pushing me toward the bed.

"I don't wanna fight about this anymore." My back was on the mangled sheets and he was taking off his goggles. "Lights 10 percent." They dimmed and his shirt was almost peeling off his body, followed by his pants. Slam underwear, if you ever got any, was thin and uncomfortable. And allowed anyone who wanted to see everything that was happening in your groin area. Not that it was bad at this very moment but it was distracting.

He stood there for what seemed like ages until I sat up. I tugged on the waistband of his underwear and his eyes snapped at my hands. The look in his eyes made me retract my fingers and I sighed.

"Thinking about Carolyn?"

"No," he snapped but he couldn't fool me. He didn't want to sleep with me, he wanted Carolyn. FUCK!

"Don't lie to me. I already know," I stood, "and I don't care. I understand...she died in your arms, not me." But I cared. I cared too much. It tore at me that he would have me in a hot mess one minute and then take it back the next. But he was reentering the human race – emotions he had never felt were bubbling to the surface and things he thought he had control of were spiraling down. It was a vicious cycle being human and having feelings. Lust and love had boundaries. Death had consequences. "Hurts, doesn't it? Losing someone," I said flatly and his eyes narrowed. I began to walk away and he pulled my arm.

"How do you get rid of it?" His features gave a soft expression. A readable expression, not one that left you afraid or confused.

"You can't," I laughed, "it'll eat away at you slowly. But you move on. Hard at first, but you do it." But he wasn't buying it. He didn't trust me. What a stubborn asshole.

"Listen to me, Riddick," my voice growled and I stared hard at him, "stop denying what you're feeling. Don't think I can't see right through you. You don't have to pretend with me! I'm not going to stab you in the back! I don't care if you were in love with her, just don't lead me on. If you need to talk, we'll talk. Just stop being such an asshole to yourself and to me!"

Quiet. He was running it through his head. He buttoned his pants slowly and looked up at me. "Talk with me, then." He motioned to the bed and I slowly walked to sit on the bed. He dragged a chair across from me and sat slowly. The lights were still dim but I didn't care. I needed to see his eyes, to see what he was thinking.

"I see her."

"Where?"

"Everywhere. In that damn ship plan system, everything. In you." His fists were clenched and he was looking at them.

"Well, how do you feel?"

"Fucking mad. I just wanna break everything."

"Mad at her?"

"No. At those fucking monsters. At me. Ripped her right outta..." He swiped at the air and then rested his head in his large hands. He was shaking, not crying, just shivering.

"You know, it's okay to feel like this. You don't have to hide it."

"And how the fuck would you know?"

"Because I've lost someone before. It hurts. Ain't gonna lie about that. Hurts so much you want to die. But then you realize they died so you could learn from it."

"Learn what? That I can't ever fucking feel anything without it being taken away? That I'm a fucking waste of breath?"

"But you're not! You are a good person, Riddick, when you want to be. You saved me and Jack and Imam and you deserve something for that. Jack loves you to death. Don't let her down! Don't let me down, Riddick."

"I was left in that damn trash bin, Kate. No one cared. A fucking baby..."

"And someone took you in, right? Cared for you? Until they fucked you up and sent you to the Slam?"

He looked up, eyes rimmed with tears. Real tears. Wet, glistening beads of salty water. "How did you..."

But he didn't finish his sentence. He just remained still. I stood and walked behind him, gently lifting him up by the shoulders. He flinched but complied, allowing me to place him on the bed. He laid down and I covered him up, like a child, and sat beside him.

"Don't beat yourself up too much over this, Riddick," I said and he turned away from me. I left without another word and shut the door firmly behind me.

I'm just happier being confused
Beside the fire, as long as it's with you

I didn't really dream that night, tossing and turning on the couch. It was more of an off and on dozing. Interrupted by a shadow passing next to the window. I sat up slightly, heart pounding and looked around. There was definite shadow beside the front door window. I couldn't really move my legs but my body was screaming at me to run, hide, and escape.

The door broke open and all I saw were guns and lights. Bright lights, shining right in my face. The guns pressed against my back, my breasts, my head, and I couldn't move. Couldn't speak as they yelled, "Where is he? Where is he?"

