Title: I Want You To Need Me

Author: Mary (SlayerKnight2@aol.com)

Website: none



I Want You To Need Me 7

By Mary


Johns could feel Riddick's hot breath against the back of his neck. A warm, hard body pressed against his back almost in mockery of the last time they had assumed a similar position. Riddick was leaning over him to look out the window at the macabre scene going on directly across the street from the worn building they were in.

The street ended in a dark alley, which was almost directly under their window. A woman in her late thirties was running down the alley, realizing too late that there was no escape at this turn. Her dark, shoulder-length hair swung from side to side as she frantically searched for a way out of the confined area and away from her attacker.

A dark figure walked slowly down the alleyway. He knew his victim had no hope escape. In the dim streetlight, Johns couldn't make out much of the man; tall, long-limbed, sharp features. He was wearing a long, black overcoat that covered most his lean frame, giving him an almost deformed look.

"There was a crooked man who lived in a crooked house," Johns murmured, ignoring the concerned look his humorless banter exerted from Riddick.

The mysterious man stalked his victim, his steps echoing closer to the trapped woman. She turned to look at him just as he pulled a machete from his coat like a magician does a rabbit. The effect on the woman was predictable.

She turned away from him and started screaming, clawing at the high stone wall that had marked her prison, and now marked her grave.

Johns felt Riddick's hand on his shoulder tighten protectively. Whether the serial killer was trying to soothe him or keep him from moving, he didn't know. He knew the poor woman was doomed, but a small part of him wondered if she might miraculously escape the assured death. Maybe he was being naive.

Maybe he was being hopeful. Maybe he couldn't take anymore suffering. Well, from the look of the machete, she wasn't going to suffer long.

The man approached her, stopping just a foot and a half away. She slid to the ground and her dark eyes looked up at him, pleading and terrified.

"Please. Please," she whispered.

But the man paid no attention. He swung his arm in the air and brought it down, cleanly slashing her head off her shoulders. It landed with a sickening thump on the street floor. The sheer coldness of the attacker shocked Johns most of all. No words, no emotions whatsoever. It was like none of it mattered. Like he had killed a house fly. Johns shivered.

It was almost as if the killer in the alley had esp. He turned and looked directly at Johns, Riddick, and Keen. The outline of the features remained a stoic mask.

Keen started to panic. He backed away from the window, shouting. "Oh fuck! Oh fuck!"

Riddick moved away from his position behind Johns to try to pacify his friend, or at the very least to shut him up. "Calm down."

"No man! Fuck, no! This shit..." He pointed a finger at Riddick. "The shit has been hitting the fan ever since you came here." He pointed at Johns. "You bring this merc in here - you bring a fucking cop-"

"Shut-the-fuck-up, Keen." Riddick was loosing his patience.

Johns turned his gaze away from the arguing to look back outside. His heart froze.


"What?" The words were sharp with anger not really pointed at him.

The mercenary didn't reply but kept looking out the window in a vain hope of trying to spot the man. When no response came to his question, Riddick walked over to look over his shoulder again.

"What?" Keen echoed Riddick's word.

The panicked man rushed over to the windowsill. "Oh shit. Oh shit."

There was creaking noise coming from the front room. Johns swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. They were too high up to jump out the window and too low to make it to the roof.

"Riddick," he whispered.

The serial killer said one word. "Hide."


They all seemed to move at once. Riddick grabbed Johns by the arm and shoved him under the bed. It was relatively low, but the long white sheets cascaded over the edge of the bed to cover most of the space. Riddick went to grab Keen but the terrified man had already left the room. The serial killer paused, torn between saving his friend and protecting Johns.

Neither of them could keep cool heads. With a muttered curse he slid under the bed beside Johns. The merc looked unusually pale, his body shivered slightly. Riddick frowned at him. The blonde man had probably been in worse situations, what the hell was he so scared of this one for?

Big blue eyes met his. Johns looked like he was about to explain but the door to the room opened with a menacing creak. The merc froze, his eyes turning to stare at the pair of boots that walked slowly into the room. Riddick prayed that he wouldn't loose his nerve and give them away. The man was definitely teetering on the edge.

Thud. Thud. The boots' steps were unexpectedly loud as they echoed through the dark room. They walked from one side of the small room to the other and then back again. The boots paused.

Riddick slowly reached into his pocket and pulled his shiv out to rest it in front of his chest. He looked at Johns who had seen the shiv. The merc shook his head violently. Riddick understood why. In such a small room, the machete wouldn't miss. But then again, neither would he.

Just then the boots walked out and the man closed the door. The fucker was going to see if they would be stupid enough to fall for the bait. Apparently, Johns was that stupid. The merc started to get up but Riddick grabbed him and held him down. It was difficult because they were both lying on their stomachs and the space was so confining.

Johns fought against him, eyes wide with terror. Riddick noticed that they were glazed over. This was obviously a past trauma that was rearing up to bite them both in the ass. He pulled Johns partially under him. He leaned over the merc and whispered quietly into his ear.


He rubbed the man's arm gently, if awkwardly, trying to reassure him. Comforting a person was still a new trade for him. Then again, so was sleeping with a merc.


Johns tried to calm himself. Riddick's weight helped, warmth and strong muscles moved over his back, helping to ground him in reality.

//Mommy told me to hide under the bed.//

He shook his head trying to will away the flashes of the past.

//I wiggled under the bed and lay there on my stomach as Daddy screamed and banged on the door.//

Johns closed his eyes but the images didn't disappear.

//It was loud, more blood came out of Mommy's chest. She fell to the floor but I remembered Mommy's words. "Be quiet."//

He dug his fingers into the floor, hoping the pain would snap him out of it.

//I called for Mommy but she didn't answer.//

Riddick's hand was on the floor, near his head. He leaned his forehead against it, willing to the painful memories to stop.

//I knew something bad had happened.//

Johns' pulse went soaring. His muscles tensed.

//Mommy was dead.//

Just as he was about to bolt, Johns felt Riddick nuzzle the back of his neck. The tenderness of the gesture soothed him. He relaxed somewhat. They waited there for at least twenty minutes before Riddick motioned for him to get up from under the bed. Johns watched his lover move with the predatory grace of a panther.

They put on the last of their clothes and Johns peered out the door. He looked back at Riddick, who was putting his goggles on. It might be nighttime now, but a misplaced light would blind him. He nodded the okay to Riddick.

They walked out the door and moved slowly. They had just reached the kitchen when they heard footsteps coming from somewhere back in the house.

Booted steps.

Johns grabbed Riddick's arm and they took off through the door. They ran down the stairs, their harsh breathing the only sounds that could be heard. They only stopped running when they had gotten outside the building.

Johns leaned over, resting his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

Riddick was panting but otherwise looked unaffected. The serial killer was staring back at the building.


The other man didn't turn to look at him. "Gotta go back."

"You're fucking out of your mind," Johns responded.

"Keen's still in there."


Go back to Part 6

Go on to Part 8