He was there when she woke up, for the first time in days. Maybe that's why he was pushing her so hard in the gym, unforgiving of the slightest mistake or hesitation. Or maybe she had gotten under his skin last night. Finally a failed sweep kick ended with her shoved against a wall, arms held painfully high above her head with one hand. He gave her a curiously gentle look, then swung his free arm between her legs hard, hoisting her to eye level; dangling. She gasped. It hurt.

"How are you going to get out of this?" he asked.

Something about his intonation was strange. You. As opposed to . . .

"You did this to Kyra."

"Huh?"

"You shoved Kyra against a wall like this. And she got out of it."

Hesitation. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Stuck a knife in my back."

"What? Why? When?"

He shrugged eloquently, and pulled her arms higher, forcing her shoulders painfully against the wall.

"How'd she get out of it?"

He smiled, toothily. "That'd be cheating."

She closed her eyes, feeling surreal. Trying to think it through. Getting images she wasn't liking. The two of them, locked into this position. Opened her eyes, stared into his levelly.

"Head butt?"

He shook his head slowly. "Nope. Hurt you more than me."

"Teeth?"

"That might work. Go for the ear or nose."

She tried, but he wouldn't let her get close. He was smiling in a way she didn't like, and her arms were beginning to ache, bone deep. She tried to breath, tried to relax. Both were increasingly hard to do.

"She would have been armed."

He nodded.

"She would have distracted you."

He nodded again.

Something snapped into place.

"You're trying to replay this. You want it to go differently this time. Whatever happened between you two."

He went strangely still. "You got a plan, or are you gonna talk me to death? You will get tired before I do."

Fuck this. She deliberately relaxed as much as she could. "Yeah. I got a plan. I give."

"You what?"

"I yield. I submit. You win. You like being in charge so much; you should like that."

"Hm."

The silence went on an uncomfortably long time. Finally, he leaned close enough she could feel his breath spilling down her throat, again. "I want something."

Oh yeah, I sorta guessed. "What?"

He seemed to be drinking in the scent of her neck. Not exactly unpleasant in the abstract, but disconcerting in the particular. "Play with me."

"What?"

"Play at being a Necromonger. Come with me today. Watch. Keep quiet. End of the day, tell me if it gives you any ideas on how to save the universe from me. If I let you."

"Stand by and shut up?"

"Just for play. And I want you to dress for the part."

"I don't know how to do that."

"I've got people." He was nuzzling her neck with his head, sending her heartbeat through the roof. If only she didn't hurt . . . if only he wasn't waiting for her, and she had any fucking idea what to do . . .

"Okay. You win. I'll do it. Just – just let me down."

With obvious reluctance, he released her arms and lowered her, gently, to the ground. "Go shower. I'll have someone there to help you pick an outfit." After a moment's hesitation, she fled.

By the time she finished showering, a demure woman was waiting. Riddick was nowhere to be seen. The woman curtsied, all grace. "Lady."

"Hello."

"I have selected some options for you, Lady," the woman offered, deferential but professional. Jack eyed them morbidly. All things Dame Vaako had picked for her. She hated clothes she couldn't fight in, even if, as she increasingly suspected, the only person she might be fighting could snap her neck with one hand. She fingered the soft cloth, having to grudgingly admit the clothes were beautiful.

She picked the simplest. A comparatively full skirt, a top with neckline lower cut far than she liked, but both cut loose enough that she could move. The woman helped her dress, did her hair, even applied make up. The shoes were still stupid.

"You look nice." Riddick was lounging in the door. How long had he been there? She blushed.

"Thanks," she said, shortly.

"Got something for you." He walked close with something metallic in his hands. He handed it to her, almost shyly.

It was a necklace. She dimly remembered the type was called a torc – a rigid, flat necklace, open in the front. It was heavy; strands of gold, silver, and something that could have been spun obsidian braided together. It almost looked like a snake. It had a hinge at the back. Did they usually? She ran her fingers over it. Had to be half a kilo of precious metals. Shockingly decadent.

"It's beautiful," she said. Damn it, her eyes were prickling with tears. "You shouldn't have." She handed it back to him, meaning to refuse the gift.

He took it. Brushed her hair back and put it around her throat. She was glad the bruises had finally faded. His hands were on her neck longer than they needed to be.

"I want everyone to know you're with me," he said, his voice far lower than usual.

"I'm going to need a bodyguard if I wear this."

"Won't be a problem." He took her arm and led her from the room.

The day was bewildering. Started with a meeting of the generals. Eight men and four women, discussing whether they could leave their latest conquest yet or needed to consolidate. There was a major target. She found it hard to listen to the words, focused on the people. Vaako was Riddick's man, through and through. The women all seemed to be on his side. The other seven . . . two she was certain were looking for their chance to kill him. Toal, especially. Three were probably with him. Two would back anyone on top.

