Zemma woke to the sound of the water running in the shower. She stretched and smiled to herself, thinking of Riddick's naked body in the next room, and his hands on her the day before. She ran her fingers lightly along her throat, thinking about the strange sensations she felt when Riddick had clutched her there. She stretched languidly, naked under the covers, and dozed lightly, erotic dreams drifting in and out of her consciousness. She awoke when Riddick sat heavily on the edge of the bed. She reached out, letting her fingers trace lightly along the muscles in his back.

"Come to bed…" she whispered, invitingly.

"In a minute." He didn't sound very interested; he sounded tense.

Zemma moved closer, and continued to work on his back. "Let me help you relax," she murmured. He didn't lean back into her hands or sigh contentedly as she expected. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he said shortly. "Just tired."

Zemma sighed. "Just lay down…"

"Go back to sleep." He sounded distant again. "You need more rest."

"I'm fine." Zemma's tone was a little sharper than she meant it to be. "Quit treating me like an invalid."

"Quit pushing yourself so hard." His voice was soft, meant to be kind.

"You first." Now Zemma was feeling downright churlish.

Riddick turned on the bed. "What's your problem?"

Zemma sat up. "You. You are my problem. You pull away from me, quit talking to me. What the hell did I do to deserve that? How do I fix it?"

"You don't get to 'fix' me." Now he sounded tired and irritable too. Zemma didn't feel better for having instigated that mood, but damn it she wasn't going to apologize again.

She flopped back on the bed, snorted out her nose and crossed her arms, staring at the ceiling.

Not gonna cry…not gonna cry…not gonna cry…

She could feel Riddick staring at her but she wouldn't look back.

"I don't need a bunch of childish shit from you right now." His voice was very low and cold.

"Fuck you."

"Not likely."

Zemma wanted to scream. Why did this keep happening? What were they even fighting about? It seemed as if she couldn't read him at all, had no idea what was wrong with him, or if it was her. Anger and angst warred, the voices in her head overlapping each other and making it even harder to think straight.

"You're not going to make me cry, asshole," she said through gritted teeth.

"You know I hate it when you call me that," he sounded as tightly controlled as she did.

"I hate it when you shut me out and make me feel alone," she hissed back. The words threatened to tip her over from angry to desperate. She bit her tongue to hide her tears in the pain, and counted her heartbeats till they slowed a little.

"I don't make you feel anything. And I didn't shut you out. You've been sick and I've been busy." He almost made it sound reasonable, despite his clenched jaw and obvious irritation.

"I've been better for days." She thought she sounded petulant again, didn't know how to change it. It made her even angrier, but at herself now.

"You think you're better. I think you're pushing yourself too hard."

"I think you're pushing me away."

"Because I didn't jump you the first day you weren't puking your guts up?"

Zemma felt herself blushing. Was she just mad because he wouldn't have sex with her when she wanted it? She covered her face with her hands.

"Shit," she said under her palms.

Riddick snorted, it might have been amusement. "C'mere." He pulled her towards him. Zemma curled up against his chest but wouldn't look him in the face. He stroked her hair. Zemma clutched at him. He stroked her back, then lifted her chin to look at him. The only light came from the bathroom but he didn't have his lenses up.

Neither spoke. It was a long moment. Zemma wanted to say something, something scary: something that would break the spell of tension and make everything better. She just didn't know if it would be met with more silence, or more tension.

"Riddick…"

"I know."

"You do, huh?" A wry smile escaped her control. "Then…will you, please… touch me like you did yesterday?"

His hand traced down her cheek to her neck and laid there lightly, his fingertips barely exerting any pressure… but the feeling, the indescribable one, flooded back and washed away everything else. Zemma sighed.

"I can't help it that I want you," she whispered. She kept looking into his eyes, looking for some indication that he wouldn't push her away if she admitted how strongly he made her feel things she couldn't explain. His eyes crinkled slightly in amusement.

"I cant help it that I worry about you," he replied in all seriousness. It was a powerful admission. Zemma's heart beat faster and she felt her control slipping.

"You're gonna make me cry, sweet talking me like that," she tried a smile.

"Don't wanna do that…" Now the smile crept to his mouth.

Zemma let her fingers wander over his naked torso. She felt his muscles twitch a little in reaction. "What do you want to do?"

"Zem, I want to sleep a little, okay?" He sounded apologetic and exhausted. He put a hand to her face. "It's fine to ask, but sometimes the answer might be 'no'."

"When you wake up…?" she started hesitantly.

He kissed her slowly and thoroughly. "Yes."

"Hold me while you fall asleep?" She could wait; more than anything she just wanted to feel close to him, and wanted the tension between them to be gone.

"Yes." He shifted around, never letting her go, and lay down beside her.

Zemma stroked his face and neck lightly. "Thank you."

