Knife's Edge (Part 23)

Tater Chip Girl

This time he didn't do anything to calm Carolyn - all he could do was hold on as they both cried it out.

His emotional compass had been spinning out of control since he'd first seen her on the Hunter-G, and like it or not, something had to give sometime. That time was now, and there was no better or safer place than in her arms. At this moment, they were no longer criminal and pilot, or even man and woman - they were children again, clinging to each other on this big bed as they'd done years ago in her tiny one. All the years between of fucking and fighting, killing and running, chains and bits and darkness and blood, came spilling out through his eyes as he gripped her tightly and pressed his face into her neck, even now not wanting her to see him like this, not wanting her to think him weak for letting go.

But then came her barely audible whisper, saying his name - his childhood name - and her hands gently lifting his head to look up at her. When he finally allowed it, he saw again in her eyes his first and best friend, the only human being to whom he'd ever given any of himself, both then and now. There was no hiding from this, not for either of them. Not when their lives had traced this shining circle around the galaxy to meet again, as they'd Promised.

Riddick reached up and touched Carolyn's - Carrie Anne's - tear-stained cheek. It was different now, the touching. Now they knew *who* they were touching.

"It's really you," she said in a hushed whisper.

"Yeah," he whispered back.

They didn't say or do anything again for a while, just looked and touched, confirming over and over that they were really here. They could have easily spent the rest of the day like this, but reality interrupted in the form of a loud growl from Fry's empty stomach. She looked surprised for a second, as if hunger was a new concept.

"Guess I should eat something," she said after another growl. Her voice had an almost quizzical tone, as if she were asking rather than telling.

His stomach made some noises of its own. He had to force himself to answer, distracted as he was by the movement of her lips. "Yeah...me too..."

They just sat there, staring wide-eyed at each other, as if waiting for instructions. Neither of them really wanted to get up. Then Riddick's stomach rumbled again.

"So..." he said, his voice distant and distracted. "We should, uh..." he waved a hand absently towards the bathroom.

"Yeah..." she answered, her eyes still fixed on his. She placed her hands on his shoulders and slowly raised herself to stand before him, sniffing and wiping her face. He got up too, doing the same, and they made their way to the bathroom. They moved slowly, as if sleepwalking.

"Lights full," she said, busying herself with the shower while he opened the cabinet and started looking for something. She stepped into the stall and shut the door, standing dazedly under the warm spray. Then she felt an urge to see him again, make sure he was really there with her, and quickly pushed open the shower door to peer out into the bathroom. Riddick was still rooting around in the open cabinet, and gave her a questioning look when he saw her worried face pop out of the stall. Suddenly, she felt really stupid. "Just...seein' if you're here..." was all she could think to say. She gave an embarrassed shrug and retreated into the shower, closing the door.

It opened again immediately, and Riddick stepped in. "I can shave later," he said. He closed the door and slid in behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. She relaxed into the solidness of him and closed her eyes, letting her head fall back onto his shoulder, and enjoyed the sensation of the hard spray beating on her chest and stomach.

She thought she felt him shaking. "Are you laughing?"

"Yeah," he answered, a smile in his voice. "Just thinkin' about Ogden Nash."

She thought for a minute, then her face brightened. "Oh, yeah...that guy who wrote all those silly old poems you liked." She giggled. "I remember you walking around Angela's front yard, waving your arms, acting all dramatic and reciting those stupid things as loud as you could to whoever was walking by..." she shook with laughter now, picturing it in her mind. "Half the neighborhood thought you were nuts." They snickered over that for a few minutes before she calmed down enough to speak again. "What made you think of him, anyway?"

"Your hair."

She frowned. "My *hair*?" She shook her head, confused. "Why?"

He had to curb another laughing fit to answer her. "'Member this one?" Still struggling to keep a straight face, he changed his voice to the sweeping, overly dramatic tone he'd used when quoting poetry as a child:

"This is my dream,
It is my own dream,
I dreamt it.
I dreamt that my hair was kempt.
Then I dreamt that my true love unkempt it."

