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Stained Glass

-Two-

Jack flashed her teeth at the mirror, looking for any food stuck between her teeth while in one hand she held a toothbrush. The bristles were smeared with some kind of blue gel toothpaste that was, according to the label, supposed to taste like bubblegum. Seven and a half consecutive uses had rendered that particular advertisement a complete lie. She brushed with it anyways, for while the taste reminded her of the way a hospital smelled, the stuff did work to get her teeth cleaned and she was not about to walk around school with bad breath.

It was bad enough at school already without adding dental hygiene to the list of things the other kids hated her for. Eventually things would numb out and the other students would forget she existed like they had at her old school.

She hadn't told Imam about the kids at school, mainly because she didn't want him to worry or say anything to the principal. Jack believed it was something she had to deal with on her own.

For the past three days she'd been telling herself over and over that her hair would grow out again, that it didn't matter how few clothes she had to wear so long as she actually had something to wear. Imam wasn't rich and she refused to ask him for more than what he'd already volunteered to give. She could put up with the ridicule so long as she had a place that was actually welcoming to come back to.

Putting her toothbrush back once she was done, Jack hurriedly washed her face and left the bathroom.

Out in the hall she saw the door to the room Riddick slept in open. He stepped out, goggles in place over his eyes to keep out the light. He looked at her as she walked past towards the stairs and she smiled, pausing to say something only to have him turn away, heading towards where she had just come from. Swallowing the sudden lump that appeared in her throat, she made her way downstairs, managing to throw on another smile for Imam as he looked up from the kitchen.

She picked up her schoolbooks from where she'd left them on the counter the previous night and hurriedly shoved them in her book bag. For some reason she didn't want to be there when Riddick came downstairs, but just as she was zipping the bag back up again he appeared, dressed in the usual black. He didn't say anything in greeting towards either of them, but walked past the breakfast table and out the front door. It fell shut behind him and Jack felt a strange icy fear pour through her veins.

She stood up, bag in hand as she stared at the door wondering, just like she did everyday, if he'd be coming back.

"I'm going now, Imam. I'll see you later," Jack said, shouldering her pack.

"Have a good day, Jacquelyn," he replied from the kitchen where she could hear the sounds of him washing the dishes from that morning's breakfast in the sink. She paused for a moment at the door, frowning to herself and at the edge of an idea that was suddenly tugging at her mind.

Shrugging it away for the moment, she opened the door and headed off to school.

Something had been gnawing on Jack's neurons for the majority of the day, making it so that she couldn't concentrate on anything and now, as she was sitting there with her math worksheet in front of her, the idea came.

"I can cook," Jack volunteered the information, tapping her pencil on the edge of the table, her homework momentarily forgotten.

"Can you?" Imam asked, looking up from the living room where he'd been examining one of the news channels on the vid screen.

"Yeah," she responded with a little more enthusiasm. "I used to cook back when, um, well, back before I ran away."

Her voice dropped slightly around the words in the last part, another part of her brain presenting the images of what happened each and every time she used to cook. Rationality spoke up and claimed that neither of the people she was living with now would be as hard please food-wise.

"Well, it would certainly be nice," Imam commented with an encouraging smile. "Did you want to cook tonight or perhaps tomorrow?"

"I'll cook tonight!" Jack cried, grinning. Now she felt like fidgeting in her chair, but instead just increased the pace at which she was tapping the pencil against the side of the table. She started to say something else, but was interrupted by the front door opening, to which she had to respond. She turned her smile towards Riddick as he came walking up the hall, both happy that he hadn't disappeared and brimming with glee at her own idea. He stopped in the doorway, face expressionless as he stared at her, apparently not amused by her grin. She only let her smile falter a little bit before the idea in her head took over and did the talking for her. "Can you cook?"

"Cook?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly. There was no inflection of tone in his rough voice other than the question mark at the end.

"Yeah," she replied, smile fading somewhat. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't that good of an idea after all. Even still, she was going to throw it out in the open, just to see if it would turn out okay. "I can cook, and Imam said if I wanted to I could cook tonight. If you could cook, then we could all take turns cooking."

Jack looked down at her paper as soon as she was finished speaking, pretending to return to her homework assignment. It felt like an eternity before any other sound graced the room, when it did she felt her chest ache slightly. Riddick's footsteps went past the table and up the stairs. She bit her lip, and tried in vain to concentrate on her math work again instead of the new mantra that was repeating over and over in her head.

After a moment, she heard Imam stand and walk over, robes rustling.

"It was a good idea, Jacquelyn," he said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We could still take turns cooking if you wish."

Silently she nodded, raising her head to give him a grateful smile. He nodded towards her, more for reassurance of himself than for her benefit she speculated, then walked away, disappearing into the downstairs hall.

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