( A/N : Ok, so this takes place two weeks after Jack and Riddick's fight in the gym.)


Jack crept quickly and silently down the dark corridors, rapidly clenching and relaxing her hands as she tried to control the unease coursing through her body. Rounding the corner she slipped her gauge from its holster, flicked off the safety and cocked it. The corridors were pitch black save for the flashing of the red alarm lights. Steam billowed through the holes in the steel mesh walkways over the engine room, and for a moment she was temporarily blinded. In that instant a lead pipe connected squarely with her face and her head rocked back on her neck.

Blood gushed from the gash above her eyebrows and she slumped down against the cold wall trying to remain conscious. A second later the pipe smashed into her kneecap and she heard something crack. Bellowing in agony she threw herself away from the wall and raised the gauge once more. As she stumbled down the hallway all she could hear was the frenzied beating of her own heart and the clanking and clanging of metal pipes in the engine room below her. Blinking blood out of her eyes, she slammed her way through a small door to her left and, after making sure she was alone, she quickly shut and latched it behind her as she slid down against the wall gasping in pain.

This wasn't how things were supposed to happen. It was supposed to be an in and out job.

The crew of the Ishtar had stumbled upon this huge shit-shape shipping vessel – The Severet – almost four hours ago. Davis had almost instantly called it in as a 'runner'– a ship that carted black market or stolen goods – and the crew suited up. Two hours later they had initiated contact, immobilized, and then boarded the other ship via their retractable terminal walkway which connected to a portal in the Severet's hangar bay. That's when everything went straight to hell.

This was deep space. Most crews with more than five or six people entered cryo-sleep in order to conserve rations; so except for escaped cons – who ran solo and were always on the move – and the mercs who tracked them…deep space was a dead place, traveled by ships whose crew and passengers were locked away in cryo-sleep for weeks or months at a time.

Whenever they had taken on live crews there had been eight or nine at the most. They never expected a ship this humongous – at least five times the size of theirs – to have a live crew…Davis never even ordered a heat- sensory scan. But they had been awake…all of them…

and they had been waiting for us.

Jack could tell as soon as they stepped onto the dead quiet ship that something was wrong, and from the look on Riddick's face she knew he had felt it too. They left Farris to guard the terminal and set off looking for the crew of alleged smugglers. No more than fifteen minutes had passed before they realized their mistake. The cryo-bay was empty and so were the gun racks in the next room. That's when the shooting started. Her team was scattered in the hail of bullets and she had spent the next hour running blind through the complex of twisted corridors in the mammoth shipping vessel. She had only come across three people so far, but they were all dead now.

Jack swiped blood from her face, pulled a little tube of liquid stitches out of her pocket and smeared the burning liquid over the gash in her head.

She looked down and saw the blinking light on her comm- unit.

Shit, Farris.

He had to be in deep trouble to be paging her for help.



She hauled herself up of the floor and gingerly put some weight on her battered knee, choking back tears as pain lanced up through her thigh and into her chest.

Whoever attacked her was still out there. She couldn't hear him, and she definitely couldn't see him…but she knew he was out there waiting for her. She was injured and he probably thought she was down so he was going to wait until she felt sure enough to leave the relative safety of the utility closet. And then he would hit her with something that she couldn't recover from. It would be game over. Hell, it's what she would do.

Gripping her gauge in one hand she slowly opened the door and slid out into the darkness of the hallway. Sure enough, the moment she had moved into the corridor he was on her. Dodging his punches, Jack threw herself against the opposite wall, leveled her gun at him at shot him in the hand.

The force swung him around and he collapsed onto his knees cradling his hand and screaming.

Jack straightened and limped up behind him; gun extended, finger on the trigger.

"Move again and I'll blow your head off," she said firmly as she reached behind her to unclasp the handcuffs she carried on her belt.

"Hands behind your neck."

After cuffing him she patted him down and took a small dagger and some cred chips from his pockets while he glared at her. She had to admit he didn't really look like the smuggling type. Most in that business were young men, in shape, sharp…but this man was at least sixty pounds overweight, balding, and probably twice her age.

"To the galley," she demanded, "and no bullshit from you either."

"You fuckin' people aren't gonna get away with this forever," he snarled as she pulled him to his feet and told him to walk.

"Oh yeah," she asked unconcerned. Cons always talked shit when they were picked up. It was always the same song and dance. Threats, bribes, pleas of innocence…she'd seen and heard it all.