Then, finally giving in to his laughter, he reached up and did exactly that.

She smiled and grabbed his wet hands, pulling them down off her head and wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Riddick quoting Ogden Nash in the shower, who'd've thought it... But then, he wasn't just Riddick anymore - not with her, anyway. This was her childhood confidante, her best friend. He was the only person other than Angela who'd ever made her feel truly safe. Or loved.

Her stomach grumbled again. "We gonna stay here all day discussing poetry? I need some grub." She turned her head to look up at him, and he bent down to give her a deep, lingering kiss. "Oh, no," she said in a warning tone, pushing her way out of his arms and turning to face him. "Don't start that, or we'll *never* get outta here." She reached for the soap bottle and shot him what she hoped was a serious look. "This time, we're *taking a shower*, ok? I'm hungry, dammit!"

Riddick raised his hands in surrender. "Yes, *ma'am*. I'm ready - soap me up."

"No way," she laughed, smacking the bottle into his chest and holding it there. "Do it yourself this time."

He shrugged and gave her a naughty smile as he took the bottle. "Hey, I had to try."

They took turns under the spray, helping each other with back-washing. Fry had to push Riddick's hands away when they wandered - she wanted to let them, but she really was hungry. She *had* to get out of here and find out what that wonderful food smell was. When they were through, he got a razor from the cabinet and started shaving while she went back to the bedroom to finish drying off and put on her robe.

With all that had happened in the short time since they'd arrived, they'd never seen the note on the bedside table, or noticed the absence of their piles of filthy clothing. "Hey," she called to Riddick. "They left us some clothes." She walked over to the closet and opened it to find two long, pretty dresses and some pants and shirts hanging there. On the floor was a pair of pretty beaded sandals and a simple pair of black boots. She picked up one of the sandals and tried it on - it fit. "We have shoes now, too," she called to him again. He grunted in response, still busy with his shaving.

She noticed a cloth bag on the closet floor as well. It contained an assortment of undergarments - some colorful, silky panties for her, and plain grey briefs for him. There were socks, too. She stepped into a pair of blue panties and slipped on the dress made of soft spring green fabric, which was a near-perfect fit. She hadn't worn a dress in ages - it was a nice change from the utilitarian clothing that went with her job. She slid the other sandal on, then bent over and shook out her damp hair.

Riddick was just finishing up when she walked back into the bathroom to look for a comb in the cabinet. She squeezed in beside him to watch herself in the mirror as she ran it through her hair, not noticing that he hadn't moved. After a moment, her combing slowed, and she turned to find him still standing there, watching her intently. "What?" she asked, smiling.

He stared for another moment before he answered - right now she looked so much like the girl he'd known, it was almost heartbreaking. "You always looked great in that color."

"Thanks," she said, her face softening. "I like your outfit, too," she added, running her eyes over his nude body. He gave her a sultry look and went to the bedroom to get dressed. When she came out, he was wearing a pair of dark grey pants and a short-sleeved dark blue pullover shirt. He walked around the room, looking down at his feet as he tested his new boots.

"They fit?" she asked, plopping down on the bed.

"Yep," he replied, wiggling his toes inside them. He stopped by the door and grabbed the doorknob, looking back at her. "Ready?"

"Hell, yeah. I'm *starving*!" She jumped up off the bed and joined him at the door.

After a moment's hesitation, he opened it, and they stepped out into the warm afternoon. He had to remind himself that now he didn't need to run back inside and find his goggles. The place looked pretty much as it had when they'd arrived, but brighter, because it was earlier in the day this time.

Riddick stood still, overwhelmed by the first full daylight he'd really seen in over seven years. He ran his eyes hungrily over everything, taking in the plants, the brightly-dressed running children, the sunlight winking through the swaying canopy of trees and dappling the clean, cream-colored stone tiles that paved the large courtyard.

