Twin Flames

He never asks why. But, then, he wouldn't. Riddick knows secrets and running from the past and everything. He's like the king of secrets and leaving it all in the past. So he's never asked and I know he never will. So I feel safe.

He didn't ask me why, so I never ask him anything. I mean, I keep on him about the eyes, because I want a pair, but I don't ask him stuff. Anything. Who he killed, where we're going, what we're going to do now. Or what I'm allowed to do.

Like, I never asked if I could sleep with him. I just did. I couldn't sleep by myself, not even in that one room that we all shared as we made our way to New Mecca. I was too scared. I keep seeing Shazza getting torn apart by those things, and hearing Paris be eaten. I hear screams and cries and saw things that I hadn't even seen.

Like Fry dying.

So, I couldn't sleep by myself. When Riddick stretched out on the floor, beautiful eyes closed, facing the wall, I curled up next to him, my back pressed against his. I could feel his blood pulsing under his skin, feel the heat rising from his body, smell the sweaty, pungent scent of a man. It was a smell that had tortured me all my life, the smell of men. But, on Riddick, it didn't bother me. Because I knew Riddick wouldn't...

I kicked him the first time of the night. Kicked and hit and cried out and smashed him in the face. Finally, he grabbed me, pulled me underneath him, and then pushed me so I was facing the wall. Then, he turned around, pressed his back against mine and said, "Go to sleep, Jack," in that gravelly, hyper-masculine voice of his.

Strange that I feel safer with him than I would have with Fry. Even though, after that first night, I was pretty sure that the monsters hadn't gotten Fry. That Riddick had.

I didn't say anything, though. Because, even though I liked Fry, she just would have tried to, like, track down my parents or find someone for me to live with. Turn me over to the authorities. And I didn't want that. She would have asked questions that I don't want to answer. So it's better that she's gone. Better that Riddick killed her.

* * *

Four days off the planet, we're picked up by a merchant ship. Not mercs, thank God. None of them have any idea who Riddick is, and he keeps his goggles on all the time, saying that they got hurt on the planet. We tell them what happened, and they get the coordinates so they can put out a warning. Then, they say that they can take us to Rigel for one-fifty each.

Imam agrees to pay the fee for all of us. I don't have any money, and I don't know about Riddick. But Imam does, and he was more than willing to help us survivors.

I don't tell them I'm a girl. Imam makes some noises about that, but Riddick gives him a look, so he doesn't say anything.

And I keep sleeping with Riddick. Only now we're sleeping in a bed, and it's a lot more comfortable. Riddick keeps me against the wall, safe, and he showers so some of the man smell subsides.

But there are a lot of other men on the ship, so I stick to Riddick like glue.

"Teach me how to fight," I tell him six days off the planet.

Imam objects, says that it's dangerous, and I know he's not talking about learning to defend myself but learning from Riddick. I think he's afraid that I'm going to turn into a killer because of Riddick.

I don't tell him that I'm already a killer. I just don't do it very well. And I want to.

Riddick agrees to teach me to fight. We find an empty room, and he gives me a knife. He has a knife, too. It's not kid's play here. It's real.

He locks the door.

"Okay. Show me how you did it the first time."

"What?" I'm taken by surprise by his words.

Riddick opens his arm. "The first time. How did you kill him? I need to know what I'm working with, here."

I don't ask how he knew. He's Riddick. He probably knew everything the first time he saw me. Smelled me.

"Um," I say, not wanting to relive it but trying to. "He was, uh, behind me."

Riddick gestures for me to turn around. I do, and I clutch the knife in my fist right against my chest, just like the first time.

And Riddick comes behind me, big and male, just like the first time. Only. Only this is *Riddick* and he doesn't make any sound and he doesn't breathe through his mouth and he doesn't smell like shit and beer.

I swallow. "He had one hand on my left shoulder. And the other hand came around and pressed into my face."

Riddick's hand is a lot bigger than his was. When he reaches around my face, he's able to cup the entire side of my face.

I've never had a crush on any guy. Why would? Men are disgusting. But Riddick is... Riddick, and for a second I just close my eyes and listen to my heart pound and feel his breath wash over my stubbled head.

And then struck. Just like the first time, I whirl around, knife out, aiming for the throat.

Riddick catches my wrist inches away from his neck.

"And you killed him?"

I nod, wide-eyed, seeing myself reflected in his black goggles. "He wasn't expecting it. I just turned and stabbed him through the throat. Right here." I press the tip of my knife into the soft skin at the hollow of his throat.

"All right." He smiles crookedly at me. "Now, let's practice what you do if your attacker isn't some drunk pedophile who doesn't know his dick from brain."

And we do. We practice fighting from day six all the way to day twenty. And on day twenty, we land on Rigel. By this time, I'm not bruised every day, and I don't walk with a limp like I did days six through fifteen. My muscles aren't always sore, and my hands don't have blisters from the knife. They're calloused.

And my knees....

Riddick doesn't care if I pray, of course. When Imam insisted, I tried to appeal to Riddick, but Riddick just said that God isn't a bad thing, just an asshole. And sometimes, you want to have an asshole on your side.

So, every day, three times a day, I pray with Imam. I learn Arabic and about Mohammad and the various prophets and Allah. I learn and it soaks in and my knees stopped hurting when I kneel. And, by day twenty, I can recite the chants almost as well as Imam. He says I'm a fast learner and seems really... proud.

When we land on Rigel, Imam books passage on another ship. We're not going straight to New Mecca because none of us wants to risk cryosleep. Especially since cryosleep involves DNA printing and that'll catch Riddick right away. So, we're going in a series of short hops, and I'm starting to be afraid that this is going to end up as a fight for my soul or something. Only, Riddick doesn't really care to fight for me, and Imam won't give me up to a killer. Not even one he respects.

And me? I don't care what either of them thinks. I'm staying with Riddick. He keeps the monsters away, and even though Imam seems like a nice guy, he's not Riddick.

Besides. If I stay long enough, maybe Riddick will help me get eyes like his, so I can see people sneaking up on me in the dark.

* * *

Thirty-two days after we escape from T2, I start to bleed again. It starts at night, jolting me awake in a wave of crushing pain and agony. I'm hot and sweaty, my shirt and shorts soaked through with sweat. The sheets are wet under me, and I've kicked the blankets off me.

I'm shivering, cold, hot, flushed and nauseous. My mouth is completely dry, and my eyes water, nose runs. I feel pale and wasted and the pain is so much. To much.

Careful not to wake Riddick, I climb out of bed and go into the bathroom. The lights sting my eyes, but it doesn't matter. I need to see it.

There's a lot of blood this time. Sometimes there isn't. I've only done this seven times now, and every time it's different. Sometimes, it doesn't even hurt.

The first time it didn't. God, I remember the first time so clearly. I'd just turned eleven and I didn't know what was happening. I don't have a mother, and my father never had any girls around to tell me what my body was supposed to do. I just woke up one morning with blood on my legs and figured I was dying.

And then, a few hours later when I wasn't dead yet, I thought it had to be the best thing ever.

I was outside, playing ball. My dad and me were too poor for me to have any friends, and we'd just moved there anyway. Dad was a miner and he went where the jobs were. I went with him. One of the guys at the site had given me a ball, and I was throwing it against a wall when Dad came up behind me.

I didn't say anything. I never did, why would I? Nothing ever changed no matter what I did.

Except for today. Dad took me inside and he had me play with him a little. Then he made me take off my clothes. When he saw the blood.... I've never had anyone look at me like that before. Like I was the most disgusting thing in the entire world.

Without even telling me what was so wrong with a little blood, he hit me. Beat me within every inch of my life and then left to go drinking.

I poured anything red I could find in my shorts after that. But he caught on after a few weeks, and said that at least I didn't have anything gross, like hair or hips or breasts or anything. He just ignored me when I bled.

And then I killed him.

There's a lot of blood this time, and I'm not sure what to do. It's more than I'm used to and paper doesn't seem to be enough. So, finally, I take off my shirt, tear it, and stuff it down there.

And then I throw up.

I can't go back in there. And I don't know what to do. Riddick and smell blood. He can smell me, and I...

Don't want to be a girl.

A wave of pain hits me, and I convulse into a ball on the floor. It hurts and I don't know what to do. Riddick says to ignore pain. Ignore it, or accept it. To love it and mock it and always, *always* respect it.

And I... I suck at it. I don't know what to do.

"Allaahu Akbar," I gasp, curling tighter into my ball. "Ashhadu Allah ilaaha illa-Lah." Each word hurts and is said haltingly, but I force it out, force my mind onto the words and away from my body, just like Imam says to. " Ash Hadu anna Muhamadar rasuulullah. Hayya'las Salaah. Hayya' ala Falaah. Qad qaamitis Salaah. Allaahu Akbar.
Laa ilaaha illa-Lah."

I get through the whole thing once and start over again. I know I'm doing it all wrong. I'm in the wrong position, and I'm forgetting what to repeat and when. But I don't care. I curl up tight and rock slowly on the bathroom floor, praying in short, breathless gasps.

I don't know how long I was in there. Time lost all meaning. It felt like I slipped into some kind of dream between the waking world and sleeping. I was still too hot and too cold, but it didn't matter. The pain and my body was irrelevant.

"Sleep on the floor and you won't be able to move tomorrow," I heard Riddick say. Before I can open my eyes, I feel him lift me from the floor, his arms against my bare back. His fingers caress my sweaty shoulders and it feels strange to know I'm half-naked and in his arms. Half-naked in the arms of a killer and safer than maybe I've ever been in my life.

"Here," he says, setting me on the bed. The sheets have been changed, and they're cool and dry rather than hot and wet.

I accept the shirt he hands me and pulls it on. I can feel his eyes on my breasts, though, such as they are. When my head appears, I look at him, chin tilted defiantly.

"I hope you don't think this will get you out of training tomorrow," he says. He pours me a glass of water.

"It hurts," I say, taking the water. "I'm sick."

He gives me that half smile of his and hits the light. When his goggles come off, his silver eyes gleam beautifully. "That's not ever going to stop anyone, Jack. No one cares if your sick when they want you dead. It's to their advantage."

I gulp the water. "And if they don't want me dead?" Dad never did whatever it is men do to women, and I'm unclear on the details. But I know stuff, and that's why I hid as a boy. It was safer, less hassle. And Dad never touched me when I bled.

The bed dips as Riddick gets back in. "Blood doesn't stop everyone, Jack. There are men who like it. There are men who like it when a woman's in pain, too."

"I'm not a woman," I snap at him. I slam the water down on the table at the head of the bed.

Riddick's laugh purrs in the darkness. I wish I had his eyes so I could see him. I want to see like him, see the monsters in the dark.

"No, Jack," he agrees. "You're not a woman." And then, he has me by the chin, and I feel he weight of his eyes as he studies my face.

I wonder what he sees.

"Not yet. But one day..." He stops. I wait for him to finish what he was going to say, but he doesn't. He just lets go of my face and lays down, back to me, just like always. "Get some sleep, Jack. Imam wants to take you shopping for new clothes tomorrow, and we've got a lot of work to do."

"Riddick..."

"Sleep."

I can't ignore that tone, so I lie down next to him, back to his. The wall is inches from my face, and my ears are full of Riddick. His rasping breath, his heart beating. I can smell him, his spicy scent, that... *smell* that is just so... him.

I lick my lips. "But one day what, Riddick?" I whisper.

He exhales. "One day, Jack, you're going to need to know how to fight. Especially with a face like that. Now get some fucking sleep or we'll start training right now."

Oh. *Oh*.

I snap my eyes shut and do my best to go to sleep, even though my heart is pounding so hard I don't think I'll ever sleep again.

* * *

I wake up the next morning to find myself sprawled over the bed, taking up as much space as I can. Riddick's gone, and there's coffee and some kind of pastry thing on the table above my head.

Just the smell of coffee makes me feel better. The cramps are mostly gone, and I don't feel like I'm going to die.

Riddick said I was beautiful. Sort of. I mean, in his own way that only highlights the negative and all.

I don't know how I feel about that. I don't know if I want to be beautiful. I don't know if I want to have to fight people off because of my body for the rest of my life. When I kill, I want to do it because... I can. Or something. Not because I have to.

For the first time, I wonder why he started killing. Who his first was. I want to see him do it. Want to see him in action, see him move. See his shiv sink into the yielding flesh of another human being, watch the blood flow over his hands.

I want to see him hit the sweet spot and take someone out in one clean slash of the blade. I want

A soft knock on the door brings me out of my daydream. I blink, fingers tightening around the mug of coffee. "Come in," I call, pulling me legs to me.

Imam enters, and I knew it was going to be him. Riddick wouldn't have knocked. He never does, not even the few times I've been in the shower. It doesn't bother me, even though it bothers Imam. I've heard him say something about how Riddick and I sleep together, how there aren't any walls, any privacy between us. I heard the word, "growing girl" and "sickness," muttered by Imam, and then I heard the sound of Riddick's fist slamming into the wall.

"I'm a killer, holy man," Riddick had growled, just three days ago. "Not a monster. Not that kind."

Not like my dad, in other words.

"Where's Riddick?" I ask as Imam pulls a chair by the bed.

"Out getting supplies that we might need. We've decided to keep to ourselves as much as possible on this new ship, just in case."

"We don't want anyone recognizing Riddick," I say glumly. I sigh. "Is there anything we can do? I mean, about his eyes?"

"The shine job is permanent."

I sigh. "Yeah, I know." I still want one. Having to wear goggles to protect my eyes is a million times better than having to worry about someone sneaking up on me in the dark. Unless Riddick is my eyes from now own. "I just wish there was some way for him to not have to worry about it. Because, you know, we can say Riddick died on the planet, but they won't believe us. Not with those eyes." I love his eyes.

Imam nodded. "But he is resourceful. He will figure something out. And, now, I would like you dress so we can run some errands of our own."

Ug. Setting the coffee down, I flop onto the bed and pull a pillow over my head. "Why do we have to go out? Why can't I just stay here until Riddick comes back?"

"I am not sure when he will return, and you need more clothes than the ones you're wearing. And we need to get books and a computer for you."

I roll over and hug the pillow to my chest. "Books?"

Imam smiles and looks very... wise. It's weird how he can pull learned scholar over him like a cloak, the same way Riddick can wrap menace around himself. It's like, they've got their core personalities, and then trappings they call on when they need.

I wonder if I do it too.

"It's the sacred duty of an adult to pass on culture and learning to the young. You must be educated and I have the ability to do so."

"I'm fine. Really."

"You allow Riddick to teach you."

"Yeah, but, I need to know how to defend myself. Otherwise, someone's going to .... do stuff to me."

Imam raises an eyebrow. "The universe is vast, Jack. Some days, you'll need the strength and skill Riddick teaches you to save yourself. And, some days, you'll need what I can teach you."

I sit up. "And what can you teach me? More prayer?"

"Come with me, and you'll see."

Men suck.

"Fine." I slam the pillow down and get out of bed. "Give me ten minutes."

I'm slower because I'm bleeding and clumsy, but it only takes fifteen minutes. I like not having hair to worry about. It makes things faster, easier. And it makes me feel closer to him.

The first place Imam tries to is some shop that sells *girls* clothes. Not bad girls clothes. I mean, it's not like it's frilly, tight, super-girly crap. But it's girl's stuff. Like, tank tops and tight pants and jackets the hug your body. It wasn't practical.

"I don't think so," I snort, balking just outside the shop.

"Jack..."

"That's *girls* stuff," I say, pointing. "I'm not..." I stop, because that's really stupid. I mean, I *am* a girl. Got the blood and everything to prove it. But...

"Very well," Imam says calmly. "We will go somewhere you find more acceptable for your clothing. However, this shop has certain ... necessities."

"I don't have tits yet," I say bluntly, hoping to end the argument.

He just looks at me.

With a grunt of disgust, I turn and storm into the store. When he gets that look on his face, he won't budge. He's as immovable as Riddick, and it's one of the first things I learned about both of them. They're both convinced their always right and because they're both bigger than me... they usually are.

"Can I help you?" a woman asks me. She looks me up and down and raises and eyebrow, like she doesn't know what to make of me.

"My ... guardian," I stumble over the word, because I have no idea what Imam is to me, "seems to think I need a bra or something. Do you have anything for a girl with no chest?"