"The Counsel," he spat at her, "you fuckers think the Counsel won't catch you? You think people don't know?!" He tried to twist violently form her grip but she clipped him in the back of the head with the butt of her gun and he stumbled forward.

"We are the Counsel," she said tapping her badge as she pushed him forward. All she wanted to do was secure this runner and get back to their ship.

As she rounded the corner into the expansive galley shots rang out from across the room and she instinctively dropped to the ground and rolled.

Goddamn she hated not having home advantage.

Her prisoner slumped to the ground next to her with blood soaking through holes in his work coveralls. She scooted around the corner and watched as a group of men jumped from their hiding place behind the galley booths and started cautiously towards her.

She was fucked. There was no way she could run back down that corridor, not on her busted knee. She pressed the emergency page button on her comm. rapidly and then sat back against the wall and waited. She figured she could take down three with her gauge…maybe another two with the shiv. Maybe. That's if they didn't just shoot her first.

Which is exactly what they're gonna fuckin' do, she thought.

"C'mon," she groaned as she held the comm. up to her mouth and willed someone – preferably Riddick – to answer theirs. It seemed an eternity before her call was answered.

"Jack?" His voice came quietly through the comm. She could hear the throbbing sound of pulse guns and the metallic ping of ricocheting bullets in the background, but he sounded fine and she exhaled in relief.

"In the corridor starboard to the galley," she whispered frantically, "I need help…fast."

She heard the sound of breaking bones, a grunt and then a thump of a body hitting the floor. And then the connection went dead.

"Riddick," she squeaked as she gripped the comm, "…what happened? Riddick?!"

She shoved the comm. into her pocket, cocked her gun and sat back against the wall.

The first man came around the corner and didn't notice her sitting low in the shadows. She shot him in the face and he reeled backwards.

One.

Another one followed and had she been standing the pulse shot he sent down the hallway would've blown a hole right through her chest. He got a bullet through the neck before he could get another shot off.

Two.

She was a damn good shot and it would buy her some time as the rest of the crew was now wary to round the corner.

C'mon Riddick, she thought as she cocked her gun once again, get your ass down here.

By the flashing of the red emergency lights Jack watched as four armed men in the same work jumpsuits turned the corner. She scrunched down further into the shadows and pulled out her shiv. She only had one shot left and firing would only reveal her position. She was going to have to wait until they were right on her and then take her chances in hand-to-hand combat.

And then everything went black.

Someone rushed past her in her dark heading towards the galley and she flattened herself against the wall even more.

She spent the next minute completely and utterly blind, surrounded by the sound of pulse fire, screams, metal scraping bone and the thuds of bodies falling to the ground. Once she thought she heard faint laughter but she wasn't sure.

Finally after listening to the gurgling crunching sound of what she was sure was someone's larynx being crushed, there was complete silence save for the distant sound of gunfire and her own ragged breathing.

Feeling her way down the hallway she stopped when her foot hit what was the unmistakable heap of a dead body. She stuck her blade back into her belt and whipped out her flashlight, turned it on and whirled around the corner into the galley.

Riddick was standing there looking at the body by his feet. He slowly raised a hand to shield his eyes, but she saw the little smile that played around his lips as he surveyed the work that only he could see. When he finally looked at her she saw the sliver flash of his eyes and clicked off the flashlight so it wouldn't hurt him.

"You got here fast," she breathed edging closer, "how'd you kill the lights?"

She heard the sound of leather scraping steel and she knew he had put away his blade, "You're hurt."

"I'm fine," she smiled, more than a little pleased at the concern that snuck into his voice, "We need to get the fuck off this runner."

She felt rather than saw him nod, "Can you walk on that leg?"

She tried to put more weight on it but pitched forward as rockets of pain shot up her leg. He caught her shoulders and pulled her up against her and she gratefully leaned in wrapping her arms around his waist. His shirt was soaked and when she flicked on her light she saw that her hand, shoulder arm and chest were stained red. His shirt was soaked in blood.

Immediate concern flooded her and she began pulling his shirt up checking for wounds. He smiled softly and grabbed her hands, "It's not mine, kid."

"You're not hurt at all," she questioned peering at him through the darkness.

She caught a faint defiant glow from his liquid silver eyes, "By these motherfuckers," he scoffed, "….gimme a break."