And then there was Carolyn. She stood with her eyes closed, inhaling the pleasing herbal scents, a mild breeze lifting tendrils of her damp hair and making the pale green dress flutter against her body. Her skin was still dewy from the shower, and her lips were very, very pink.

You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, he thought. Her eyes opened, and she smiled up at him. He'd forgotten she could hear him now, if he wasn't careful.

You're not so bad yourself, she thought back at him. Now let's *eat*, for crissake!

Across the courtyard, Kate watched them from the window of the healing room as they emerged from their room. True to her word, she'd made sure they were left alone, and had clothes and toiletries put in their room while she was examining them so they wouldn't have to ask for anything. She'd known from the start that something was going to happen - something big. She hadn't known *what*, exactly, but she had a feeling she was about to find out. She stepped outside and met them in the middle of the courtyard, arranging her face into a friendly smile. "Hey, y'all," she said cheerfully. Then her eyes locked with Riddick's, and her mind cringed.

Holy fuckin' shit. No way. No *way* it's happening this fast.

It took all her strength to keep the smile pasted on and force herself to speak. "Looks like you're ready for some vittles. Right this way." She raised her hand and indicated a door on the first floor, in the middle of the U formed by the house. This was the source of the dinnertime noises they'd heard the night before, when they'd visited the healing room for the first time.

Kate could feel her knees wobbling as she led them into the dining room - she hoped it didn't show. The six people around the long wooden table looked up when she entered, Riddick and Fry behind her. "Hey, ever'one - this is Rick and Carolyn Richards. They just got here a couple days ago, they'll be stayin' with us for a while." The seated people smiled and greeted them warmly, some of them raising glasses.

"Just call me Carrie." Fry felt a bittersweet twist in her chest as she said this - no one had used that name since her mother had taken her away from Angela. Riddick's hand brushed hers from behind, and she knew he felt the same thing.

"Sit anywhere you like," said Kate. They took two chairs on the side of the table opposite the door, next to a plump, happy-looking olive-skinned woman with an odd accent. Some of the diners still had plates of food in front of them, while others lingered over desserts or drinks. Fry thought she smelled fresh coffee. As they all introduced themselves, Kate left through a door somewhere behind Riddick and Fry, presumably to see that they were fed. The cooking smells were overpowering, and their guts were a symphony of weird noises now.

"I don't think I've *ever* been this hungry," said Fry, as her stomach made its wishes known once again.

The chubby woman next to her laughed. "Ohhhh, joo wayl *lahf* de foot hair," is what her reply sounded like. Her accent seemed like an odd mixture of German, French and Arabian. "Zay coke ess inCRAYdeeble." Fry was barely able to keep a straight face.

Riddick's expression didn't change, but she felt a shimmer of mental laughter from him as he sat quietly beside her. It didn't help her effort any, and she finally had to give in and laugh, but she managed to hide it by lifting her hand to her mouth and pretending to cough. When she turned to look at him, still fake-coughing, she saw the tiniest hint of a curve to his lips. She felt his laughter inside her, tickling through her chest.

Knock it off. I mean it, Riddick.

No way, this is fun.

When she looked back at the others, she could see that no one else had a clue what was going on between them. All they saw was a husband and wife giving each other an affectionate look. She finally calmed down and removed her hand from her mouth, turning her attention to the British-sounding man across the table, who was asking what they did for a living.

"We're both pilots," she replied. "We'll be looking for work as soon as I resign my current position."

"Ah, well, you've come to the right place, then." the man took a swig of his drink. "New transport cooperative opened here a few months ago.They still need lots of pilots, I imagine."

"Yeah, Maya told me that too," said Fry. "She said her husband Bernard works for them."

"That he does. He's due back in the morning, if you want to talk to him." the man said, tipping his glass back to drain it as he stood up from the table. "Well, I'm off. Got a ship to catch. Nice meeting you all." There were warm farewells all around from the other diners. The man set his glass down, slapped on an old olive-green cloth hat, touched the brim politely and left through the courtyard door, slamming it noisily behind him as he called to someone outside.