The woman kind of suppresses as smile and pulls a measuring device from the pocket of her dress. "Having problems growing up," she says. She comes over and runs the scanner over me, assessing my measurements. "It happens to the best of us." The woman reads the screen and nods.

"What do you mean?" I ask, trying to sound bored. I'm just disappointed that she realized that I am a girl and not a boy with a fucked up guardian.

"I mean, growing up is harder for some girls than others. And, in my experience, the harder it is, the better the woman when you're done. Here." She leads me to the back of the store and pulls out a selection of bras and undershirt-things. "These should work. Go into the back and try them on."

I take them gingerly, afraid they'll strangle me or something if I hold them. The only reason I ever wanted breasts was so Dad wouldn't want to touch me. Other than that, they don't do much good. And Dad's dead now.

Fry had breasts. And Riddick seemed to like her. *I* liked her. I almost wish that Riddick hadn't ghosted her. But she'd just be a nuisance right now. She's probably insist on girl clothes as well as underwear.

"You okay in there?" the saleswoman calls.

I'm trying to tighten and straighten a soft, wireless bra so it fits over my small breasts. "Fine," I call back. I wonder if Imam is still standing outside the store what. I wonder...

"Put your shirt on," Riddick suddenly says, dropping cat-like to the floor besides me.

I bite back a scream and jump. "Riddick...." I stop talking when I see the blood. My shirt goes on. The bras disappear into one of my pockets, and my shiv comes out of another. "Where's Imam?"

"Outside." Riddick grabs me by the waist and hoists me up through the hole in the ceiling. "We've got a change of plan, and my main concern is getting us out. He'll be fine."

I scramble through the opening and start crawling. It's easy to see which way I'm supposed to go, and Riddick is right behind me, practically on top of me.

"Faster, Jack."

I go faster until I'm tripping over my hands. My knees ache from crawling and the cramps start up again from the exertion, but the adrenaline pushes me on.

"Here." Riddick punches his wrist through the floor, dropping the tile. Then he grabs me and drops me through.

I land on my feet in an abandoned shop. It's all dust and broken furniture; I sneeze.

Riddick drops silently besides me, and I wonder how such a big man can be so quiet.

"Now what?" I ask in a whisper. I don't know why; there's no one around, but it seems like the moment to whisper.

He takes me by the neck and pushes me towards the back door. One huge foot smashes the door open and he sticks his head outside, looking from side to side. "Go to the street, get Imam. If he doesn't come, leave him. Come back. We're taking a ship and getting off here."

I clench the shiv in my hand tightly. "You're not going to leave me."

"I'm not going to leave you." His black goggles meet my eyes, and I can see myself, scared and wide-eyed reflected in them.

I don't want to be scared. "Okay."

"Hide the shiv."

I shove it through my belt and pull my shirt over it. Then, with a deep breath, I run.

Imam has moved away from the front of the shop, down closer to me. The minute he sees me running, he starts walking towards me. He walks quickly, but kind of casually. Like he doesn't want to draw attention to himself.

"Imam," I gasp, running into him.

He cuffs me on the ear, lightly. "I've been looking for you everywhere, boy," he says harshly. "You shouldn't have been dawdling. Now we're late." And he grabs my by the wrist and drags me down the street.

Riddick smiles when he sees us. "You're okay, holy man." Then he pulls me away, like he doesn't want to see me being dragged. "Let's go."

"It would be safer if she and I continued with the original plan. We could meet up..."

"I'm not leaving her," is all Riddick says, and he starts running.

Imam and I follow him through the warren of back alleys towards the space port. As I run, I watch the blood dry from Riddick's hand, watch the way he holds his shiv--lightly, but at alert. I try to copy him, try to be aware of our surroundings, try to be like him, but...

"Down!" Riddick shouts suddenly. He whirls and throws himself on me, just seconds before a merc explodes through a window.

Glass sprays over us, and then Riddick's off me and they're fighting.

Imam grabs me and shoves me behind a pile of junk. "Riddick!" I call, trying to get to him, but Imam holds me back.

"This is his fight. Stay."

I bite his hand and get away.

Immediately, I'm tackled by another merc. He pins me down, straddling me. "What do we have here?" he says, looking at my face. "Riddick got a kid?"

Humping my hips hard off the ground, I get enough lift to kick him in the head. The merc groans and throws himself back, clutching his head. I take the opportunity to force him off me. My boot slams into his chest, then his crotch.

"I'm going to kill you, kid!" the man shouts. He sits up, gun in hand.

I don't even think. I don't remember the shiv leaving my hand, but the next thing I know, it's buried in his throat.

He looks about as shocked as I feel. And then, he's dead.

My heart pounds in my ears, my eyes are wide. He's not my first, and I'm not sad or anything, but I still can't believe how easy it was. I'd always thought that the first time was just a fluke. Taking a life should be *hard*. It shouldn't be... like that.

Should it?

Riddick takes the shiv from the mans throat and wipes it off on his pants. "Good throw," he says, holding it to me.

I swallow and look up at him. He's got the goggles off, and his eyes are beautiful in the dimly lit alley.

I blink. "Thanks," I say. And I take the shiv.

Riddick grins at me and cocks his head. "Let's go." Holding his hand up, he reveals the code keys and ignition to the merc's ship. "I've got us a ride outta here."

"Allah be with us," Imam murmurs.

I look at him, then look at the two dead mercs.

And then, I laugh.

* * *

Three hours! Three fucking hours Imam has me praying and crap in the main room of the merc ship. We prayed and then read from the Qur-an and prayed some more. Imam lectured me, talked about how every human life was sacred and God doesn't want us to kill, and if we do, we must be sure to humble ourselves before Him, and then we prayed *again*.

He didn't even let me eat dinner. Even thought I was hungry. Even though I never got lunch. Even though I'd had to run and fight that day. Even though Riddick, the stupid jerk, waltzed through the common room and into the kitchen about two hours into the prayer session. Then, carrying a mug of something and a plate piled with food, he waltzed back through like he doesn't care about anything. And maybe he doesn't.

I'm fucking *starving*.

Finally, *finally* Imam stops praying and closes his stupid book. "So, young one," he says in that melodic, almost hypnotic voice. "Do you have anything you wish to discuss."

What the hell? "No."

"Nothing at all. Nothing about what happened?"

I snort. "What's there to discuss? Some mercs almost caught Riddick. One grabbed me. Now they're dead."

"One is dead by your hand."

That's it; I'm outta here. "Yeah," I say, jumping to my feet. "Well, he's not the first." Then, as a look of horror crosses Imam's face, I take off to Riddick and my room.

"Ahhh!" I scream when the door closes behind me. I kick the dresser, my fists clenched so tightly, my nails cut into my palm.

"Something wrong?" Riddick asks mildly. He's sitting on the floor, sharpening knives.

"We need to ghost Imam," I say.

He laughs. "No."

"Are you shitting me? Did you see what he just did? He's a fucking menace and fucking stupid. We need to ghost him."

He just shakes his head. "No." And then he just sits there, sharpening his knives like some stupid jerk.

Something in me snaps. With a cry of rage, I throw myself at him.

I don't even see Riddick move. One second, I'm rushing him and the next, I'm on the floor, face on fire.

"No," he says, and his voice is sharp and biting. "When you attack, you do it in silence. If you don't, you get yourself killed."

I don't listen to him. With another cry, I throw myself at him.

This time, he hits me so hard, I fly across the room and crash into the dresser.

Moaning under my breath, I struggle to my feet. Across the room, Riddick silently rises to his. "Lights, ten percent," he says.

The lights go down and the goggles come off. Silver eyes gleam and he smiles predatorily.

This time, when I throw myself at him, I do it like he taught me. I still wind up on the floor, but this time, I'm able to take him down, too.

Riddick falls onto his back, but quickly recovers. He slams me into the floor. I cough and groan before smashing the heel of my hand into his chin.

He gets off me. I don't think I made him, but I won the blow, so I'm free. Immediately, I kick out, round-house kick, catching him in the side. He staggers, so I do it again; this time, he anticipates me. He grabs my leg and jerks.

The pain is intense and I cry out, falling to the floor. I try to catch myself, but I fall too fast and end up slamming face first into the floor.

And then, Riddick's on me, knee pressing into the small of my back, my arms twisted tightly behind me. "Sloppy, kid. You need a lot of work."

I grunt and jerk, trying to work myself free.

His grip tightens on me and he yanks my arms painfully. "Not bad, though. You're a fast learner. We just need to work on your technique." He laughs when I try to throw him off again, and this time tears come into my eyes when he twists my arms. "Technique and strength. First thing tomorrow, we hit the gym and build up those skinny arms and legs." He lets me go.

Sore, I climb to my feet. Now, I'm hungry, in pain, and furious. Well. Still furious. And Riddick? Riddick is just sitting there, surrounded by his knives, looking like nothing just happened.

"Lights full," I snap, and I throw myself at him.

Riddick grabs me and folds me into his lap. "Lights *off*."

"Let me go," I say, trying to get out, but he's holding me too tight. He's got my arms folded into my chest and my legs pinned under me. My bruised face is pressed into his collarbone; I've never been so restrained in my life, I swear to God.

"No." His voice is a growl in my ear and it makes me shiver. "We are not going to kill Imam. He's a good man and we need him."

"Why? We could get on by ourselves. We almost got killed today because..."

"We almost got killed because mercs marked me and I've got a big payday on my head. Nothing more."

"Three hours, Riddick. He made me pray for three hours." I sniff. "All for some stupid mercs who would have hurt us if we hadn't hurt them first."

Riddick laughter rumbles low in his throat. "He wasn't praying for them. *You* weren't praying for them. He was praying for you."

I start. "Me? What? Why? I'm not dead."

His arms loosen from their crushing grip and now he's just holding me. I move so I'm comfortable, so my the bruise isn't pressed as painfully against his collarbone.

"Some people find it disturbing hearing a child laugh after killing someone."

I look up at him; all I can see are his eyes, glowing in the dark. "I laughed?"

I can feel his smile. "Yes, you did. Right after the merc died, you laughed."

"I don't remember that. I don't..." Actually, I don't remember much after seeing the knife in the merc's throat. I remember being relieved and thinking how easy that was. But, other than Riddick grabbing me and us running, the moments between the killing and our escape into space were a blur.

His hand runs over the stubble on my head. "People who've never killed don't get it. Not really. And a holy man like Imam will never understand. Killing monsters in self-defense is one thing. Knowing that someone you're traveling with one of those monsters is one thing. Knowing that that monster is training the darling he lifted from the planet is one thing. Seeing that darling use what she's being trained to do? Is an entirely different story."

"The darling?"

"The man smitten with you, kid. He lost the family he took with him to the planet, but he gained a daughter coming off."

I swallow and press myself into him. "Yeah, well, if we split, I'm going with you."

His arms tighten around me again. "Damn straight."

Comforted, I relax against him, my eyes falling shut. I'm tired and hungry and in a lot of pain. I don't know what to take care of first.

But I've got one question I have to ask before I take care of anything else. "Did you find it disturbing?"

"No. I've been there too, remember?"

Next question, then. "How old were you? When you first, you know. Killed someone."

"Fifteen."

I blink. Holy crap! "Fifteen? You mean, I was younger than you?"

"Yes."

"You." I can't believe it. "The great Richard B. Riddick. I killed earlier than you."

He laughs again and squeezes the nape of my neck. "My first kill had more finesse, kid. And the circumstances were different. You've killed twice in self-defense. I killed because the dude was really pissing me off."

"Pissing you off?"

"Kept cheating a pool and bragging about the size of his dick. Yeah, I was pissed off."

"So you just killed him?"

"Yeah. I killed him." He's silent a moment. "Tell that to Imam. The difference between killing to protect you and yours and killing because someone got on your last nerve. Might put things into perspective for him." He shifts me a little, eyes full on my face. "You okay with it?"

That takes me by surprise. Him asking if I'm okay, I mean. About the killing, I mean. "Yeah," I say as flippantly as I can. But his eyes don't leave my face and, yeah, okay, maybe I did think about it a little while I was with Imam. "I guess." The silver eyes bore into mine and, okay, maybe I thought about it a lot.

I swallow back sudden tears that prick in my eyes. "You told me not to cry."

I see his confusion for a moment, but then he blinks and it's gone. "For Johns. Don't you dare cry--or pray--about *Johns*."

"But he was a merc. And they were mercs."

"These mercs wouldn't have hurt you. Not bad. Probably thought I was trying to take you or something. He grabbed you, might have roughed you over, but I was their target. Johns wanted me to slit your throat and drag you behind us to keep the monsters away."

He says it so matter-of-factly, it doesn't sink in at first. Slit me? Drag me? What....

"Oh." And then, I really get it. "Why me?" But then I know. I was bleeding, they'd already marked me. Marked my blood. It was me they wanted. "Maybe you should..."

His hand covers my mouth before I can get the sentence out. "I got off the planet alive, Jack. And I wasn't getting off without you."

"Liar." But he makes me feel better anyway. "You would have skipped out on us, huh? If Fry hadn't found you. You would have left."

"You said you never lost faith in me."

"I didn't." Never a moment of doubt that Riddick wanted to come back for me. But, I'm a realist. "But you would have left."

Riddick laughed and squeezed my face. "But I would have wanted to go back. Even if I hadn't."

"But you did."

"Yes. I did. And now, you're mine." His arms wrap around me. "But if you *ever* come at me screaming again, I won't go easy on you like I did this time. Got it?"

That was easy? "Got it."

"Good. Lights fifteen percent." The lights come on. "Now, lets get you some food and then get you to sleep. We've got a lot to do tomorrow."

"Do I get a new knife?" I ask, climbing off his lap.

"Sure kid. You earned it." He glanced around at the assortment on the floor, and then plucked one up. "This one should suit you good." Gripping the blade, he holds it out to me.

I take it, feeling the comfortable weight in my hand. "A person could do a lotta damage with something like this."

Riddick grins. "Yes, Jack. Yes, you could."

* * *

I feel weird the next morning when I get up. My stomach is all hollow and I'm hot. My face feels like it's burning and when I look in the mirror, I see that the entire side is bruised from where Riddick hit me.

My dad used to do that a lot. Hit me, I mean. Besides the other stuff. He'd go out and get drunk. When he came home, he'd use me as his personal punching bag. Sometimes, he'd give a reason, like the house was messed up or I was breathing too loud. But, mostly, he just hit because he could. I mean, he hated his life and hated everything. The world treated him bad, so I didn't blame him for being unhappy. I just wished he hadn't taken it out on me.

It's weird, though. I don't mind that Riddick hit me. He never would have done it had I not been a moron and gone after him. He just woulda sat there and sharpened his knives and not paid any attention to me.

I mean, attention like that. With his fists. He woulda talked to me and all.

It's always a lesson with him. He's teaching me to be a warrior, after all. To be strong. Because I messed up my attack, he took it as a chance to teach me.

He's like Imam in a way.

A terrible feeling of guilt washes over me. It rushes over my back, up my neck until I'm on fire.

I was a jerk last night to him. All Imam was doing was trying to teach me stuff. Just like Riddick, really. Okay, yeah, it was annoying and way too long and everything, but it wasn't like he was trying to hurt me.

Riddick says that Imam sees me as his daughter. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about that. To me, a daughter is something to beat on and touch in bad places, to feed and give blankets and stuff to. I mean, not that Dad was bad or anything. He bought me stuff and played games with me. We had good times. A few of them.

Mostly, though, we didn't. We were always running out of money and getting run out of wherever we were living. Dad always had to lie to get passage on a ship or to get jobs. I was hungry a lot. And then, of course, he kept touching me, which I didn't like.

So, I don't exactly know what Riddick means when he says that Imam sees me as his daughter. I know in theory how it's supposed to work, but I didn't know many girls growing up. Most kids around were boys and I didn't get along to great with any of them. I was too skinny, too weird, and too out of control for them to like me. Plus, my dad was a drunk who was always picking fights with their dads, and we never stayed long in any place anyway.

Riddick seems to trust Imam. And I trust Riddick.

Heart pounding, I leave our bedroom and go to the common room. I don't know what I'm supposed to say or how to act around Imam. Not with this new knowledge. Well, the daughter thing and the whole him being disturbed by me. I don't get what's so disturbing. It's not like I killed the merc just for fun. The guy was attacking us. He was going after Riddick; I could help, so I did.

Imam is already going through his morning prayers. He's in the middle of them and... and... and that's *our* thing. I thought he was fucking trying to *save* me or some shit and he didn't even wake me up!

