72) And I've Been A Fool And I've Been Blind

In retrospect, it should have been obvious to him a helluva lot sooner. Really, who else could it be? Who else had motive and opportunity and the ability? And had been on the boat since all of it began.

He'd spent months aboard Serenity, looking for River's belongings when they went missing, trying to track them by scent and figure out how they kept going for a walk. Because it hadn't made sense to him, the theory Simon and Mal had come up with, that River was doing these things herself. He knew her, knew her scent. He could tell when she was getting tired.

He'd given Mal a look when the man tried to bring the subject up with River in front of him and the Captain had subsided for the moment. But it wasn't just River's things going missing either. The heat on the oven had changed mid-cook several times. A pot had boiled over more than once and that had been a joy. The food hadn't gotten spoiled thankfully, but it had resulted in a helluva mess that River had insisted upon cleaning up since it had been her error.

Riddick had seen for himself that there were towels in the shower when River went into the head. But when she'd been done the towels had simply not been there. He'd grabbed a couple from his own supply for her when River had peeked out from behind the door and whispered the problem.

More often than not the things that took a walk were personal items. River's hairbrush, her pins, sometimes the elastics she used to pull her hair back in a tail. Books would appear randomly all over the ship. One of her dresses had been crumpled into a ball and shoved into a box in the pantry. Her toe shoes and sketchbook went walkabout most often. The two things that she could guarantee would help her reset her brain, rest her thoughts, he'd had to hunt them down almost every other week.

And now they'd gotten Zoë back and everything was back to semi-normal. (Or as normal as life on Serenity ever got.) He'd turned his thoughts to seriously contemplating who could be doing this.

Scents were no help. They didn't stay in the air long enough for him to track anything but River's belongings. Trying to figure out who had access to River's room was an exercise in futility. Most of the time the passenger dorm doors weren't locked. He was pretty sure the locks on half of them didn't work. That pretty much left surveillance as the only way to determine who was messing with River.

He'd caught himself wondering how it was the River didn't know who was taking her things when she could Read every thought people had in their heads. He was sure there were limits but at the same time, the person had to slip up at some point, planning the next theft or thinking about the last one.

"Worked hard," River had told him when he finally asked her. "Very hard to not hear. To block out random thoughts and focus only on what is needed. Privacy is important." She shrugged, "Easier to let random thoughts flow past. Only actively listen for threats to safety, to the crew and boat, family."

"Got it," He nodded his understanding and kissed her affectionately. "You want, keep the stuff you really need in my bunk," He offered. "Your toe shoes, books, drawing pencils, that sort of thing. The things that help you relax." He'd already given her the code to unlock his bunk and told her she was welcome any time, just not to wake him up by touching him. He usually woke up when the hatch opened anyway.

"That will help…a great deal," River smiled at him. "Worst is when she needs to do things other than read and play with the cortex and her things are lost."

"That's why I offered," Riddick nodded and was given an appreciative kiss in thanks. Not why he'd offered but hey, he'd never turn down a kiss from his girl.

And then… well… now he'd set himself up in his old bunk, lights out, door mostly closed. He'd spent enough time in his life watching and waiting that he could set a trap in his sleep. River's dorm was right across from Simon's and next to Carolyn's. From his position he could see anyone who went in and out of River's room.

Simon, on laundry duty, putting clothing away, murmuring thoughtfully to himself about making a list of something. Carolyn, putting a book River had lent her back on the little shelf, carefully sliding the door shut behind her.

Nothing…not for a while…

And then Jack. Walking almost as softly as River or Riddick himself. No boots. Walking around in her socks to keep from making too much noise.

The shoji door barely made a whisper of sound as she slid it open.

He forced himself to simply watch as Jack emerged from River's dorm with a box of stiletto hair ornaments (that he'd made for River as a gift), several books, the hairbrush (which also went missing a lot) and her gun belt.