Then a review of new hand weapons. Riddick seemed to like that. No one offered her one to try out.

Lunch was semi formal, with doctors discussing excitedly new ways to use injured soldiers. There were apparently a lot of them. Riddick seemed bored. Kept putting food on her plate, then eating it himself.

Another meeting. More people she was fairly sure wanted to kill him. Nervous looking religious leaders presenting a petition requesting that the Lord Marshal make his long delayed pilgrimage to the Threshold. She was fairly sure he wasn't listening.

Finally, he sent everyone out of the room. "Anything you wanna do?"

"I'd like to see Kyra."

So they went to visit Kyra. Riddick laid his hand against a panel; the door drew back. At her look, he elaborated. "After Dame Vaako brought you here, I changed the locks. I can open it, you can open it, and that's it."

They walked into the silent room.

It hurt, but not as much this time, she was glad to find. She gazed at Kyra for a long time, before becoming aware of Riddick. Watching her quietly.

She met his gaze, and for a moment, all of the anxiety about why she was there and what was going to happen fell away. In his own crazy way, he was, and always had been, family. She smiled at him, and touched his hand. "She looks like she could just wake up."

"Yeah. I had her fixed up."

"Why?"

He sighed, and looked sadder than she'd ever seen him. "They told me she was in the Underverse. I thought maybe I could go get her."

"What?"

He shrugged. "It was stupid. But . . . they were so sure she was still herself, there. Because she did convert. But when they found out I was thinking of bringing her back, the priests got really agitated."

"Agitated?"

Riddick put his hands in front of him, adopted a pinched look and a whiny voice that she'd never expected he had in his arsenal. "But Lord Marshal! The Underverse is the world of the eternal! If you bring someone out of the eternal into the field of time the results could be catastrophic! But Lord Marshal! She's in the realm of the infinite! You bring her back into the realm of the finite, the results could be catastrophic! Blah blah blah!"

He looked glum. "They seem to think the whole thing will fall apart if I bring her back. It'll 'vomit forth abomination,' they tell me. Rain down destruction."

She stared at him, wide eyed. "Sounds like your thing. So why don't you?"

He actually paused. Finally. "She's not you. And I'm not sure I believe people come back from the dead. Might be a problem for me if they did."

He paused, meditatively. "Plus, as soon as I go through, I bet some true believing hero will torch her body. And since my men found you, it's less interesting."

"Why?"

He smiled, only slightly predatory. "Because then I didn't need to ask her where you were."

"But . . . don't you have to cross the Threshold to be the Lord Marshal?"

He shrugged. Covered her hand with his. Changed the subject. "Look, I work out with some of the guys now. You can come and watch, or. . . whatever."

"I can't join in?"

He gave her a strange look. "No. I don't want people to know you can fight."

That surprised her. "Why?"

"Puts you at risk. Plus . . . I like having you as a secret weapon." He started kneading her hand, gently.

"I think maybe I'll go back to our – your – rooms, if that's okay. I'm feeling a little . . . overwhelmed."

They hadn't gotten far before she stopped dead, recognition in her eyes. That surprised him. "Mark," she breathed.

Who the hell is Mark? He followed her eyes to a young soldier guiding new recruits to the conversion chambers. He was looking back with similar recognition. She knows Necros? Of course she knows Necros. We took New Mecca. Strange he'd never thought of that before. Riddick waved the man over.

Mark collapsed on his knees before them. "My Lord Marshal," he intoned, voice reverent.

Riddick suppressed the urge to kick him in the head. "Stand up, son. You two know each other?"

"We were at school together, years ago," Jack said, something odd in her eyes. "I never thought of . . . that."

"There are many of us, my lady," the boy said as he scrambled to his feet. She flinched.

"Anyone I know?"

"Alas, I don't know who you knew, my lady. But there are probably some. Many chose to convert." His eyes were down. Good god, Riddick thought. Are all my soldiers such pansies?

"I'm still Jack. How are you?"

"Good, my lady – Jack. I have accepted the bliss of the Underverse, and I live to serve, 'till the Underverse comes."

Jack flinched again, and her eyes went to the line of converts and their escorts, politely paused, waiting for the solder to return. "I'll have to take your word for it, Mark."

"You have not seen?" His voice was rhapsodic, and for the first time since he came close, he looked her in the eye. "My lady, pure bliss awaits. There is a better world. We all serve the better world."

Riddick put his hand on Jack's shoulder. "You two'll have to catch up some time. Later. See ya around, sonny." The man bowed again, as Riddick almost yanked Jack away to his rooms. Their rooms.