Her comm. vibrated once more against her leg and she suddenly remembered that Farris had been in trouble.

"Have you seen Farris," she asked retrieving a gun from one of the fallen crew, "I've been getting emergency pages."

"No," he said slipping his contacts back in, "been held up in the cargo bay the whole time."

She shown the flashlight over the galley and discovered that there was no way she would've been able to take the rest of the people holed up in here, there were at least six more that she had never seen. She turned to watch as Riddick went to each of the bodies and slipped I.D. tags from around their necks.

"If you're thinkin' about using their tags to set up aliases, you can forget it," she said shaking her head, "once Davis turns in the crew log with the retrieved property…they'll all be put in the system."

He gave her a look which most people would've thought was angry, but she knew he was thinking, "Cargo bay's full of thrust stabilizers for star-jumping," he said, "… that's some pretty expensive shit ."

He stood and shoved the I.D. tags into the pockets of his cargo pants, "What'd Davis tell you he was gonna do with the swag from this runner?"

She shrugged. "He takes Gerod and Riley with him to return it to the planets Counsel embassy…why?"

"And the perps? He takes them too? " He made no effort to hide the suspicion in his voice from her, and she found herself becoming more and more uncomfortable.

"Uh yeah," she said, "usually…sometimes we have to keep them locked up in the cryo-lockers until we find a station that can hold them."

"You go with him?" There. Right there he was openly interrogating her. Instead of pissing her off it just furthered the sense of extreme unease she had felt since setting foot on this ship.

"No, just Gerod and Riley…" she replied warily, "what's with all the fuckin' questions?"

He stepped out of the flashlights beam and once more melded with the darkness, "Later…we need to get back to the hangar bay…now."

He effortlessly hoisted her over his shoulder, handed her a gauge and took off in a dead run.

When they reached the door of the hangar bay he slid her off his shoulder and whispered for her to wait for him to come back.

She felt ashamed at the instant rush of suspicion and pain that spiked through her…he had told her that once before in a very similar situation; and had it not been for Carolyn he would've left her to die. He seemed to sense her distrust because he turned back towards her and cupped her face in one of his large hands, "Not this time." And then he was gone.

Jack leaned against a crate in the corner, cursing her busted leg. She should be out there fighting; she wasn't some goddamn damsel in distress.

I could be helping him, she thought furiously although another part of her argued that being out there fighting on one leg would be a liability to him as he would be worried about covering both their asses.

Sitting there in the dark it occurred to her just how much had changed in the past three weeks. Not only had Riddick showed up to find her, but he had come to treat her as a woman. She wasn't sure she'd call what they had a "relationship"…but whatever it was she liked it. During the short moments they managed to steal away from the rest of the crew he had begun talking to her. It hadn't taken much pressure from him to get her to agree to leave with him after they hit Trelios. She had conceded on the condition that she could run with him for a while; and after promising – with fingers crossed – that she would do as he said if they ran together he had agreed.

She couldn't help but sense that it pleased him no matter how annoyed he tried to act. He was by no means romantic, and saying he was nice to her would be pushing it…but he definitely treated her differently. He had become affectionate in his own way; brushing her hair behind her ear when it got unruly, letting her tease him about his crew cut in private, and once he even came down to the engine room to help her work while everyone else slept.

The fact that she was still obligated to share Davis's bed seemed to irritate him to the point where he refused to talk about her relationship with him. She knew in her gut that Davis wasn't about to just let her walk away. He wasn't that type of man, she knew he thought her life was to be lived on his terms; she wondered if Riddick would have to kill him.

"Jack, c'mere."

His voice startled her out of her thoughts. Flicking her flashlight back on she pushed herself out of the corner and limped over to the walkway terminal where he stood with his back to her. As she stumbled over a couple bodies on the ground she was forcefully reminded of just how dangerous he was.

These people had been crouching here in the dark waiting to ambush her crew and she'd never even known they were here. She knew he couldn't see them with his contacts; but he had been able to hear them, feel them, smell them…they probably didn't even know what hit them.

Coming up behind him she noticed the code pad that opened the door to the walkway terminal had been busted and he was trying to pry open the door with a slim metal beam. Someone had tried to make sure that wouldn't be able to leave. These people were more than afraid of being caught…it was like they were angry…like they were fighting back. She knew people would pull some amazing things to avoid prison – the prime example of that stood less than three feet from her – but this…this was something else. The thought made her shudder.