I just shrugged. Shoulders up and shoulders down – a meaningless motion when guns are bruising your skin. I was cuffed, slapped, and pushed out of my home. They sacked the place, tossing pictures and clothes out of the windows as I was pulled away from the apartment. Who could've known? Imam, Jack, my mother...but none of them would ever want Riddick caught. Where the hell was Riddick anyways?

- - -

The mercs hit me. Kicked me. Beat me with a belt. I didn't want to talk...I couldn't betray Riddick. They knew I had killed Johns and that Riddick had killed Royston. So they beat me harder. Yelling "Fucking cunt!" and "Stupid bitch!" and scaring all of the tenants in the black alley. No one came close enough to see the young woman writhing on the dirty ground, covered in blood and grit and smelling like rotten food. My lips were split, my fingers broken, my hair pulled out, my ribs busted. I was scared and I cried for what seemed like ages until they all became quiet. Shots, more blood, but my eyes were swelling from the broken bones in my face. I was gasping for breath, gulping for air and the shouts of the mercs died down. Abandoned me to the elements. I tried to crawl but my arms were still cuffed behind me. I scooted myself across the ground, the rocks cutting my arms and my feet slipping. Suddenly, a body landed hard on top of me. A dead merc, blood oozing from a gaping slit in his neck. It covered my face, filled my mouth, and I coughed, horrified and scared. Just let me die. Hands gripped my arms and I yelped.

"No, stop, don't kill me," I sobbed and the hands gently pulled me up onto my feet. My ribs blazed with pain and I crumpled to the ground, my knees slamming into the pavement. I was picked up swiftly and thrown across a shoulder, my head hitting a brick wall. Blood trickled down my forehead and my mind began to slip.

Darkness.

- - -

Water. It burns!

My eyes tried to open but they were slits and my face ached. My whole body was numb, like the nerves were fried from so much hitting, scratching, and tearing. I was naked, in a bright bathroom, two pairs of big blue eyes staring back at me.

"Jack?" She had grown her hair out; it wasn't very long but now she was starting to gain her womanly appearance back.

"They told me to wash you up and make sure you didn't go into shock..." her voice was shaking and I took a deep breath. I moaned at the pain and noticed my torso was wrapped in bandages, blood patches dotting the gauze. My fingers were wrapped tightly, coated in black bruises and they were throbbing dully. My face seemed to hurt the least, but my eyes were hot and tender.

"Do you know what's all broken?"

"Yeah, your fingers and ribs and your face, but the Doc was able to laser your face. Everything else is just bruised really badly. Lost a lot of blood too, but the Doc did a transfusion so you're OK. You aren't gonna die..."

"Felt like it," I laughed lightly and she managed a smile. I could tell she was a little embarrassed to be sitting next to a naked woman in the bath. "Hey, so how's living with Imam? You been going to school?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "but they don't really talk to me. I'd rather be with you and Riddick..."

"I can't go back there anymore. They trashed the place. I'm sure they have my mother, too. Questioning her about Riddick..."

"Well, your mom ratted you out."

What? WHAT!My heart stopped. Why would she...

Riddick. She was afraid of him. I'm sure she had heard of his record: murder, manslaughter, theft. He was the kind to kill you in your sleep. But Riddick wasn't Riddick anymore.

"Why?" was all I could get out. Jack shrugged and gently played with the fraying end of the old rug.

"Well, who brought me here?"

"Riddick. Dropped you off then went to dig up some Doc he's known for a while. A good guy, the Doc – he fixed you up really well," she replied and stood. She held out her hands. "C'mon. You've been in there for a while." I glanced at my fingers and they had pruned. I shakily lifted myself up from the tub, slipping and sliding, and Jack helped me into underwear and a robe. She turned off the light and helped me hobble into the kitchen, where Imam stood, leaning over the stove. He turned around and smiled, helping Jack scoot me into a chair.

"They were not merciful," Imam murmured, checking my cuts and bruises. Jack began to eat and I glanced at the food in front of me. A mush, tan and brown, and my stomach lurched. I didn't think my stomach could hold anything down. I'm sure my organs were all still in shock from the beating.

"I can't eat." My voice was empty.

"Well, then, you must sleep." Imam stood and gently lifted me up, leading me to a back bedroom. The bed was warm, deep. I closed my eyes and began to drift.

Then, dreams. They were beating me again, Johns' and Royston's faces peppered on each merc, the anger fueling their kicks. I didn't cry this time; I just laid there. My heart began to race and my eyes flew open.

