27. Awakening

Riddick brought aspirin, promised more tea, and headed for the galley. He found Jack passed out at the table there. Don was stirring something aromatic at the stove. Don nodded good morning but didn't volunteer anything. Riddick glanced in the pot as he prepared tea.

"Soup?"

"I ordered some fresh stuff when you went to get Zemma. Didn't think you'd mind."

"Not if you can cook."

"Heh. How is she?"

"Like shit."

Don glanced up at Riddick's tone.

"You know anything about hypnosis?" Riddick kept his voice down to a conspiratorial level with a glance to the sleeping Jack.

Don shrugged, and didn't answer right away. "I think NeeW'Neta specialized in it. She was a child psychologist." Don watched Riddick from the corner of his eye as he stirred the soup.

"Zemma's mother?" Riddick nodded as if this were expected. "I think she hypnotized Zemma."

Don turned to face Riddick with a raised eyebrow. "To do what?"

"Forget."

"Do you know why?"

"She saw something. As a kid."

Don thought a moment. "The suicides. So what's the problem?"

"You know about that?"

"My job to know about everything. So what's the problem?"

Riddick didn't reply right away. "Nightmares," he hedged.

Don turned down the heat on his pot, turned away from the stove and leaned against the counter regarding Riddick coolly. "What else?"

"She's agoraphobic." Riddick paused again, uncomfortable revealing so much personal information about another person. "I think… she created a kind of world, for Zemma to hide in. But she's alone there, and she panics." It was the best he could describe the strange information he'd gleaned from Zemma's episodes.

Don considered this, looking down at the floor. "How bad is it?"

"She passes out, anytime she has to go planet-side."

"Not great when you've been looking forward to going back to your home world your whole life."

Riddick didn't bother to respond but joined Don's examination of the galley floor.

"Explains your sudden exit. Trying to get her used to it before she gets to Furya?"

Riddick nodded once. "But I think the triggers are making her worse, not better."

"And now you want to know if I can un-hypnotize her?"

Riddick nodded once.

"You should have mentioned this on the Basilica. I might have been able to dig someone up."

"I wasn't sure then."

There was nothing more to do about that now. The quiet pause was not uncomfortable between them; two men more used to silence than chat.

"So, what about Jack?"

"What about her?" Genuinely perplexed.

"Taking her to Fury as well?"

"Don't know yet."

Brief silence before Riddick went on again.

"I want you to work with her… train her."

"Jack? Why?"

"Because, I said." Riddick was curious how Don would take a direct order from him.

"Aye-aye, Captain." Neutral voice, flat tone. A man used to taking orders without complaint. Good enough.

"Did you notice anyone following you or Jack back there?"

"No. No one." Don seemed a little surprised at this question.

"You're sure?"

Don just looked at Riddick: a man used to being listened to.

Good enough.

"She thinks she was being followed?" Don asked.

Riddick nodded. "A merc from her past."

"Someone who knows…what… she is?"

Nod.

"I'll watch."

Another pause, this time Don continued.

"She'll never be as fast as Zemma. She isn't Furyan."

"You'll make her fast enough."

"For what?"

"To survive on her own."

"Then you have thought this out."

"Just covering bases. She says she's been flying under the radar… but if she's got a tail, and I'm not there."

"She's not gonna like it."

"I'm not giving her a choice either."

"Zemma still needs work."

"I know. She's faster, but her reaction time…"

"She froze on that moon base. And that character she plays, that's just a bad habit. You gotta break her of it."

"I know."

"Just covering bases. I pulled sheets on you back there. Jack's not the only one who may need to shake a tail. If Zemma's with you, she's got to…"

"I know." Irritable. Don seemed to have had a lot of time while he was getting Zemma.

"It was my job to know everything." Don explained. "Don't worry. She's strong."

"She's Furyan." Riddick shrugged.

"I don't just mean physically."

"You didn't like Zemma. What changed?"

"I don't like anybody." Don suppressed a ghost of a grin, as he looked at Riddick sideways.

"Heh." Riddick's smile was just as much a phantom.

Jack woke suddenly, catching both their attention. Her head snapped up fro the table but her eyes were still closed. "Coffee..." She moaned.

"Make it yourself," Don snapped at her.

"Fuck." Jack's head landed back on her crossed arms.

Don snorted in amusement. Riddick thought Don might enjoy 'training' with Jack after all.

"I brought your tea." Jack called on the lights.

"You can't make me drink it," Zemma said from under the covers.

"Riddick says you have to."