He barely kept himself from growling his fury. Blood. It pounded in his ears, raced through his veins, like a mist over his eyes, the rage and need for vengeance. Nearly punched the metal bulkhead and barely restrained himself, clench his fists so tight his nails cut into his palms.

Instead, he stalked Jack around the ship like the animal mercs always called him, silently picking up River's belongings as his 'little sister' hid them. Thankfully, none of them were bulky, likely the reason behind Jack's choices, and he could carry them with him easily, slipping them into pockets so he couldn't break River's things when he flexed his hands, clenched them to fists and craved the feel of a shiv against his palm.

He'd never wanted blood more in his adult life than he did at this moment. Not since he'd been sixteen had he wanted a kill so badly. He could practically taste the blood and peppermint schnapps. Jack had managed to eclipse Billy Johns and that was something considering how much he'd risked for her.

That was part of what fed the rage, he'd realized as watched Jack hide River's things. The girl who'd screamed for him and Shazza, who'd had to be held back from coming to help them. The trembling child who'd been terrified they would leave her behind if she told the truth. The girl who said she never had a doubt. He trusted her. Risked for her. Given her chance after chance. He'd trusted her, even if she didn't like River, he'd trusted her to be his sister and let him decide about his own life. Even after she'd pulled that disgusting attempt at seduction, he'd still trusted her as his little sister. Trusted Jack to be decent.

She'd betrayed that.

He'd blinded himself to the fact that Jack could be the only one doing this to River because he hadn't wanted to believe Jack could be so petty and nasty and just…selfish.

And damn, but he was pissed at himself just as much as he was Jack. Probably more. She was a teenager, that was (according to Carolyn) something of an excuse for idiotic behavior. But this? How could he be so fuckin' stupid? Just not seeing what was right in front of him because he didn't want to? What kind of moron just ignored something like that? River had worried. She'd worried (and worse, had been frightened) and dealt with this crap for months upon months and he hadn't even considered that Jack was the culprit. Even though (in hindsight) it was obvious that Jack was the only one who could be doing this shit. The 'senior' crew wouldn't, and Carolyn had no reason to torment River, never had.

Riddick stared at Jack and wondered when she'd gone from being a kid to protect to a half-grown woman that he wanted to slice to bloody bits. He was ready to take her down to the bay and give her the beating of her life and to hell with anyone who tried to stop him. Pain. Pain and fear and blood and oh he wanted, could taste it hot and copperish on his tongue… and tā mā de niǎo! Hold it back.

When she'd hidden the last item (River's gun belt) Riddick picked it up and followed her to the galley, "Jack." It came out as a snarl, but he really couldn't bring himself to care about his tone. "We're gonna tā mā de talk." Talk. If he could keep his rage in check. If he could hold back that bloody impulse that felt so damn close to the surface of his skin.

She jumped about a mile, worse than he'd ever made Mal jump, maybe a guilty conscience? Who knew at this point? He had no clue what was in her head anymore. "What the hell Rid-Rick," She corrected herself quickly just in case Bea was close by. "What'd I do that you're so—" Jack turned and saw the items he carried and stopped mid-sentence.

"This," Oh, he wanted to wring her little neck, could feel the tendons straining against his fingers as he squeezed the life out of her. "You fuckin' did this." He put River's belongings on the table. "And right now, I am so tiān shā de—" He stopped, took a breath and scowled, even more annoyed when it didn't help, he still wanted to kill her. Wanted blood in the worst way and had to force himself to use his tā mā de words. "You really pissed me off Jack."

"What do you care," She had the nerve to act like what she'd done wasn't a big deal.

"What do I care," Oh, he would shake her like a mongoose with a snake if she didn't get rid of that attitude. "You've been screwing with her for months." He heard the growl in his voice deepen, the volume of it rise, and couldn't give a rat's ass. One way or another he would get through to her that he wouldn't have this shit. "Shén me zài tiān mì de xié'è de cào Jack!"