He kissed her on the forehead as he left, and she blushed.

When he returned, hours later, he found her in the gym. Sweat had plastered her clothes to her body. She was doing one sequence over and over, fast. He watched for a while, unsure if she knew he was there. He'd have to work with her on that.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Watcha doin'?"

"Something Kyra showed me once. Except I should have a knife."

"Slow it down. Lemme see."

She did, with exaggerated care. He grunted. "Okay, do it against me, half speed."

She tried. Her technique was perfect. He smiled, and was rewarded by a beautiful smile back.

"Okay, full speed and strength."

She tried. Her technique remained perfect. Still, he deflected the blow easily, caught her, and flipped her against the wall, effortlessly. She bounced up, looking unreasonably perturbed.

"It's a great move. Used it myself. But you can't do it."

"That's what Kyra said." Her voice was bitter.

He looked at her intensely, shook his head. "Not smart. You are never going to be strong enough. You need to focus on techniques that use your greater speed and agility, not brute force. And that's a brute force move."

She made a funny sound in her throat. Turned around so her back was to him. "I watched Kyra use it."

"What sort of weapon?"

"Dunno."

"Probably something special."

"Don't think so. Wish I could have mastered it."

"You have. Just don't use it. It'd be like trying to shiv someone with a brick. Better ways to use the brick."

Her shoulders quivered.

"What's wrong, kid?"

"That's why she left me."

He stayed quiet.

"When I couldn't – she said I was useless, and I'd just get – I'd just be in the way. So she took me back to Abu." She went silent.

There's more. "Tell me," he said, softly.

She sighed. "Really don't want to."

He looked at her, hard. Kyra abandoned Jack because she couldn't learn an impossible move?

And there's something worse than that she doesn't want to tell me?

She looked away, started running through the routine, again, grimly. Changed the subject abruptly. "I kept that knife you gave me. Wore it always. A little bit of you. I thought about you. Those men --" she broke off, stopped moving. Then she started again, with a grim deliberateness. "Kyra even retrieved it for me. She understood why I wanted it. I'm surprised your boys didn't bring it here, since they brought everything else, including my socks. I sorta miss it."

He didn't say anything.

She stopped and faced him. "You locked up all the weapons in your room. Why? You afraid I'll use them?"

"Yes."

"Afraid of me, big guy?"

He gave her a blank look. "What?"

She made an exaggerated sigh. "Are you even listening to me? Why did you lock your shivs up? You love those things."

"Because," he said, slowly and deliberately, "they told me you attempted suicide when you saw my face. I am not making it easy for you to check out."

She started at him, open mouthed. "Oh."

They didn't talk much before bed that night. He didn't press her to report her insights from her first day among the Necromongers, and she did not volunteer.

She was dancing, spinning, whirling around a tree that stretched triumphantly into the sky, in the middle of a sun drenched clearing in a boundless forest, with dozens of other people, all ecstatically whirling, spinning, dancing, together, the happiest she had ever been. And she knew, somehow, that these were the brothers and sisters and cousins and friends she had never known, who she would have known, if only, if only . . .

She closed her mind to the onlys, and threw herself into the dance. She was the tree around which everything whirled, and she was the world, whirling, and she was the moon, whirling around the world and whirling on its own axis, and she was the all the worlds whirling around a sun that was also whirling, and she was a galaxy that was whirling, and she was the center of the galaxy, of the universe, and everything was whirling around her, and she was drowning in the pure joy of the whirling dance.

Then she was back in her body, dancing with a man, blond and lean, all fire and light, and he was the world too, and the sun. He spun her around and caught her in his arms, and she was happy in a different way. She'd been dancing for an eternity, it was night, but her world was illuminated by the love in his eyes.

He spun her into the tree at the center of the dance and they were kissing, nuzzling, at the center of everything. "This is what it should be," he whispered. "This is what it could be again. If you do your part."

She laughed, not understanding, just wanting to be there forever, drunk with joy.

Then every thing stopped.

Something was falling, flaming out of the ethereal sky. The man grabbed her hand and they fled through the forest.

The heat of the thing was already licking the land. Trees were exploding into flames around them. Then there was a roar of a thousand oceans, and the tree was gone, destroyed in the impact of a comet, and then the forest was gone, and they were running over a dead landscape.

He fell, letting go of her hand. She tried to pull him up and he shook his head, violently. "Run. Someone has to save us."

"I don't know how," she cried. Collapsed beside him, trying to make him get up.

"Ask her," he whispered. "Ask the air."

Then a fireball screeched out of the impact crater. He threw himself on top of her, and then he was dead, dissolved into the flames. Everyone near her was dead, and the only living things were far away.

Jack dreamed that dream again and again, and it always ended the same.