Just then, Kate popped back into the room, followed by Maya and Eva, who were bearing trays of food. Kate had three glasses and a big bottle of something, all of which she set down in front of them. "Pandra tea - it'll pep ya right up. Helps you digest, too."

Fry looked doubtfully at the bottle, then back up at Kate as the other women set down the trays and started placing dishes of food in front of her and Riddick. "Isn't that a bit - strong to drink with a meal?"

"Well, you had the pure extract before, hon, not the tea. Tea's a lot weaker," Kate answered from the other side of the table, where she'd now taken a seat and was pouring herself a glass. "You don't need the strong stuff anymore, you're all rested now."

Fry filled the other two glasses from the cold bottle and slid one over to Riddick. He hadn't said a word, but she could feel his growing tension and discomfort. He wasn't used to being around people this way - not regular people. He was suddenly having to learn all over again how to sit down to a meal without worrying if one of his dinner companions would pull a shiv or a laser pistol, or slap chains on him and drag him back to Slam. Under the table, she laid a hand on his thigh and silently said, I know it feels weird. Just pretend it's dinner at Angela's.

As he took a drink of his tea, his free hand slid down and covered hers briefly before he set down his glass and attacked the food on the plate in front of him. They'd been served what looked like vegetables in some kind of savory sauce, along with what appeared to be a meat dish of some sort. Damn, but it all smelled good. They didn't even ask what it was - they just dug in and didn't stop eating until it was all gone.

As they ate, they listened to their fellow diners discuss the huge fire Fry and Riddick had first seen from the air when they arrived. Apparently, it was the result of a refinery explosion. The refinery itself was the result of heavy lobbying by some well-backed fundamentalist group that demanded the right to harvest fossil fuel as an alternate energy source to supplement the power cells that were now in common use. They seemed to think it was "irresponsible" (according to one diner) not to take full advantage of available planetary resources. After this "gigantic failure of theirs" (said yet another), the refinery was sure to be closed down for at least a while during the investigation, if not permanently.

Kate took this opportunity to study them intently, her attention focused on their auras. They now appeared to share one, which flowed and surged between and around them in a kind of figure-eight pattern. It was as she'd suspected - the joining had already begun.

Riddick's light was almost pure white, with a few muddy spots here and there - but not nearly as many as someone like him should have. A wave of brilliant colors rolled through it every now and then. They were all present in normal amounts, but they consistently cycled out, leaving his aura almost completely white for a few seconds before they returned. That was something she'd never seen or heard of.

Fry's colors were almost identical to his, but there was much less white, and she had more red and orange than an average female. Ah, she's strong, thought Kate. She'd have to be. She sent out a seeking thread to touch the surface of Fry's mind, just to see what would happen. It was immediately thrown back with amazing force - and it didn't come from Fry, who continued eating, showing no sign that she knew what was happening. There was no reaction from Riddick, either.

I'll be damned - he's shielding her, and he doesn't even know it.

She scanned their faces for the subtle changes normal people would never notice, the ones that told her they were in silent communication. She could tell they were, but she couldn't tap in, as she was able to do with anyone else - even other Tasters. And it had only been what - about three or four days since his Change? He was untrained. This degree of bonding shouldn't even be possible yet, not without one or both of them showing signs of mental breakdown. Yet here they sat, both of them looking happier, stronger, and healthier than ever.

She examined Fry as closely as she could without touching the invisible shield. Her lips were much rosier now; her skin had a certain glow that hadn't been there when she arrived. But the eyes were the determining factor. They would tell her what she needed to know.

Kate narrowed her own from behind her raised glass as she focused her vision on Fry's irises, "zooming in" on the molecular structure, much as a camera lens would. Right away she found the tiny, golden telltale glimmers that no one else could see - they were everywhere. And they were multiplying. Fast.

Kate's gut contracted violently, almost cutting off her breath.

Oh, my god, she thought. Impossible. This *cannot* be happening.

This was definitely *not* the Carolyn Fry who'd stumbled into her courtyard two days ago.