Furious, I pick a book up from the floor and throw it at the wall by Imam's head. He flinches as it sails pass him, and his eyes snap open.

"What..."

"You don't want to pray with me anymore?" I shout at him. "Fine. See if I give a flying fuck!"

Imam looks at me like I've gone insane, and maybe I have. I don't know. I feel insane, that's for sure. I'm out of control and I just want to sit in a corner and cry but I can't. Everything is pissing me off and I want to *kill* or kick or just... I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.

"Jack..."

"You fucking son-of-a-bitch! You pretend like you want to help me or care of me or whatever, but you're just like everyone else in the world." I find something else and throw it at him.

Imam ducks away and rises. "I thought after last night you needed time away from me. From prayer. It is my religion, Jack. I hope to share my God with you, but I cannot nor will not force you...."

"Bullshit!" I throw something else.

"Jack..."

"Do I scare you? Is that it? I'm an evil killer." I widen my eyes and approach him, fists clenched. "I kill people, and I *laugh*. I don't feel *anything* when I do it. When I killed my father, I was so happy. It was the happiest fucking day in my life until I met Riddick. I was glad to see the bastard drowning in a pool of his own blood!" Tears spill out of my eyes and down my cheeks. I swipe at them with a trembling hand.

"And what did this man do you, Jack, to make him deserve death?"

I can't figure out Imam's tone. It's gentle and understanding and.... open. He should be angry at me. Disgusted. I'm disgusting. I'm....

I step away. "You should go," I whisper. "Away from me and Riddick. Away from people like us."

His eyes are warm and he's walking to me slowly, like he's approaching some wild animal or something. "And what are people like you?"

"Bad," I croak out. "Bad, evil, disgusting. Dirty." I back away from him, hands on my face. Oh, God, why can't he just leave us alone? Why couldn't he have died on the planet, too, and leave me alone with Riddick?

"You, Jack, are not dirty, disgusting, or evil," Imam says. He comes closer to me. "You have a beautiful soul."

I snort, bumping into the wall that I hadn't realized was so close to. My legs give out and I slide to the floor. "Right."

He crouches in front of me. "Your soul is beautiful. Yes, you have the heart of a warrior, and, yes, you have the emotions and confusions of a growing girl. But that does not make you evil."

"Last night you thought so." I press the heels of my hands into my eyes until they ache.

"Last night you seemed as if you didn't care about anything. You seemed utterly indifferent to the fact you took a life."

"I'd do it again."

"I know you would. It is in your nature. You are a huntress. They were hunters, and they understood the risks of their job when they undertook it." He laughed and touched my cheek lightly, stroking my skin. "Granted, I don't think they expected to encounter someone such as yourself, but you protected yourself and your friends from those who would do you harm."

I drop my hands. "I thought mecs were supposed to be the good guys."

"They hunt and sell men for a living. The only thing that separates them from the men they hunt is government sanction." He cups my face and holds me so he can gaze into my eyes. "Jack, when Shazza died you tried to get to her. You wanted to help. An evil person wouldn't do that."

"But last night..."

"Last night, I was in shock at seeing you kill so easily. I've never killed, and to see you do it so naturally.... But later, when you got angrier and more indifferent, I mistook what was going on. I thought it meant you didn't care; it never occurred to me that you, as well, might be in shock."

"I'm not sad!" I shout. "I'm *glad* he's dead! He tried to hurt me! He touched me, he...." I'm hysterical and screaming and I don't even know who the fuck I'm talking about anymore. And then, I say, "I'm fucking expendable and everyone just *leaves* or *hurts* me or wants to fucking cut me so monsters can get me." I bury my head in my knees and start to sob.

Imam pulls me into his arm and holds me. He's whispering to me, soft, soothing sounds, rubbing my back. He's warm and comfortable and smells like some kind of ... wood or something.

My life has been filled with nothing but men for as long as I can remember. A few women have flitted past: tired, overweight, greasy mother-types with a million brats to feed. Slutty, stick-thin whores, some who actually did it for pay and many more who fucked around just to have a roof over their head for a few nights. A few teachers, some who'd been working for way too long and others who were still bright and shiny with idealism. Fry and Shazza were the first women who seemed both strong, competent, and something I might not mind turning into.

And now, they're dead. And I couldn't do anything to stop it.

Not many women, but a whole lot of men. And not one of them ever had my best interest in mind.

Except, now, I'm on a ship with two men who couldn't be any more different from one another. Imam's gentle and quiet and spiritual. Riddick is violent and dark and rough around the edges. And they both make me feel safer than I ever have. They both make me feel protected, and...

Safe.

I lift my head, eyes feeling swollen and gritty. "I'd do it again," I say, voice gravely. I don't know how long I've been crying, but my throat hurts and my eyes feel like they're going to fall out of my head. "If they come after us like that. Riddick might be a killer, but he's *my* killer. There aren't many people in the universe who I trust not to fuck me over."

Imam laughs. "Yes. The two of you do seem to be a matched pair. The universe can be a wondrous and mysterious place." He rubs his hand over the stubble on my head. "Whatever happened in your past was not your fault, my child. Life can be dark and terrible, even for children. But we are born into the world to be loved and protected. We are born into the world as innocents. A child does not deserve to be treated the way you have been."

I don't know what to say. Everything hurts right now. My head, my nose, my heart, my body. I'm heavy and confused and I just don't know what to do.

"After I killed him, I skipped out. I didn't know where I was going or what I was going to do. I wasn't even planning on going anywhere until I heard that Riddick had been caught." I wipe my nose on my sleeve. "Everyone was making such a big deal about him. About how dangerous and how he's this brutal killer and stuff. How out of control he is. How he just.... goes into a haze of bloodlust and starts killing everyone around him. And I thought, well. He sounds like the kind of guy I'd like to be around. Just in case."

"In case of what?"

I shrug. "I need someone to go psycho. Someone to kill for me." My stomach drops. "Someone to kill me." I lift my head and look at Imam. "I was really fucked up before the Hunter-Gratzner crashed."

"Oh? And why do you think that is?"

I think about it a second, because it's weird to think about me Before. I mean, right now, I'm emotionally all over the place, but, then again, I'm tired and sore and hungry and just saw a bunch of people die. But, other than that, I'm different. More sure, more... something. More like I've got my feet on the ground and a clear destination ahead.

More like I know who I am.

"I think," I say, drawing it out a little. "I think it's because I found Riddick."

Imam smiles sadly and nods. "I believe that you know your heart best." He kisses my forehead and then pulls away. "I am glad he is able to give you the peace you so desperately need."

I grab onto his shirt and hold. "I found you, too," I say. I feel shy all of the sudden. "I mean. You're nice and all. And you saved me from the monsters."

"I would do it again." He pulls me to my feet. "And I would keep your soul safe as well, but only if you wish."

I hesitate and then nod. God's an asshole, but sometimes, you want to have an asshole on your side. Besides. The prayers kind of keep me calm, when I'm not all upset already. "Yeah, sure. I mean, it can't hurt, right?"

He laughs, like he's hearing what I don't want to say. "Yes. Prayer can never hurt."

We pray and then talk a little more. Then, I eat breakfast. A lot of it. I eat until I feel stuffed and full, and I really can't remember when I've had this much food offered to me all at once *and* had the appetite to eat it all. I mean, I've been hungry lately, but I haven't exactly wanted food. I only ate to make the pains go away, and I didn't enjoy it much. Today, I do.

After breakfast, Imam goes off to check our flighpath, and I wander around the ship, looking at stuff. The mercs have a fully stocked galley, a lot of booze, and a lot of vids. I look through all the vids; most of them have titles like, "Big Fucking Tits" and "Pound Her Hard." Boring. But there's some action ones that sound good.

They don't have many books, but, then, they're mercs.

And then, they're the gym. And, in the gym, there's Riddick.

For a long moment, all I can do is stand in the doorway and stare at him. He's got the lights on low, goggles off, shirt off. He's been in here for awhile because there's sweat rolling over his shoulders and down his chest. He's so... muscular, and big. Bulgy. His muscles bunch and twist under his skin as he moves, pumping iron so easily, it's like he's lifting a pillow over his head.

My mouth is really, really dry and my stomach feels funny. I'm hot and cold and feel all squishy inside.

"You comin' in kid, or you just here to admire the scenery?"

Oh, God, that's embarrassing.

I stumble into the gym, tripping over my feet like a moron. Across the room, Riddick drops the weights and comes to me. The smell of soap and sweat and *Riddick* overwhelms me.

"Feelin' better, kid?" he asks. He takes my chin in his hand, studying my face. I wonder how I look though his eyes. I wonder how the world looks.

"Yeah." I sound breathless. I *feel* breathless, too.

"No more wanting to ghost Imam?"

I blush and smile stupidly. "No."

"Good." And then, he kisses my forehead and whispers, "You're *not* dirty, Jack. And that sonofabitch got what he deserved."

I sort of sway on my feet, unable to believe what just happened. And then, it's like I'm not sure it really did, because he's three feet away, looking at me expectantly.

"Come on, kid. We've got work to do."

"Um, right." I shake my head sharply to clear my head. "So. What are we gonna do now?"

His smile sends shivers of trepidation down my spine. "Now? Now we really start your training."

* * *

I thought training had been hard when we started the first time. Back then, Riddick had me up early in the morning, jogging in place, doing push-ups, squats, sit-ups, and tons of other crap until my muscles felt like jelly. I hated those exercises, but it was all worth getting through because, after the "warm-up", Riddick taught me hand-to-hand combat. I don't know if he'd seriously studied any kind of martial arts, or if he'd just learned what worked on the streets, but whatever it was, fighting with him, learning kicks and punches and blocks centered me in a way nothing every had before in my life.

I'd thought I was getting good at it too. The first few days of training, I didn't get to actually throw any punches at Riddick; he just taught me how to punch and kick solo. We went over them over and over again, until I felt like I was doing it right. Then, after another few days of learning blocks and practicing them slowly, he and I started sparring. That's where I learned I didn't know anything about fighting. Riddick kicked my ass over and over again. For five days straight, he mopped the floor with me. No matter what I did, I could never win one hit.

And then, on day six, I did it. I score a hit off him, and once I get that first one, I get a lot of them. So, I figured, I was doing pretty good.

Then, once we were on the merc ship, the *real* training started. Now, instead of running in place, Riddick has me doing laps around the gym three times a day. He starts me at a mile and a half, and then increases the distance by a mile every three days. He also sometimes increases the gravity so it's harder to run.

"You need to build up your stamina," he says, running besides me. He always runs easily, no matter what the gravity or how far or how much we've run that day. And he always runs right next to me, matching my pace, making me match his.

After we run, I have to lift weights. Every day is a different set of weights, a different circuit. One day, he's got me working my legs, the next my arms. And even then, it's different parts of the muscles.

The fascinating thing, though, is he knows how everything works. All the muscles and bones and joints and how they work and move and go together. He can paint pictures with words so I can see how I look inside, and how working on my stomach makes my back stronger, and how both the bicep and triceps work together, how the thighs and calves and... and everything.

Riddick, it sometimes seems, knows everything. Everything about life, everything about people, and everything about me. Seriously. Sometimes, it's scary how easily he can read my mind.

Four days after we blasted off from Rigel, we were all sitting in the common room together. Imam had me studying; at this moment, it was math. He was pretty proficient at surfing the internet and had come across the required curriculum materials for kids my age on New Mecca. It's supposed cost money, but Riddick hacked the system for Imam so we could get at it without drawing attention to ourselves by using Imam's credit. I would have preferred not drawing any attention to ourselves and not taking the chance at all, but, on the other hand, it was going to be three months to our next stop and maybe having something to occupy my mind wasn't such a bad thing.

Anyway, I was going over a really tough problem and getting frustrated. When I get frustrated, I start thinking about all the bad stuff in my life, and how much I hate it, and how everything bad that's happened is all because of me, and....

"Stop it, kid," Riddick had snapped before my thoughts spiraled too out of control.

My head had snapped up and I met his gaze. Well, tried; he was wearing his goggles, since the lights were on. "Stop what?"

"Beating yourself up." He turned the page in the book he was looking through. "It's just a math problem."

"How did you..." I didn't get to finish my question, though, because Imam, now clued into the fact I didn't get my work, came over to help me.

Riddick does things like that all the time. He just *knows* things, like when I'm thinking about what happened on the planet or when I've thought of something funny. He knows the moment I wake up every morning, and I bet he knows when I fall asleep.

It kind of reminds me of that old myth someone once told me about. About that man, Santa Claus, who was supposed to take everyone presents. He knew when you were sleeping, awake, and if you'd been bad or good. And, oh my God, does Riddick know when I've done something bad. I don't mean to be bad or anything. I don't mean to snap at Imam or push buttons I shouldn't, or break things. It's just that, sometimes, I can't help it.

Especially the breaking things. Lately, it feels like my body isn't under my control anymore. I'm constantly bumping into things and getting bruises and stuff on my legs and arms. And, okay, yes, I'm bruised from my training sessions with Riddick, but these bruises were different. Everything about me feels different, like I'm an alien or something. I hurt all the time, but it's not because I'm working so hard. Not just because, I mean. I breasts hurt and my legs ache. I'm clumsy and slow and something inside me is burning too hot.

There are three crew cabins in the ship that we stole. Imam gets one, Riddick and I share another, and the third is empty. Every night, while I'm getting ready for bed, Riddick goes into the third cabin and locks himself in. I asked him why once, and he just gave me a look that made me wish I hadn't asked. Apparently there's a line there and he doesn't want me to cross it.

I really want to know what he's doing in there. Not knowing makes me feel stupid.

While he's in the cabin, I lock myself in the bathroom. It's the only time I ever use the lock, and it's not because I'm naked or anything. I'm not even doing anything. I just... sit there, on the sink and look at myself in the mirror, trying to figure out who it is, staring back at me.

I'm busier than I've ever been in my life. Riddick has me working out for about four hours a day. Except for the running and push-ups and stuff, it's fun. I love hand-to-hand, love being able to take him down and for it to be *real*, love learning how to jump from high places and land on my feet and then start running or fighting. I *really* love the obstacle courses Riddick sets up every five days. He always wakes up real early to set them up over the entire ship, and then we practice running through under different conditions. Sometimes, I'm chasing him. Sometimes, he chases me. Sometimes it's dark and I have to feel my way through, and sometimes it's super-bright. Even Imam joins in with us, making it more like a game than work.

Riddick has me working my body. Imam has me working my mind. They're both patient and warm and ... attentive. For the first time in my life, I'm being cared for, fed, listened to, and kept safe.

And, for the past week, I've been really, *really* unhappy and I don't know why.

"*She was worn out and was not yet out of the forest*," Imam said in that comfortingly melodic voice of his. He turned the page of the book he was reading to me, a book he'd found hidden in one of the merc's dressers and started reading to me every morning when we started out lessons and every night before we went to bed. "*Reaching an old chestnut tree she knew, she made one last halt, longer than the others, to rest up well, then she gathered all her strength, took up the bucket again, and began to walk on courageously. Meanwhile the poor little despairing thing could not help crying: "Oh my God! Oh God! At that moment she suddenly felt the weight of the bucket was gone. A hand, which seemed enormous to her, had just caught the handle, and was carrying it easily.*"

My heart began to pound strangely in my chest for some reason. Normally, I don't really listen too much to stories and stuff. Of course, it's not like many people in my life had been all that eager to read to me. And I mean real things, not like, the back of cereal boxes or those stupid stories that come out of the anthologies at school. This was *real*. A novel, a classic written back on Earth over a thousand years ago. And... it was beautiful.

"*She looked up. A large, dark form, straight and erect, was walking beside her in the darkness. A man who had come up behind her and whom she had not heard.*"

My eyes are drawn to Riddick, who's stretched across the couch. I can tell his eyes are closed, and I'm not sure how I know this, but I do. He's got his hand crossed over his stomach, and his breathing is slow and deep.

I can't stop looking at him.

"*This man, without saying a word, had grasped the handle of the bucket she was carrying. There are instincts for all crises of life.*" Imam paused and I could sense him looking at me, but I couldn't look away from Riddick. "*The child*," Imam read slowly, "*was not afraid*."

