Same disclaimer as the first 10 chapters. Don't own Pitch Black or its characters.

(A/N: Hit with the ol' writer's block. If it's slow, I'm sorry. Finals suck. You know, I used to be cool with school, until it decided to bite me in the ass.)

"Ain't gonna help you up this time."

"Riiiidiiiick," I whined, tossing my head back dramatically and pounding my fists on the arms of the chair.

"Stop crying. Get your ass up and walk over here." He stood, holding his arms out, like I was a toddler just learning how to walk. But I was a 20-something-year-old woman trying to learn how to adjust my weight on my newly healed ribs. It had been a few weeks since the merc attack, but my fingers still weren't in working order. My face was back to normal, though my smile was crooked in places. They had to cut some of my hair and it now fell a few inches below my ears, but it was long enough to tuck behind my ear. I missed pulling it back when it got too hot, but that was impossible now - No working fingers and not enough hair. I had been carried around a lot, mostly by Riddick and sometimes by Imam when Riddick was out. It was a small but wonderful luxury and I found that Jack had sometimes insisted that Imam carry her, too. He couldn't say no to her.

Jack was blooming, growing, and learning. She loved having some sort of a family (though we were kind of a sad version of the Huxtables) and actually enjoyed being a girl. Though she was still rebellious in some aspects of her new life.

"Riddick, please? Today is a Bad day," I sighed but his arms crossed his chest. Body language for Yeah-fucking-right, you liar. This was getting irritating. I was really going to have to lift myself up and waddle over to Riddick, who was going to rip me a new one if I fell.

If I fell.

Slowly, I gripped the sides of the chair and used my palms to lift my body up, straining against the pain. My knees locked and I limped slowly across the floor, the pain spearing through my torso.

"C'mon," Riddick said firmly, watching me struggle and I growled, taking smaller steps as the pain brought tears. Breathing was difficult and my hands shook. I couldn't hold myself up anymore. I began to collapse and his hands roughly caught me by the pits, jerking me upward before I fell on my face.

"Shoulda let you fall," he muttered and I took a deep breath.

"Then you should forget about this..." My hand was cupping his crotch firmly and he lifted his chin with my movement. He had lost the "annoying" habit of wearing underwear under those stretchy cargo pants. Not that I was complaining about it.

"Not so hard," he whispered and I eased up, smiling. The kitchen door opened and I quickly drew my hand away, putting it behind my back.

"You two should try to go to bed. Miss Murphy, the Doctor is coming to check up on you tomorrow," Imam sighed, rubbing his eyes and I nodded. He turned to Riddick. "Mr. Riddick, I hope that you will see her to bed?"

Riddick smiled, and then looked at me. "Gladly."

He lifted me up and hoisted me over his shoulder. Routine. I managed to give Imam a quick smile and kiss on the cheek before I was carried into the bedroom. He flung me on the bed, my head hitting the mattress hard.

"Getting harder to carry," Riddick huffed, his breathing labored and I smirked.

"Maybe you're just losing your touch."

"Yeah, it's you. And that huge ass," he retorted, "you need to stop feeding it. Could get really big and then I ain't carryin' you."

I sat up and held out my hands for the nightclothes that were bundled up in the chair in the corner. He tossed them to me and I stood slowly, aching and groaning. I took off my normal clothes, slowly unbuttoning my pants with the last strength I had and flinging them off into the darkness. I yanked my shirt off, tossing it over in the general direction my pants had flown. I didn't really care at this point; everything burned and hurt. He slid behind me, gently steadying my hips and sat on the bed. I sighed and turned around.

"You know, there are better ways to cop a feel."

"You always gotta complain?" He looked up and his goggles flashed against the lamp light.

"Yes."

"Weren't complainin' last night, Kate." His grin was enough to make me smile sarcastically and laugh it off.

