23. Cursed

Riddick went first to the pilot's deck. Their flight plan was entered and approved, the engines were warm, they could leave any time. He double-checked everything. Then triple checked. He knew he was wasting time. He knew he was avoiding Zemma. Still, he didn't get up to go to her.

Carolyn crossed his mind. Carolyn had cursed him. He'd been fine before Carolyn.

She'd been a little bit vulnerable, a little bit corrupt, a little bit broken. He'd liked that. She'd been straight with him, even when she was scared. He'd liked that too. Most people got less honest when they were afraid for their lives, afraid of him for their lives. She hadn't tried to manipulate him with feminine wiles, either. He would have liked to have gotten to know her better.

But she cursed him. And then, she died.

That led him to Jack: the scared little girl who looked up to him, thought him a hero. The scared little girl that Fry said she would die for.

But, in the end, Fry died for him, didn't she. She said she wouldn't, but she did anyway. It was so ironic, a real gut tickler from the Man Above, he should have laughed.

But she had already cursed him.

She cursed him… to care.

That led him to Imam: the man who was almost a friend. Only almost. The man who cared too much, and lost everything. He put it all in Riddick's hands, and died. Another ultimate joke from the Celestial Sadist.

Imam had cursed him, too. So, Riddick had run off to save the little girl he knew, and discovered a wholly unknown factor in Kyra. It had hurt him when she'd died, thinking she was Jack.

That brought him back to Zemma… he'd never intended to care.

But Carolyn had cursed him.

Now, Jack, back in his life, feeling like the Jack he knew, the one he cared about.

Damn Carolyn.

Zemma cared about the girl too, and couldn't explain why. Maybe it was just because she was feeling maternal, maybe because she'd seen his reaction to the death of the false Jack.

She cared so much she'd done something she'd never done, and he'd never expected. She ordered him to get Jack back. Ordered, not asked. Ordered, in front of Don. Ordered, and walked away.

Anger threatened. He suppressed it.

He looked at his chrono. Twenty minutes had passed. Don would be at least an hour.

Don: another man who was almost a friend.

Maybe, after this, Don wasn't just 'almost.' The thought was quiet, boiling up to the surface unbidden. Riddick might have ignored it another time. Instead, he reviewed the scene critically. Don had been clear about his feelings for Jack. Clearly, he respected Riddick.

'She's your job.'

There had been no sneer, no contempt. He didn't seem embarrassed to have witnessed a moment that should have been private. He'd seemed… to care.

Riddick kicked the control panel in front of him and got up.

Damn it, Carolyn.

Zemma sat in the dark, on the floor against a wall, waiting for Riddick to barge in, for the inevitable argument. She felt bad. She felt bad that she'd been rude. She'd never disagreed with him in front of anyone; she'd never showed such open disrespect. She'd been raised better than that. She respected Riddick more than that.

She put her head on her knees. Her face burned, her stomach rolled, and her head hurt.

She didn't know how to deal with the situation she created. She didn't even know why she'd gotten so upset, been so adamant. Everything was so much more complicated now. Her stomach did another slow roll. She struggled to blank her mind completely.

She registered the door opening but didn't react to it. She waited.

"Why are you trying so hard? What could she possibly mean to you?" His voice wasn't angry like she expected. It was quiet, intense, not to be balked… but not angry.

Zemma didn't know what she was going to say. She didn't know why she felt so protective of Jack. She lifted her head to speak to the darkness, not twitching up her lenses to see him.

"She's something of yours," she started out lamely. And that was true. Jack had been important to Riddick in some way and Zemma didn't want to be held responsible for losing that.

…Losing that too…

Unbidden tears threatened again. Riddick noticed, even in the dark. He always noticed. It galled her. He hunkered down in front of her. His hand went to her cheek, his thumb stroked there as if wiping away what hadn't yet fallen. Zemma clenched her teeth and thought of her father in order to regain her self control.

"Something of mine?" He asked her softly.

Zemma shook her head, pulling away from his hand, and closed her eyes against what she might see in the planes of his face. This wasn't about that. This was supposed to be about Jack.

"Zemma?"

"She just needs someone to help her," Zemma started again. "She's been so alone. She's so afraid of something. And, I can see how much you really don't want to lose her."

…Lose her…too…

Zemma was feeling nauseous again. Intense self-control was starting to make her shake. She tried to pull away from where Riddick crouched in front of her.

"Zemma," Riddick started patiently. "She's an adult. You can't be her mother."

Blue skies flooded the inner landscape behind Zemma's closed eyes. Round, green hills and a perfectly round sun, not so much like a real star but a bright yellow dinner plate, invaded her mind.

'Do you see it?' A phantom voice.

"Zemma?" The voice seemed far away.

I see it now. It's beautiful.

She didn't understand who was speaking these words. She didn't understand what she was seeing or why. She tried to turn her head, open her eyes, call out, anything to break the spell.

Mother?

Mother? Where are you?

Why wouldn't her mother answer her?

"Zemma? You with me?"

Whose voice? It was familiar.

Mother? I'm lost… Where are you?

Zemma began running through the barren green landscape. It never changed. The hills seemed to recede at the pace she ran. Everywhere she turned it was the same.

Mother!

She was all alone. Fear surged through her. She was all alone under this huge blue sky. She threw herself into the too green grass.