A lopsided smile broke over Riddick's face and he turned his head in my direction. Time sort of seemed to stop there, with him looking at me and me unable to look away. Because I was so totally Cosette, kind of. I mean, a lot tougher and older and everything, but I was that kid wandering in the woods, trying to carry something too big for me back to a place I didn't want to go. Didn't belong. And Riddick? Riddick was that big, silent man walking beside me in the darkness. And I'd bet a million bucks that the character who'd just found Cosette was Valjean, the convict. Just like Riddick.

Of course, Riddick had done a lot more than just steal a loaf of bread. But that was besides the point.

Imam made a noise. "Well. I will retire for the evening. I will look over your essay tomorrow morning while you are with Riddick." He rises from his seat and walks over to me. "Sleep well, young one," he tells me, rubbing his hand over my head.

I manage to tear my eyes away from Riddick. "Night."

He smiles and drops a kiss on my head. "Good-night."

My eyes are magnetically drawn back to Riddick, who is still looking at me.

"Lights ten percent," he says the moment Imam is gone. The goggles come off and he slid off the couch like he's made of water. "Do you think he's trying to tell us something by the book he chose?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Am I really that pathetic?"

"You're not eight years old," was his answer. "What's the matter, kid?"

"What?"

He cocks an eyebrow. "You've been moping around all week. What's the matter?"

Oh. So he'd noticed. I'd wondered, just because he hadn't said anything before and he usually knows everything about me.

I shrug and look at the floor. "I don't know. I just feel weird."

Riddick inhales deeply and looks around. "You play poker?"

"What?" Sometimes, it feels like the only thing I ever say around him.

His teeth gleam and he pulls a deck of cards from his pocket. "Poker. The game of kings."

"I thought that was chess." I watch as he shuffles the cards.

"Kings of the slam, then." He starts to deal. "What's going on with you? You givin' up on me?"

"No!" I grab the cards, shaking. Oh, God, does Riddick want me to leave him alone or something? "No, I'm not giving up. I swear."

"But you're not happy."

"I'm fine. I'm fine, really. I love working with you."

"What about Imam? He tells me you're extremely bright. He's not pushing you too hard, is he?"

I shake my head and try to make sense of the cards. Dad played poker all the time, and he did teach me but, right now, I can't remember if a full house is good or not. "It's fine. No one's ever pushed me before. It's good."

"Then what's the problem?"

I shrug and shuffle my cards in my a little. "Ever afraid you were an alien?"

"Every day when I was growing up."

Startled, I look up. I hadn't expected him to take that question seriously; it was such a stupid question, after all.

Riddick's cool eyes are resting on my face, serious and thoughtful. "My whole life, I felt like there was something living under my skin. I was different from everyone else. I bounced around from foster home to foster home because I could never get myself under control. I was always angry; I could feel the animal inside trying to get out, and when I got angry..." He shrugged. "I got really angry. And did a lot of damage. It only got worse when I got older. When I was your age, it started getting out of my control. So, yeah, I felt like I was an alien."

Tears rise to my eyes. Furious, I swiped at my eyes, not wanting him to see me like this. "I ... I feel like I don't know who I am right now," I say, tears spilling down my cheeks. "It's like I died or something on that planet, and now I can't figure out who's left in here."

"How long you been posing as a boy?"

"Pretty much always. I've always been Jack. Only way I know my real name--Audrey--is because after I killed him, I went through all his stuff. Found my birth certificate, and there was my name. So, I've always been passed off as a boy, mostly. I mean, at school and stuff, people knew I was a girl, but I almost always had the short hair and if any of the kids played with me, it was always the boy."

"All right," Riddick says, tapping his cards hands. "How long have you been passing yourself off as a boy of your own volition?"

I wipe my nose on my hand. "About a year. Since I killed him. I took one transport off the planet. I was at the space station, as a girl. Even went by Audrey for the first time in my life. And right away, it was like I was a magnet or something. These guys..." I stop talking, because I already when through what Dad did to me with him; I didn't want to go through anything else if I didn't have to.

"So you went back to Jack."

I nodded and wished I could just stop crying.

Riddick reaches out and checks my hand. "You win," he says, taking my cards. "So." He places all the cards on the floor and puts his hands on my leg. "Do you want to stay Jack? Because, it seems to me that if you're already in an identity crisis, you might not want to keep the identity some sick fuck gave you."

I think about it for a second. I've thought about it, in those long hours of looking in the mirror. Thought about announcing that I was someone else. A new name. I could try Audrey for awhile, or try something else. Like... like Shazza or Carolyn, in remembrance. Or something completely different, really cool, and exotically beautiful, like Kyra.

"No," I finally say. "No. I'm Jack. And I think I need to stay Jack."

"All right." He sits back. "Jack it is." Riddick cocks his head and looks at me until I shiver from the weight of his eyes. "You know we're making a stop at the Trillian Space Station in a couple days. A change in the itinerary."

"Yeah, Imam told me. Why? I don't get it. We should just push on until we get to the Aquilan System. Sell the ship, get a new one. Push on to...." My voice trails off abruptly.

"Push on to New Mecca," Riddick finishes for me. He sighed and rubs his hand over his face, and in that moment, he stops being this god to me and becomes... human. It's weird and it makes me uncomfortable.

I almost makes me fall a little bit in love with him, in some weird way.

"I'm not going to be able to stay, Jack," he says, shaking his head. "I want to. Want to rejoin the human race, want to put my past behind me. But, after Rigel, I don't know if that's possible."

I move over to him until I'm almost in his lap. "Can't we do anything? I mean, it's the eyes that give you away, mostly. Right?" I reach out and trace my fingers over his eyebrows.

He catches my wrist. "It's not just that. People know me, know what I look like. Especially the mercs. They won't be thrown if the eyes aren't there. Besides, it's just more than being afraid of what's going to happen." He holds my wrist in front of his face, like he's studying me. "A part of me died on that planet too, Jack. But not all of it. If anyone pushes me the wrong way, I can't say what I'll do."

I swallow, tears rising again. "You can't leave me, Riddick. Not right now. I don't know who I am, and if you leave...."

Riddick sighs and pulls me against him. "I know, kid, and that scares me. Back on that planet, it physically hurt, trying to leave you. Not Carolyn. You. When that monster almost got you, I tried to leave, tried to save myself, and it felt like I was leaving part of me behind. I tried twice. Almost made it the second time."

"What stopped you?"

"Carolyn. Told me she'd died for you. Kind of pissed me off, because if anyone was gonna to die for you, it should be me. I also thought about leaving you on Rigel when the mercs found me, but I didn't even make a move to leave you. Just brushed the thought aside and went for you. For some reason, I can't leave you behind. Which begs the question, why?" Both hands wrapped around my wrists, he pushes me off him, holding me inches from his face. "What is it about you, kid, makes it so hard to leave behind?"

I'm crying again, harder this time. I want to hide it, but Riddick's holding me so I can't move my hands, and I feel like I'm pinned to a table being studied. "I don't know," I say. "But I'd die if you left me behind."

"It's not going to happen. Not if I can help it." He drops my wrists and then wipes the tears from my cheeks. "We have to stop at the space station because we're running out of food. You're eating us out of house and home, kid." Riddick grins and pinches my stomach. "The other thing is you really need new clothes. You're going up fast, babe, and by the time we hit the Aquilian System, you'll have busted through. Which also might be a part of the reason you feel like an alien."

I climb off him and look at my body. Riddick's right and I hadn't even noticed. I've gained weight, and not just muscles. My hips are rounder and I've actually got breasts that are visible under my shirt. And I have been eating a lot. What with Riddick working me at all hours, and Imam making my think, I've been *hungry*.

"I'm not... going to be able to be a boy much longer, am I?"

Riddick shakes his head. "No, you won't. Maybe another month or two. But you're growing up, and you're going to be a hell of a woman."

"And it's going to start all over again," I say morosely.

"No. Nothing is going to start over again, Jack, because, unlike before, you know how to kick some major ass." He cuffs me lightly under the chin. "You're never going to be cornered again, babe. I'll make sure of that."

Warmth floods me. My face feels like it's on fire, and I cross my arms over my chest. "Thanks, Riddick. For everything."

"Yeah, well. Right back at you." He clears his throat and picks the cards up off the floor. "And now, kid, prepare to get your ass kicked at poker."

I laugh and sit back on my heels, wiping the rest of the tears away. "Oh yeah? Bring it on."

* * *

"Now, this is just a quick stop-over," Riddick says as Imam and I get ready to leave the ship. "If you don't come back in six hours, I'm leaving without you."

I roll my eyes and pull a jacket over my shirt. After what he said the other night, I seriously doubt he'd ever leave me. Not unless he wants me to track him down and slip a knife between his ribs while he sleeps. And, okay, maybe he doesn't think I can do it, but I will.

He grins at me as I telegraph all this through my eyes. He knows what I'm thinking and he thinks it's funny. "I'm serious," he says, this time just to me. "I've changed the energy signature for the ship, changed the ID, and produced papers certifying that Francis Smith owns the ship and is towing along his sibling, Taylor, and personal spiritual counselor, Ali." He pulls a couple of cards from his pocket and hands them to me and Imam. "Don't fuck up. And *don't* use your own credits, holy man."

Imam takes the cards and gives me one. "We have been over this, Riddick. I know the plan. And we shall not be late," he tells Riddick. "While we are away, what will you be doing?"

"Working on the ship. I've still haven't hacked all the way in, so anyone who looks too closely is going to figure out that the ship is stolen. I don't think that's going to be a problem here, because we're going to keep a low profile." And he looks at me here, like I'm going to go out and pick a fight or something. Like I'm stupid or something.

Riddick shakes his head. "You're a hot-head, kid, and overeager. Don't stick out too much. Promise me."

"Okay, I promise."

"Good. Now. Go over it again. What are you going to do?"

We recite the plan, such as it is. It's not intricate or anything. Imam is going to four different computers terminals all over the station to book four different rooms one three different planets and two different cities that are along our flight path. We're not going to any of them; Riddick's chosen our final location, a planet called Tortha, which is on the outskirts of the Aquilian System. Riddick wants to cover our tracks the best we can.

Anyway, as Imam goes around the station, he's supposed to go for supplies. Food, clothes, dishes, towels, soap. The mercs didn't have much of anything, and we've almost used everything there.

And, of course, Imam is planning on getting books, a computer, and other stuff to further my education. Joy.

As for me, I'm responsible for getting clothes for myself. And a change or two for Riddick; Imam is taking care of himself, but we've decided that it's too dangerous for Riddick to leave the ship. At least here. A space station is too insular and Riddick is too recognizable.

"So, everyone's clear?" Riddick says after Imam and me are done explaining what we're going to do.

"*Yes*!" I stamp my foot, anxious to get going.

I get another super-amused smile from Riddick. He pulls the chair towards me and shrugs, telling me, "Then go." Then he kicks me lightly in the ass.

"Jerk," I say, sticking out my tongue at him.

His smile turns predatory and, without warning, he lunges for me.

"Go, Imam!" I shriek as I back away from Riddick. My hands are out in a defensive posture, and I try to kick him. He keeps blocking me and stalking me menacingly.

"Children, both of you," Imam informs us in a dry voice. "Don't forget we have a time schedule."

"Don't worry," Riddick purrs, muscles bunched under his skin like he's ready to pounce. "She'll get out here in plenty of time."

I suppress a giggle, ducking behind the chair, trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to get out of this.

"She'd better." And with that, he leaves.

"You've got yourself into a corner, little girl. What are you going to do now?"

Shit; I hadn't noticed. I've got the chair in front of me, the wall at my side, and the con at my back. If could try to get around the side of the chair, but he'd get me too easy. I can't go under it, and....

Riddick clicks his tongue, shaking his head slowly. "Bad choice. You should have..."

Grunting hard, I catapult myself over the chair. My leg slams into the chair, but I manage to hoist myself over with enough speed to hurl myself onto Riddick.

Caught off guard, he falls back, arms around me. He's not caught off guard for long, though, because the minute he hits the floor, he rolls on top of me, pinning me.

"That was fucking terrific," he said, laughing. I can feel his heart beating against my chest, his hand squeezing around my wrist.

"Thanks. Did you see it coming?"

"In your face the moment you decided to do it. You telegraphed a little too much. But it was a good move." He kisses my forehead and climbs off me. "You okay?"

My leg is killing me. I accept his hand for help up and wince as I put weight on my leg. "I'm fine. Just bruised. A little." I can walk it off.

He nods and rubs my head. "Good. Now, you should get going. Get some clothes that fit you."

"Yeah. You want anything specific?"

He thinks about it a second, then says, "Try to see if you can find some dark glasses about the size of the goggles."

"Will glasses protect you?"

"Don't think so, but I'll see what I can do with them."

"Okay." I straighten my clothes and look up at him. "So, I'll see you in six hours."

"Five hours, fifty-minutes," he corrects me.

"Right." I head for the hatch, when he stops me.

"Kid."

"Yeah?" I turn.

Riddick holds out another card to me. When I take it, I see there's more than ten thousand credits on it, and it's under the name Jack Richards. "Have some fun while you're out there, too. Get something you don't need."

I don't know what to say. In my whole life, I can count on one hand the number of times someone has given me something. Like a present, I mean. Or money.

I swallow, feeling suddenly extremely nervous. My stomach is fluttering and my hands feel sweaty. "What.... What is this?"

"Money. Mad money, something just for fun. I'd tell you to go out and buy yourself something pretty, but you'd just try to kick my ass if I said that." His smile is lopsided and makes my stomach turn to complete jelly.

"I can't..."

"I skimmed it from Johns." He looks away when he says this, like he's not sure if he should have said it.

I lean back against the wall, feeling kind of sick. "Johns."

He shrugs. "Yeah. I figured if anyone deserves it, it's you. They still haven't wised up to the fact he's deceased, yet. It's been reported and confirmed, but they haven't closed down any of his accounts and whatnot. The man had no family, and I figure if anyone deservers what he's got..."

"It's the kid he wanted to use as bait," I finish. I palm the card, slipping it into the sleeve of my shirt. "Yeah. Poetic justice and all." I don't want to say anything else, because I feel to weird. So I just leave.

Riddick'll understand. I know he will.

The space station is pretty well populated, very diverse. I lived on a space station once, when I was eight or so. The station was above a planet that was being mined to death, and there was plenty of work, even for a guy like Dad. I didn't like living on it all that much. I like being outside and feeling the wind and stuff on my face. Space stations are all metal all the time. It's like being on a ship without any movement. I can't stand being stationary. No pun.

The first shop I duck into is a girls' shop. The bras we bought back on Rigel don't fit anymore, which sucks because I don't want to have to buy more. I don't want to be anywhere near this shop, but I have to.

It takes a little longer this time. The sales lady, once she figures out that I am, in fact, a girl and not some freak boy, she gets super excited.

"Such pretty eyes," she coos. "And the baldness really brings them out. I've got some eye-shadow on sale that'll make them shine." And she touches my face saying, "The boys'll go wild for you."

Like I even want that, although I wonder if Riddick....

He's not that kind of monster, I remind myself sternly.

But what if I want him to be? a small voice asks from deep inside.

I squash it down and pulled away. "Look, all I need is something to keep my tits from bugging me too much. I wear clothes like these," and I gesture at my boys clothes, "and work out four hours a day. Other than that, I study or play cards and stuff. I don't need anything frilly, girly, or sexy. Got it?"

She seems miffed but just says, "Fine," and goes for the selection of no frills bras.

By the time we're done, I'm sorry I snapped at her. She helps me find this entire set of bras that are made for working out in. They're actually comfortable, too, and I feel so bad about being such a bitch, that I buy the eye-shadow, and a satin bra and panty set. And a skirt. And a blouse. And three tank tops. And two pairs of pants.

And then I get out of there before she shoves anything more into my bag. Because, after I relented on the eyeshadow, she just started grabbing things she said would make me beautiful.

Oh. She slipped lipstick in there, too.

I feel so ... weird after the whole experience, I run to the first men's shop and bury myself there. I get Riddick's stuff first, because I'd rather take care of him than think of myself anymore. Maybe if I get him enough stuff, he won't notice all the girly things that I've gotten. Maybe I can hide it all in the third room....

I wonder what he does in the third room.

After I've gotten more than enough for him, I get stuff for me. I've never had much, never needed much. But, I haven't grown like this before, either. Not really.

But I'm not getting taller. I think I've topped out, and it's all in my waist and hips and stuff. Guys don't get hips, but they can get fat, and I don't....

