Show Me Your Eyes (Part 1)

Tater Chip Girl

"Show me your eyes, Riddick." Fry stood by the metal stairs in the half-light, her gaze fixed on the shadowy, seated figure of the man chained to the opposite wall.

"You'd hafta come a lot closer for that." Riddick's tone was almost playful. He knew she'd do it. He could tell by her voice and the way she moved that she wanted an excuse to be near him. A whiff of her sweat and musk wafted over to him - she was ripe for it, this one - like succulent fruit. Delicious. Made him want to lick his lips. Maybe hers too.

She hesitated a moment, then started walking carefully in his direction, stopping when she'd advanced about six feet or so. Not as close as she really wanted to be, but then, she wasn't *supposed* to want that.

"Closer."

Fry's mouth went dry, and her heart leaped in her chest. She had a hard time swallowing, but managed it somehow, shakily wiping her sweaty palms on her pants as she moved towards Riddick. She realized with a shock that the idea of being this close to him was not entirely unpleasant; in fact, she was more excited than scared.

He's dangerous, she reminded herself. He's a killer. Keep your mind on the job, Fry. She stopped where she thought she'd be just outside Riddick's reach, should he happen to feel like standing up.

As it happened, he did. With a harsh, zipping burst of metallic noise, he launched himself from his seat and lunged, leaning out over her as the chains pulled taut behind him. Fry stumbled backwards with a yelp, finding her face about a foot away from his when she came to a stop. His silvery eyes glinted in the narrow strip of light that fell across his face from a gap somewhere high up in the ship's hull. She'd heard about this procedure, but never actually seen anyone who'd had it done. It was hard not to stare - the effect was actually quite beautiful, like a predatory animal caught in firelight.

"Where the hell can I get eyes like that?" Jack's envious voice came from the stairs. Fry turned, surprised that he'd managed to sneak in without a sound.

"Gotta kill a few people," Riddick answered matter-of-factly.

"'Kay, I can do it," Jack said resolutely, stepping down to the floor and gazing admiringly at Riddick. His expression reminded Fry of a groupie fawning over a rock star.

Riddick continued, now looking at Fry, who had turned back to listen. "Then you gotta get sent to a slam where they tell ya you'll never see daylight again. Ya dig up a doctor, ya pay him twenty menthol Kools to do a surgical shine job on your eyeballs - "

"So you can see who's sneakin' up on ya in the dark?" Jack prompted with a sly smile.

"Exactly," he replied.

Fry turned back to Jack, annoyed at being interrupted. "Leave," she said firmly.

Jack's face fell. He was not pleased with being shooed away from his new hero.

"Leave," Fry repeated. Jack sighed heavily and sulked his way back up the stairs, leaving them alone again.

Riddick cocked his head and gave Fry a little half-smile. "Cute kid."

She forced herself into business mode again. "You gonna tell me where Zeke is or not?"

Riddick looked at her silently for a moment before he answered. "Did I kill a few people? Sure," he said with a shrug. "Did I kill Zeke? No. Got the wrong killer."

Fry wasn't convinced. "He's not in the hole," she said slowly and deliberately. "We looked"

"Look deeper."

A tense moment dragged by as they stood frozen in position, eyes locked. Fry's heart thundered in her ears. She found herself wanting to move forward and get as close to Riddick as possible. Her mind went off on a tangent, wondering how it would feel to touch him, to press her body against his. Heat flooded through her gut and pulsed between her legs as unbidden erotic images flashed through her consciousness. Jesus, he smelled good, even dirty and sweaty as he was.

Riddick tilted his head to the side, like a curious bird, taking in Fry's slack lips and flushed face. She wanted him, wanted him bad. He could see it, he could smell it. And he sure as hell wanted her - he had since the first time he'd sensed her presence. What was it about her...her scent, her voice, her ass...

Or something else, maybe...

"See somethin' ya like?" he murmured seductively, his gravelly voice cozying into her ear.

Fry blinked, jerking herself back from wherever her mind had been wandering, and focused on Riddick's face again. He made no effort to hide his desire for her. She slowly raised her trembling hand and laid tentative fingertips against his damp cheek.

I can't believe I'm doing this. I must be out of my mind, she thought.

Riddick stayed still and allowed her to trail her fingers lightly over the stubble of his beard. He studied her face, watching every subtle - and not-so-subtle - change in her expression. She looked ready to leap out of her skin.

Her hand continued its journey down his face, tracing his jawline and stretching out her thumb to move it gently across his lips. So soft and full and sensuous - this didn't seem like the mouth of a killer. Her breathing turned rapid and shallow as she imagined what that mouth would feel like on hers, on her body, on her -

Riddick's lips parted and his tongue slipped out, flicking warmly against Fry's thumb. She gasped and jerked her hand back a few inches, the liquid heat in her womb flaring up and knocking the breath out of her. His mouth curved in the slightest of smiles; he was pleased with her reaction.

Gotcha, he thought. You're mine now.

The sudden sound of footsteps across the upper floor broke their concentration - someone was about to come down. Riddick glanced up, then quickly stepped backwards and sat down. As soon as he was seated, Johns pounded down the metal stairs, stopping halfway down to address Fry. "Get anything helpful out of him?"

With an effort, Fry shook herself out of her erotic trance enough to answer. "Yeah, I'll be right there."

"Okay." Shooting a look at Riddick, Johns went back up to wait for her.

Fry backed away from Riddick towards the stairs. What the hell was I thinking? She knew full well he wouldn't let this go without doing something about it the first chance he got. She knew what that something would be - the only question was when and where. Reluctantly, she tore her eyes off him, turned and ran up the stairs.

He watched her go, a knowing smile on his face. See ya soon, Carolyn, he thought. We'll have us some fun. He shifted a bit, trying without much success to reposition his hard-on. No matter - she'd be taking care of that soon enough. But for now, chained as he was, all he could do was wait. He lowered his head, closed his eyes, and descended into his dreams of Carolyn, and what they would do when he finally got her alone.

Show Me Your Eyes (Part 2)

They'd done what Riddick said - they'd looked deeper. Or Fry had, at least, and found what was left of Zeke. The things down there had almost gotten her, too. She'd had to struggle up out of the creature-infested cave through one of the many tall, graceful hollow spires made of dried mud that clustered on the planet's surface. Jack had traced her screams for help, and they'd knocked a hole in the spire and pulled her out.

Johns had cut the safety cable from her waist a split second before the creatures yanked her back down to join them for lunch. Now he stood before the chained Riddick, faced with the task of - he couldn't believe this - apologizing to a convicted murderer for, well - accusing him of murder. He wasn't too happy about it, to say the least, and he meant to keep Riddick in his place at all costs.

"Finally found somethin' worse than me, huh?" Riddick wore a smug smile as Johns stood in front of him, a pair of goggles dangling from one hand. He could smell the drugs in him. Clueless prick. Most dangerous one here, other'n those things. Most likely get everyone killed eventually.

Uh-huh. Smile all you want, chucklehead, thought Johns. You won't outlive your usefulness if I have anything to say about it.

"So here's the deal," he said aloud. "You work without chains, without bit, and without shivs. You do what I say, when I say it - "

Riddick looked up sharply, scoping Johns' face. "For what?' he said sarcastically. "A long vacation in some toilet of a prison cell? Fuck you."

Johns sighed tiredly and shrugged. "The truth is...I'm tired o' chasin' you."

Riddick's nostrils flared as he regarded Johns through narrowed eyes - he smelled bullshit. Big time. "You sayin' you'd cut me loose?"

Johns gave another shrug. "I'm thinkin' you coulda died in the crash."

Riddick held Johns' gaze, or tried to - the guy couldn't look him in the eye. He was trying really hard to look aw-shucks honest, and doing a crappy job of it. "My recommendation - do me," said Riddick, his voice a low, sinister growl now. "Don't take the chance that I'd get shiv-happy on your wannabe ass."

"Okay - " Johns whispered, nodding. Just gimme a reason, Riddick. Go on, push the fuckin' buttons.

Bring it on, Willy Boy. Get it over with, thought Riddick. "Ghost me, motherfucker, that's what I would do to you."

Quick as a heartbeat, Johns whipped his gun up and fired a single shot at Riddick's head.

Almost.