"Because I wasn't tired last night." I stretched and he removed his goggles, squinting against the bright light. "Lights off," I yawned and they shut off, his eyes opening wide. Ignoring the clothes I had gotten, Riddick lifted me up and onto the top of the bed. My forearms rested gently against my exposed breasts, trying to warm them and do a bit of concealing. We had progressed to the title of "fooling around", of which we did a lot. Some nights I'd find a hand stuck down the front of my underwear and his deep, raspy whispering voice in my ear, saying things that would make a prostitute blush. He loved having that power over me and I wasn't going to bitch about it; it was just as enjoyable to have his full attention on me and what I wanted at that moment.

His head suddenly snapped up. A siren began wailing and we both sat up. "Get your clothes," he growled and I obeyed wordlessly, snatching a shirt and pants. He exited the bedroom and I tried to get things together. Something was happening, something was wrong. I snatched up a bag filled with random clothes and went out into the living room, where Imam and Jack were huddled on the couch. Jack was bawling, her eyes and cheeks glistening. Riddick was looking out of the window, muscles flexed violently.

"I'm going to pack some food," I said quietly and drug myself into the kitchen, tossing all the edible foods into the bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

"Kate, let's go now!" Riddick swiftly snatched up the back of my pants pulled me along, food crashing to the kitchen floor. Imam was shielding Jack, and Riddick was following them, dragging me with him.

He hoisted me up on his shoulder and I bounced along as we broke through another door. We clamored down the back steps and pushed open the back door. Electricity hanging in the air prickled the hairs on my neck and we rushed to an alcove, ducking into the shadows. There was something coming down the alley, breathing hard. A shadow. Riddick quickly flashed out into the alley and I froze, against the wall. There was a long groan and a heavy thump and Riddick came back, standing above our shaking bodies.

He jerked me up by the hand and dragged me into the alleyway. Blood streamed down the cracks of the pavement and I saw a body. Then two large feet and a large suit. A face looked out through a purple lens and my heart was ready to burst from fear. I began to step back but Riddick stopped me.

"It's a lenser," I managed and he stepped around me. The lensing creature stood erect and didn't move as Riddick passed around it and picked up a small box. He pressed a few buttons and tossed it to me. Blood was spattered on the buttons and I cleaned off the tiny screen with my palm. It was a control panel, connected to this thing, possibly monitoring the surroundings...

Riddick cut the main wire from the lenser and pulled me back to where Imam and Jack were hiding. A troop of men came marching down the alley, dressed in armor and helmets and stepped around the lenser.

"He's just been cut. The wounds look fresh." They surveyed the soldier whose throat had been sliced by Riddick and the wire that had connected the monstrous lenser to the black console I held now.

"Search the premises!" another soldier bellowed and the rest began scurrying. Riddick stood, running along the buildings. Jack and Imam followed, and I tried to stand but my fingers and ribs ached.

"Riddick," I called out and he turned around, halfway down the alley. He sped toward me right as a soldier grabbed my arm.

"Stay right there," the soldier growled at Riddick and I felt like I was going to wet myself. Riddick stood straight and I watched his hand slowly snake around his waist, fingering his shiv. "Let's go," he yanked me and Riddick flinched.

"Don't touch her." Riddick's voice boomed and the soldier didn't ease up.

"What's wrong with your hands?" The soldier grabbed my wrists and my bandaged fingers throbbed.

"They're broken..." I replied and he yanked them hard. I cried out and he smiled.

"Let's go now," the soldier growled and more soldiers approached us, grabbing Riddick's arms. Riddick slowly cracked his neck and looked at the soldier who was dragging me now.

"Don't touch her." Riddick's voice was booming again and he was angry. The veins were thumping on his forehead and the soldier didn't ease up on me. He had now jerked me on my feet, and I tried to walk but I was stumbling badly.

"Walk, bitch," the soldier yelled and I tried, but each step was painful. He pushed me and I looked at Riddick. He was mad; fists clenched, shiv hidden in one of his palms and a small line of blood dripped across his knuckles from the pressure. "Walk!" the soldier bellowed and shoved me hard.