"I don't see why. It wont stay in me long enough to do any good." Zemma peeked out from under the blankets and blinked in the light. Jack's face was enough to make her laugh… if she dared that much movement. "Set it there and sit down. I wont tell if you wont."

Jack sat on one side of the bed. "Why did you want me back?"

"Riddick. He couldn't make you. But I could make him make you."

"Don brought me."

Zemma opened her eyes and looked Jack over. "You don't look broken anywhere."

"I came because he said you wanted me. But that was bullshit, huh?"

"No. I wanted you to come back."

"For Riddick." She snorted.

"For me, too."

"Bullshit. Why?"

"You'll just give me grief… so how 'bout you don't ask, and I won't say it."

"Nuh-uh. Say it." It was Jack's turn to laugh at Zemma's face.

"See. I'm not gonna. You can't make me." Zemma stuck her tongue out at Jack and closed her eyes. Jack snorted.

"Zem. I'm sorry."

"Thank you. I'm still gonna kick your ass when I'm better."

"You got in a lucky shot last time."

"You telegraph your moves too much. You need to train more."

"Bullshit. I'm a seasoned pro."

"You're slow."

"Bullshit."

Zemma smiled. "Did you bring cards?"

"No. I didn't think you were up to it. I was just supposed to bring tea, and apologize."

"I'm not up to it. But I'm bored anyway. Bring 'em next time. And thank you for the tea."

"You're welcome."

"Zem…"

"Hmm?"

"Why… how come…?" Jack was amazingly tongue tired. Zemma just waited for her. "You're not that much older than me… Why did Riddick…? He treats me like a kid… But he chose you."

Zemma opened her eyes again. "I'm a decade or more years than you, Jack. I'm older than Riddick, I think, by a year at least, maybe two."

"Bullshit."

"Just passed my 32nd standard a week ago."

"You just had a birthday and didn't tell anyone?"

"Who's to tell?" Zemma was perplexed.

"Well," Jack gasped. "Your friends! God! We could have had a party, or somethin'. At least cake!"

"What are you talking about, Jack? My mother has been dead for years." Never mind how would they create cake from rations?

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, what's the point of a birthday party? She's gone. She doesn't need cake and presents."

"Wait a minute. On your birthday you give your mom presents?"

Zemma frowned and closed her eyes. "Yes, of course, Jack. It's to celebrate her. She did all the work. I was just born."

"So, you don't get presents until you have a kid?"

Zemma kept her voice neutral and light. She wasn't ready to be a mother anyway. "Yes, Jack. Isn't that how it works?" What was this girl going on about?

"That's some crazy shit."

Huh?

"Everywhere else, the kids get presents."

"That's crazy, Jack. Babies don't need anything."

"That's the way it is. I think your way is crazy." Jack snorted.

"You got presents as a child?"

Jack scowled, and Zemma closed her eyes again, hoping the matter was closed.

"Next stop, I'm gonna get you a birthday present." She sounded very pleased with herself, as if it would put things right between them.

"I wish you wouldn't do that, Jack." How could she explain how terribly painful that would be to her? "You don't have to do this."

"I know. But, it'll be fun."

"Not for me, Jack." Zemma's head was hurting again. She didn't want to argue the inappropriateness of what Jack was suggesting. She took a deep breath and blurted out: "It's not your fault. I don't know what Riddick told you to get you to come in here and apologize to me, but whatever it was, it's not really your fault. You don't have to buy me anything."

"He… told me you were pregnant when I pushed you over the rail. But that's not why…"

"Not your fault, Jack. Nature of the beast."

"You think he guilted me into being here? And you think I'm some kind of animal?" Jack's voice raised; Zemma could hear the offense in it.

"No, Jack." Zemma kept her eyes closed, her head was throbbing, and the delicate, good-natured banter was now cracked; she hoped not entirely broken. "Jack, animals don't feel guilt. But, that's not what I meant."

"Geeze, Zem, I'm trying here. I just wanted to do something nice… to kinda make up for how I've behaved, and you gotta get all…"

"Jack! Shut it." Zemma raised her voice, though the sound of it was painful to her ears. She heard Jack's mouth close with a snap. Zemma sighed.

"I see you're trying, and I know how hard this is for you. I get that you aren't really comfortable with Riddick and I together."

Jack barked out a short cynical laugh, but didn't deny it, either.

"He loves you in his own way. That's really hard for him, I think. You've been so mad at him, but you didn't see him grieve. You haven't noticed this whole trip is somehow for your benefit, not mine. It certainly puts him at risk again. He wants something for you. I just don't know what it is."