Riddick had turned to the side, ready for the bullet slamming into his skull - but it never came. Instead, he felt the chains on his arms go suddenly slack. He gave them a tug, and they came zipping noisily out of the many niches they'd been wound through to tumble into silvery coils on either side of him.

"I want you to remember this moment," Johns said, pointing a warning finger at him. "The way it coulda gone, and didn't." That'll teach him, he thought. Put a little fear o' God in 'im, keep 'im off our backs. He extended the hand holding the goggles, offering them to Riddick. "Here," he prompted, dangling them before Riddick like a toy in front of a pet.

Riddick stared at him for a moment before standing up and lifting his hand to accept them. Johns had used that self-important "I'm-a-big-boy-and-you're-not" tone that made him want to puke. Fucker needs a crash course in jungle law. He inched his hand closer to the goggles, his eyes flicking to the gun hanging at Johns' side.

Before Johns could take another breath, he found himself at the business end of that gun, and Riddick at the other. The guy had moved fast, too fast for him to see. Okay, prison boy wants to make me sweat. Gotta play it cool. He slowly raised his hands in surrender. Thank god the spike he'd done earlier hadn't worn off yet - it helped him keep his voice low and even. "We have a deal?"

"Fuck you!" Riddick spat at him, shoving the gun closer to his throat. Oughtta ghost him right here. Bastard. But Riddick had business to tend to, and killing Johns would make that impossible. Decisions, decisions...

"We have a deal?" Johns repeated, finally looking Riddick steadily in the eye.

Riddick opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. They'd all be better off without this useless, lying piece of shit. But then there was Carolyn...this was a tough choice. His mind flashed back to that moment when she'd touched him. No woman had ever just walked up to him and done that - not unless she'd been invited or coerced, and then the touching had been done with her nervous eyes always flicking back to his, seeking approval for every move, not daring to displease him.

But Carolyn...she'd simply wanted to touch him, even though it was clearly against her better judgment. Because *she* wanted to. Because it pleased *her*.

He felt himself grow hard, remembering her soft fingers on his face, the brief salty tang of her thumb on his tongue that had sent delicious little shocks coursing through him. He knew without a doubt that if they'd had a few more moments alone, she would have kissed him. And he definitely would have kissed her back. He had to taste her again, and much more thoroughly, even if he never made it off this rock.

It was decided.

He fixed his narrowed eyes on Johns. "I want you to remember this moment..." He let that hang in the air for a while before he slammed the gun to the floor at Johns' feet, snatched the goggles from his raised hand and walked out.

Carolyn was waiting. She knew he'd follow up on their little conversation. He *knew* she knew.

Riddick smiled to himself as he made his way out of the crash ship. It was fun, imagining what might be running through her head right now. She was probably telling herself what an idiot she was for getting herself into this situation, and trying to figure a way out of it. He had a feeling, though, that she wasn't trying *too* hard.

Well, he wasn't giving her a choice in the matter. As if she'd ever had one anyway - if she hadn't made the first move, then he would have. Riddick bit back a delighted grin. Soon enough, he would have her exactly where he wanted her. The thought of Carolyn Fry under his control was exciting, very exciting indeed. This was one conquest he would truly savor.

He had plenty of time to think about it on the long, hot trek to the deserted settlement the others had found earlier as he trailed behind, dragging a makeshift sled full of supplies. Plenty of time to watch Carolyn as she walked ahead beside Imam. Plenty of time to memorize every curve of her ass in those snug black pants. Plenty of time to think of things he could do to her -or have her do to him - once they were alone. He knew she'd try to prevent that from happening, but he'd find a way. He always did.

One thing bothered him, though - why only one power cell? They could have taken them all on this trip. He had a sneaking suspicion Johns had something to do with that. Fuckin' figures, he thought. Count on Johns to screw things up for everyone. Oh well, not much he could do about it at the moment. Might as well go back to drooling over Carolyn's fine backside. Damn good way to pass the time, in his book.

Once they reached the settlement, Riddick dropped his load and wandered off. Fry had mixed feelings about that - she knew he was biding his time, waiting to catch her alone and pounce on her, and that was frightening enough. What frightened her more was the fact that she was actually looking forward to it. The mere thought of being alone with him again made her heart beat faster, and not just with fear.

Jesus, Carolyn, you really have lost your marbles this time, she lectured herself sternly as she made her way to the settlement's mess hall to join the others. So he turns you on - that's no excuse for what you did. Now look at the mess you're in. She stepped into the building and found everyone standing around a table laden with water-filled crystal goblets (courtesy of Paris P. Ogilvie, antiquities dealer and entrepreneur, thank you very much). Well, almost everyone. Riddick was conspicuously missing. She gave Johns an urgent look, indicating the door with her eyes. Quickly scanning the room, he noticed Riddick's absence, and left immediately to find him.

A few minutes later, both men entered the building. Sauntering over to the table, Riddick took a glass of water and retreated to the other side of the room to drink it. He sipped a little, then removed his goggles and wiped the sweat from his eyes. All the better to see you with, my dear, he leered inwardly, raising his glass to drink again as he fixed his hungry gaze on Carolyn. He was pleased to see her eyes wander over to him once in a while when she thought he wasn't watching, then dart away when she saw him staring brazenly back at her. Oh yeah...this was gonna be a piece o' cake.

The door opened again, and everyone was shocked to see Jack walk in - minus his cap of short brown hair. He'd apparently found a razor somewhere in the settlement and shaved his head to match Riddick's, adding a pair of dirty goggles for full effect. There were raised eyebrows and exchanged glances all around as he approached the table and picked up a glass of water, pulling the goggles up to rest on his forehead. He started to take a drink, and suddenly noticed everyone staring.

"What?" he asked defensively, glaring defiantly at the surprised faces.

"It's the winner of the look-alike contest," said Paris, with a nervous little laugh.

Whaddaya know, thought Riddick. The Richard Riddick Fan Club. How 'bout that. He finished off his water, smiling slightly and shaking his head in amusement. Look, Ma - I'm a role model. That one almost made him laugh out loud.

Paris walked over to join Shazza at a smaller table, where she was examining a box full of rock samples. "Who were these people anyway, miners?" he asked, peering into the box.

"They look like geologists," she answered, holding up a pair of tongs in which a whitish rock was firmly clamped. "Y'know - advance team, moves around from rock to rock?"

"Why'd they leave so much stuff here?" mused Fry, biting her lip as she thought. "Why'd they leave their ship?"

Riddick aimed an approving glance in Fry's direction. Nice to know I ain't the only one with half a fuckin' clue.

"It's not a ship," said Johns. "It's a skiff, and it's disposable, really."

"More like an emergency life raft, right?" Paris piped up from beside the small table full of rocks.

"Yeah," Shazza agreed. "They probably had a big drop ship take 'em off-planet."

Riddick shook his head in annoyance. Stupid fuckers. "These people didn't leave, c'mon," he said. "Whatever got Zeke got them. They're all dead."

He looked around at the ring of uneasy faces. They didn't want to hear this. Well, too fuckin' bad. "You don't really think they left with their clothes on the hooks, photos on the shelves?"

Shazza spoke up, casting her eyes about, her voice a touch desperate. "Maybe they had weight limits. You don't know."

Riddick stared right at her. "I know you don't prep your emergency ship unless there's a fuckin' emergency." She looked down, a chastened expression on her face.

"He's fuckin' right," Jack said emphatically from his seat next to Johns.

Johns turned to frown disapprovingly at the boy. "Watch your mouth," he said in that self-righteous tone Riddick hated.

Fry had sat silently through the pointless debate. She knew Riddick was right - it was all so obvious. These people simply didn't want to face it. "Hey, he's just sayin' what we're all thinkin'," she said quietly, her face heavy with resignation.

Riddick's eyebrows lifted just a bit in mild surprise. Well, well, he thought. Score one for Team Riddick, point by Fry.

She turned to face him, fixing him with a determined stare. "So what happened? Where are they?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, Imam burst into the room, his face a mask of fear.

"Has anyone seen the little one?" he shouted. "Ali!" he darted around the room, searching for his lost son.

"Has anyone checked the coring room?" Riddick asked quietly.