Two hard swipes and the soldiers who held Riddick's arms were on the ground, necks sliced from ear to ear. He charged toward the one who stood near me and grabbed his throat. "I told you not to touch her," Riddick growled and the solider flailed in Riddick's grasp.

I noticed the soldier's slight hand gesture before I could say anything. And Riddick toppled to the ground, electricity coursing through his body from the small tazer. The soldier regained his breath and I froze on my feet. He swiftly kicked Riddick in the side, a crack resounding in the air. A gun in the back of his pants. But my hands wouldn't move. He continued to batter Riddick, kicking his back and sides and Riddick didn't move, brain probably still in shock from the surge of electricity.

"Stop." The gun was pressed at the back of the soldier's head and he stood slowly, hands up. I dug it into his head until he had stepped away from Riddick. I noticed a slight shift in the shadows on the wall and I turned around to find two more soldiers behind me, guns drawn.

My mind raced with the instinct. I pulled the trigger twice and they crumpled to the ground. Turning to the soldier behind me, I pulled it again and watched him stagger until he fell on top of his comrades.

No guilt. No time. Riddick was struggling to stand and I saw Imam and Jack emerge from the shadows, running over. Imam slowly helped Riddick onto his feet and Jack took my hand. I dropped the gun and she slowly rubbed my hand, pulling me along. We all hobbled along the alleyways and heard shouting. Probably finding all the bodies we had disposed of. Sirens began again and I was nauseous. What was happening? We hadn't seen anyone and now these soldiers were roaming the alleys, using lensers...

"The temple," Imam whispered, "we will take a ship to the temple. We shall be safe there."

- - -

"The back is empty. Make yourselves warm." Imam thanked the priest and we weaved in between the huddled families. It was cold and had started to rain, leaving the wetness to seep through the cracks of the walls. We found blankets and took a place in a corner, next to a large fire. Imam set Riddick against the wall and the big man groaned.

"I'll get him. You take Jack." I motioned toward the girl and Imam nodded, crawling over to her pallid and shivering figure, blankets wrapped tightly around her body. I turned back to Riddick, whose body was shivering slightly.

"Anything hurt?" I asked and he looked at me. He motioned slightly to his side and I lifted his shirt up. It was a deep purple and a swollen lump protruded from his ribs. "Lay down," I murmured and he obeyed, slowly lying down on a blanket. The shirt was removed and I looked at the wound.

"Doesn't look broken, but a tendon might have broken." His reached his hand down but I smacked it away. "Don't touch it!" I warned but he reached again. I grabbed his wrists and pressed them above his head. "Don't move. I'll tie them down if you can't keep them off." He smiled and I let go of his hands. I leaned in closer to examine the spot and a hand slipped into view.

"Imam, hand me that rope." He tossed it over and I bound Riddick's wrists together angrily.

"I told you to stop!" I looked at him but he just smiled.

"Didn't know you were this kinky," he laughed and I rolled my eyes.

"I'll kink your face in if you don't shut up." I slowly began to tear a shirt apart to bandage his torso. Riddick didn't fight against the bonds, only using his free thumbs to peel off his goggles. I began to wrap the shirt up his waist and he lifted off the ground, letting my hands ease under his back. I knotted it firmly and he laid back down, sighing.

"You gonna get this off now?" he motioned to his wrist restraints and I smirked.

"No," I replied, folding his shirt and tossing it near the fire. I stood and limped over to where a priest was helping a young woman with a small child. "Do you have any food or water?" I said quietly and the old man looked up.

"Water is beside the entrance. We have no food," he replied and turned back to the mother and infant. I thanked him and went to the entrance to gather a jug of water. I carried it in the crook of my arm, my fingers useless, and set it down between Imam and me. Imam poured clear water into Jack's mouth and then sipped it himself. He handed it back to me and I set it in Riddick's hands. He gulped it hungrily, Adam's apple working vigorously up and down.

