So this is my first ever Riddick fic, and I need to know if I should keep going or what so PLEASE REVIEW! Please please please with cherries and cool whip on top! This is set after PB as if Jack stayed in New Mecca with Imam and actually led a halfway normal life for once. Rated M for language and stuff that'll be in later chapters -wink wink-
Disclaimer: I think if I owned PB or TCOR I wouldn't be here playing with them, now would I?
Chapter 1: Bad News, Worse News
"Riddick!" Jack shot up in her bed. She searched frantically, not comprehending her surroundings for a moment. When she finally got her bearings she sighed in relief as she was still in New Mecca, still among friends, and still safe. She couldn't remember all of it, just the end where Riddick had… she shook her head. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and tried to shake echoes of panic she still felt. She walked shakily to the bathroom and stared at her reflection in the small mirror on the wall.
It had been five years almost to the day since Riddick had left her in Imam's care in New Mecca. She hadn't understood at the time why he left, but gradually she'd come to realize he really had done it for her own good. She understood, but she never really forgave. He'd promised her he would come back for her someday when he could ensure her safety. She had thought of him as an older brother then, she hoped when he did come back, maybe, just maybe they could be something…else.
She'd thought about leaving, but decided she liked it there. They had been good years since, compared to her years before the eclipsed planet, full of serenity and joy. She had learned the peaceful ways of Imam and his family. Aziz thought of her as Auntie Jack and Imam and his wife thought of her as a daughter. She enjoyed her time with them, it was the closest thing to a real family she'd ever had. But something was still missing. There was still an animal in her, tightly restrained, but there nonetheless. Something Riddick had shown her, the only piece she had left. Every once in a very long while she would let it out. She would run for a night, free to do whatever she pleased. It was her coping mechanisim. She got Imam's stern look of disapproval in the morning, but it was worth it. He understood why she did it, but he still worried for her. "One so young shouldn't be out alone at night, even in New Mecca."
She splashed cold water over her face and went downstairs where Imam sat at the table with the newspaper lying in front of him. Jack noticed the look on his face was stark and anxious. She sat across from him.
"What's the matter, Imam?" she asked, concerned. She had never seen a look like this cross his wise face. Imam said nothing, only looked away and slid the paper across the table to her. Perplexed she looked at the front page. The orange she had begun peeling fell from her hand as she read the headline.
"Infamous Escaped Murderer Dies in Collision"
No, it couldn't be. Not him. Anyone but him. She read the first couple of lines of the article frantically and tears welled in her eyes.
"Infamous murderer and escaped convict Richard Riddick died late last night when the mercenary ship he was being transported in collided with another vessel. No survivors have been-" There was more, but she didn't bother. She read the first line over and over, praying that somehow she was reading it wrong.
"Jack-" Imam started but she cut him off.
"It's not true. It can't be true. They fucked up somehow. IT'S NOT TRUE! NOT HIM! NO!" Imam quickly went around the table and held her as a father would a distraught daughter. "NO NO NO NO NO!" She wrenched away from him and ran screaming to her room.
Some time later when the shattering and crashing had ceased for a while Imam braved knocking on Jack's door. He'd heard nothing, so he took it as a 'come in'. He entered the room slowly so he could duck anything thrown at him. What he found was a miserable sight. Jack lay face up on her bed, exhausted and surrounded by fragments of a lamp, several picture frames, and bits of debris from various other objects that had felt her wrath. In fact, he noticed, there was almost nothing in the little room that was in one piece. There was blood smeared on her skin and bed sheets from cuts she had sustained in her enraged hysteria. Blood was also dripping slowly from her hand; there was something gripped in it, but Imam couldn't tell what it was. He went to her bed and sat lightly on the corner waiting for her to speak, he almost thought she was asleep, but he knew better. It took a few moments, but finally she did.
"He was supposed to come back for me," her voice was harsh and ragged from her crying, "It's the only reason I stayed here, was so he could find me." Her words stung Imam just a little.
"Allah has-" he began to comfort, but she cut him off.
"Don't!" she sat up with daggers coming from her eyes, "I know you're trying to help, but don't." He placed his hand on her shoulder.
"Shush, I was going to say, Allah has a plan for us all. Riddick knew what he was doing when he left you here; he wanted to avoid you being with him if something should ever happen to him. He wanted you to be safe." She looked down not wanting Imam to see her cry anymore. She knew he was right, but she was still bitter about it.
"Come, let me clean you up." He took her hand and led her to the bathroom where he washed and dressed all her little (and not so little) cuts and scrapes. Finally he came to her hand.
"You must let me dress your hand as well," he said in a kind but stern tone. She looked up at him as is she had awoken from some sort of trance, like she didn't know what he was saying for a moment. She opened her hand where a necklace lie, soaked in blood. It was a tooth of some sort, tied with a bit of cord.
"What is that?" Imam asked cautiously.
"He dug it out of his boot leather after we left the planet," at first Imam didn't understand, and then the light dawned. THE planet. It was a tooth from one of those… monsters. She continued, "He gave it to me before he left, said it would keep me strong, keep me from forgetting I'm a survivor, no matter what." She stared at the necklace on the bathroom counter as Imam bandaged her hand. She could feel something changing in her, dying and fading away.
Almost six months had passed since she had read the headline that broke her heart and soul. Imam wondered if she were ever going to be "normal" again. They fought more now, and she left for days at a time instead of just nights once in a while. She would come back with wounds sometimes. Imam would clean her up, but he couldn't make her talk. She scared him and his family sometimes, but he couldn't bring himself to cast her out. She was dark, letting her anger and resentment control her. She wasn't Jack anymore; Jack died the night she found out about Riddick. Jack was a weak willed little girl. She shed Jack like a snake sheds its skin. She was Kyra now.
He'd been watching the day she got the news about him. He saw her self destruct, watched as her rage split her in two then sewed her back together as a different person. He'd been watching her back ever since. He wondered how she could have NOT noticed. What, she thought a seventeen year old girl could just run rampant for days at a time without someone wanting to fuck with her? Especially one so fine. Sure she had skills, but they weren't that good. She'd grown up a lot since the last time he'd seen her, that was for damn sure. He'd beaten the senses out of several would-be attackers without so much as a 'fuck you very much' from her direction. That would have to change. This shit was not why he'd left her in New Mecca. He wanted her to do something with her life, and she had a chance to do it here. He watched her sleeping off her previous nights exploits from a rooftop across the street. 'Time to come back from the dead' he thought with a snarl.
Kyra woke with a start from the same nightmare she'd been having since… that day. She slept as little as possible anymore, and did as many self-destructive things as she could handle at once to try and forget about them. Her nightmares haunted her, like a kick in the gut over and over again every time she slept. It was morning anyhow, not as late as she was used to getting up, but she didn't care. She was awake now, might as well stay that way. She didn't care about much anymore. Why should she? Why did it matter? She would've killed herself, but she didn't have the balls to do it. So she went out and killed herself a little at a time every night. She got up and washed her face and headed downstairs to grab a bite to eat before running out again.
The first thing she noticed was that the house was unusually dark. Imam liked natural light, so he habitually opened the shutters every morning to let the light in. They were shut today for some reason. She heard Imam's voice in the parlor and went to ask him what was with the shutters.
"Hey Imam, what's with the dark?" She was perplexed as he only looked at her with a half grin… and then she heard it. The voice she hadn't heard in almost six years. The voice that gave her chills from the time she was 12. The voice of a ghost, or so she'd thought.
"Look at you, Jack, all grown up. It's been a long time."
Riddick.