"So what," Oh, that dismissive sulky tone. As if she didn't see the problem. Couldn't see what she'd done wrong. (Or just stubbornly didn't want to.) So tā mā de close to snapping and giving into his bloody desires. Two strides and he had her. Another half second and his fist gripped her shirt. His forearm pressed to her collarbone, held her up, against the wall. Oh yeah, that sweet scent of fear, staining the air, filling his nose… feeding that savage appetite. Wanting more… fear and blood and the crunch of bone under his knuckles… the scent of blood in the air, on his skin. Pain. Taste it on his tongue the back of his throat…

"So what?" He snarled in her face. "I oughta beat you black and blue, maybe you'd get the damn point! This shit isn't okay Jack." His hands itched for a shiv, and it must've shown in his face.

"What point," She had the nerve to shout back at him. No clue how close he was to snapping the leash he had on the rage boiling through him. "You keep Johns from killing me so you can do the job yourself?"

"Don't tiān shā de tempt me Jack," Riddick was getting seriously close to smacking the hell out of her. Her neck, temptingly, only inches from his hand, he could easily pin her to the wall by the throat, squeeze the life out of her. "If you were anyone else—"

"Rick!" Mal. Standing behind him in the hall from the bridge. "What'n the hell—"

"Gǔn dú zi," Riddick snarled the words. "This's between her an' me."

"Rick you can't just—" The Captain seemed to get that Riddick wasn't in any mood for orders. He seemed more shocked and disturbed than anything.

"You don't know what she's done Mal," Riddick didn't bother turn around, glaring at the girl he called sister. A girl he'd protected, cared for, despite her trespasses on his body. Betrayal upon betrayal. Brought on by his own stupidity…his own blind trust… "I trusted her… She doesn't get to walk away from this like it's nothing."

"Rick, no matter what she's done, we don't put our hands on children," A sensible demand. Except Jack wasn't a child anymore, didn't want to be, had very pointedly made that obvious…

"See Mal, that's the mā lege bā zi thing," Riddick snarled into the face of the girl he held. She still didn't seem to get it or care that what she'd done was wrong. Cào dàn, he wanted her afraid of him, wanted her to know he would kill her, pull the shiv from his belt and gut her right in the galley. Flex his hand around her throat and squeeze until she turned blue and gasping, give him that scent of pain and terror. Know he was ending her. Know it down to her bones. For what she'd done. Just like—put that thought away, no time for that now, stay in control. "She doesn't want to be a child. Wants me to see her as a woman. Or was I wrong about her trying to give me a tā mā de blowjob?" Oh, that sweet scent of fear and guilt and goddamn he craved it now, needed it, the only thing that would make it better would be blood.

"Let me deal with her," Damn the Captain for being reasonable and calm despite dealing with a furious murderer. "Tell me what she's done, and I'll deal with her myself."

"I trusted her," He ground the words out from between teeth clenched against the need to tear into Jack's flesh with a shiv or his hands, rip her apart until she couldn't betray him, couldn't hurt him, couldn't hurt River. "I fuckin' trusted her Mal. An' that's what she did with it." Couldn't… shouldn't kill her… don't. Pull it back. Damnit, rein in that need for blood, for death.

"Rick put her down," The order given without any doubt that he'd be obeyed. Trust Mal. Mal proved he could be counted on to deal with everyone on his crew fairly. Deep breath. Another. And another, staring up into Jack's frightened eyes, her feet dangling somewhere around his knees. Snarling his rage… Pull the part of him that wanted blood back, rein it in, get a leash on what mercs called 'the animal' side of him. Drop her. Turn away as quickly as he could. Don't look, so he wouldn't be tempted to do anything else. Get an arm's length away, at least.

"Now what's this about," The Captain looked from him to Jack and back again.

"See all this," Riddick couldn't quite unclench his fists enough to gesture so he jerked his head at the little pile of River's things on the galley table. Take another step back from Jack, look at Mal and keep his eyes off his little sister's face. Don't look at her or he'd kill her if she isn't afraid and sorry.