Zemma could hear the blood pressure throbbing in her ears with an annoying swish-swish in time with the pounding in her head. Her mouth was dry, and her throat was sore from talking so much all at once. Still, Zemma wanted to get straight with Jack before the girl flipped the other way into a spurious friendship. Zemma was willing to be patient; she wasn't willing to foster yet another mask from Jack that would just create more tension between the three of them.

Zemma reached out, more or less blindly, her eyes still closed, for Jack's hand. She heard the girl sniff, felt wetness on the back of her hand. Neither spoke, and Jack didn't pull her away.

"Just bring cards next time and we'll play," Zemma told her tiredly. "You don't need to buy me anything. Just keep me company. You make me laugh."

"Drink your tea," Jack told Zemma quietly. "I'll be back later with the cards." Zemma never opened her eyes, never embarrassed Jack by witnessing the silent tears that had tracked down Jack's face. Jack squeezed Zemma's hand and left hurriedly, feeling restless and uncomfortable again.

'Just keep me company.'

Jack wondered if Zemma heard Riddick ask her that very thing, or if these two people really were as lonely as all that.

Zemma slept most of the day after that. She woke long enough to drain her teacup, wish for more, and decide she was too tired to get dressed and go to the galley. She didn't wake when Riddick looked in on her periodically, or when he replaced her tea later. She'd never been so sick in her life.

Jack hadn't been too happy about Don taking her on as a student. He didn't seem to like anything she knew, and berated her for everything she didn't. She couldn't pilot, didn't know anything about crewing a ship, and didn't care that Riddick had set the thing up so it didn't need much crewing. Don changed that too. They had two weeks of time to kill. They might as well fill the hours usefully. Riddick agreed that the girls needed the instruction to be more well rounded. Jack had given him a look that cried 'betrayer!' He wanted to laugh.

Riddick brought some of Don's hot soup back for Zemma. She was still sleeping, the extra tea untouched. He set the soup down and undressed, intending to slide in beside her until she woke on her own. It had been a long, but productive day. He wasn't displeased.

Zemma began one of her nightmares, calling out for her mom and crying. It wasn't the little girl voice this time, but the older child, the teenage Zemma. Recalling the death, the murder, of her mother?

"Momma, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"

Riddick slid into bed carefully, and wrapped his arms around her. She didn't wake, didn't settle down at his touch. She resisted him, seemed to fight back from his touch; still locked in the fear of the past. Riddick felt some strange new emotion…guilt? Stupid. He should just wake her up…

Something from the corner of his eye caught his attention, drew him away from Zemma thrashing nearly underneath him. He didn't decide to turn away from her to look… He didn't want to turn to look... He knew almost instantly what he would see. Something, someone, he hadn't seen in months.

A hole seemed to appear behind the closet. A woman he recognized, but didn't know, seemed to be walking towards him; behind her, a dead planet. But this time, as she passed through what should have been the closet, Zemma's dress seemed to cling to her momentarily: a sticky piece of the fabric of reality. As she approached the bed the dress conformed until she seemed to actually be wearing it.

As usual, Riddick felt inexplicably frozen in place: a captive audience to an unwelcome vision.

The woman stopped, reaching out one hand, palm forward as if she might lay it on Riddick's chest. She spoke one word, "Tsouixnomi."

Riddick didn't recognize it. It was Furyan, but not a word he knew.

"T-soo-no-mee," he repeated.

"Tsouixnomi." She repeated, her palm glowed and he felt the warmth of it on his chest again.

"Tso-nomi," he tried again, the blended consonants coming easier now.

The vision woman smiled and let her hand drop slowly.

Zemma's thrashing suddenly quieted. "Riddick?" She asked sleepily.

The vision woman faded. Riddick looked down at the glowing palm print on his chest.

"You okay, Zem?" He could see her eyes were open, lenses up, glowing in the dark as she looked at him.

"Just tired."

"I brought you soup." She didn't seem to notice the fading glow, inches from her face. She never noticed the woman. But that word seemed to have had some impact on her. Before, she had woken from her nightmares shaken and emotional. At this moment she seemed unaware she'd even had one.

Zemma sat up, the planes and angles of her face showing she must be trying to smile. "I'm actually hungry," she whispered.

Riddick handed her the mug of warm soup, still thinking about what had just occurred. As always, it was the 'why' that nagged him the most. Why had this vision woman plagued him? Why had the handprint also appeared on the Purifier? Why had she disappeared after that? Why hadn't Zemma noticed her now? And why now? Why that word?