Riddick closed his eyes and sighed contentedly at her touch. "I'm sorry, Zem. Sometimes I feel like I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

"Me too," she whispered. She was shocked at his admission, and warmed by it. He pulled her tighter against him and she kissed his chin. "Go to sleep, my love," she told him softly. She was amazed at the highs and lows he could bring her to, the total lack of self-control she felt around him. She breathed in the smell of him, and let herself doze.

She woke a few hours later. Riddick appeared to be having a nightmare, though he wasn't thrashing. His brow was creased, his jaw tense, his muscles twitching, he made a small angry sounding grunt as if he were fighting. Zemma stroked his shoulder and arm, "Shhhh. Shhhh. I'm here," she whispered, not sure if she should wake him from the dream. But he settled back to sleep without ever waking. She stared at his peaceful face and felt all her emotions about him welling up again, crashing over her. She was drowning at the sight of him. "I love you," she whispered, just to hear the words she was afraid to say out loud to him. It felt good.

She drew her fingers across the muscles of his chest, thrilling at the sensations it caused her when he sighed in his sleep at her touch. "I love you, Richard Bennet Riddick," she said quietly, so she wouldn't wake him. She couldn't stop touching him. Her pulse quickened, and she thought guiltily that maybe she couldn't wait for him. Her fingers roamed further down, and she expected his eyes to fly open any second.

They didn't. And she didn't stop. She lightly caressed his stomach, then going lower. She brought her head to his chest and teased his nipple into hardness with her tongue. He moaned and Zemma froze, afraid she'd gone too far. But he didn't seem to wake and she felt bolder. Zemma's breath quicken along with her heart. She felt so brazen.

She stroked and pulled very slowly at him, exhilarating at his response to her, even asleep. He moaned again, perhaps dreaming in time to her hand now, but his breathing stayed deep and even. Zemma sucked at his nipple a moment, then moved her head down a little, feeling his muscles with her lips, enjoying the slightly salty taste of his skin. She moved further down, thinking of the Lady kneeling before Riddick, taking him in her mouth… it had made Zemma feel strange to see it. She had always wanted to try it, but he had pulled her away before, saying most women didn't like to do that.

Zemma thought again, 'I'm not most women…' She trembled as she brought her lips to him.

He tasted different here too, but not bad. She loved everything about him, even this now.

She knew he was going to wake up, was afraid of his reaction to what she was doing, but didn't want to stop. One of his hands found her hair there and tangled in it.

"Zem…?" He murmured sleepily.

"Shhhh. You're dreaming," she told him quietly, and smiled secretly to herself. Would he fall back asleep? Would he wake up and stop her? She held him gently in her hand and didn't move under the sheets. He stroked her head a moment, and his breathing slowed back down again. She counted, slowly, letting him drift off, thinking it was only a fantasy.

When she dared, she moved her hand on him again, slowly, softly, enjoying the feel as he hardened under her fingers. She couldn't have said in words how she felt, except excited. She wanted to take him all into herself. His other hand found her hair and he groaned more loudly. Zemma's heart soared at the sound. Her breathing increased in tempo with his. She moaned against him.

"Oh, God…" he mumbled sleepily.

'Oh, God!' She thought. The fear of waking him increased her exhilaration. What would happen if he did? And what would happen if he didn't?

He had to be waking up now, realizing it wasn't a dream. She grasped him more tightly in her hand, afraid he would pull her away. The sound he made delighted her.

"God, Zemma…" he breathed heavily. "What… are… you doing…?" But he didn't pull her away. She wished she could tell him she loved him right then. He gasped. They both groaned, caught in the same rhythm.

Riddick untangled his fingers and tried to pull her head away from him gently. With her free hand, Zemma clutched at his arm, dug her nails into the muscle there until he stopped resisting her. She felt his excitement, shared his pleasure, found herself moaning in time with him. Then he twisted away from her…

"Stop!" He pulled her off of him as he curled around and drug her up by the shoulders. She almost burst out in tears, what had she done wrong? He was still panting, starting to tremble a little, her hands clutched at him. "Come here." He pulled her up to him and kissed her forehead, her eyes, down her cheek to her neck. "I want you," he breathed against her skin as he pinned her to the bed.

"Richard…" she whispered back. She'd meant to say, 'I love you,' but all she could do is whisper the name she'd never used before. "Richard… Richard…"

Time stopped and her universe was reduced to only those places where they touched. Words were beyond them both, there was only sound until he collapsed on her, panting in time with her.

Zemma clutched at him, stroking his head and face; on the verge of happy tears and wishing she could say anything. Riddick pulled his weight off her, leaning on his elbow but leaving his face against her chest, kissing her lightly there. His body covering hers felt so right, she wished he would fall asleep there so she could stay as close as possible.

"Thank you," she finally managed to say. It still wasn't all she wanted to say. That still hung in the air between them. He picked his head up to look at her in the dim light, questioningly. He brought one hand to cup her face.

"I can't believe you did that," he said softly, fondly. "You are the strangest woman I've ever met."

She kissed his palm. "I know," she smiled.