Falling!

"Zemma?"

Whose voice?

She was afraid to look around now. She was afraid to be so alone, so out in the open.

Where did the babies go? Her mother said they would be in heaven. So why was she alone? Her mother said heaven was beautiful. Zemma clutched the ground and tried not to throw up.

"Zemma!" Strong arms surrounded her. The landscape collapsed into blackness. Only the nausea remained.

"She's just a little girl," Zemma gasped against Riddick's shoulder. "She didn't know. I didn't know. Don't leave her behind because I lost the baby."

"Shhh…"

"Jack is still yours. Don't give up on her."

"Shhhhh…."

"Don't leave her behind. She still needs you."

"We won't."

"I'm sorry…" The threatened tears flowed. "There's no heaven, Riddick…" She couldn't say more, her throat choked on the words. The babies had never come. She was always just alone there. The babies were still dead. Her baby…

"Your mother hypnotized you, Zemma." Riddick's calm voice interrupted her thoughts. "Look at me." He put both hands to her face. "Come back. Look at me!" His voice was almost angry, demanding her attention away from sickening landscape that threatened whenever she closed her eyes.

"Lights!"

Zemma cringed in the brightness, but closing her eyes brought fresh terror in blue, green and yellow. She blanked her mind.

"Look at me."

Tiger, Tiger… burning bright.

Zemma did try to look at him for a moment. The concern on his face made her shut her eyes again, just to keep control.

Keep control.

Tiger, Tiger…

…Burning bright…

'Do you see it? Burning bright?'

"I don't want to see it anymore, Mother."

"Zemma…"

Zemma went away.

Fuck!

Her eyes were open, but she wasn't seeing him.

"I don't want to see it anymore, Mother."

Not Min's voice, but the little girl from Zemma's nightmares, speaking Furyan very softly, begging quietly. She didn't respond to him. Her eyes were still open, but he could see she had gone away: like she had at New Mecca, like she had on that last nameless planet.

"Fuck!"

He let the anger wash over him this time. He punched the wall behind her head. She never blinked. All this time he'd been worried that Min was Zemma's retreat from stress. This was worse. He snapped his fingers in front of her eyes. No reaction. Her mother had done some job on her.

The only thing he couldn't understand was how she remembered the incident before without issue.

'Don't leave her behind because I lost the baby.'

The anger washed away. His thinking cleared. Sometimes we don't get to pick who we'll die for, or who will die for us. Thank you, Carolyn.

It wasn't just about going outside. It wasn't just about Jack. It was all of it, and…

Riddick took a deep breath and stood up. He looked down at Zemma without his lenses. She was still frozen in whatever world her mother had created to make her forget. He knew what it was she'd seen, and why it was disturbing her so much now. The old program was kicking in because she needed it again, to help her deal with the pain of…

Death… loss… fear… abandonment… The miscarriage. Jack.

He'd thought she'd been relieved to not be pregnant with his kid. Riddick squatted down in front of Zemma's unseeing eyes again.

"I'm sorry, Zem. I didn't get it."

She didn't blink. Her eyes looked glassy, her face flushed.

Riddick pulled her to him to pick her up and put her in bed, she felt hot to the touch. The movement caused her to scream, and she flung her arms about, reminiscent of her first foray planet side; she thought she was falling. He laid her down on the bed where she quieted again, but didn't seem any more conscious. He checked his chrono. Don would be back soon. He headed for the pilot's deck.

Zemma felt herself falling. She heard screaming. She didn't know it was her own voice. She thought it was the death cry of her mother. When the darkness finally stopped spinning her about, her mind finally quieted, and she stopped thinking at all. Sleep eventually overtook her.

Jack kept looking back over her shoulder as she followed Don. Her impulse, like so many other impulses, seemed hasty now. She'd left her clothes, her stash of loot, her best chance to escape Riddick's domineering attention.

She'd only ever seen one man move so swiftly and surely before. Don's resemblance to Riddick, an older, stonier Riddick, had been even more evident during the break for the door of Red's. She thought back to the first time she saw Riddick in five years. Surrounded by men with the same silver blue eyes and fighting like devils. Were they related? Zemma had shown her 'blue lenses' too. Jack was only just now realizing she was in with a race of people a step above mere mortals. A race of Riddicks.

For a moment she felt an intense sense of relief. For a moment she thought she might be safe with these people… safe from Them. Safe from Hypatia, who always seemed to find her, eventually, no matter where she landed. For a moment she felt an intense sense of gratitude.

It wouldn't last, of course. Jack wasn't conditioned for gratitude. Jack wasn't comfortable with gratefulness, and had little to no sense of companionship. Jack feared closeness nearly as much as the others in the crew, but had much less practice dealing with it. Her mouth was her only defense against these unfamiliar feelings.

She would take a few more kicks to the head before she felt at ease with the camaraderie of this team. A few more kicks, before it would be ripped away from her.

Don kept looking back over his shoulder. His face, as always, grim, but not hostile. He wasn't glad to have her along, but no doubt glad he didn't have to carry her over his shoulder, kicking and screaming.

Jack sighed and hastened to catch up to Don. She thought she saw someone back there. It had to be her imagination, though.

It wasn't.

The Celestial Sadist had too terrible a sense of humor for that.