Show Me Your Eyes (Part 3)

Johns held the flare over the large pit in the middle of the coring room and dropped it in. Fry and Shazza leaned over the edge with him to watch its descent as it fell past Riddick, who was perched on a metal landing about ten feet below them. The faint sound of Imam's singing floated in to them on the hot breeze as he conducted Ali's funeral somewhere outside the settlement.

The creatures who'd killed Imam's youngest son had been roosting in the coring room when Johns shot through the lock and kicked open the door to be greeted by a cloud of the things that circled the room shrieking madly as sunlight poured in from the overhead louvers, then disappeared in a tornado of flapping and screeching into the pit over which they now stood.

Down, down the greenish flare went, briefly illuminating human skulls and bones resting on rough ledges as it fell past them. When it finally hit bottom, Riddick was proven right - the flame revealed a solid layer of human skeletons, the remains of those who had once lived in the now-desolate settlement.

"Other buildings weren't secure, so they ran here," said Riddick, leaning from his perch to look down into the pit. "Had those reinforced doors - thought they'd be safe inside. But they forgot to lock the cellar."

Nobody spoke for a moment. Fry looked over at Shazza, who closed her eyes and walked away quickly with a pained expression. She found a dim corner where she could stand still for a minute and collect her thoughts.

Images of scattered human bones lit by the eerie green glow of the flare kept flashing in front of her eyes. Now Zeke was among them. She clapped her hands over her face and rubbed hard, trying not to imagine him as a pile of torn and bloody body parts.

He's gone. Gone. No more Zeke. What'll I do now?

Get off this bloody ball of sand, that's what, she answered herself firmly. Get out of here before you end up like him.

Shazza turned her head as she heard movement behind her - the others were filing out of the coring room. When she saw Riddick go by, she was reminded of the fact that she'd beat the shit out of an innocent man. Killer or not, he'd never laid a hand on Zeke, and she couldn't let that rest. She had to at least make a gesture.

Riddick had gone ahead alone into the other room. Good - that would make things easier. Shazza sighed heavily and followed him, dreading what she had to do. Had she not been in so much pain, she might have stopped to consider the irony of the situation. It wasn't every day you had to apologize to a convicted killer for suspecting him of murder.

She found him sitting alone in the shadows near the main entrance. His head was bent, and he appeared to either be deep in thought, or simply staring at the floor. Fry walked past her, shooting them a wary look as she made her way to the other side of the room. She knew what they'd be discussing, and tactfully decided to make herself scarce.

Shazza stopped a few feet away from Riddick and waited. He knew she was there, but didn't look up or say anything to acknowledge her presence. She had no idea how to begin. If only etiquette manuals had instructions for situations like this... As she watched him, it suddenly occurred to her that he didn't have a breather like everyone else. Come to think of it, he never had. Ah...

She lifted her own breather off her shoulder and tossed it to him. "Here."

Riddick caught it and held it in the air between them, searching Shazza's face for some sign of trickery. There had to be a catch. "What, it's broken?" He tossed it disgustedly on the floor at her feet.

She watched the breather hit the floor, then looked back up at Riddick. This was going to be harder than she thought. Couldn't blame him, though, after the way she'd kicked him around. "No," she answered, trying to keep her voice even. "There's still a few hits."

Riddick turned away from her and dropped his eyes to the floor again. A few hits, he thought. Yeah, right. Like you'd waste 'em on me...

Shazza waited nervously for some kind of reply, but Riddick seemed determined to ignore her. Right, she thought. I'm not bloody groveling for the likes of you.

"Actually, you arsehole..." Her voice was starting to shake now, and she fought for control. "I'm trying to say that I'm sorry." As soon as the word 'sorry' left her lips, she heard someone moving behind her. She clammed up and turned her head just enough to see Johns standing there watching them.

"Okay," he drawled, his eyes darting from Riddick to Shazza and back. "Let's board this place up and get the hell outta here." He fixed Riddick with a suspicious glare, then walked away shaking his head. Stupid broad, he thought. Might as well be apologizing to one o' those damn critters for all the good it'll do.

When Johns was gone, Shazza turned and kicked the breather back towards Riddick before stalking off and leaving him alone. He waited until she was out of the building before slowly leaning over to pick it up. Checking the indicator on the side of the pack, he found it was still about a third full. Surprise, surprise... He slung the pack onto his shoulders, adjusting the hose to sit comfortably as he stared out the door in the direction Shazza had gone.

Fry had stopped on her way out to examine a tray of coring samples on a large dirty table. She flipped through them idly as Johns talked.

"Whatever the fuck those things were, they seem to stick to darkness," he said. "So if we stick to daylight we should be allright." He started to walk away, but Fry didn't seem to be paying attention. He stepped back to the table, where Fry was now looking at a tiny slip of dusty paper with something printed on it. "Let's go," he said, tapping on the table and turning to leave.

"Twenty-two years ago..." Fry murmured to herself.

Johns turned back to her with an exasperated sigh. "What?" He was starting to feel a little antsy. Time for a spike.

"These coring samples are dated," she replied, picking up another slip of paper. "Last one's twenty-two years ago this month."

Johns rubbed his eyes and sighed again. "Is there somethin' special about that, Carolyn?"

She stood thinking for a minute. "Maybe...could be...." Her eyes snapped open as something connected in her mind. Without another word, she zipped out of the coring room and headed for a small dark building a few dozen yards away, followed by Riddick, Johns and Imam. When they found her, she was busily turning the gears on a small model of the triple solar system they now found themselves in.

Fry watched the numbers advance on the little counter attached to the model as she pushed the gears along, moving the planets through their orbits.

Click - nineteen. Click - twenty. Click - twenty-one.

Click - twenty-two. The three suns and the planets now formed a straight line, and the tiny ball representing the world on which they now stood was in total darkness. Fry's breath caught in her throat as she finally realized what was happening.

"Eclipse."

Bravo. Smart girl, thought Riddick. Can't wait to fuck *your* brains out, baby.

He allowed himself a small, ironic smile as he spoke"You're not afraid o' the dark, are ya?"

Johns trudged across the sandy ground of the deserted settlement behind Fry, his eyes glued to her ass as she headed for the skiff to start preparing it for departure. She was thinking aloud, running through what still needed to be done before the eclipse started. "We gotta get the power cells..." A pause as she thought a for a second. "Shit, I still gotta check on the hull and patch the wings - "

"Wait on the power cells," said Johns.

Fry shook her head and walked faster. "Wait for what, til it's so dark we can't even find our way back?"

Johns struggled to keep up. "We don't know when that's gonna happen, so let's not get overexcited."

Fry stopped and turned to face him, annoyed. "Just - get the fucking *cells* here, Johns. What is the discussion?"

He regarded her silently for a moment before he answered. Time to play a card. "Maybe I should tell you how Riddick escaped." He lifted his hand, indicating that they should talk privately inside the skiff.

Fry tapped her fingers on the back of the captain's chair in the skiff as she digested what Johns had just told her. "So you're saying he can pilot..."

"Yeah." Johns nodded from his seat on the flight bench behind the copilot's chair. "He jacked a prison transport. Made a hell of a good run before I tracked his ass down."

"Okay..." She bit her lip, thinking. "Well, maybe that's a good thing. Maybe we can use him to help us navigate or something."

Next card, thought Johns. "He also figured out how to kill the pilot."

Great. I *really* needed to hear that. Fry sighed and hung her head, then stepped over and let herself drop heavily onto the bench opposite Johns. "You told me that we could trust him." She leaned forward to look right at him. "You said that we had a deal, Johns."

"And you may have noticed that chains don't work on this guy," said Johns. "Now, the only way you people are truly safe is if he believes he's going free."

Then it finally clicked. So *that's* what this is about. "You mean if he realizes we're going royally fuck him over - "

"Now why dontcha just listen to me for a second," Johns held up a hand, interrupting her. "If we bring the cells up at the last possible minute, when the wings are ready, and when we know we're ready to launch - "

"You know," Fry interrupted, cutting him off, "He hasn't harmed any of us, and as far as I can tell he hasn't even lied to us, so let's just stick to the deal, Johns."

"He's a killer!" hissed Johns, stabbing a finger at her. "And the law says he has to do his bit. There is *nothin'* I can do about that, you hear me?"