He stood beside the window, looking out. His silver eyes scanned the streets below and then swiftly came back to me. He didn't speak and I laid back down, letting out a slow breath and trying not to disturb my healing bones. I was scared. Scared?

He came slowly to the bed, fingers strained and moving, like he was trying to play the piano at his sides. I expected him to be angry at me. Angry because of my mother. But it wasn't like I ratted him out to the mercs. We both had a bounty but his was considerably larger. I'm sure I garnered the same amount dead or alive. Talk about favoritism...

He slowly lifted the side of my robe to look at my bandaged torso and then lower to examine the bruises. He silently rolled my fingers through his, inspecting the broken appendages and gauging their recovery. A swift gesture to my head and he tilted it quickly, strolling along the laser lines and swollen patches. After a quiet overall examination, he sat still, hands resting on his knees.

"Thanks," I said dryly and he looked up at my face. "For the alley..." I added and he swallowed.

"Why'd she do it?" His voice was dry, ragged. I'm sure he hadn't slept in a few days.

I shrugged. "I don't know. She didn't like you." But it wasn't the answer he wanted.

"Mercs had a bounty for you, too," he grunted, "She shoulda known that."

"My mother doesn't do anything rationally. I'm sure she was thinking they'd tell her before they ransacked the place, but obviously, they didn't extend the courtesy." I lifted myself up so I wasn't slouching. Everything ached, everything burned, everything was sweating. His hands flinched slightly and I knew he wanted to help me, but it wasn't like him. He expected to be chastised for helping someone. I sighed.

"You don't have to sit there. Help me, Riddick," I said firmly. With my permission, he slowly repositioned my arms and adjusted the pillows. His hands softly brushed the sides of my breasts, drawing goose bumps on my chest and the rest of my exposed skin. Shit. I really didn't want this to happen. He tried my tender ribs, seeing how much they hurt. His thumbs landed on my lower stomach and I tilted back, gritting my teeth, trying to contain my urge while I was disabled. Disabled. What a title.

But what continued surprised me.

He kissed the spot where his thumbs had been. It was a quick, dry, decisive kiss and drew a sharp breath from my mouth. But the next kiss was longer and down lower. My legs almost fell open and I did my best to try to bring them back together, but failed, the bruises too sore for any voluntary muscle action. He had to know this was going to happen, because his next kiss was extremely past the line of propriety.

"Don't move. Hurts even more if you do." His breath was right at the hotbed of a large pooling of blood. Hot, fiery, angry blood that begged to be fucked.

Fucked? I wasn't sure I was in the condition for it.

"Fuck, Kate," he breathed, "Relax. Been on my knees for only one girl. You." It wasn't as if I had any underwear on. He was breathing right on me, between my legs, centimeters away from my pulse and the only barrier was a flimsy weave of cheap cotton, probably picked by a broken machine in the Tangiers...Oh.

OH.

A kiss right ON THE FUCKING SPOT! I'm losing my mind. I'm going to explode from anger and confusion and pleasure all at once...

"Baby, relax. Let me do something for you. Pay you back for all those nasty things I said." His voice was warning, like a parent. What the hell. Just do it. Enjoy it.

"You're gonna be down there a while if you want to say your sorry."

"I ain't apologizing. Just want to see a smile on that pretty face of yours."

"Still gonna take you a while."

His hands swept my underwear down and his mouth was there.

It shot through me like a bolt and I gasped, straining my neck down so I could watch him. I wanted to say something but my voice groaned and gasped, my gasps turning into sounds that were high-pitched.

"Found it..."

But I didn't even get to ask what he found.

And I crashed. Melted down. I didn't scream out but my heart was screaming at me. I was numb and feeling at the same time. Every part of me shook and I watched his head slowly rise. He gently wiped his mouth, his lips red and slightly wet, moisture lingering on his chin. But he mopped that up too.

"Feel better?" he asked, gently lifting himself from the bed and neatly covering my throbbing privates with the sheets.

"Yes," I squeaked. He crawled up, hands on both sides of my body and I flinched as he approached my face.

"Sleep." It was a command. I shut my eyes and waited. He was still breathing slowly on top of me and I tried not to move as he climbed off. And he was gone.

Confused and alone. Again.