Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Black or the Chronicles of Riddick which are the creative and legal property of David Twohy. Any constructive criticism is welcome.

And here we go again. Thank you to those of you that have stuck with me through, I appreciate it beyond belief!!!

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Reflections

Chapter One - Fractured Memories

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Searing pain blinded him; bright spots distorting his vision as it shot its way up Riddick's thigh where that damned winged beast's talons had sank into his flesh. 'Breathe, just breathe.' He reminded himself. 'Now stand up, come on you've survived worse than this, this can't beat you, don't let it.'

A foreign voice slowly drowned out the one in his head. It was coming closer, the sound louder as the seconds passed. Soft cool hands touched the skin of his overheated body, reaching out, pulling, helping him to stand.

"Okay, hold on to me, hold on to me." The voice urged while the hands pulled at him. "Okay, I gotcha. Come on."

Carolyn. She had come back for him. Pain wrenched at his heart. She always comes back.

"Come on Riddick, get up, get up. GET UP! I said I'd die for them not you, lets move. I know you can, come on, alright…"

Stumbling, always stumbling, why can we never stop? He grunted as her body is forced into his, gasping. He could taste the blood, her blood, even in the rain.

She smiled, always smiled, that same damn smile. Maybe it's because of the irony of the situation; it was hard to see what she found so amusing when guilt ate at him. First a slight pull, testing, and she's ripped away with back-breaking force out of his arms. Why can he never hold on?

A brief feeling of vertigo washes over him, as the ground rushes to meet him. He doesn't feel the fall, but knows that he has, as he always does. Lying on the ground in the rain and the mud, He tries to push himself up to stand, but he never gets there.

"Not for me. Not For ME!" Always… it's always for me.

Riddick gasped as he sat up in bed, shiv in hand and muscles coiled, ready to strike at the potential threat. But there's nothing… nothing's ever there. He's all alone in his damned room on that damned Necromunger ship.

Five years, been five years since it happened.

Five years. For five years he'd been having this dream. For five years he had been reliving the nightmare in the few hours he happened to find sleep. The dreams had stopped for about a week or so, and then changed. Instead what he saw when he closed his eyes was the kid; Jack or Kira as she going by nowadays, stepped into HIS fight taking a strike at that Lord Marshall and that Necromunger fuck always sends her flying into the pillar, the ornamental spike slicing through her back.

Slowly her broken body fell, landing in a heap on the floor. When he reached her side he was hesitant to touch her broken form, for fear of causing more damage. When he gently rolled her over the face he expected to see changed… Instead of long brown hair, there was short blonde; and deep brown eyes became piercing blue, bringing with the memory of the only other woman he gave a damn about. Those eyes, that face…She just stared up at him with that same damned smile that haunted his memories.

With his new claim over the Necromunger race, the physicians had done everything they could to ensure Jack's survival. When she'd been given the all clear his dreams… nightmares returned bringing with them a whole new level of anguish.

Taking a deep shuddering breathe to return his heartbeat to normal, Riddick turned to put the shiv back in a compartment in the headboard behind his pillow. Twisting again, he swung his legs off the side of the bed and pushed himself up to stand. Staggering toward the window he looked out at the Necromunger city, Necropolis outlined in the early morning glow.

'Bet none of those Necro's would've ever thought that they'd be ruled over by some Furian.' He laughed bitterly out at the hovering city. 'You gotta laugh; didn't even know what the fuck a Furian was, let alone that I was one until a couple of weeks ago. It's fucked up how things turn out.'

Turning away from the window Riddick slumped toward the bathroom, weariness radiating from his long exhausted body. Reaching into the shower he turned on the water. As he straightened, he caught his reflection in the corner of his eye. Staring harshly at the face that peered back he asked the same question he'd asked for the last five years. Every morning he would ask himself again, 'What would anybody see in me that'd be worth saving? Worth… dying for? All I see is an animal that's lost whatever chance he had to rejoin humanity. Humph! Never wanted ta be human anyway.'

With a derogatory snort he turned away from the mirror, restraining the urge to punch it to fight the desperate tormenting thoughts that curled at the corners of his mind telling him how much he wanted to be… more than just an animal. Sighing deeply he stepped under the harsh barrage of hot water. Closing his eyes he drops his head and rested it against the cool tiles of the wall. Whatever chance he had to be more died with her….so why the hell did he keep on livin'?

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Palms plastered flat against the tiles, she pushed off the wall with a sigh and continued with the rest of her shower. Hand reaching blindly she snagged the sponge from the hook as she twisted to grab the soap from its holder. 'Whoever designed this bathroom didn't do it with functionality in mind.' She thought with a disbelieving shake of her head.

Rubbing vigorously she moved down her body and up the back of her legs, slowing her movements down as she reached the sensitive tissue of her back. Sadness and pain filled her blue eyes as she lightly fingered the damaged skin as she grasped at her memories, trying desperately to remember… anything. 'Why? Why can't I remember? How am I supposed to live like this? With no idea about who I am… my past, family… anything.' She shook her head as if to clear it from her mind, quickly finishing her shower.

She turned off the water and stepped out into the steam filled room. A little groping and she grabbed her towel to dry herself off. Between wisps of mist her reflection flickered back at her in the mirror. Twisting away from it, she tried to snake her head around to get a good look at her back.

"A few more treatments, that's all. And it'll all be as good as before… before what?' she snorted, agitation growing, 'before I woke up in hospital, strapped down unable to move for fear I'd tear the delicately, repairing skin on my back; my back that was torn beyond normal medical repair? Before I was found on some derelict planet? Before I was… The before I can't remember." despair filled her as once again her memories failed.

So far the experimental treatment with the nanotechnology had been working remarkably well. The once unrecognisable mess of ropy contractions, now soft and supple, only faint scarring lingered and soon enough they too would be gone. They were no side effects as such, nothing permanent, but for a few days the newly repaired skin itched like crazy.

Looking at her face for a moment, she took in the dark coloured half-circle under her eyes; her shoulders rose and fell with the indignant snort. 'I cried for three days straight, even in my sleep.'

Turning around to face the mirror head on, she stared at her face reflected back at her; the smudges under her eyes, the drawn pallidness of her complexion. Eyes drifting down, a hand lifted to run along the skin of her upper chest feeling the bones protruding slightly.

Her head fell and she worried her lip in thought, 'No matter how hard I've tried or who I've talked to, I can't remember. I can't remember anything. What had happened to me? They keep asking how I got to that planet where I was found, was anyone with me and did they survive? But most importantly what caused the scaring on my back?' Her brows drew together in frustrated confusion; she lifted her hand from her chest as hot tears slid down her face and shoved her hand against her reflection, trying to hurt it for the pain she felt, the glass fracturing under her palm. 'I remember nothing, not even my own name.'