His words hung between them as they stared each other down for a long moment. Johns finally dropped his eyes and let his face relax. Man, he needed a spike like nobody's business. He had to struggle to stay calm. "Look, Carolyn..." he finally said, looking back up at her, "I'm just tryin' to do my job here, keep everyone safe." His eyes were wide and sincere now. "You wanna get off this rock alive, dontcha?"

Fry just looked at him, saying nothing.

He tried again. "He killed a pilot, you understand? Just slashed his throat without blinkin' an eye. You want him to do that to you?"

He won't, she thought, still not speaking. That's not what he *wants* to do to me...

"I don't wanna give him another chance like that. 'Specially with you." He leaned forward and placed a hand on Fry's knee. Next card. "'Cause I like you, Carolyn." He squeezed her knee. "I like you a *lot*. I'd be very upset if anything bad happened to you." His eyes unconsciously flicked down to her chest and back up again.

I don't fucking believe this - he's *hitting* on me. Fry kept her face as blank as possible and sat very still, Johns' hand still clasping her knee. "I appreciate your concern," she said in what she hoped was a steady voice. "Now, if you'll excuse me - " she stood up, making his hand slide off her leg, "I have work to do."

Johns let his hand fall as she got up and started poking around the skiff, checking equipment. Fine, be that way, he sneered to himself as he walked out. You'll be singin' a different tune before long.

Outside, the nausea hit.

Riddick sat nearby in the shade of the skiff's fabric wing, shaving his head with engine grease and a large knife he'd picked up somewhere in the settlement. He cast a brief glance at Johns as he leaned against the skiff fighting dry heaves.

"Baaaaad sign," he said casually, easing the knife blade over his greased scalp, "Shakin' like that in this heat..." The knife made a harsh sound as he scraped the grease off on the lip of a metal pot in front of him. Do us all a favor, Johns, he thought. Make it an OD next time.

Johns raised his head at the sound of Riddick's voice, and saw what he was doing. "I thought I said - " More nausea convulsed him. "Thought I said no shivs - " He lapsed once more into helpless gagging.

Riddick held up the knife, turning the blade back and forth. "This?" he said, his voice dripping with false innocence. He ran it over his scalp again. "This is just a personal grooming appliance."

Whatever. Johns was past caring. He needed his hypo. Needed it *now*.

When he was able to stop gagging and stand up straight, he walked off shakily in search of a nice, private spot to shoot up. He figured it wouldn't be hard to do in this place.

"Johns!" Shazza's voice reached him from across the compound. "Johns, I need a hand here."

Aw, fuck. Perfect timing. "With what?''

"Ran into some trouble with the sandcat, stuff I can't do without help."

Johns rubbed his eyes. "Get Riddick." He looked back towards the skiff at the spot where Riddick had been sitting. He was gone. Now, where the fuck did he run off to?

Shazza threw her hands up. "Can't find him. Look, I really need to get this done." She stood there, waiting. Didn't look like she was going away. Crap.

"Okay," said Johns resignedly. "Let's go." His spike would have to wait. He only hoped he could hold out for a bit longer without going apeshit on someone. That wouldn't help him at all, and he was running out of cards.

He still had a few, though - aces. He'd save them for later. Just in case.

Fry scanned the interior of the skiff, flipping switches and hitting buttons as she powered up for systems check. It wasn't too bad - not exactly state-of-the-art, but not so old that it was unfamiliar. She'd actually trained in simulators that looked a lot like this thing. She was trying hard to stay busy and not dwell on what Johns had just told her about Riddick, but his words kept echoing in her mind.

Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe a good dose of reality would bring her to her senses. Remember, she told herself, he could kill you like he killed that prison transport pilot. Somehow, though, she couldn't bring herself to believe he would do that to her.

Oh, come on, Fry - don't flatter yourself. She rolled her eyes at her own presumption. You really *are* losing it, and for what - some muscle-bound con who'd just as soon cut you as look at you? Please...

But then she remembered how it had felt to touch him, to stand so close she could feel his breath on her face as her fingers wandered over his skin. And the way he'd looked at her, as if he already owned her. I *will* have you, his eyes seemed to say, whether you want me to or not. She closed her eyes and shivered as she relived the sensation of his warm tongue darting out unexpectedly and tickling her thumb as she moved it across the soft fullness of his lips.

A loud beep from one of the equipment banks snapped her back to the now, and she realized she was standing there like a dope, motionless, lost in her thoughts. She shook her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose as if to chase them away. "Christ, Carolyn - get over it. There's work to do," she said aloud to herself.

She slid into the captain's chair and threw more switches, watching with satisfaction as lights and readouts came to life, telling her everything was as it should be. "Okay...lookin' good..." she muttered, sitting back and waiting as the equipment woke up from its long, dry nap. When the indicators told her everything was online and working, Fry pushed another button, and the gangway's hydraulic motors leaped into action with a mechanical whine as they raised it in preparation for the hull integrity test. It thumped closed and sealed itself with a hiss. Fry set the system to go through its routines, pushed back from the console and stood up.

As soon as she turned around, she knew she wasn't alone. There was movement at the very back of the skiff - a man's face, wearing goggles, barely visible in a patch of light streaming in from the front window.

Riddick.

She froze, wide-eyed, unable to react.

He lifted the breather off his shoulder and hung it up next to him casually and deliberately, as if entering his own home and hanging up his coat, then started making his way slowly towards the front.

She watched him come to her, mesmerized by his graceful, unhurried feline movements, the subtle shift of his muscles, every step ticking off a seemingly endless moment.

Oh...my...god, her awed brain whispered. It's happening, it's really happening...

She still couldn't make herself move or speak. She was quite simply melting where she stood, melting like a candle in a hot room, and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop it.

Riddick watched her intently as he approached. He was enjoying this. Closed up as they were in the skiff's small, hot interior, her scent reached all the way to the back, and he took it in greedily, like a drug. He noticed, though, that her fear smell wasn't as strong as it should be. After all, she *was* trapped in here alone with a convicted multiple murderer and potential rapist - she should be shitting her pants right about now.

Hmm...interesting...

His body tensed and flexed, even more aroused by this new development. He moved closer, ready for her to back away from him, or scream, or pick up something and threaten him with it. She did none of those things, just stood silently and waited for him.

Closer. Closer.

She was visibly trembling, her chest rising and falling rapidly in time with her breathing. Still, she did nothing.

*Very* interesting...

Now he was right up on her, practically in her face - another step and they'd be touching. He stared down at her for a few seconds, awaiting her reaction. All she did was raise her eyes to look up into his goggles. Riddick stepped past her and down towards the console, quickly finding the controls he needed to abort the systems check and power down the skiff, sealing them inside. She didn't try to stop him. From somewhere very far away, Fry's brain reminded her that she was now certifiably insane and in serious need of a strait jacket. She ignored it.

He stepped back up and turned to face her, this time moving close enough for their bodies to touch. Fry shut her eyes and spread her shaking hands out flat on her thighs as her trembling became more pronounced. She gasped when he brushed against her breasts, making her already rigid nipples even harder. Waves of heat came off him as he bent his head down next to hers and started smelling her, barely skimming the surface of her skin as he trailed his nose with excruciating slowness over her face and neck, breathing her in.

Sweat. Musk. Adrenaline. The rich, earthy fragrance of female arousal. An underlying sweetness, like that of ripe fruit. The acid sharpness of fear, which was quickly fading - that part still surprised him.

His reaction was instinctive, the beast inside awakening, tensing, uncoiling itself like a dragon roused from slumber. The fact that he scared people pleased him - it was a power trip, plain and simple, one that had saved his life many times - but this...this was very different. Only in battle had he ever faced another and smelled no fear. His body was now locked in a tantalizing state of confusion, seesawing wildly between conquest and combat. This was definitely something he'd never experienced before, and certainly not what he'd expect with a woman.

This was getting *much* more than just interesting.

With Riddick bent down over her, Fry found her face almost against his neck. The scent coming off him was overpowering, a potent mixture that reminded her of hot caramel, butterscotch and pepper. It seeped from his pores and wound itself around her, making her head spin. Pheromones, she thought distantly.

Whatever it was, it drove her mad, made her ravenous, as if she wanted to take a bite out of him. She turned her head slightly to the side, her lips brushing against his skin, and inhaled deeply. As his scent snaked sensuously up her nostrils, filling her head, she felt her lips swell and tingle as the blood rushed to them. Her heartbeat echoed thunderously in her temples, in her throat, and between her legs, pounding like a tribal war drum.