Maybe I should get some pants at a girl's shop, too. I mean, it's not all girly stuff. I saw some functional clothes, like what Fry was wearing.

I end up getting a few shirts and some pants in different sizes. I figure, if I go up in the waist, I should just go up in the waist, and it'll be fine.

The last thing I get is a hat to replace the one I lost on the planet. When I'm bald, it seems like people are just taking me for what I look like. Sometimes, with hair, they'd look, because girls sometimes have short hair. Almost no kids are bald.

Which is what gets me in trouble.

After I finish getting clothes, I did like Riddick said and had some fun. I got ice cream and a shit-load of candy. I also bought a few video games for the computer Imam said he was getting me. The game store also had some vids, so I got a few more. The mercs had seriously crap taste, and I wanted to see something good.

They had a few vids with the title "Les Mierables." I buy them all, wanting to see the story played before me. See if it was as good on screen as it was in print.

And that's all. Since I've never had much, I've trained myself not to want for much. I don't know what to do with all this money. I've had my fun, and now I have my stuff. All I can do is hope that Riddick is happy.

"Hey, freak," I hear someone say behind me.

Shit.

Something hits me between my shoulders, hard.

"Turn around, baldy. Let's see your face."

I turn, dropping my bags as I do. Behind me are a group of boys, all well-fed, well dressed. They look like snots, the kind of kids who parents are still married and come home every night for dinner and give them everything they want. They're the kind of kids I hate.

"What do you want?" I ask. My shiv is in my pocket, and I casually reach inside, curling my fingers around it.

The ring-leader shrugs and kind of smiles. "We just want to see the new kid in town. Give him a welcome."

"I'm not new. I mean, I'm not stayin'. I'm just passing through."

He kind of swaggers up to me, holding another rock in his hand and I can't help wondering what where the hell he was getting *rocks* on a *space station*.

"Passing through? Don't you know that you've gotta pay a fee to pass through our territory?"

I stifle a laugh. Because, Jesus Christ, these are kids. Little, spoiled rich kids who don't *have* territory.

"What do you want?"

They're poking through my bags, now. The candy, mostly, but my video games and vids. I'm tense and angry, but I'm hoping that they just go away soon. Without hurting me any more, I mean.

"You've got a good haul," the ringleader says. "If you share it, that'll cover the fee."

I hate bullies. Especially now that I've met the biggest bully of all in Johns. And there's now way I'm giving my candy to these jerks.

"I don't think so." I grab the bags and start backing away. "I'm not staying long enough."

The rock flew so fast that I didn't see him let it go. It slices across my cheek, drawing blood that flows quickly down my face, into my mouth.

I drop the bags. "Get the hell away from me."

And, of course, the underwear set spills out onto the ground, surrounded by the bras and crap.

My face starts burning with humiliation.

The boys all shriek and start kicking the panties and shit like they're going to get cooties or something.

"What are you?" the ringleader demands, dancing around like an idiot. "Some kind of sicko?"

"They're for my sister, you asswipe!" I crouch so I can shove everything back into the bags.

"You're shopping for your *sister*? I don't think so, you fucking fag!"

And then they jump me. Not just one, the entire group, all at once.

My brain just shuts down. I react just like Riddick taught me, and I can't honestly remember what happened. I just remember this animal rage exploding in me.

There are screams. There's some blood. I feel bones breaking underneath my hands, and the weight of bodies decreases as I strike. I'm hyper-aware of everything around me: the smell of their fear, where they stand, the crowd gathering around us, the sobs of the boys as I crush them. My skin is super-sensitive, but it doesn't feel pain. I can just sense everything through my skin, in my ears. Information appears in my brain and I act, slicing out...

And then, a much, much heavier weight tackles me to the ground. My shiv flies out of my hand and my head slams me to the floor.

"Get the bags," I hear Riddick shout, and then the world turns end over end. Riddick's butt is in my face and he runs, darting and dodging through the crowd.

I feel sick and weird as we run. All the blood rushes to my head until it pounds, and my stomach is trying to crawl out of my mouth.

"Rid...." I croak out, and then I cough hard, bile filling my mouth.

Riddick shifts me so I'm at his side. I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on tightly, my face in his neck. My hearts throbbing in my ears and I'm so, so scared about what's happening.

We reach the ship a few seconds ahead of Imam. Riddick dumps me into the co-pilots chair and growls, "Strap in."

Hands trembling, I obey. Riddick's face is an angry mask, and he's so... intense. Behind me, Imam doesn't look much better.

"*Valjean I, this is launch control. you are not cleared for lift-off. Stand down and prepared to be boarded," a tiny, angry voice snapped over the intercom. "*Launch control of Valjean I, stand down and...."

Riddick turned off the intercom as he flicked over a bunch of knobs. I try to watch what he's doing because I really, *really* want to learn to be a pilot, but I can't process what he's doing. It's like there's a blanket between us, and I don't understand, and...

I'm thrown back into my chair as we scream out of the station. The stars seem to streak and blur and then....

We're in the stillness in space. I don't know how he did it, but Riddick did a hyper-drive jump while surrounded by ships and in the gravitational pull of a space station. And now, we're free.

I swallow, feeling ill. "Riddick..."

He pushes the chair away from the con and rises in one, swift, angry motion. "Get cleaned up," he says, voice tight with fury.

"Riddick..."

"And don't follow me." And then he's gone, leaving anger and darkness hanging in the air behind him.

* * *

For the longest time, Imam and I sit in the cockpit, not moving, not saying anything. I'm completely numb. My vision is all fuzzy or something, and my teeth are chattering. I can still feel blood dripping down my face; it splashes onto the control panel in front of me, bright red against cold gray.

"Come," Imam says behind me, startling me. I hear fabric rubbing together as he rises, and then his hand is wrapped around my upper arm. He's nearly as big as Riddick in some ways, I realize. "You are wounded."

I let him pull me to my feet. He takes me through the ship into Riddick and my room, and then into the bathroom. One of the only things the mercs overstocked their ship with was medical supplies. It made sense in their line of work, of course, and Riddick and I had been using it a lot after our workouts. I tend to bang myself a lot during our sessions.

The first thing Imam does is make me take my shirt off. Even though it's Imam and not Riddick, I'm not embarrassed to be sitting in my bra in front of me. I'm too numb.

"Allah be merciful," Imam hisses, holding my shirt by his side. He swallows hard, shakes his head, and then digs through the medicine cabinet.

I don't remember the last time I've been this passive. Just willing to let someone else take care of everything. Take care of me, not that that's happened a lot in my life. Ever since I killed my dad, I've been moving nonstop. I've been taking care of myself, always moving, always doing *something* in order to survive. But right now, I can't muster up the will.

"What did they hit you with?" Imam asks, cleaning the cut on my cheek.

The pain is so intense, my stomach rolls in agony. Sweat beads on my forehead, and my mouth floods with some kind of sour liquid. "A rock." I swallow. "It was sharp." I cry out when he rubs deeply into the laceration.

When he pulls away, the cotton is bright red and more blood is flowing down my face.

"The wound needs to be closed or it will scar." He throws the cotton pad away and digs through cabinet again. "They must have a stitcher somewhere," he says, referring to a medical device that seals bad lacerations seamlessly.

I watch him exhausted, wishing I could just lie down and sleep. I'm so tired and so cold.

"Here." He shoves an ice pack into my hand. When I just sit there stupidly holding it, he moves my hand to the side of my stomach.

I groan when the ice touches it, and it brings my eyes down to see the damage done to my body.

Those snot-nosed punks managed to do a number on me. My side is bruised black, and there are cuts all over my chest and arms. Apparently, I suck at fighting.

"There's nothing to seal it with," Imam says suddenly. "We may have to sew it closed."

Oh, *that* sounds fun.

"Wait here."

"Imam." My voice sounds oddly hollow.

Imam stops at the doorway and turns back to me. His face, as always, is a mask of concern and love, although, right now, there's a healthy dose of fear in it as well. "Yes?"

I lick my dry lips. "Did I...." If I can do it, I have to be able to say it. Inhaling deeply, I force myself to ask, "Did I kill anyone?"

His face softens and he shakes his head. "No, Jack. You did not. But you hurt the boys badly. At the end, when Riddick and I arrived, you weren't fighting the boys who originally attacked you. Others joined in the fight to subdue you. That is where the majority of your injuries came from."

"Except this," I say automatically, touching my still bleeding cheek. Then I admit, "I don't remember."

He nods sadly and then disappears.

Oh, God. What kind of monster am I? I mean, yeah, I said I wanted to be just like Riddick. And, yeah, there's a small part of me that really wants to earn my eyes and all, but....

Kids? There should be a line, shouldn't there be? Yeah, they'd been punks and bullies and stuff, but they were just kids. The kind of kids who didn't know about people like me. They were loved and didn't have to know...

"Fuck!" I hear Riddick scream. There's the terrible sound of something unmovable hitting something unbreakable, and I swear I feel the ship shake. Then I hear the unmistakable noise of a room being torn apart.

I slide off the toilet and press myself into a corner. I don't want to deal with this.

"Okay, this is the deal," Riddick says suddenly, bursting into the bathroom. He leans down and picks me up like I don't weigh anything at all. "The fuckin' mercs didn't think that basic medical equipment like a stitcher was important. Probably were proud of the scars they earned. So, either we stick a bandage on your cheek and hope the scar isn't too noticeable, or I can sew you up." He sets me on the bed and then kneels in front of me, arms resting on my knees.

I know he's asking me something important, but I can't figure out what it is. Stitcher? Scar? Sewing? It's like he's speaking another language.

So I say the only thing I'm capable of. "Are you mad at me?"

"Get the needle and thread, holy man. And the strongest alcohol you can find."

"Are you sure?"

"Every planet and space station in the system are going to be looking for her after the number she did on those kids." He turns to look up at Imam. "We fix her here, or she's taken from us for good."

Imam swiftly leaves.

"This is going to hurt, Jack," Riddick says. He's wiping blood from my cheek, looking scary-serious. "They've got some pain killers, but I don't think it's going to be enough."

I swallow back tears. "Do you hate me?"

He sighs. "No, Jack, I don't hate you. I'm a little pissed, though, that you managed to single handedly blow all of our plans with one single blow."

"I'm sorry." I want to point out that they started it, but I don't think he'll buy that. "I just... they kept calling me names. And then they threw the rock, and... and even then, I tried to ignore them, but I dropped my bags. They saw what was in them, and they... they're such stupid kids." I blink rapidly, trying to get rid of the tears.

"They jumped you?"

I nod. "All of them at once. I just reacted."

"Well, we'll just have to work on you reacting in so your brain doesn't shut down like that. They were kids, Jack."

The tears all come out. "I know, Riddick. But so am I."

He sighs and nods. "Yes, you are. But you're also trained to fight. And I'm not just training you to fight, kid. I want you to be able to take down someone who might hurt you, and to get away once you do. You have to learn not to use it against people who can't fight back. Can't defend themselves against someone like you."

"A monster."

"No. You're not a monster, kid."

"Not yet," I say gloomily.

Imam returns with thread and needle. He's also carrying a large bottle of scotch. "Here." He hands the needle and thread to Riddick, then disappears back into the bathroom. When he returns, he's got the bottle of alcohol and another cotton towel.

Riddick cleans the needle and thread, then sets them down. "Drink this."

"Riddick," Imam protests, but Riddick silences him with a look.

Trembling inside, I take a gulp of the scotch. It burns my throat and tickles my nose. I start coughing, wincing at the taste, but obediently swallow another gulp. It still burns, but it's less intense this time.

"Feeling warm yet kid?"

I'm not. It takes three more big gulps for the world to start feeling soft and fuzzy, and for the pain to recede in a soft, happy kind of way.

"Imam. Get behind her and hold her hands. It'll make her more comfortable."

Imam sighed softly and climbed on the bed. He and Riddick maneuvered me so I was reclining in Imam's lap, head resting against his chest, hands firmly in his. I get the vague feeling that Imam's actually going to be restraining me once the pain starts, but I don't care.

"Give her this if it gets too much," Riddick says, putting the bottle of Scotch next to my head.

"I will," Imam swears. He squeezes my hands, drawing my attention. "You cannot pray out loud," he tells me, looking deeply into my eyes. "But listen to my words, fall into the prayer. Give yourself over."

I manage a smile, tasting blood as pain lances through my face anew. "I'll be fine," I whisper.

He nods and tries to smile, but his eyes are filled with fear.

"Okay," I say shakily. "Start already."

Riddick's lips quirk in a smile. "All right. Lights out."

The room darkens to pitch black. For a moment, my heart seizes, my head and ears full with the horrible screeching of those monsters on that planet.

Then, Riddick's eyes appear in the darkness, silver and glowing and the most comforting sight I've ever seen. He gazes deeply into my eyes for a long moment, and my heart seems to stand still.

Then, the eyes go half-mast. I hear him move, pick up the needle. His eyes flick to mine again and then...

Then the pain starts.

* * *

Sometime later, I open my eyes again. My head pounds, my cheek is on fire, and my mouth is dry. I feel hot and feverish.

"Riddick?" I whisper. My mouth is sticky. "Riddick?"

"I'm here, kid." The bed dips and his hand covers my forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been drained of all blood and stuffed with needles."

He laughs, and it washes over me comfortably. "I'm not surprised. You're running a fever and I think we got you pretty drunk." He settles into the bed next to me and pulls me against him. "Imam and I were talking about our next move. He thinks..."

"I'm staying with you," I cut him off.

"You didn't even hear..."

"I'm staying with you. I like Imam all right, but I need you. I need you more than I need him." I turn into him and press my forehead against his shoulder. "Don't make me leave. Don't make him leave, I promise I'll be good on the next planet. I swear."

Riddick's sigh gusts over my head. "Not even for awhile?"

"My power over you only works if I'm actually with you," I say. "I don't trust you to come back for me. Not again."

"I will always come back for you, Jack."

"I don't want to test it. Not right now." My head throbs. "Just don't leave," I whisper.

He sighs again. "Fine. We'll come up with another plan. And next time, when I tell you to try not to stick out, do us all a favor and don't stick out."

"Done," I say. Then, overwhelmed and achy, I close my eyes and quickly drift back to sleep.

* * *

"Riddick?" Nothing. "Riddick!" He doesn't answer me. My heart pounds in my throat as I try to sense where he is, but I can't. It's not just that I'm blind; I feel like my hands have been cut off and now I'm being asked to play piano or something.

I'm shaking now. I don't like being this cut off and my brain isn't working. I start panicking, and...

"Calm down, kid," Riddick says, and his voice is calming, soothing. You wouldn't think he could sound like this, all.... something. He's a killer. He's dangerous. I mean, I know it, right? I'm not stupid, I get that there was a reason that he was put in the slam and everything. But he's got this... thing about him, this air, and his voice is so.... lovely.

I swallow and breathe. "I don't like this." I reach up to pull the blindfold off, but he grabs my wrists and tugs my hands away.

"Keep it on." He released my wrists.

"I don't get this. It's dumb. If I can't see, how am I supposed to fight?"

He laughs low in his chest and says something that sounds like, "Obviously, you haven't see any of the classic vids." Then, as I puzzle that out, he says, "You have ears, don't you? And skin. You can hear me move, feel me move. Sense where I am, Jack. And don't lose your mind while you're doing it."

Oh God. "This is going to hurt, isn't it?" New lessons always did.

"I'll go easy on you. This time."

Then he punches me in the arm.

"Shit!" I swear, staggering back. "That *hurt*." But, really, only in a dull, throbbing kind of way. Not like *real* pain. Not like my cheek.

"Then pay attention." He hits me again, and again, I stagger back.

Damn, this is hard. Especially since I feel like I'm wrapped in cotton with the darkness and all. But I get what he's trying to do; Riddick decided that the reason I'm so good at picking up new stuff that he's teaching me is because I just let my body go and act on instinct. And I have good instincts with this, so, he figures that, if we take away a little crutch like sight, I'll learn how to keep my mind.

I have a feeling, though, that this is going to be an hour of him pounding me until I'm too bruised to fight anymore.

Unless I get it together.

"Okay, kid," I tell myself, settling into a defensive posture. "You can do this."

I think I hear him moving off my right. I turn quickly, swinging my right arm up in a blocking move.

I hit only air and, in the next instance, Riddick attacks me from the back. He kicks me knee, forcing me down, and then wraps his arm around my neck.

This, I can handle. I grab his arm and throw myself forward, using my legs as leverage.

