Disclaimer : I wish I owned it, but better yet, I wish Riddick were real so he could be my pillow...among other things.

Stained Glass

-One-

The room was not especially big, in fact it was the smallest of the three bedrooms in the house. It could have been a large walk-in closet, save for the fact that there was a neatly made up twin bed with a midnight blue coverlet and matching pillows pushed into one corner. There was also a small dark table next to the bed housing a lamp and an older model chrono, and a dresser pushed against the space between the door to the hall and the door to the even smaller closet. Both the table and the dresser appeared to be made of ebony, as was every other wooden object in the house, and there was a hand woven rug gracing the grey tiled floor-space, little as there was.

To anyone else the room would have seemed extremely cramped and not in any way comfortable, but in Jack's eyes it looked as close to heaven as she had ever seen in her life. There was even a window, a small one to be sure, but a window none-the-less and, as if it were an added bonus, it looked out over the shallow green waters of the river that drifted through New Mecca.

"I can stay in here?" she asked, almost completely in awe as she brushed her fingers over the hem of one of the pillow cases. Blue was one of her favorite colors. "This'd be my room?"

"Of course, my child," Imam responded from the doorway, the confused frown on his face was evident in his tone, but she didn't wish to elaborate her wonderment over the room. It would only bring back unwanted memories and, as much as she liked him, she knew he'd never understand that part of her past.

"My own room," Jack whispered, smiling slightly as she looked up. "Thanks, Imam."

"I would have offered you the other one, but I'm afraid Mister Riddick takes up more space than you do," he responded with a returning smile, half amused and half something that she couldn't identify, not that it mattered very much to her. She could care less if Riddick got the biggest room in the house when, now, for the first time in all her fourteen years of existence, she had an actual place that could be called her own. That's when the full significance of his statement hit her; she turned fully around to face him, eyes going wide.

"He's coming back?" she cried, grinning widely at the thought.

"There was a message this morning, before we left the hotel," Imam responded with a nod, and another half smile. "He will return in a week or two, although he did not mention for how long."

"He's coming back!" Jack exclaimed, balancing her weight first on one foot and then the other.

She felt like jumping around or something, but was a bit self-conscious of anyone watching and so limited herself to the mere madness of hopping slightly from one foot to the other. It generated a full smile on Imam's weathered face, making him look like somebody's grandfather, the thought of which made her pause to wonder exactly how old he truly was. She'd never actually speak up and ask the question, of course, but if she had to guess she'd say he was maybe late forties or early fifties.

"If you'll excuse me, Jacquelyn, I will go make dinner," he said after a moment, breaking through her contemplation. "Perhaps you should unpack."

Imam nodded towards the small black duffel bag containing all of her current worldly possessions, which wasn't very much, before taking his leave. She moved to pick up the bag, her own smile fading. Silently, she carried it over towards the bed, setting it down on the bedspread and unzipping the top. Inside were three sets of dull colored shirts and pants, a handful of socks and underwear, as well as a bra that was, as far as she could see, never going to be of any use.

It wasn't that she was completely flat chested, for she had just enough there that required wrapping to keep up her previous guise as a boy, but that was it and only it. Jack didn't particularly mind, after all, she'd found out quickly enough that having breasts and hair and girl clothes attracted attention of an unwanted sort.

Sighing and pushing that momentary reverie out of her head, she transferred her clothing into the dresser only to discover that the small collection barely filled a single drawer. She stared at it, biting her lip and blinking back tears, but the fact of everything still came barreling through. Those clothes were more than she'd ever actually had in the past, more than she'd actually been allowed in the past, and the thought of it made her throat tighten painfully.

Before a single tear could fall, she slammed the drawer shut and spun towards the still open door, dashing out and down the hall to the small bathroom Imam had pointed out to her earlier. Once inside she turned on the faucet, splashing water on her face then rubbing at her skin until it simply looked like she'd just scrubbed herself clean.

Then she went back out into the hall, heading towards the stairs so she could help out with dinner.

The kitchen chairs were wooden and sat slightly uneven on the stone tiles. Jack shifted in her seat, wincing slightly as one leg of the chair hit the floor with a soft tap. She stared at her plate and the collection of food that sat upon it.

There was chicken with some kind of spice on it and next to it a type of vegetable she'd never seen before. Actually vegetables really hadn't been a big part of her diet in previous times, but even so, she was quite certain that they weren't supposed to be purple. Along with all this was some kind of pudding like substance with bread chunks and little green things in it.

The contents of the food were of no interest to her, as it both smelled and tasted more than edible. What bothered Jack was how much there was of it, covering nearly the entire plate. It was more than she'd ever seen in a meal before and almost ten times as much as she had expected to see. Maybe it was having lived off emergency rations and the generosity of soup kitchens for the majority of the past three years.

A sound in the kitchen made her look up, turning her head to look over her shoulder to make sure that Imam wasn't watching her. She didn't want him to think that she didn't like his cooking, but his back was turned towards her. Earlier he had told her that she needn't help him in making dinner, that he liked cooking because it took his mind off other things.

Jack sighed and turned back towards her plate, hesitantly spearing one of the violet hued vegetables with her fork. That's when her brain registered a difference in scenery in the view out of the corner of her eye.

A second ago the front hall had been empty, but when she looked up again her eyes went wide and a grin spread it's way across her face. She quickly scrambled out of her chair, dashing forward only collided with Riddick's chest, as was intended. She hugged him round the middle before any protest could be made.

His reaction was to tense, and a growl rumbled through him, which to her ears was a thousand times louder due to the proximity. She released him from her hug, dashing back to her chair just as quickly as she had left it.

She wasn't sure if she had annoyed him, or if he was already annoyed to begin with, either way it deflated the little bubble of happiness that had appeared in her chest upon seeing him there. Picking up her fork, she returned to her food, glancing up only briefly as Riddick sat down in the chair across from her. With his goggles on it was kind of hard to tell exactly where he was looking, but even so, Jack could feel his stare, sinking her spirits even lower.

She had annoyed him, she just knew it.

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