She had to have more. She leaned in closer and laid her face against his neck, bringing her hands up to slide them onto his chest. His heart was pounding too, thumping under her fingers as if trying to jump out and grab her.

Riddick stopped moving and waited breathlessly when he felt her touch him. The urge to just grab her and have his way with her was overwhelming, but he had to see what she would do next. His fists clenched and unclenched as Fry's hands slid up his chest and her lips moved lightly up and down the side of his neck, her hot breath making his skin tingle.

Her scent contained not a trace of fear now - she was doing exactly what she wanted to do, and knowing that was driving him wild. He never would have expected this from her. He knew now that there was much more to Carolyn Fry than he'd first supposed - and he wanted to know more.

He finally lost it when he felt her lips touch his ear. He couldn't stand still any longer - his hand flew up and gripped the hair on the back of her head, bending her back so he could see her face.

That's right, she thought. Go on, take what you want. She let him hold her like that for a moment before she twined her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Their lips brushed together softly, making them both tremble as invisible sparks shot through their bodies. She took her time, teasing herself more than him, really - she loved the feel of the energy building between them.

Riddick was not as patient - he let this go on for only a few seconds before he drew her in with his other arm and locked his mouth to hers, still holding her by the hair. When it came to sex, he never bothered much with the kissing part - he knew what he wanted, and he didn't waste any time with preliminaries - but this was truly amazing, like kissing a candy-flavored battery. A shock whipped through him, galvanizing every muscle into steel cords. His hand tightened in her hair as their kiss went on for what seemed an eternity.

Fry felt Riddick's free hand slide down and grip the utility belt she wore. He pulled his mouth away, and they stood with their faces touching, panting heavily. Then they were moving, his hand tugging her along by her belt, pulling her towards the little niche behind the captain's chair. He turned her around and shoved her back against the wall.

His voice was a low, hypnotic blend of command and seduction. "Take everything off," he said. "I want you naked."

Without hesitation, she started undressing, her eyes never leaving his. She kicked off her boots first, pushing them aside with her foot, then unlooped the breather in its little pack from over her shoulder and handed it to Riddick, who tossed it onto the flight bench behind him on the opposite wall. He did the same with her belt.

He reached up and removed his goggles, hanging them up over Fry's head and squinting painfully as his eyes got used to the light. He was willing to deal with a little discomfort if it meant being able to see everything.

Now she was pulling off her shirt. Riddick's quicksilver eyes took in the sight of her breasts as they fell free of the black fabric, then moved back up to her face. She was still looking right at him. It was clear that, for her, this was no striptease - she uncovered her body as though unwrapping and presenting an expensive gift. He'd never known the feeling of a woman so freely and boldly offering herself to him. True, women had found him desirable, but that desire had inevitably turned to fear when they'd gotten close enough to him. They'd done what he wanted only so he would let them go, truth be told, no matter how much pleasure he'd given them.

Fry snaked her hands into the sides of her pants and slid them down over her hips, letting them fall to her ankles. She stepped out of them, then reached down and peeled off her socks. When she stood up again, it surprised her to see that Riddick was staring not at her nude body, but at her face. He stepped in closer, raising his hands to cup her breasts and caress them gently.

Without warning, he tightened his grip, squeezing and twisting hard enough to hurt. This would bring the fear smell back, he was sure of it. It always did.

Carolyn cried out, but instead of showing fear, her eyes burned even hotter with desire as she arched her back and thrust her breasts more firmly against his hands.

Holy shit. She likes it.

He did it again, harder this time, and got the same reaction. Not a whisper of fear tainted her face or her scent.

Riddick was stunned. He didn't know *what* to make of this. All he knew was, it turned him on like nothing ever had before - he was ready to burst out of his pants. Time for a little personal attention from Ms. Fry.

"Get on your knees," he whispered into her face.

She stayed where she was, flushed and panting, her eyes boring into his. "After you," she breathed.

What the hell??? Who does she think she is? Riddick slammed her against the wall. "I don't get on my knees for *anybody*," he growled, slamming her once more to emphasize his words.

"But you want to." She still didn't budge. And she still wasn't afraid.

Okay, this was getting out of hand. Riddick's hand flashed down to grab his knife and whip the blade up right in front of her face. "How the *fuck* would you know what I want?" He slammed her again. "You don't know *shit* about me." Another slam. "I'll *tell* you what I fuckin' want - "

His words were cut short when he felt Fry's hand slide up his arm and slowly pull his knife closer to her face. His jaw dropped in amazement as her tongue came out and gave the blade a long, slow, luxurious lick. In her eyes he saw no slyness, no cunning, no flirtatiousness - just raw, naked desire.

He stood there speechless, pinning Fry to the wall as she very gently extracted the knife from his hand and tossed it away from them, towards the back of the skiff, then reached up to run her thumb over his lips as she had the first time she'd touched him.

"Such a beautiful mouth..." she whispered. "I bet you know how to use it."

His eyebrows shot up as he stared dumbly into her face. He was dimly aware that his straining erection was now causing him pain, but it didn't occur to him to do anything about it. He was still trying to get his mind around what was happening here.

"Why don't you show me?" said Fry, touching her face to his and searching his eyes. He felt her hands come up to rest on top of his shoulders and then press down lightly - she was pushing him to his knees. A *woman* was pushing him to his knees.

And he was going. She didn't even really *have* to push. His knees bent in slow motion as he lowered himself before her, their eyes still locked, his hands trailing down her body as he went. What the fuck's wrong with you??? his mind screamed at him. Are you crazy, gettin' on your knees for some bitch?

He knelt before Fry as if worshipping a goddess, his face even with her creamy belly as she looked down at him, caressing the back of his head. Her expression left no doubt about what she wanted from him.

He'd never cared much about pleasing women before, unless it was to establish his control over their bodies, show them who was in charge. Who's in charge now, eh, big boy? his brain snickered at him. He was distantly surprised to find that it no longer mattered to him - it was too late. Here he was, surrendering himself, wanting more than anything to please her, to hear her sigh and moan, to know that he'd given what she'd asked of him. His heart drummed crazily as he ran his fingers over her pale, smooth skin, sinking lower on his knees until his face was between her legs.

She felt his tongue on her, and cried out, her hands flying out beside her to press against the wall, nails scratching blindly on the metal. Christ, he was good. He used tiny fluttering motions at first, teasing her into a frenzy, then backing off. Then he slid his tongue into her repeatedly, as if kissing her mouth. Next came the heady sensation of his warm lips wrapped around her clitoris, sucking gently.

Riddick heard her breathing change, and knew she was approaching climax. He left off for a moment to let her come down a bit, but she wasn't having any of it. She was ready, and she let him know it.

"Don't you stop!" she growled from behind clenched teeth. "Don't you *dare* stop, or I swear I'll fuckin' kill you, Riddick!"

Obediently, he went back to sucking her, inflamed by her tone of command. No woman had ever spoken to him that way. Until now, no woman could have gotten away with it. No woman until Carolyn.

Her climax hit, and she threw her head back against the metal wall, crying out as Riddick continued, grasping her bucking hips to hold her against his mouth. As her orgasm wore down, her body went limp, and she sank helplessly onto the flight bench below her. He took his mouth away and held on, guiding her into a sitting position. She braced herself on the bench with her hands to keep from falling over sideways and sat there shivering and gasping for air, her eyes closed.

Riddick stayed on his knees in front of her, in awe of her flushed, sweating skin and rapturous expression. I did that, he thought. I made her look like that. Jesus Christ... This was not the face of a frightened whore or barfly giving a well-rehearsed set of responses designed to get him off of her and out the door. This was a woman glowing with pleasure because she *wanted* him, because she was pleased with what he'd done. When Fry finally opened her eyes, he almost stopped breathing when he saw the way she looked at him. Damn, he thought. I bet angels have eyes like that.

With a bit of effort, she sat up and looked down at his bulging pants, then back up at him. "Your turn," she said breathlessly. He wasted no time in standing up and undoing his pants, groaning with relief as he released his cramped erection.

Her eyes flew open in surprise when she saw it. He wasn't any longer than an average man, but his girth was incredible. She'd heard the term "thick as a baby's arm" tossed around by many a boastful male in her time, but she'd never believed it until now. All she could do was sit there wide-eyed and gape at it, wondering how the hell she was going to get it into her mouth.