"A pile of River's stuff," Mal nodded, slowly and carefully interposing himself between Riddick and Jack.

"I watched Jack go into River's dorm. Come out with all these things," Riddick forced himself to take another breath. "Followed her around the ship, watchin' as she hid all of 'em." He couldn't quite restrain the rage filled snarl, "She's been doin' it for months. Gas-lighting River. Makin' all of you think River's been losin' it, leaving her stuff places she don't remember. Makin' River wonder if she really was goin' nuts until I told her that she didn't smell like she did when she got tired." He nearly growled the words again, "Should've seen her face. How relieved she was to know it wasn't her doin' this shit. That she wasn't goin' tā mā de chī xiàn."

Now he stared at Jack. Let her see his face. Let her look and know how close he'd come to killing her, "I risked my life for you Jack. I trusted you even after that stunt you pulled." Riddick shook his head, "And you betrayed me."

"I didn't do anything to you," Jack burst out defensively, and he couldn't help it; he nearly roared his rage back at her.

"You hurt her," Riddick forced his hands open, flexed his fingers and palms, don't go for a shiv, don't move towards her or you'll kill Jack. So hard to keep control, keep his voice low, his hands clean of blood. Don't kill your baby sister, jackass. Don't. Even when she was stupid and asking for it. Force the words out. Keep that bloodlust pushed back.

"You can't accept me wanting her. That I care about her. I think she's beautiful and interesting. You don't accept my choices, Jack." He took a deep breath. Growled when it couldn't even touch his rage, his need for blood, "You got pissed off because she was teaching me to dance, said she was changing me. If all you want is that piece of lè sè nearly left you to die on that hell planet, you are shit out of luck little girl." He stared at her coldly, "I changed. Carolyn changed me. You changed me. Abu changed me. I haven't been that man since Carolyn screamed at me; challengin' me to rejoin the human race."

Damn her. She didn't see it. How bad she'd hurt him trying to hurt River. "You can't handle that; you've got bigger problems than me. If you'd just been screwing with me, well I kinda agreed to take that on when I took you and Carolyn as my ladies, my family." He shook his head, "But you didn't mess with me. You decided to fuck with River's head. Because I care about her."

Riddick took a breath and let it out slowly trying to cool his rage, "This is it, Jack. You are damn near my breaking point." He hated that he couldn't just give up, say 'we're done' and mean it. Couldn't just cut her off and not care about her anymore. "One more thing, one more piece of niú shǐ like this… you fuck with River, fuck with me…I'm not gonna tolerate any more of this gǒu pì from you."

Mal hadn't tried to intercede, hadn't interrupted, maybe he understood how fragile Riddick's control felt at the moment. Realized that the convict needed to make clear to Jack just how close to the edge he was. How far she'd pushed him. Riddick hadn't seen Mal look so stern since they'd had to leave Zoë in an Alliance hospital. Good. Riddick wasn't feeling any bit of qualified to deal with this without bloodshed and damned if he wanted Jack to wiggle her way out of this. Mal's voice came out calm enough even if he did smell like anger, like the scent of hot metal sizzling through the air, "Rick, I think Carolyn's on the bridge with River. Go on up there and send Carolyn back here." The Captain didn't have any sort of tone to his voice that suggested he was willing to hear an argument.

"Yeah," Riddick nodded and headed for the bridge. River turned to look at him as he stepped up to the threshold and Carolyn glanced up from the instruments with a raised eyebrow in mute inquiry. "Carolyn, Mal wants you in the galley," He didn't trust himself to say anything else.

"All…right…" The blonde had a puzzled look on her face but nodded, turning the controls over to River and heading back to the galley.

Pound his hand to the bulkhead, needing, wanting pain, punishment, something… He'd let her down. He hadn't seen. Hadn't wanted to see, even worse. She'd dealt with months and months of Jack's torment because he'd been so goddamn blind about his little sister. Couldn't look at River, see blame and anger and disappointment in her eyes. He'd failed her so badly. Him, the man who prided himself on not getting blindsided, he'd missed the most obvious thing.

