Title: I Want You To Need Me
Author: Mary (SlayerKnight2@aol.com)
I Want You To Need Me 21
Johns leaned over the sink. He watched the steam from the running shower climb the cool air to cover the ceiling-high mirror. He looked up to see the distorted, blurry image of his reflection. 'The mind's eye.' He frowned at the sudden and unwelcome thought.
He sighed and quickly shrugged out of his clothes. He opened the shower door and stepped under the hot stream of water. It traveled like a warmth blanket over his back. Johns grabbed the soap and lathered up his body in a rush. He closed his eyes as the heated water washed the soap suds off his body; the soap lightly caressing as it moved down his body to the drain at the bottom.
He paused and reached for the soap bar again. It was odd how he had never felt dirty before after being with Riddick.
He had instinctively moved to follow Johns into the bathroom. Questions and worry clouded his mind as the door slid shut in front of him. He'd known the merc would not let him follow but he'd gone anyway. One single word, one single glance was all he had needed to see the pain Johns was in. And it clawed at his insides.
He couldn't explain it but the pain he had witnessed, the isolation, burned inside of Riddick's mind like a brushfire. And he couldn't make the other man's pain go away. Riddick had never been faced with something he couldn't overcome and now the problem was not his -- but a part of his life somehow.
He hated being in the passenger seat.
Riddick pressed his hand against the door. The cold, hard surface was an ominous symbol of the dark barrier that kept Johns far away from him. He leaned his forehead against his arm as he once again tried to make sense of the hell he'd once again jumped into with both feet.
"Is Mr. Johns alright?"
He didn't look up, recognizing the voice. "Damned if I know."
"You are worried about him. I am as well. Maybe you should talk to him." Imam replied, calmly.
"Me." It wasn't a question.
"I thought he could talk to a counselor here at the station or I could speak to him but you have known him longer. Perhaps--"
"Johns doesn't want my help." Riddick growled.
"He's on his own." The serial killer snarled.
"Just as he was on that planet." Imam's voice was quiet but strong.
Riddick's silver eyes snapped up at the statement. For not the first time in the past few days he had no idea what to say. He simply walked away, leaving the holy man to his own deeds.
It was almost four in the morning. Riddick had always been a night person. He finally stopped his pacing in his room. Johns was in his head; his voice, his face, his memories. The other man had likened Riddick to Max. A Freudian slip. The very thought had angered Riddick like nothing he had felt before.
He had shanked Johns in the past, almost killed him. But this was different, somehow. Max had beaten and tore away at the young man's soul. And he hadn't known Johns then; hadn't...
Riddick stormed out of his room, his powerful walk silent in the empty hallways. He knew that he would not rest until he had answers to his questions. Only one person could quell the anger and restlessness inside of him now. He opened the door, surprised to find it unlocked. The room was dark. Riddick smelled soap and the faint lingering presence that Johns had. The merc wasn't in the room.
Go back to Part 20
Go on to Part 22