"See somethin' ya like?" Riddick said teasingly. He grabbed her by the arms and stood her up in front of him, then turned her around and pressed himself into her, rubbing against her buttocks. Fry pushed her hips into him and rubbed back, making him moan. He brushed his lips along her neck, as she had done to him earlier, then surprised her with a sharp bite, making her yelp.

"You like that, dontcha?" he whispered in her ear. She leaned back against him, saying nothing. He already knew.

Riddick pushed her towards the front of the skiff and bent her over behind the two console chairs, moving her hands to grip the metal bars on the top of each one. She was still trying to make herself believe this was all really happening, that she was actually letting him do this to her. She could feel him behind her with his hands on her hips, and she knew what came next. She closed her eyes and waited, her breathing fast and erratic, and felt it begin.

He squeezed Fry's hips, enjoying the feel of his fingers digging into her softness. He was almost afraid to start, afraid it would be over too soon. He teased her with the tip, making her suck in a breath, then carefully began sliding himself in, pumping her with long, slow strokes. He ran his hands up and down her back as he moved, loving the feel of her body tensing and pushing back against him. She was still swollen and wet from her orgasm, her flesh enveloping him with delicious tightness.

Fry gripped the metal bars so hard she was amazed they weren't breaking off. Never had she been with a man this large. She couldn't believe how Riddick filled her and stretched her, almost to the point of pain - not that she minded. He moved inside her with teasing slowness, emptying and filling her over and over again. Her body responded to him automatically, the excitement building, and she knew if he kept going she'd come again. He seemed to sense this - as soon as she thought it, she felt his hand move around to the front of her, his fingers finding and stroking her swollen clitoris. She moaned loudly and pushed back hard against him.

"Don't move," he whispered breathlessly. "Not yet." With some effort, she stilled herself, and he continued his slow, measured stroking as his fingers toyed with her. He wanted her to come again, wanted the heat and the spasms churning around him as he reached his own climax - and he knew exactly how to make it happen. He changed his movements, now holding himself inside her as he undulated his hips. His fingers worked faster, making her tremble and whimper.

"Don't move," he said again, breathing harder this time. He was really close now, and he could tell she was too. He moved his other hand into position and waited. Timing was everything here. His body began to shake uncontrollably, and he slowed his movements even more, pushing himself in tiny increments towards the point of no return. When he felt the tiny electric thrills that told him he was about to let go, he slid his thumb down and pressed it firmly against her anus.

Her reaction was instant - her head flew back, her arms tensed involuntarily and yanked her towards the console chairs she was holding onto, pulling Riddick with her. Her screams echoed in the tiny skiff, mixing with his harsh orgasmic cries. She'd never felt anything like this in her life. Her body jerked and shuddered as she came, every nerve alive with the fire of her pleasure. In their blissful fog, neither one noticed what was going on outside.

Shazza was irritated.

Johns had been a first-class prick the whole time he was "helping" her, constantly snapping at her and criticizing everything she did. At least the bugger can carry things, she thought. He walked beside her now, bearing a load of tools and parts for the sandcat they were working on.

All in all, Shazza had decided she'd rather deal with Riddick than tolerate another minute of Johns and his attitude. Where the bloody hell had Riddick gone, anyway? She scanned the compound as she walked, hoping to catch a glimpse of him so she could call him over and get Johns out of her hair. As her eyes passed over the front of the skiff, she thought she saw movement inside. She couldn't really be sure, though, with the suns creating such a glare on the front windows.

She kept her eyes on it as she moved forward. She wasn't sure what she'd seen, but she had a feeling something out of the ordinary was going on in there. As she and Johns neared the skiff, one of the suns was briefly obscured by a building, and she got a quick look inside when the glare subsided.

Oh, shit, she thought, and stopped in her tracks. She took a step back and squinted.

Johns walked a few more feet before noticing she wasn't with him. He stopped with a huge sigh and turned around, obviously annoyed. "What?"

"Sh! Hang on..." She motioned with her hand for silence. She could see what looked like Carolyn Fry's contorted face moving back and forth between the two console chairs. She frowned and squinted harder. It looked like she was - naked??? That couldn't be. Then she heard what sounded like a very faint muffled scream, and suddenly it all fit together. She knew where Riddick was.

Shazza dropped what she was carrying and broke into a run, yelling back at Johns. "Come on, come on, she's in trouble!"

Johns started trotting after her, still bearing his load. "Who? Who's in trouble? What are you talkin' about?"

"Fry! He's bloody raping her!" Shazza shouted over her shoulder. "Drop that shit and come on!"

Johns let his load fall to the ground and sprinted after her, his hand on his gun. Shoulda known the fucker would pull somethin' like this. He thought back to when he'd put his hand on Fry's leg in the skiff. The hatch had been open. Prob'ly knows I want her, that's why he's doin' it. Bastard.

He ran faster, trying to keep up with Shazza. It wasn't easy, since he was long overdue for his spike. She was way ahead of him, almost to the skiff now. He saw her reach the front of it and start banging on the hull and screaming. She kept this up until he reached her a few seconds later.

"What happened? What did you see?" he panted, out of breath from his run.

"The bastard's in there with her!" Shazza shouted, pointing. "She's got nothing on. He pulled her into the back when he saw me out here."

Johns headed for the back of the skiff. "Come on. We'll get him when he comes out." Shazza followed, snagging a length of pipe from the ground as she went.

Show Me Your Eyes (Part 4)

He was still pumping and twitching inside her when the noises started. Someone was banging on the hull of the ship, right outside the front window. Fry opened her eyes and lifted her head to look - it was Shazza, and she was staring right at them, an urgent look on her face, shouting something Fry couldn't make out.

"Oh shit..." she breathed, still in the throes of her orgasm. Fry let go of the metal bars she was grasping, thinking to back away from the window, but her legs were still too shaky to hold her up. She and Riddick tumbled backwards onto the floor, still connected.

They landed and rolled to the side, Riddick's hands still firmly clamped around her hips as he thrust into her. They lay there shuddering and gasping helplessly, waiting for the spasms to subside as the banging and yelling outside continued, stopping only for a moment before resuming at the rear of the skiff, right outside the hatch.

"Shit," Fry panted again. "Gotta get dressed..." She pulled away from Riddick and sat up to look for her clothes. A male voice had now joined Shazza's as the yelling outside became more strident, and it sounded like someone was striking the hull with a metal object. Fry grabbed her pants and started hurriedly pulling them on. Her task was made more difficult by the sweat that covered her body, making the fabric stick to her.

Riddick stood up unsteadily, his head still spinning, and fastened his pants. As Fry struggled with her own, which were now firmly pasted to her thighs, he found his goggles and put them on. She stood and wrestled her pants the rest of the way up. "Shit, shit, shit!" she hissed, glancing towards the noises coming from outside. Snatching her shirt from the floor, she shrugged it on, then found her boots and stuffed her feet into them, forgetting her socks.

She looked over at Riddick, who was now sitting on the flight bench she'd collapsed onto earlier, still breathing heavily and dripping with sweat. "Okay," she panted. "Ready?"

Riddick nodded, and Fry stepped down to the console and start powering up, then walked to the back and positioned herself by the gangway, wiping her face and smoothing her hair back as the hatch popped open with a hiss.

Goddamn it, she thought. She fucking saw us. Now what?

Looking down, she noticed Riddick's knife still on the floor where she'd tossed it. She bent and slid it over to him, and he picked it up and tucked it into the back of his pants. When the gangway was almost all the way down, Johns leaped up onto it, gun drawn, followed by Shazza, who wielded a length of metal pipe. Johns advanced with his gun raised as Fry backed away, wide-eyed, her hands in the air. "Whoa, hey..."

"You okay?" Johns snapped, his eyes darting towards Riddick, who was still sitting near the front of the skiff. He noticed that both of them were out of breath and sweating heavily.

"Yeah, what the hell's going on?" Fry asked, her eyes on the end of Johns' gun. "Get that thing away from me."

"It's not aimed at you," said Johns. "Now step aside."

"Are you nuts?" Fry exclaimed. "What the hell are you doing?"

