Disclaimer : I don't own Riddick, which makes me kind of depressed...

Note : I feel bad, 'cause this chapters kind of short.

njrd - This story will more than likely lead nowhere good. I was playing 'Escape from Butcher Bay' the other day and came across one of the cig packs that, if collected, give you game art. The cig pack said 'everyone you know will someday die' and thus my day went plunging into a depressive state from which this story might be affected.

bebe - Continue to review, it makes me happy. Like 'maybe I'll make cookies to munch while I write'on kind of happy.

Mav1 - Yay, my story is grammatically correct! dances Glad you like it!

Stained Glass

-Three-

Jack watched, out of the corner of her eye or from the pretense of looking at something else on the table, to see what Riddick's reaction was. It had been almost a week before she actually got up the nerve to implement her idea concerning the food and tonight was the first night she'd cooked. She had worked rather hard at it and they'd just been sitting down when he had come walking in from whatever it was that he did during the day.

It was something she wondered about, what he got up to, but she wasn't about to ask out loud. If he didn't volunteer the information then she wasn't going to pry, no matter how curious she became. Deep down she was afraid that if she pestered him too much then he would leave and never come back. She didn't want that to happen, she didn't want him to hate her like everyone else in her past.

Riddick was eating like he usually ate and he usually ate a lot, though he never went for second helpings of the food. It was a trait the both of them shared in common, though more than likely for different reasons. Jack knew her reason and she wasn't about to divulge it with anyone else at the present moment. All she wanted to know was whether or not he liked it, because that would be the best thing in the universe in her book.

But he stood up when he was finished, just like he always did, and headed for the stairs.

She looked down at her plate, taking in a deep breath as she tried to tell herself that it didn't really matter. At least he hadn't shouted, or thrown something, or worse. Inner monologue didn't help much, as the feeling in the pit of her stomach just made her feel slightly sick.

Some three weeks later, Jack ran as fast as her legs could carry her towards Imam's sandstone house, the soles of her shoes slapping against the pavement with every step. She reached the front door and practically flew inside, smiling as she slammed shut it behind her. Usually, if a door was that loud she would have winced, but not this day.

"Imam?" she called, dashing into the kitchen and then into the living room to find the robed cleric sitting in one of the armchairs, a book in hand. "Imam, guess what!"

"What is it, Jacquelyn?" he asked, looking slightly alarmed at how excited she appeared to be.

"I got my report card!" Jack replied gleefully, hopping from one foot to the other, the paper in question squashed in one hand. "And it's a good one too, I got-"

She stopped speaking, hearing the front door open again, signaling Riddick's return to the house. Instantly, she forgot about spouting off her grades for Imam, attention drawn away. Spinning on her heel, she dashed back towards the kitchen asRiddick entered the short hallway that connected the two rooms.

"I got my report card!"

He stopped, turning his head to look at over at her, his current destination foiled by her gleeful shout.She didn't notice the frown that began formingon his face, her focus beingon unfolding the paper in her hands.

"I've got an 'A' in History, and English, and Computers, and a 'B' in Math and Science, but-"

Jack ceased talking, having finally looked up to see thelook on Riddick's face.He stood there in the hall, justfive feet away from the stairs ina part of the room where the light didn't quite seem to chase away the shadows.His head was tilted slightly and she could see the reflection of her own face in the lenses of her goggles.

She realized then, just how stupid she must have sounded, rattling off her grades like some kind of prep. Silently, she folded up the paper again, then swung her backpack off her shoulder.

"I, uh, I've got homework."

With that excuse, she ran pastRiddick andup the stairs just as fast as she had run coming home, retreating into her room before anyone who wanted to say something could say anything at all.

Review, it'll keep the flying monkeys away. Unless you like flying monkeys...