"This ain't right," he growled as he threw her beam aside and ripped the door open with his hands, "market runners would've blown us all to shit the second we set foot in the fuckin' hangar bay."

"What do you mean," she questioned crossing her arms over her chest.

"Davis is pullin' some shit," he said darkly as her turned towards her, "this ain't a black market ship…"

He trailed off.

She felt her stomach turn to stone as his eyes narrowed dangerously. And then the sound of a safety being clicked off came from right behind her.

She whirled around and found herself staring straight down the barrel of a fully charged pulse gun; she fought the urge to duck and cover her face and raised her hands in the air.

"D- don't move," the young man stammered as he jammed the gun up underneath her jaw and jerked her around so her back was against his chest, "don't you fuckin' move!"

"I'd let her go," Riddick warned as he slowly raised his hands.

"Shut up," the boy demanded pulling Jack with him as her backed up, "just sh-shut up. I'll shoot her. I swear I will. Get away from the terminal."

Riddick didn't move.

"I said get away from the fucking door!" He thumped the barrel against her temple.

Riddick stepped to the side, smirking slightly. It seemed to unnerve the boy who kept his flashlight and gun trained on Riddick.

He stumbled backwards with her until he reached a fuse box on the wall; ripping it open he flicked a couple switches and a dull yellow light from high above flickered to life.

"Riddick," Jack warned shaking her head; she could feel the hammering of the boy's heart and knew that in his panicked state he was liable to be pretty damn trigger happy. Riddick, however, slowly began sidestepping the bodies on the floor. Jack realized that he was about to make a move, but unfortunately so did the crew member and he tightened his hold on her.

He ripped her head backwards and shoved the gun into her neck and she gasped in pain as his fingers pulled hair from her scalp.

"I said stop moving," the man screamed into her ear, spraying her neck with spit. His arm flexed around her neck and she was forced to stand on her tiptoes to draw breath.

Riddick froze and the boy seemed to relax, but from the look on his face Jack could tell that the boy had very likely just made the biggest mistake in his soon-to-be-over life.

"Now get on the floor," he demanded pointing his gun at Riddick.

He was pulling her hair so hard that the gash on her forehead began to tear apart all over again and blood began to run into her eyes.

Riddick's eyes never left hers as he lowered himself onto his stomach; it seemed as if he was going to lock his hands behind his head but as she watched him he inclined his head slowly to the left. He was going for a blade. She nodded minutely and prepared to duck to the side when a terrific bang resounded throughout the room; the door to the right of them blew in and they were all thrown like ragdolls.

As if in slow motion Davis and Farris ran through the smoke into the room with guns drawn, shooting at people behind them. The boy lay still as death five feet from her; but the steel door which had fallen on top of Riddick began to stir, Jack lunged for him but her foot was pinned beneath a crate and she fell onto her face.

Smoke clogged the air and she could hear nothing but shrill ringing in her ears. Sparks flew from the exposed wire in the ceiling and the ship shuddered uncontrollably. In the back of her mind she was surprised the hull integrity hadn't been compromised by all of the gunfire and explosions, but as she saw Riddick making his way over to her all she could think about was how they were going to get out of there.

They had come totally unprepared for this fight.

The weight of the crate was gone and she felt herself being pulled into a pair of strong arms as he kneeled behind her. Pulling her up to him he checked her for fractures and serious wounds before making sure that her eyes were focused. She assured him she was fine and began to rise with him when his eyes widened and he spun her around shielding her with his arms and chest.

The blast of the pulse gun sent the two hurtling backwards until her legs caught on debris and they tumbled to the ground where she was half pinned beneath his bulk. Groaning she cracked open her eyes to see him staring at her with a slightly dazed look on his face.

"Jack," he wheezed trying and failing to get up, "Jack?"

"Riddick," she breathed, "are you hit?"

She placed her hand on his back and he let out a strangled cry of pain.

And then the boy appeared in front of them, smoke wafting from the barrel of the gun clutched in his hands. He hesitated; and in that second she snatched the shiv from Riddick's belt and sent it flying into his chest. He looked at her surprised as blood spilled from his mouth and he sank to his knees gasping, but her attention was focused on the man on top of her.