"We saw what he did to you!" Shazza yelled, pointing at Riddick with her piece of pipe.

Fry shook her head. "He didn't do *anything* to me."

"You don't need to cover for him, Carolyn," said Johns. "Just come out of the skiff and I'll deal with him. You're safe now."

"Safe?" said Fry. "What do you mean, safe?"

"He raped you! I saw it!" Shazza waved her pipe in Riddick's direction again. "I heard you screaming!"

Fry's flushed face grew even redder. "He didn't rape me," she said, lowering her hands.

"Bollocks!" said Shazza. "I was bloody well looking at you while he did it!"

"Carolyn," said Johns, his tone that of a parent addressing an errant child, "It smells like a brothel in here, and your shirt's inside out. We *know* he did it. Now come on out. You don't have to be afraid of him now."

"I'm not afraid of him," said Fry insistently. "He didn't hurt me, okay? Now put the damn gun down."

"Carolyn, you step aside *now*, you hear me?" Johns was getting pissed. He needed that goddamned spike. "Get outta here and let me take care of this."

"Johns, I'm telling you, there's nothing to take care of - "

"C'mon, Johns..." Riddick's voice came from the front, cutting Fry off. He had gotten up and was walking towards them. "Does she *look* like a rape victim to you?"

Johns followed Riddick with his gun, his face tight with anger. "That's far enough, Riddick."

Riddick stopped right behind Fry and placed his hands possessively on her shoulders. "Don't you know a satisfied woman when you see one?"

"Shut up!" Fry hissed at him.

Riddick regarded Johns with a bemused expression. "Nah...come to think of it, you prob'ly wouldn't."

Fry elbowed Riddick in the ribs. "Will you knock it off!"

Riddick let go of Fry and raised his hands in surrender, backing away from her. "Hey, just tryin' to help."

"Well, don't!" said Fry, darting her eyes back to him.

Johns and Shazza looked at each other, their eyebrows raised in surprise at this little exchange. For a long, uncomfortable moment, no one spoke.

Shazza fiddled with her piece of pipe and cleared her throat. "So..." she said, looking warily back and forth from Fry to Riddick, "You're saying...?" She gave Fry a questioning look.

"I'm saying I wasn't raped." Fry swallowed hard, blushing furiously.

Johns gave Fry a long, appraising look and shook his head. "Nah...I don't buy it," he said. "She'd never let this asshole touch her like that. Not unless he forced her. Right, Carolyn?"

Fry looked down and didn't answer.

"C'mon, Carolyn," Johns prompted. "You *know* you didn't let him do that to you."

She looked back up and locked eyes with Johns. His face changed as Fry held his gaze, her expression one of open defiance, and it slowly dawned on him that she was telling the truth - she'd actually *let* that son of a bitch -

Johns glowered at Riddick. "You fuckin' piece o' shit!" he spat viciously. His finger twitched on the trigger of his gun, ready to fire.

Fry jumped in front of Riddick, her arms raised. "Leave him alone!" she shouted. "He didn't do anything wrong."

Riddick said nothing. He was too surprised by the fact that Carolyn had just placed herself without hesitation between him and a trigger-happy drug addict.

Johns was on the edge now, needing a spike so bad it hurt. He held his gun on Riddick for a moment, breathing hard, his face twisted with rage. Oughtta blast right through that little whore, he thought. She deserves it just for lettin' him get a piece o' her.

Shazza touched him on the arm. "Johns," she said quietly, not wanting to make him any madder, "This won't help us. We need a pilot." She shot a frightened look at the others. "And we need everyone to help get those cells here."

Johns considered that for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Fine." He uncocked his gun and lowered it, staring at Fry and Riddick with open contempt. "Okay, then," he sneered sarcastically. "Guess we'll leave you two lovebirds alone." He aimed a withering glance at Fry, then turned abruptly and stomped down the gangway and out of the skiff. Shazza followed, blowing out a shaky breath of relief.

Fry and Riddick watched them leave. When they were gone, Fry walked quickly to the front of the skiff and hit the button to close the hatch. As the motors noisily raised the gangway, she grabbed two of the yellow support bars lining the rear flight benches and leaned her forehead on the wall above them, closing her eyes. Riddick walked over to stand beside her.

"Oh, man..." she groaned. "This is just fuckin' *great*..."

"Great fuckin' is more like it," said Riddick, a smile in his voice.

Fry pushed herself off from the bars and faced him. "Goddamnit, Riddick, will you be serious?"

He placed an arm on the bar next to her and leaned on it casually. "I *am* serious."

Fry threw her hands up in the air and rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Well, *you're* a big help."

He shrugged and tilted his head to the side. "I try."

She placed her hands on her hips, looking down for a moment in thought, then back up at Riddick. "Johns lied to you. He's not gonna let you go."

Riddick didn't answer.

"I don't know if he's gonna chain you up or shoot you," Fry continued. "He thinks you'll take the skiff and leave us all here."

"I know," said Riddick.

She frowned, confused. "How? Did you hear him tell me that?"

Riddick shook his head. "Didn't need to. My bullshit detector's in good workin' order. Besides..." He straightened up and stretched his arms, "I'm worth twice as much alive. Killin' me would be a waste o' money."

Fry's eyebrows shot up. "What?'

Riddick finished stretching and lowered his arms. "Oh, you didn't know?"

Fry shook her head. "Know what?"

"Your pal Johns," he went on, "ain't a cop. He's got that shiny badge and all, but - " He shrugged. "He's just a merc, and I'm just another payday." Riddick stepped past Fry to the flight bench behind the copilot's seat. "Ya know - I think he's got a thing for you," he said, clearing Fry's breather and belt off the bench and taking a seat.

Fry shuddered in disgust. "Yeah, he tried to hit on me right after he told me how you - " She bit her lip, cutting off her words. Don't wanna think about that, not now...

"How I what?" asked Riddick. "How I escaped, ya mean?"

Fry looked down and nodded, unable to meet Riddick's eyes.

"What did he tell you?" he asked.

She sat down on the bench opposite Riddick and leaned back, looking out the front window. "He said you jacked a prison transport."

"And?" he prompted after a moment.

Fry sighed heavily. "He said you killed the pilot." She looked over at him. "Is it true?"

"'Fraid so," he answered.

She looked back out the window and nodded silently, not really wanting to think about what that might mean for her.

Riddick regarded her from behind his goggles. "Scared o' me now?" He didn't need to ask - his nose caught the faintest whiff of the fear smell she'd lacked earlier. Oddly, it disappeared as quickly as it arose.

Fry shrugged, still looking out the window. "I guess. I dunno." She raised a hand and rubbed her eyes. "Why bother?" Her hand dropped into her lap, and she looked over at him wearily. "If you take me out, you take me out, and I can't stop you, so I'm not gonna waste my time worrying about it."

He was glad his eyes were covered - no telling what she might have seen in them had he not been wearing his goggles. She'd surprised him yet again. That was really saying something - he was rarely surprised by what people did anymore. But Carolyn had basically just put her life in his hands and said do what you will with it, it's yours anyway. And hers was not the demeanor of a sheep being led to the slaughter, resigned to its fate - she truly had no idea *what* he would do. She was leaving that up to him.

Riddick leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched her face. "Think I'd do that?"

Fry looked away. "I dunno."

"C'mon," he said. "Humor me. Gut feeling - yes, or no?"

Her eyes softened, and she stared at him for a long time before she gave her quiet answer.

"No."

Riddick slowly leaned back against the wall and sat very still. Now *this* was a whole new ball game, and he was stuck in the nosebleed seats behind a pole with no clue what was actually going on. He had severely underestimated Carolyn Fry. What else had he underestimated - himself, perhaps?

He didn't think so. He knew what he was. So did she.

But what else does she see? his mind whispered to him. No one looks at you like that if all they see is a killer.

Fry was gazing out the window again, lost in thought. He leaned forward again and spoke to her. "You really believe that, don't you?"

She turned back to him with a look that was half sadness, half affection. "I guess we'll see when the time comes."

Yeah, I guess we will, he thought.

"I better finish the systems check," said Fry, getting up from her bench. "I dunno how much daylight we have left."

Riddick stood up with her, and they found themselves face to face, almost touching, there in the middle of the narrow walkway. Something twisted in his gut as he looked down at her, something he couldn't quite name.