Riddick tumbles over my head and lands on the floor with a grunt. While he's down, I wiggle out of his grasp and leap back to my feet, backing away.

This time, I can hear him, vaguely. He gets to his feet and takes three steps towards me. I keep backing away and then, the moment I sense him move, duck and kick out with my right leg.

I catch him in the shin.

"Good," he tells me. He doesn't sound pained at all, but, then, he's Riddick and, really what can I expect? He's huge, muscled, and fought some of the universe's worst inmates and mercs. I'm a skinny twelve year old kid with two kills under her belt.

Two kills and a group of smashed kids.

Riddick's next blow catches me across the cheek. Fire explodes over my face, and I fall back, the world spinning out of control.

"Dammit," I heart him say, and then the blindfold's off and he's kneeling in front of me. "You okay?"

I swallow, feeling sick. It's been three days, but my cheeks still feels squishy and soft. Much too tender. "I'm fine." And then, because I wasn't, "Christ."

"I didn't mean to do that."

"I know," I say, and I do. I don't trust anyone, ever, and I know that Riddick, the big bad killer, hadn't meant to get me in the most painful spot on my body. "Hell of a mistake to make, though. Are you still mad at me?"

He looks annoyed. The room is pitch black, and all I can see are his eyes, but I can tell annoyed. "I was never mad at you."

"Right," I snort. "I bet you tore apart that room you always disappear into until Imam had to interrupt you with my stupid injury."

"I was upset," Riddick says real evenly, like he's super-pissed and trying to keep his voice calm. "Not angry, I just don't handle being upset real well. We had it all planned, Jack. It was perfect. I'd done so much work just so we could get some food and supplies, and you managed to screw it all up in five minutes."

My jaw tightens. "Sorry. Next time, I'll do my best not to get jumped by a bunch of kids."

"The fight wasn't your fault. The way you handled the fight wasn't even your fault. Not really. You were just doing what I've been training you to, but Jesus Christ, you managed to scare me."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I heard that there was a brawl going on over the com line. At first, I didn't think too much of it, until I heard it was kids. I knew it was you, and when I switched to the police line and heard.... I didn't believe them. Didn't believe you could be so vicious, not yet. And then I saw you and... Christ." He whistled. "You have the makings of a real killer, Jack."

I don't know how to feel about that. "Is that good?"

Silver eyes rest on my face. "Depends. I don't want you to wind up in the slam. It's no place for anyone, and it's no place for you."

This shouldn't make me angry, but it does. "Why not?" I say, chest squeezing in on itself. "Because I'm a girl?"

"No," he says, sounding both angry and confused. "Because you're my girl, and there's no way in hell I want you in a place like the slam." His eyes move away from my face, looking out over the room. "It's no place for anyone, Jack, not even the most hardened of criminals. The justice and penal systems are all fucked up. I was never this bad until I was thrown in there. I killed twice. Once was that guy at the pool hall, the second was a merc who was terrorizing a kid. They gave me twenty years at Butcher Bay. And that place." He just stops talking, and shakes his head. "Everything I knew was put to the test in that place. Anything I didn't know, I learned quickly. Kill or be killed. Fight or die, and that's what I did. That's what we all did, only I did it better than anyone. And when the place got too small..."

I swallow. "Two people?"

He snorts. "*Before* the slam. After? It all comes down to them or me, and I always choose me. Always." He looks back up at me. "Which isn't to say I wasn't fucked up before the slam. Like I said, there was always a monster lurking inside. The only difference is, a part of it was caged. I'd work people over until they wished they were dead, but I never killed until then."

"What did you do? Before, I mean?"

"Military school," he says, like it was obvious. "They tried foster care. I did fine in the system until I was ten. I was always angry, always volatile, but fine. Then I was put in the fucked up house from hell and got out of their control. Instead of fixing the problem at the source, the figured *I* was the problem. Far as I know, the guys who were abusing me are still at it, only with new charges. But instead of listening to me, or getting what I was trying to say with my fists, they figured I needed a new outlet for my aggressions and put me into the military."

That explained so much about him. His stranger centeredness even with the animal side of him so close to the surface. His knowledge of codes and computers and signals. Even the way he planned things all smacked of the military. I just guess I never thought he'd be so... within the system.

I always kind of thought that Riddick was born as he is now. It was weird thinking of him as a kid.

"Did you make it to actual service?"

"No. Got close. Was three weeks away from graduating from the school into officer training when I killed the first kid. They pulled me out, stuck me in military rehabilitation, figuring that, if I couldn't be an officer, at least they could train me to be a fighter. But then, two years later, I saw the merc abusing the kid and I lost it." He rolled his eyes. "I eviscerated the guy, cut off his dick, shoved it up his mouth, and then ripped out his guts. Which is when they figured I was too out of their control, and shipped me off to Butcher Bay."

I hug my knees to my chest and grab my toes. I was all limbered up before we'd started this, and now I feel kind of stiff. "Do you ever wish you'd made it? I mean, do you ever wish you hadn't killed the merc?"

He sighs deeply and closes his eyes. It's funny how something as simple as that puts us into complete darkness. "Kid, I used to ask myself that all the time. Where would I be if I hadn't killed the merc? How would my life had turned out? And then, I realize two things." He opens his eyes and looks at me. "If I hadn't done it, that merc would have shoved his dick into a lot of kids and instead of my life going to fuck, all those kids would instead. And I'd have that on my conscience. The other thing is if it wasn't him, it would have been someone else. The animal is in me. It's always been there and always will be there, looking for a way out. The first time, it came out one someone who probably didn't deserve it. I was a stupid kid and so was he. I just happened to have the talent at taking lives. And the second?" Riddick shake's his head. "No regrets."

"None?"

"Not one. I did what was right, even if justice seems to have her head up her ass. I did what was right."

I smile and fumble in the darkness until I find his shoulder. "Riddick. Patron saint of abused kids everywhere."

He laughs loudly and shakes his head. "Don't tell anyone. I'd lose my status as a monster."

"Don't worry. It'll be our secret."

"Good. Now, you ready to try again?"

I nod and pick the blindfold up, tying it back around my eyes. "Yeah, let's do it."

Riddick tightens the blindfold around my head. "Can you see?"

"No," I say, feeling a familiar squeezing around my heart. I *hate* the darkness, damn it, even if I know that Riddick's always waiting for me there. I know it's his element, but it just makes me feel stupid.

I resign myself to the idea that I'm about to get pummeled again when, suddenly, I sense movement to my right. Quickly, I pivot, swinging my arms in a defensive pose.

My arms connect with his fists. I'm not moving fast enough, not forcefully enough, but I managed to ward off Riddick's blow.

"Yes!" I shouted, exhilarated at the fact I'd managed to stop him while I was blind.

Then he smacked me and sent me reeling.

Lesson learned, I acknowledged as I tried to regain my equilibrium. Don't celebrate until the lights were on.

Riddick got me again, sweeping my legs out from under me. I fell to my ass, hard.

Better yet? Never let my guard down.


* * *

"I've made contact with some colleagues on Xanaca," Imam says at dinner. "They have agreed to secure lodging for us for the next few months."

I look at him, mouth falling open. "Months? We're staying in one place for the next few months?" Not that I was exactly anxious to get to New Mecca, but I liked being on the ship with just Imam and Riddick. We were insular. Safe. The two times we tried to integrate into civilization had been disastrous, and I didn't want to try again. No thank you.

Imam won't look at me. He's got his eyes on his plate, gently pushing his food around as if searching for something hidden. He does that a lot, actually; plays with his food. He's the slowest eater in the world and I know it's because he thinks that if he doesn't eat a lot, I'll eat more.

And he's right about that. I'm still kind of embarrassed about how much I've been eating lately, especially since I'm used to eating whatever's left over after everyone else is done. Getting first rounds is new.

"What's going on?" I ask. I shoot a look at Riddick, who's eating slowly, alternating between watching Imam and watching me. He shrugs when I shoot a look at him. "I mean... I thought we were heading to New Mecca."

"We are. But.... we need to test you academically to better guide my instruction. And I think it would be better for you to be around children your own age for awhile. Just a few months."

"While you wait for whom, holy man?" Riddick asks.

He sighs. "I have duties, Riddick. Responsibilities. I have not yet contacted Suleiman, Hassan, or Ali's parents about their passing, and I *must*. They need to know what has happened to their children."

"I know, but... can't you do that from space?"

"No, Jack, I cannot. I am sorry, but I must reconnect with my life. I am not like you and Riddick. I have responsibilities and vows and..."

"A woman?" Riddick puts in.

Imam sighs again. And nods. "Yes. Lajjun. I contacted her last night to tell her what happened. The news will be getting out soon, and I didn't want her to worry. We talked and she decided that she wants to join me as soon as possible. We were going to be married when I returned from New Mecca, but we've both spoken to people and... relocation... permanent relocation to New Mecca seems better. I've been offered a position and..."

"So why can't she wait until you get there and get settled?" I interrupt, not wanting to listen. Not wanting to hear all the changes that our... family was going to go through.

He looks at me, eyes warm. "We were separated once and almost lost each other. We don't want that to happen again." Imam hesitates, and then leans forward. "Jack, there is more. Lajjun..."

I'm up and running for the bathroom before I fully realize the thought. I just want to be gone, away from his eyes, away from whatever it was he was going to say. I *don't* want to hear. Whatever he was going to say, it was too scary.

"This is stupid," I tell my reflection. "Really stupid." I don't even know *what* it is that's stupid, just that...the universe seems to weird right now. So upside-down.

Imam was getting married. Married to a woman who was probably beautiful and lady-like. I could just picture her. She had to be devout and brilliant to be worth of Imam. She was probably really gentle. Hated violence, probably couldn't hurt a bug.

She probably wanted children. *Her own* children, not some castoff Imam had found on a doomed ship.

God, all I do anymore is cry it seems.

Forcing myself to stop, I wipe away my tears. Then, exhausted, I wash up for bed.

Shit. I'm bleeding again.

"I'm bleeding again!" I exclaim, storming into the bedroom. Riddick is there, stretched across the bed with a book, looking comfortable. He's brought dessert in; it's on the dresser, like he's afraid if he doesn't force me to eat, I won't or something.

He's not wrong.

Riddick just shrugs with on shoulder and turns the page. "Yeah? It's been about thirty days since the last time."

It takes me a second to get what he means. When it sinks in, I say, "You mean this is going to happen *every* thirty days?"

"About that, yeah." And then, he puts down the book and turns to me. "You mean you didn't know that?"

"No! I mean, it's never been like this before. I used to bleed, and then not bleed for a few months, and then bleed a couple times, and then... But this is three times right in a row."

"Right. Your cycle is regulating," he says slowly.

"Cycle? What? I mean, what the fuck is this, some kind of fucking curse? Do *you* bleed?"

"Holy shit," he swears, slamming his fist into the bed. "Do you even know *why* you bleed?"

"No. I know it has something to do with growing up, but I don't know..."

Riddick growls, cutting me off. And then, as I start for the bathroom again, he leaps from bed and grabs me. "No, kid, I'm not angry with you. It's not your fault, I just... I almost wish your dad wasn't dead, just so I could kill him."

Now I'm really confused and kind of scared. I guess Riddick can see it in my eyes, because he pulls me to him and hugs me really hard. "It's okay, Jack. I'm okay, and you're okay. It's just, you're twelve; you should know this stuff already. It's kind of important, and I'm definitely not the best person to teach you."

I look up at him. "I'm sure Imam could..." But then I remember I'm not talking to Imam right now.

Riddick pulls me to the bed and sits me down. "No. I can do this. It's not exactly like I'm a novice in this area. So." He takes a deep breath.

And then, he tells me. Everything.

Holy shit.

"So. That... thing. Goes inside. Me," I stammer when he's done. "And then it puts a baby there?"

He shakes his head. "Not a baby. Sperm. And that'll fertilize the egg that you release once a month. And, if you don't have sex, it won't get fertilized, so, every month, you'll bleed."

"So my... womb will get ready for another baby that I'm never going to have," I finish, because I really was listening the first time. I'm just kind of stuck on the idea that that... thing between Riddick's legs was supposed to fit inside me. Or, a girl. Not me. I feel kind of queasy thinking about it going inside me. "It seems kind of wasteful."

"And yet, women have been doing it for over three thousand years," Riddick say with a lopsided half-smile.

I bite my lip and pull my legs to my chest. "So. I bleed because I can't have a baby."

"No, you bleed because you're capable of having a baby, but you're not. It's one of the signs that you're becoming a woman."

My stomach twists again. "And... have you done that?"

He looks confused. "Done what?"

"Had a baby? I mean, put your... thing into a girl so she could have a baby."

If I didn't know any better, I'd say Riddick was blushing. But that's impossible, because he's Riddick. "Um, look, Jack. Sex isn't just about having babies. It's... fun. Feels good. People have sex with each other for more reasons than just having babies. They also do it, well. To be with each other. To have fun. Because they care for each other. Because they're in love. It's not just having kids."

"So you have?"

"Yeah. I have. A lot."

I lick my lips. "And it *fits*?" It comes out as a squeak.

He laughs and nods. "Yes. It fits. Um, girls... stretch out. If a baby can come out of there, it's not problem getting something smaller in." Riddick swallows and turns his head. "You can, uh. Touch yourself down there. Put your fingers in. Lots of women do it to make themselves feel good, when they aren't with a man."

Yuck. I don't think so. "Actually," I say, memories half-surfacing, "Dad..."

"Jack, I beg you not to finish," Riddick says, and his voice sort of breaks. He looks at me and says, "If you need to talk about it, go to Imam. I don't think I can handle it."

I blink, confused and hurt. He must have seen it, because the next thing I know, I'm wrapped up in his arms, his face buried in my neck.

"I can't stand to picture that bastard hurting you and me not able to help you," he whispers fiercely. "I know you got out of it, I know you survived, but I feel myself start to slip when I think about it."

He's holding me so tight, I can't breathe. I put my hands on his shoulders and sort of half-push him away. But he won't let me go.

"All right. I won't talk about it."

"Thank you." Then he pulls away, but he keeps his hands on my arms. "However, Jack, there's one thing you need to know. You don't ever have to have sex with anyone you don't want to have sex with. Your body is your body, and anyone tries to push you, kick their fucking ass. Do you got it?"

I snort and roll my eyes. "Trust me, Riddick. I'm never letting any guy put their *thing* inside me."

His lips twitch. "Well. That's your choice. But make me the promise anyway. Any man touches you, you break their neck."

"Any man touches me, and I break their things off and beat them to death with it. How's that?"

Riddick grins. Putting his hand on my head, he shakes me back and forth a little and says, "That is my girl."

* * *

I've never given anyone the silent treatment before, and I don't think I do a good job on Imam. Every morning, I get up and pray with him. I let him teach him. I answer his questions, but only when they refer to school work. And I try to be polite to him, even though I really, *really* want to push him out of the nearest airlock.

"Just give her time," I hear Riddick say about a week after I start trying to freeze out Imam. "She's a little freaked out."

"I don't understand why," Imam said. "It would be good for her--good for all of us--to stop traveling for a few months and try to live a normal life. We need to be around other people, or we shall surely all being fighting among ourselves."

It's already started, I think, but Riddick doesn't say that. He just says, "She hasn't exactly had the best experience with kids her age or women." He snorts. "Or men. But she's used to us. Just... give her time."

So, Imam gives me time. He teaches me, we pray together, but we don't really talk. And, okay, so I miss him. A lot, actually. And the more time passes, the more I'm not sure if I'll be able to make things right again.

But, life goes on. I find, to my horror, that not only do I like learning, but I'm also really smart. Despite my initial problems with math, once I learn how to divide and multiply without having to think about it, I'm able to start picking up the more complex stuff, like algebra and problem solving, with minimal difficulty. If any of my teachers growing up had been even half as good as Imam, who knows where I'd be right now? He seems to think I could have gotten into an accelerated private school on scholarship if I'd had the opportunity.

And, as luck would have it, there's one on Xanaca. Imam is already going over the admission requirements and having me take practice tests so I can get in when we arrive. Which of course, begs the question, how long are we going to stay?

"Lajjun should take about six months to get there," Riddick says to me when I ask him. "They probably are going to want to stay on the planet for a while after, getting used to each other and everything. I think you'll be staying there a year."

"I'll be staying?" I say hollowly.