"Hey, save some for me," I warned and he set it down, pushing it slowly toward me. I began to untie his wrists and he smirked, rotating his hands to move the blood around. "Help me," I said and he gently picked up the jug. I drank as he tipped the jug upwards and I then pulled away, swallowing. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and Riddick reached for the free hand, examining it slowly. The bandages were fraying and dirty, soaked with rain.

Riddick slowly stood, wincing slightly and walked across the floor to the same priest I had approached. They both disappeared behind a pillar and I leaned against the wall.

"Food?" I looked up at the small woman, dressed in robes, who extended a basket toward me. I took the small piece of bread without question, thanking her and trying to figure out how I was going to eat it with no mobile fingers. Riddick appeared beside the woman, who flinched when she saw him standing there. Instead of offering him the basket, she hid it with her hand and walked away toward Imam and Jack. Riddick watched the woman then turned his eyes to me.

He held a square of white cloth in his hand, gently fingering the edge. He sat in front of me and I eyed the cloth. What was he doing?

He took my hand and began to rip the old bandages off. It was painful and my fingers were a nasty green color, still slightly swollen from the healing. Riddick slowly dipped his hand in the water jug and began to sprinkle the water lightly over my knuckles. The water rolled down my fingers and he tenderly stroked each one, washing the dirt and dried blood from the cuts.

I didn't say anything, just smiled. He tore small strips from the cloth and bound my fingers, two by two, together, not too tight and not too loose. After each finger was clean and dressed in new bandages, he held them for a minute.

"Thank you." He didn't move his head in acknowledgement, but set my hands down softly on my crossed knees. He scooted back into a corner and rested his back against the wall. The bread was still in my hand and I looked at it. She didn't offer him any because he looked dirty, ragged, like a poor criminal. And with his bronze skin, the woman probably thought of him as a Mix; there were still race issues lingering in the air and Riddick was the worst of the worst: a child of mixed races. Purity was a status in New Mecca. I wasn't without critics – as a child, I was teased for having blonde hair and green eyes, an unmistakable sign of mixing among the white cultures. While most girls had beautiful blonde hair and gorgeous blue eyes, I was stuck with freckles and awful buck teeth.

Some habits had never died among humans.

Riddick's eyes were closed and I tossed the bread to him. I didn't need it. I had been waited on hand and foot back at Imam's and now God was kicking my ass for it. Food just didn't seem important.

His eyes shot open as the bread hit his chest and he caught it as it slid down his chest. He examined it, as if it were a bomb, and then looked at me. I smiled as best as I could, scooting myself to his corner.

"She shouldn't have done that," I whispered and he looked back down at the bread in his fingers. One hand reached for my chin, tilting it up, down, and turned it to each side.

"You're mixed white. Why'd she give one to you?"

"Because my skin isn't as dark as yours," I whispered and he exhaled sharply. This was one thing he didn't really understand. In Slam, the alpha dog was on top, no matter what his skin color was or who his parents were.

But not in the real world.

"Riddick," I said quietly, "the ones who matter don't care about what color your skin is."

"Do you?"

"Why would you ask me that?"

He didn't answer and I knew that, for once, I had won. I smiled slightly, basking in the glow of my achievement. He settled and began pulling the bread apart.

"Here." He placed a piece in my hand and I gave it back.

"You need it more than I do," I sighed and he didn't question me. He took the pieces and swallowed them in one gulp, wiping his mouth. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped myself in it, shuddering, and laying my head on the wall behind me. Fingers touched my chin and he kissed me, making me gasp. He pulled me close and the kiss turned into a hug, his arms pressing my body against his.

His heart thumped loudly and quickly, making the large vein in his neck thump warmly against my mouth. My head slid to his chest and I fell asleep to the rhythm on his heart against his ribs.

I can't see my reflection in the waters
I can't speak the sounds that show no pain
I can't hear the echo of my footsteps
Or remember the sound of my own name.