Blood. Finally. The smell of it, hot and copper in his nose, tasting it as it scented the air.

Pain. Vibrating through his hand, trembling over his nerves. Couldn't touch his rage.

Anxiety…almost fear. Worry. Misting through the air… River. Worried for him. Fearful for him.

The salt of her tears in the air.

There was no way to apologize, how to explain, to justify (because in his mind there was no damn excuse for his blindness) just not seeing Jack's culpability. River had suffered, dealt with Jack's niú shǐ for months, months, and never complained. He knew, he'd smelt it on her, the worry and fear, the pain of being uncertain of her own sanity. Done his best to help her, reassure her, but she wouldn't have had to go through any of it if he'd just opened his tiān shā de eyes and seen what his little sister was doing.

Nothing he could do or say could make what she'd suffered any less. He'd take a hundred beatings and scars on his back if he could take those months of fear and worry away. How could she even look at him? He didn't dare meet her eyes. How could he? This was his fault. If he'd been paying attention…

What would he do if she didn't want him anymore? Belly twisting with discomfort, throat tight with pain at the thought. He'd let her down. Trusted where he shouldn't. Blinded himself. Him. The murderer who'd got a shine job so he'd see who was coming after him in the dark. He'd blinded himself. Cào dàn. What the hell could he do?

"Riddick," Soft voice. Gentle. Elegant accent. How could her voice be so filled with affection after what he'd done?

And she offered her hand.

He was desperate enough for forgiveness to take it. Ignore the pain and blood on his hands and fall to his knees in front of her, press his face to her ribs, "I'm so sorry River." He got the words out through a tight throat. How could she ever forgive him this? "I should've figured it out sooner."

"Not your fault," How her hands could feel so soft on his scalp and neck when he knew she had calluses from guns and blades on her fingers and palms… "Trusted. Little sister. Should be trusted. No reason to think that he would be betrayed." Affection. Trust. How could she feel like that still? Scents don't lie…but how…

"I shoulda known better," Riddick growled at himself. Oh, he'd fucked up big time and he wouldn't let himself forget it. Not ever.

"Children are usually more transparent," River soothed. "She did not see it. Cannot blame him for the same thing. Teenagers are complex, unpredictable and incomprehensible even to themselves."

"Oughta embroider that on a tā mā de pillow," He grumbled and let her soothe him. He had to let the rage and bloodlust seep out of him somehow or he wouldn't care who he hurt. He really would kill someone. She deserved better.

"Sit with her and hold her in your lap, fly the boat, and know you keep her safe," River suggested gently. Damn good idea.

Maybe by the time the shift was over he'd have figured out how to live with himself.

Author's Note: So… anyone see that coming? Riddick didn't kill her at least, mostly because he is trying to change and even after what she'd done, he does care about Jack. Though if she'd continued to piss him off and Mal hadn't come along, I wouldn't make any bets on how long his control would last.

I know that it probably should have seemed obvious. I mean who else on the boat would do that sort of thing. Who would have the motive and means and opportunity. But it's also the sort of thing people don't want to believe someone they love would do to someone else. Love is blind after all.

Now the question is how will Mal deal with Jack? And will it be enough to satisfy Riddick?

Chinese Translations:

tā mā de niǎo (goddamn it /lit. 'His mother's dick')

tā mā de (damn it! / fucking) (taboo curse)

tiān shā de (Goddam! / goddamn / wretched)

Shén me zài tiān mì de xié'è de cào (what in the sweet unholy fuck)

Gǔn dú zi ((dialect) Beat it! / Scram! / Fuck off!)

mā lege bā zi (fuck! / motherfucker! / fucking)

Cào dàn (damn it! / fuck! (vulgar) / Satan (loan) / devil)

chī xiàn (crazy / insane)

lè sè (Garbage, trash)

niú shǐ (cow dung)

gǒu pì (bullshit, nonsense (lit. "dog fart");)