He lifts a shoulder. "You. We. I don't know, Jack. We'll see how it goes. I don't even know how I'm going to pass down there."

We're getting ready for bed, and I'm exhausted. Imam had me take three tests today--math, an essay the book The Seven Pillars of Islam, and a really intense grammar test. Not only that, we started some really wordy book called A Tale of Two Cities, which had my head spinning, and then Riddick had me doing gymnastics for three hours. Back flips, front flips, cartwheels, round offs, splits, balance beam... super intense and super tiring.

But I like it. I like feeling exhausted like this. It feels clean. When I lived with Dad, I was so busy trying to survive, just trying to get through the day, I was always tired, too. It was a different kind of tired, though, one based on fear. This is based on contentment.

And if I wasn't pissed at Imam, it'd be happiness, too.

"Can't you just tell everyone that you're Johns or something? Report Riddick as dead?" I hadn't gotten pajamas during my last shopping trip, so I'm still wearing Riddick's shirts and my shorts to bed. I like sleeping in Riddick's things. I mean, I know everything smells like him anyway, because we share the same bed and all, but having him surround me so much makes me feel really safe.

"Tried saying I was dead before, but the mercs still caught onto me back on Rigel. Of course, Xanaca is a bit like New Mecca in some ways. It attract pilgrims and families looking for a fresh start in a place that's not completely alien. So I might be able to blend in." He sits on the bed. "Lights five percent." The goggles come off.

I climb in bed next to him. "What are you going to do when we get there? I mean." Actually, I don't know what I mean.

Riddick gives me a crooked smile and shrugs. "You know I've never had a job before? All I've ever known is school and the slam. The way the military school I went to was structured, there wasn't any vacation, exactly. No summer job. During the school year, we studied and trained, and during the summer, we went off to camp. And then I killed the merc, so..."

"Right." I lean against him, eyes heavy. "You good at anything besides killing?"

"Breaking things." He puts his arm around me. "I've got a pretty good feel for computers. And I can fix ships."

We lay down. The last couple weeks, he's been holding me while we sleep, instead of us sleeping back to back. Right after he gave me The Talk, I got a little uncomfortable with that, but since his thing doesn't seem interested in trying to get inside me, I'm back to letting him hold me when we sleep.

It makes me sleep better. Keeps the monsters away.

"You can find work at the spaceport, then." My eyes fall shut and I can feel his heart beating slowly. "That way, you can keep an eye out for mercs and stuff. And if we ever need to get away quickly...." I trail off, feeling waves of sleep wash over me.

"Jack. Promise me something."

"Anything."

"Give this new life that Imam is trying to make for you a chance, okay? I know you're mad at him about Lajjun..."

"He lied to me," I say, feeling tense.

Riddick hesitates. "How do you mean?"

"He made it seem like I was important to him, but I'm not. He's got a woman waiting for him, and that woman's going to want kids and stuff. Her own kids, and there's not going to be any room for me. I'm not going to be like... like... Cinderella or something. I won't be their slave because..."

"You really think that Imam would do that to you?" Riddick interrupts.

"Yes." I don't even have to think about it.

His sigh is warm against the nape of my neck. "Kid, do you trust me?"

"Yeah."

"Do you? Not just the fact I'll protect you and everything, but do you trust me judgment?"

The idea of trusting someone is strange enough. I mean, I trust Riddick with no questions. I don't even have to think about it and, sometimes, if I think really hard about it, I think that maybe I shouldn't trust him quite so much. But I do.

But trust his judgment?

"Yeah, I guess."

"Don't sound so enthusiastic," he laughs. "But I'm asking you, as a favor for me, give Imam a chance. Go to school, don't kick the crap out of other kids, and when Lajjun gets here, be nice. Maybe she'll like you."

"Fine," I snap, turning in his arms. "But you promise me that if this life sucks, you'll get me out of there."

"Jack..."

"Just promise me."

"Fine. I promise we'll cut out if it doesn't fit us. But we try for at least sixth months."

Sixth months. Sixth months of imprisonment, of exile, and of... of being nice.

But after that? Freedom.

"All right," I promise. "I'll try."

* * *

"So, you must be...Audrey," Principal Sellers says with a brightly painted smile on her face. She's dressed in a neat, blue suit, her blond hair pulled into a fancy twist. Her tie has the school emblem on it, and she was very, very clean. So clean, she seems to shine.

I swallow, strangely frightened of her. I've never been in a place like this, and I'm completely uncomfortable. "Jack," I correct her.

She looks at Imam a little blankly. "I'm sorry." She looks at the handheld computer screen in confusion. "It says that your name is Audrey King. Was there some mistake?"

Imam puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. Even though I'm still a little hurt by him keeping Lajjun a secret from me, I lean into him. I wish Riddick was here.

"Her legal name is Audrey King, yes. She prefers to be called Jack."

"Oh. Oh, I see. I'll make a note of that." She pressed some buttons on the screen and then smiled brightly at me again. "All right, so, right now, you're records seem a bit spotty. I understand that you were recently in a crash, but..."

"My dad didn't enroll me in school on the last planet we were at," I say, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. "On." Oh, wait. You didn't end a sentence with a preposition, and maybe now she wasn't going to let me into the school. "He didn't enroll me at school. We weren't there long enough." Because I killed him. "And then, he died, and I managed to slip through the system."

She nodded and typed all that down. "Very well. So, you've taken all the tests, and although there are some definite gaps in your education, you also show a lot of promise. I've spoken it over with the board, and they've agreed to enroll you as a scholarship student."

Am I supposed to be happy? I mean, yeah, okay, I feel a surge of pride, but...

"Thank you."

She smiles again, and I wonder if she ever stops. Then she hands a printout to Imam. "This is a list of what she'll need. We have a strict uniform that must be conformed to. I, ah, recommend, though, that until your hair grows out that you wear a green scarf around your head." She eyes the very short and unruly hair that had grown since the incident on the space station. It's ugly and itchy and I can't do anything with it. "Just to make you feel more comfortable," she adds.

"Thank you." Imam rises and pulls me up with him. "Can she begin tomorrow?"

"School starts at eight ten. Welcome, Jack." She holds her hand out, and I shake it gingerly. Then, after getting another super-bright smile, we leave.

Imam and I walk together down the street in silence. I'm feel very weird about this whole thing, like it was all to easy and everything was just going too well. But, then, I don't know how things are supposed to go. Nothing is the same anymore; *everything* is completely alien to me, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

"Do you want to go home, or would you like to go shopping now?" Imam asks after a bit.

I really hate shopping. It seems like every time I do it, something goes wrong. But, we're out, and I have to have the stuff by tomorrow, so, "Shopping's okay."

He smiles at me. "Nothing will happen. Xanaca is a safe place."

"Unlike Rigel?"

He puts his hand on my shoulder again. "You'll like it here, Jack. Here, you can put your past behind you and forge a new future."

I look up at him. For the first time since we got off the planet, Imam looks truly at peace. He's, like, glowing or something. Radiating happiness.

I feel like a slug.

"Why are you being nice to me?" I ask. "I've barely talked to you in weeks."

"You are not the first teenager I've ever dealt with," he says. His hand is on the nape of my neck, and he squeezes it gently. "And I understand that you are afraid."

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"Of course not."

God, he's patronizing. I'm not sure if Riddick's "no ghosting Imam" philosophy is all that great.

"I'm *not*," I insist. "I just don't like being lied to."

"I never lied to you."

I'm silent a moment, trying to think of the word that means that you leave something out. "Omission," I say when it comes to me. "You lied by omission. You knew it was gonna bug me, so you just didn't tell me."

He shrugs calmly. "I wanted you to grow comfortable with your place in my life before I told you about her. I thought that by showing you that you're my priority, you wouldn't feel threatened. I see that I was wrong."

I snort. "I don't think a married man can make a stray kid his priority."

"Just because your father could not make you his, does not mean that every man in your life will do the same."

I *so* do not want to discuss my father or my life before the Hunter-Gratzner with Imam. It's not just that I really hate thinking about my life; it seems so dark and dirty and sad, and every time I think about it, I just want to put my head on my knees and cry. But it's also private. It was strange enough trusting Riddick, telling him so much. Of course, Riddick doesn't want me to talk about it with him. Not about Dad. It works out well, though, since I don't want to think about it.

"It's just that, you knew her first," I say softly as Imam leads me into the clothes shop. "And it's unfair to her to spring me on her, right?"

"Lajjun is the type of woman who's heart is open to all, even the unexpected." Then, he drops the conversation as a sales girl comes over to help us.

I've never had to wear a uniform to school before. When I was a real little kid, I wore a few dresses and skirts sometimes, but mostly, I just wore boys clothes. I never stuck out, either. Most girls just wore jeans and tee shirts, the only difference between them and the boys was they had long hair. The only difference between me and them was the hair and the fact I went by a boy's name. We were all usually dirty, and our clothes were stained and patched, but that's the life we lived. Transient, poor, and rough.

Not here. I've never seen a place so *clean* before. Every house has a lawn out front, and there's water and trash collectors and street sweepers. There's no graffiti or litter anywhere, and you can walk outside after dark and not have to worry about getting hurt. Okay, yes, there are the bad parts of town, but I don't have any reason to go there. Riddick's already told me that if I try, he'll make my life miserable.

Anyway, this is a roundabout way of saying that my life is definitely going to be different. This school has uniforms for God's sake. I can wear two different things to school: a skirt and sweater set, or slacks and sweater set. The school colors are green and black, and the skirts are green plaid, the blouses white, and the sweaters either green or black. On each sweater is a patch with the school emblem, and it's kind of embarrassing because it falls right above my breast. It's like they're trying to draw attention to them or something.

Anyway, besides the actual clothes, there's the gym uniform, shoes, socks, jackets, coats, rain gear, book bags, hair ribbons, and ties. Imam, despite my protests, buys me everything, even the stupid hair ribbons. I protest, pointing out that I don't have any hair, but he insists, saying that if I grow my hair out, I might want to look pretty.

I don't want to look pretty. Pretty gets you noticed and noticed means that people want to touch you.

But he buys them anyway. And then, he buys me some more pretty underwear because apparently underwear is some sort of status thing with girls and he doesn't want me to be teased. Now, I honestly don't get this. Who the fuck cares what kind of underwear you wear, except, obviously, for spoiled little rich boys who think satin panties will give you cooties?

Why girls would care, I don't know. But I do know that the only reason Imam cares is that he thinks I'll beat up anyone who hassles me about it. I want to tell him that he's wrong, because I promised Riddick, but, deep down, I'm afraid I might slip up.

So, we get the new underwear, and some new every day and workout clothes for me to wear. We get three different kinds of shoes--a new pair of boots, some workout shoes, and a pair of black girl shoes. I've never had shoes like this before, and they feel weird on my feet.

After that, we get the rest of the school supplies, which include a jump drive to transfer my work from school to home, some books, and a lock pad for my gym locker.

I'm ready to go home after that, but Imam wants to take me out for ice cream. Being completely addicted to the stuff, I, of course, agree.

There's a shop a couple blocks from our house that both Riddick and Imam have take me to a few times now. Before we landed, I'd had ice cream only about six times in my life. They've brought me here every day since we landed, and I'm in heaven.

So, we're at the shop, and I'm trying to think good thoughts about Imam. I mean, he is trying so hard, and I am being kind of mean. Maybe...

"Lajjun wants to speak with you," Imam says after our sundaes arrive. He's looking at the dish in front of him, avoiding my eyes.

I stare at him for a long moment, mouth open, spoon paused midway. "What?"

"Lajjun. When we last spoke, she asked if she could meet you. Speak with you."

"Why?" I ask, baffled.

"I've told her about your many times. And, I've told he how upset you are about the idea of you coming her. She's leaving tomorrow and will be in cryosleep for her journey. She was hoping to meet you before she departs."

Fantastic. I poke at my ice cream viciously. "I don't want to," I tell him sullenly. "She's not going to like me, so why start all the tension now? We can just wait until she gets here."

"Of course she will like you. Why wouldn't she?"

"Because I'm a freak. I've got no hair, and I've killed two people, and my dad made me do icky things, and I'm just not...." I put the spoon down. "You know I'm not going to be able to stay with you once she gets here."

"Jack." He leans forward and puts his hand over mine. "Jack, you are not a freak. You've had a hard life, but you've survived it and will survive much more. Lajjun will love you as much as I do."

Tears spring to my eyes. I swallow hard, blinking to try and make them go away, but they just won't. "Why?" I whisper.

"I've told you before. You have a beautiful soul and are a wonderful human being." He touches my face. "And you are impossible not to love."

"I don't feel impossible not to love." I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and swallow. "Imam, I'm scared."

"I know."

"I don't want things to change."

"Life is change, my child. And you are the bravest girl I know."

Before I realize it, I'm out of my seat and in his arms. My face is buried in his neck, and I'm trembling.

Imam sighs and rubs my back in strong, sure caresses. "It will be all right, Jack. I promise you."

The words comfort me a little, but, even still, I know that even a holy man can't keep promises like.

* * *

"Riddick?"

No answer.

"Riddick?"

"Mmm?"

I sort of knee him in the back, drawing another muffled groan from him. "You awake?"

"You gotta death wish, Jack?"

Since I'm ninety-nine percent sure that Riddick won't kill me, I just presses my forehead into his back. "I'm nervous."

He sighs. "Why is that?"

"I hate new things. Especially when I don't have a ... a history with them. Like, I can start a new school and all, but these kids aren't going to be like the kids I've always known. I... No, don't turn over," I interrupt myself with Riddick starts to move. I don't want to see his face right now; this is embarrassing. I don't know why.

He stills as I press my hand against his back.

Inhaling deeply, I say, "I'm not rich. Never been. And maybe Imam isn't rich, but he's got influence. And these kids aren't going to be like me. They aren't going to know what it's like to go to bed hungry, or be so scared of your own dad that you think about killing yourself."

Riddick jerks, but I press into him hard.

"Or running away. They've never killed anyone, and I've killed two people. But it's not just that. They've gone to school. They know stuff I won't. They'll all be friends and be worried about stuff I can't imagine being worried about."

"Like what?"

"Like underwear. And test grades and ... and I don't know. I can't even imagine."

"So don't try."

I swallow hard. "I can't help it," I whisper. "What if I can't do it?"

Now Riddick does turn over, and I can't stop him. His beautiful eyes lock on my face, and the intensity that he looks at me with makes me shiver. It's like I'm the only person in the universe right now, and all that exists is him and me.

"Jack, you're the most extraordinary person I've ever met. You got yourself out of a situation that most wouldn't be able to. You're one of three survivors off a hell planet, and it's not just because I went back for you. You helped me escape some mercs, you took on a whole group of attackers yourself. And, even though your education has some serious gaps, you got into this school. It's going to be a different experience for you, and I'm not going to pretend it's not. But it's also not anything you won't be able to do. You're adaptable, Jack. So, adapt."

"I'm scared," I whisper, ashamed.

"I'm scared for you. But that doesn't change the fact that tomorrow, you're going to school."

I sigh and close my eyes. Right. We warriors face fear head on without flinching. If I can fight, I can do this. I can walk into a school full of kids who've never eaten out of a trash bin. And I'll be fine.

"No, kid. You going to sleep, or do we need to go train some?"

"I'll sleep. But we're still training at oh five hundred, right?"

"Damn straight. Just because you're going to school doesn't mean we're easing up one bit."

"Praise be Allah," I say. Then, I snuggle close to him and wait for sleep to find me.

* * *

School is... different from anything I've ever experienced. I've been to school. Small, dirty room with us crammed into a few tables. Books that are falling apart or computer screens that are shorting out. Smells from the other kids because bathing isn't something that happens all that often in a mining camp. Besides, it never really mattered if we were clean; the smells from the mine permeated everything anyway, so nothing smelled clean.

But this is different. All the kids are dressed in the same, bright uniforms. Their hair is all neatly combed; all the girls have these elaborate braids, and those that don't obviously aren't popular. I can tell the hierarchy of everyone right away when I walk into my first class. There a group of beautiful girls sitting in the middle of the class, all clustered around this one goddess with gleaming red hair that's plaited and twisted tighter than the inside of a computer.

She looks at me when I walk, giving me a once over. Her eyes are apprising, like a predator's. The girls around her all turn to see what she's looking at. For a second, there's silence, and then one of them starts to giggle.