He was struggling for breath as blood bubbled from between his lips. His chest heaved and twitched as she bodily rolled him off of her and onto his side. Across the battle to escape continued; but her eyes remained on him. The sickening smell of burning human flesh filled her nostrils as she rolled to her knees beside him and peered over his back. Her heart froze. His back was a mangled mess of ripped up flesh, burnt skin and fabric, blood and debris from the ceiling. The back of his shirt had been incinerated, the back of his head had been burned bald again and the flesh of his right shoulder was blistered red. The flesh on his left shoulder was gone. Charred bone peeked up at her from the tattered remains of his back.

Blood gushed from the left side of his neck where the flesh had melted away, exposing muscles and throbbing arteries.

She stared in disbelief until his choked breathing brought her back.

Focus, Jack ,she scolded herself, you need to get him out of here.

Over his shoulder she saw a woman from the ship run up with an axe in her hand, but Jack rolled to the side, grabbed the gauge from the dead boys hand and shot her in the chest. More people rushed through the doorway and Davis sprayed the crowd with bullets forcing them back.

She brought herself down so she was looking in his eyes and even though her heart was slamming against her chest she forced herself to sound calm, "Riddick, listen to me … you're okay," she lied as she made to help him up, "but we need to get you to the med bay, right now."

"Run," he gasped clutching at her hand. More than anything else, the sound of helplessness in his voice scared her. She shook her head furiously. He was never helpless...he couldn't be down. Not now.

"No," she said, more to herself than anyone else.

"There's too many of them," Gerod screamed over the racket to Davis who was busy reloading his gun, "we're outta ammo Davis! We gotta go!"

"Jack," he demanded. "Go."

She shook her head and continued half-dragging him through the room, "We're almost there. Keep moving. Just keep moving. Please keep moving."

"Get – out," he rasped into her ear, trying to pull away, "go …"

He choked as a fresh torrent of blood poured from his mouth and she stopped until he could breathe again. He pulled the tangle of tags out of his pocket as an explosion from above rocked the room and she could hear the groan of twisting metal.

In her head she repeated the mantra: get back to the ship, get back to the ship, get back to the ship…

"Shut up and walk," she pleaded wrapping her arms tighter around his waist as he sunk to his knees. "Just keep walking. Please, Riddick, please… you gotta keep moving."

"Get...the fuck out," he roared spraying her with his blood as he wrenched himself from her grasp and rolled onto his side once more. He took her face in his hands, "Please, Jack," he whispered now closing his eyes, "run".

"Please," she sobbed putting her head on his chest, "you can't do this. Riddick please."

"Sorry, kid." It was barely a whisper. His hands dropped from hers and he was still.

Across the room Riley was sprawled across a crate bleeding from his ears, but Farris, Gerod and Davis had managed to block the doorway to the hangar bay; she could hear the shouts from the crew on the other side. She however couldn't care less. Her body felt like someone had injected Freon straight into her veins.

No. No, no, no!

Her mouth gaped open and closed but no sound came out. She had to force herself to inhale and exhale and finally sound burst from her mouth in a ragged cry.

"Get up! You have to get up! Get up! Get up now!"

He remained silent as her world crumbled around her ears.

A firm hand on her shoulder pulled her away from Riddick's lifeless body. She whipped around and pushed Farris away from her shaking her head.

"No," she choked, "no don't…don't touch me."

He edged closer. "Listen to me," he whispered, "Jackie, we need to go."

"Don't fuckin' touch me," she growled, glaring at him through her tear soaked lashes.

"There's too many of them," Gerod yelled as he slung Riley over his shoulder, "we've gotta get outta here!"

"Get to the terminal," Davis yelled from the door where he had barred the door with a beam of steel.

"Jack please," Farris pleaded pulling on her arm.

"I'm not leaving him here," she snarled rounding on him.

"Jack…," he tugged on her arm again.

"I'm not leaving him," she shrieked as she slapped Farris full across the face before turning back to Riddick.

"We don't have time!" Looking over his shoulder Farris saw the last door between them and the rest of the crew start to buckle.

"I'm sorry kid," he whispered. Setting his pulse gun to its lowest level he stepped back and shot her. He rushed to catch her and throw her over his shoulder before she hit the ground.

The ship shuddered violently once more, the sound of screeching metal filled the air.

"Farris get your ass up here," Davis shouted from the terminal.

Farris spared one last look at Riddick's lifeless body and then turned and ran with Jack through the closing door.