Embarrassed, I duck my head and make a beeline for the back so I can hide. I look ridiculous and I know it; all the girls are wearing skirts and knee socks, and I'm wearing slacks. Imam force me to wear the scarf to cover my nonexistent hair and I think it makes me look stupid.

I hear the girls whispering to one another and blush hotly. This was such a dumb idea; I don't know why I let myself be talked into it. As soon as possible, I was leaving. For good, too. If Riddick wouldn't take me away, then I was running away by myself.

"Hey."

I look up through my eyelashes. There's a boy sliding into the seat next to me. He's smiling at me, but his eyes keep flicking to the stupid scarf. "Hi," I say after a second. Then I look down at the computer screen on my desktop and switch it on.

It asks for my login information which, of course, I don't have.

"Just type in your name. Last name, first initial," the boy tells me.

Without thinking, I type in kingj. Immediately, it tells me no such student exists and would I like to try again. "Oh. Right." Kinga works right away. My entire class schedule scrolls before my face.

"Hey, we have four classes together. Cool. I'm Alex, by the way."

"Jack." I have seven e-mails, one from each teacher. They all say welcome to the school, and they look forward to meeting me, and I'd better conform to the high academic excellence of their class. They've all attached information and notes from stuff I've missed in their class and a list of students they think I should talk to so they can help catch me up.

I bet you anything the goddess in front is one of the students on the list. Alex is on the list, too.

The seventh e-mail is from the school psychologist. It informs me that we'll be meeting twice a week starting today to discuss things that have happened in my past.

Translation: your father touched you and you killed him. I'm here to fix you.

Stupid Imam and his big mouth.

"Where are you from, Jack?" Alex asks.

"Around." Then, because that was a stupid to leave it there, I say, "My dad and I traveled around a lot. I don't remember what planet I was born on, even."

"That's kind of neat. I've been here my entire life. It's so boring."

I shrug. "I don't know. Moving around was never so great. Although, sticking around wasn't so good, either." I delete the e-mail from the psychologist and turn to Alex. "Who's that girl?"

"Tiffany. Watch out for her."

"Yeah, I got that." The scarf slips over my forehead. Grunting, I tug it off and shove it into my pocket.

The girls around Tiffany gasp. I glance up. They're all sitting there, gaping at me like fishes.

I feel my face heat all the way to where my hairline is growing in. Ashamed, I meet Tiffany's eyes, expecting the worst from her.

She surprises me. This gorgeous goddess with more hair than I've ever even dreamed of just looks at me, one red eyebrow arched. She runs her eyes over my body, then meets my eyes.

I swallow hard. Giver her a crooked, wobbly smile.

She nods and turns away.

Shaky and sick--it's so much harder facing down a girl my age than a merc three times my size--I let out a long sigh and rest my head on my desk.

"You okay?" Alex asks.

"Yeah." I sit back up and run a hand over my hair. It feels scratchy against my palm. I want to shave my head again, but Imam says no. Riddick refuses to say anything.

"What happened to your hair? Were you sick or something?" he asks. He's real persistent. Friendly, though. Not like the boys back at the camps.

The bell rings and the teacher walks in. Not wanting to get in trouble on my first day, I sit up straight and face front, ignoring Alex's question.

"Good morning students."

"Good morning, Professor Fordman," everyone says in unison.

She smiles. "We have a new student. Audrey King, she goes by Jack. Please give her a warm welcome. Jack?"

I stare stupidly at her until Alex hisses, "Stand up."

Clumsily, I rise, bunching my slacks in my fists. "Hello, ma'am."

"Would you like to tell us about yourself?"

No. "I'm new to the planet. I'm living with an imam. This is the first private school I've ever gone to." Then, before she can make me talk more, I sit back down and duck my head.

More giggles and a strange, awkward silence from everyone else. "Well. Thank you. Jack. Class, please open your books to page fifteen eighty-three and open a new page in Geometer's Sketch-Pad."

Alex leans over to show me how. His breath is hot on the side of my face, and one of his arms rests against mine. "What happened to your hair?" he asks again. He doesn't move after the program is open, and his big green eyes stare right into mine.

I swallow, feeling hot. "I shaved it off."

"You shaved it off?"

"Yeah."

"On purpose?"

"Yeah."

A bright grin flashes across his face. "Wicked." Then he sits back down and turns his attention to the teacher.

* * *

I make it to gym without ever having to leave Alex's side. He's in my math, literature, and history class in the morning, then physics in the afternoon. I have to fend for myself in gym, which is all girls, computer programming, and art. I can only hope that Tiffany and her gang isn't in any of those classes.

Alex introduces me to all his friends, and they all think it's wicked that my head is shaved. I almost tell them that I did it to look like Riddick, but I'm not that dumb. I mean, sure, Riddick is notorious and kind of famous, especially among boys my age, so it might not be too weird to bring him up. But, at the same time, I don't want anyone to start making connections between Riddick and the new bald guy working down at the spaceport.

"What do you have now?" Alex asks after history.

"Gym."

He frowns. "Good luck. We're all doing gymnastics right now, and Tiffany takes private classes. And gloats a lot." Alex rolls his eyes. "I used to go out with her, but she's really hard to take. And not all that cute."

"I don't know," I say. "She seems really pretty to me."

"Naw. I like girls with real huge eyes." And then, flashing me that huge grin again, he lops off down the hall with his friends, shouting, "See you at lunch, Jack!"

I watch him go. Shake my head. "He's kind of weird," I say to myself. Then I glance around to make sure no one heard me. Bad enough I was the weird bald kid with a boy's name. I didn't need to be the weird bald kid with a boy's name who talked to herself.

Tiffany and three of her friends are in the locker room when I get there. They look at me when I walk in. The hangers on turn and start giggling. Whispering. Point.

I ignore them. Ignore Tiffany, too, just go to my locker and palm it open. While I stuff my books inside, I wonder if maybe I should say something to her. Or at least smile. She was sorta nice in class. At least she smiled at me. And, as far as I could tell, she hadn't once giggled or whispered about me. Not like the others. Maybe Alex was wrong and she wasn't so bad.

But I didn't know what to say to her. Or how to say it. She was so pretty. And bigger than me. Not like Riddick or anything, of course. But big and womanly. Big hips and boobs. She weighed more. I could break her neck, throw her to the floor, beat her up, but I didn't know how to talk to her.

I sigh and start to change clothes.

"Hey," Tiffany says.

Startled, I turn. My shirt is halfway up. I drop it, because I didn't wear the pretty bra and I don't want her to say anything about it. "Um. Hey."

"I'm Tiffany," she says, all smiles and pretty red braids. "Welcome to our school, Jack."

"Thanks." She actually seems kind of nice.

"This is Anne and Jeniece. We're best friends, and since you don't know many people, we thought we'd invite you to sit with us at lunch?"

"Oh, um. Thanks. But Alex already invited me to eat with him."

Tiffany's perfect nose wrinkled and she leaned forward. "Between you and me? Alex is an ass. I don't know what his problem is, but one things for sure, he's a complete child. I mean, he's cute and all, but he's a total bore. Besides. You don't want people to start thinking you're some kind of lap licker, do you?"

I blink, completely lost. "Lap... licker?"

Jeniece giggles loudly. "Yeah, you know. Like a girl who does other girls? It's so gross!"

"You already look like one, you know," Anne adds. "Because you're bald. You look like a boy, and everyone knows that a girl who looks like a boy, acts like a boy, too."

I really don't understand. Like, 'doing' a girl. I had a feeling they weren't talking about ghosting someone.

"So?" I finally say. "I mean, I guess I act like a boy. I like playing rough sports and stuff. And you know what? I like my hair like this."

The two girls giggled nastily behind their heads, but Tiffany was looking at me with her head cocked and eyes narrowed. "You really have no idea what we're talking about, do you? You're, like, a complete innocent. A baby."

I almost tell her that anyone who's killed two grown men and survived a pitch black planet filled with monsters who wanted to eat me wasn't innocent at all, but I managed to bite my tongue. Instead, I just lifted my head and told her, "You know, you may not like Alex, but at least he doesn't make fun of me."

"Oh, just wait, sweetie," she told me, all pitying-like. "He falls in love quickly, but when he decides he doesn't like you anymore, he trashes your reputation faster than anything. Good luck. Come on, girls." Then, braids swinging down her back, Tiffany swaggered off.

I take back my earlier thought. Tiffany is a bitch, and I want to... I don't know. Show her up or something. Grind my heel in her face. Make her take her pretty face and her stupid friends and go cry in a corner because I'm better than her.

Turns out, I'm almost right. Sort of. Alex was right and Tiffany is good at gymnastics. But so am I. Thanks to Riddick and his training, I able to do everything the teachers asks me to. She even moves me to the top group, which Tiffany is in.

"You're fantastic, Jack!" Ms. Hoover, the gym teacher, marvels after I complete a cartwheel, front flip, back handspring combination on the balance beam. "And fearless! It took Anne two months before she could walk across it. And you've never had formal training?"

"No, ma'am," I say, blushing.

"You must join the team," she says. "We need talent such as yours."

"I'll ask. Maybe."

Both Anne and Jeniece glower at me as we change and get ready for lunch, but Tiffany seems more thoughtful than anything. She even says bye to me when she leaves.

Alex is waiting for me outside the locker room. He's watching Tiffany and the other girls walk down the hall. "Was gym awful? If she was, don't think anything of it. Anne's her friend, and Tiffany made her cry ever day during gym when they started gymnastics. So don't, like, let her get you down."

"Actually, no. I mean, she was kind of mean in the locker room, but I'm good at gymnastics." My cheeks heat when I say this, and I can't stop grinning. It'd felt good to be good at something. Like maybe I might have a place here.

"Really?" Alex seems surprised.

"Ms. Hoover wants me to join the team," I say.

Alex's eyes light up and he bounces. "That's great! Tiffany really needs to have someone teach her that she's not the goddess of the universe."

"What's your deal? I mean, why do you dislike her so much?"

Alex shrugs. "She broke my heart and then trampled all over it. So, I want to get her back."

I look at him. "How did she... break your heart?" I ask. I'm fairly certain that he doesn't mean it literally. I'd heard enough people talking about broken hearts, but I wasn't sure how it was done. I'd always tuned out for that.

"Um, well. We were dating. And then she started dating this other guy. Only, they were like making out all the time. At school, and everyone knew but me."

I have to ask. "Making out?"

"Yeah. Kissing and necking. I heard she actually took her shirt off this time they were in the janitor's closet. Bitch never did that for me. So. We broke up. And it hurt. A lot. She hurt me."

"Sorry."

He shrugs. "I'm over it now. But I'd still like to see her get what she deserves."

Rich kids are... petty. I can't imagine being upset over some girl for something like that. I mean, like, when they didn't hurt you or steal something from you. I don't understand why he was so upset. I don't understand the whole thing. I can barely wrap my mind around what he's talking about. Making out and kissing and dating someone.

I want to ask what dating is, but I don't. I just keep my mouth shut and go to lunch.

At lunch, they guys ask me about all the places I've been to. I don't tell them much, because I feel weird about the money thing. But what I do tell them apparently makes them think I'm hella cool, so it works. After I'm done talking, I listen to them talk and eat. Imam packed me lunch this morning--something that had never happened before--and it was delicious. I eat my food and they talk and I feel good.

I mostly feel good the rest of the day, too. School's confusing. My locker won't open after lunch. And then I get lost on the way to class. I do okay in computer programming, but then I get to art.

The teacher is this ditzy woman. Unlike the rest of the teachers here, who are all starched and perfect, this one is wearing a long skirt and a bunch of bangles on her wrists. Her hair is long and has flowers woven through it. She's dressed in every color of the rainbow.

"Today," she announces when the bell rings, "we are going to explore our minds." And then she puts on some music.

Everyone starts doing something. Some kids pull out paper and start drawing. Others get paints. A few get clay or something.

"Hey," I lean over and whisper to the person next to me. Unfortunately, it's Anne. "What are we supposed to do."

"Don't talk to me, lap licker."

I sigh. Turn to the person next to me. It's a boy. "Hey..."

"What's wrong?" the teacher asks, swooping down on me. She studies my face. Then her long, colorfully painted nails trace over my face. "My, my. You're such a pretty little thing."

I bristle. I think I bare my teeth.

She blinks, then drops her hands. "I hope you feel comfortable enough to do some modeling for us as the term progresses." She steps back.

I don't know what to say. "Uh. What am I supposed to do?"

She smiles. "Just paint or draw or create whatever you feel. Allow the music to guide you."

Weird. But I just pick up a pencil and start drawing.

What I draw, though, apparently isn't what Ms. Art Teacher wants to see. Because when she sees it, I get sent to the counselor much earlier than my appointment.

"So, Audrey. Welcome."

The counselor is a woman. She's got gray hair and wrinkles all over her face. And her hands are all knotty and veiny.

I've never seen a woman as old as her. I didn't know they lived that long.

"My name is Jack," I say. I look down at my hands.

"Jack. That's an interesting name. Where's it from?"

I shrug. "My dad called me that. I don't know why."

"How do you like school, Jack?"

"It's okay. Not like the schools I used to go to. Better, I guess. Harder."

"Have you made any friends?"

"I guess. There's this guy in some of my classes. He's nice."

"Any of the girls?"

I snort.

"Ah. Well, yes. Girls your age can be rather judgmental towards people who are different from them. However, at this school, we don't allow bullying. We have a zero tolerance policy. If any of the girls bully you in any way..."

"I can take care of myself," I say, looking up at her.

She just smiles and says, "Nevertheless. If anyone bullies you, tell a teacher. Tell me."

"Yeah, sure." I slide down in my seat and pick at lint on my slacks.

"So. Jack. I spoke with your guardian yesterday, and he told me a bit about your past. He asked me to help you. To talk about what happened, and..."

"I'm fine."

"That's debatable. Do you know why you were sent in here?"

"The teacher didn't like my drawing."

She held it up. "This is not the type of drawing one generally sees coming from a thirteen year old."

I look at it. I drew a picture of my father being killed by one of the monsters. Like it did Shazza. I'm at the bottom, standing next to Riddick, but I didn't draw his face. There's blood on me. And Johns' body, which was torn apart on the ground. It's not the best drawing, but you could tell what it is.

"The boy next to me was drawing something with guns and stuff."

"Jack, I feel Miss Kuhn was inappropriate for sending you in over the picture. You're right; I've seen boys draw similar pictures without having them sent to my office. She is being sexist." She put the picture on the table. "Tell me about it."

I look at her.

She's looking at me like Imam does. All calm and unjudging.

Suddenly, I felt safe with her.

I lean forward. "That's my dad." I point at his body. "That's a monster on the ship I was on. I mean, after we crashed, the planet had all these monsters. They ate everyone but me and Imam."

"Did they eat your father?"

I shake my head. "He was already dead." I think about telling her I killed him, but I don't want to be sent to the slam. "This guy was." I point at Johns. "He was going to kill me. Give me to the monsters so he could be safe."

"How do you feel about that?"

"Fucking fantastic," I tell her, meeting her eyes.

Her lips twitch. "Of course. Is this you?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have any hair in the picture."

I shake my head. "I want to shave my head again. Like I did on the planet."

"Why?"

"I like it. It's easier. Stronger."

She sat up. "Stronger?"

"I guess. People think I'm a boy." I look down, though, at my books. The uniform doesn't hide them. "Guess not any more."

"Do you feel you're weak?"

"I'm not weak." Again, I bite my tongue so I don't tell her what I can do. But I do say, "I can defend myself. I'm being taught."

"Self-defense? That's wonderful. Who's teaching of you?"

"A friend."

Her eyebrow hit her hairline, and I don't know why. She looks at me a long moment. "A friend? This friend?"

The way she says friend is weird. Like she means something totally different when she says it. Only I don't know what.

"Yeah, that friend. And I don't want to talk about him." I close my mouth, pressing my lips together real tight.

"Very well. Let's talk more about your father. Is that all right?"

"No." Then, "I hate him. I do. He hurt me."

"How?"

And even thought I don't want to, I tell her. Everything.

Well. Everything except how he died.

* * *

When I get home, Imam is in the living room with some men I don't know. He gets up kisses me on the forehead, and introduces me to them. I mumble hello, then escape first to the kitchen, then to my bedroom. I have so much homework. It's insane, really. But, since Riddick isn't home yet, I have nothing else to do. So, I sit and start.

Alex has e-mailed me three times since school let out.


End<