Or maybe he was afraid to.

He raised his hand and hesitantly touched Fry's face, running his thumb over her lips as she'd done to his. Such a beautiful mouth, she'd said to him.

Well, look who's talkin', he thought.

Fry surprised herself by suddenly throwing her arms around him, squeezing him tightly and resting her head on his shoulder. What the hell, she thought. This may be my only chance. It was bliss, being so close to his warmth and his scent.

Riddick was too stunned to do anything but stand there with his hands in the air as she held him. He honestly didn't know how to react - no one had ever done this before. It felt kind of silly to stay like that, so he after a minute he finally brought his hands down and tentatively slid his arms around Fry. One hand found the back of her neck, and he wrapped his fingers around it, bending his head down so his lips touched her hair. His other arm circled her waist, pulling her more firmly against him.

Kill me now if you're going to, thought Fry. I'm already in Heaven.

Riddick closed his eyes and tightened his grip, his mind whirling with memories, tracing the violent and bloody path he'd blazed over the years, a path that had led him to this dusty alien world, this tiny hot skiff, and this woman's arms. He sure as hell hadn't seen *this* coming - whatever it was. He found himself having very un-Riddick-like thoughts about stopping time and living the rest of his life in this moment, forgetting about Johns and Slam and those bloodthirsty creatures waiting to catch them in the dark.

But that was a luxury for someone like him, and he knew it. "You have work to do," he whispered into Fry's hair.

She sighed and lifted her head off his shoulder, releasing her grip on him as he unwound his arms and took them down. They stood looking at each other as they had before, not sure what to say or do.

"Guess I should get started," Fry said quietly. She stepped down to the console and hit the button for the hatch.

Riddick started walking towards the back, then stopped and turned to address her again. "Next time you see Johns, you might wanna ask him why gets the shakes so bad."

Fry gave him a quizzical look.

"And ask him why your crewmate had to die in so much pain."

He stood silhouetted for a few seconds in the sunlight pouring through the hatch before heading down the gangway and off into the bright dusty afternoon.

She watched him go, then returned to the console, taking the captain's chair as she resumed her interrupted systems check. As she watched the various lights, monitors and readouts come to life again, she pondered Riddick's parting words. He'd given her a lot to think about.

Fry stood silhouetted in the doorway of the small storage building where she'd finally found Johns. He sat on a white barrel, his back against a stack of more barrels, head tilted back as he shot a hypo into his eye. She shook her head in disgust as she watched him. What a guy, she thought. The doped-up merc is gonna save us all from the big bad killer. Yeah, right. "So who are you, really?" she asked coldly.

No answer.

"You're not a cop, are you?" she prodded.

Johns' head lolled to the side as he regarded her with bleary, half-closed eyes. "I never said I was, Carolyn." His speech was slurred by the drugs he'd just taken.

Fry appraised him for a moment. "No, you didn't," she whispered, and crossed the room to examine the contents of the small red box on the table near him. She drew out one of the metal tubes inside and opened it to find several full hypo cartridges. "You never said you were a hype, either," she said disgustedly, throwing the tube down and letting it clang on the table.

Johns sighed and rubbed his eyes. "You have a lil caffeine in the mornin', and I have a lil morphine," he slurred at her. "So what." He really wanted her to go away and let him enjoy his high.

Her lips tightened with anger as she stood with her back to him - she could barely stand to look at him. "Here we got two mornin's every day. Wow, were you born lucky," she said, her words dripping with sarcasm.

Johns sighed deeply, opening his eyes a bit more. The drugs were settling in now, the effect evening out. "It's not a problem unless you're gonna make it one..."

She whipped around to face him, furious now. "No, it *becomes* a problem when you let Owens die like that! You have enough drugs here to knock out a fucking mule team!"

Johns snorted derisively, his lip curled. "Y'know, you're a fine one to be lecturin' me on morals, Fry. Aren't you the one who was gonna kill every one of us just to save your own ass?" Fry blanched and tried to make her face a blank mask, but he could see he'd hit her where it hurt.

He got up and walked over to stand in front of her, sticking an accusing finger in her face. "And aren't you the one we just caught butt-naked fuckin' that piece of murderin' scum when you were s'posed to be preppin' the skiff?"

Fry blushed and tried to push past him, but he grabbed her arms and gripped them hard, shaking her.

"I can smell that bastard's spunk all over you." His voice was a venomous hiss. He was feeling good now, strong and pumped-up from his spike. No scumbag criminal was getting something *he* couldn't have - sloppy seconds would just have to do. He whipped her around and twisted her arms up behind her back, making her cry out in pain. Shoving her over to the barrel he'd just been sitting on, he bent her over and slammed her down on top of it face first, making her yell again. Her mouth hit the edge of the barrel lid, cutting the inside of her upper lip against her teeth. Her bulky utility belt dug uncomfortably into her abdomen and hipbones.

Johns stood right behind her, his back to the door, his hard-on pressed firmly against her ass. She tried to struggle, but the pain in her arms forced her to stop and lie still, gasping in agony. No, no, not this fuckin' asshole, please... "Tell me somethin', Carolyn," he muttered from between clenched teeth. "How was it? Huh? Was he good?" His words were punctuated with repeated jabs of his erection between her butt cheeks. "He have a nice big dick? Huh?" He rubbed himself into her harder, then backed off while he freed one of his hands to undo his pants, holding her small wrists together with the other.

Fry heard the sounds of his pants opening and coming down. He poked her again with his now-exposed hard-on. "Did he make ya come hard? Huh?" Now he was trying to pull her pants down, but not having much luck. "I know he made ya scream. You gonna scream for me too?" He fumbled with her pants some more. Then Fry heard a sharp intake of breath, and felt him freeze in place.

The hand holding her wrists suddenly let go, and with a cry of relief, she brought her arms down off her back, then slid off the barrel and stood up, rubbing her shoulders. When she turned to face Johns, she found him standing with his pants down and his hands in the air. Riddick stood right behind him, the edge of his knife positioned directly underneath Johns' now-shrinking penis.

"You okay?' Riddick asked her. She nodded, her tongue probing the fresh cut on the inside of her lip.

Johns gave a harsh laugh. "What's all this 'knight in shining armor' bullshit? You fuck her once, and all of a sudden she's your girlfriend? Whadda *you* care who does her?"

Riddick moved closer to him so he could speak right into his ear. "Wrong attitude for a guy with a knife under his dick." He barely moved the blade, making a tiny slicing motion.

Johns' eyes snapped wide open, and he sucked in a breath. "Okay..okay...okay," he panted out, still holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, you got me, okay..." He stood motionless, swallowing hard as Riddick slowly withdrew the knife and backed away, closing his eyes and blowing out a shaky breath of relief when the knife was clear of him. He hastily checked his penis - Riddick had made a minuscule cut on the underside. Nothing serious, but it would burn for a while.

As Johns hastily pulled up his pants and fastened them, Riddick continued backing towards the door and signaled to Fry that she should follow him. She stopped right beside him and looked back at Johns, laying a hand on Riddick's shoulder.

Johns turned around and saw them standing together, backlit by the bright doorway, watching him. He knew he'd never get a piece of this bitch as long as Riddick was alive. He'd have to fix that soon. Real soon. Fuck the reward - not worth the trouble, anyway. He'd much rather get out of here alive and have another go at Carolyn. He'd teach *her* a thing or two about who was really in charge here.

Riddick patted Fry's thigh and jerked his head backwards, indicating that she should leave. She paused for a moment first, trailing her fingers slowly down Riddick's arm, locking eyes with Johns as she did so, then walked past Riddick and out of the building, leaving the men alone.

Johns watched her go as he straightened his clothes, trying to recover some semblance of male dignity. "So tell me, Riddick," he leered, when she was out of earshot. "Man to man - how was it?" He indicated Fry's retreating back with a motion of his eyes.

Riddick let the question dangle as he considered his answer. "Man to man, huh?" he finally said, shaking his head and laughing. "I doubt you'd know much about bein' a man." He tapped himself on the chest with his knife. "At least *I* didn't have to force her." With that, he backed out the doorway, turned around and took off in the direction Fry had gone. As he walked, he thought of how she had touched him so deliberately in front of Johns, as if to say, I'm his, and you can't have me.

He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that - she might have done it just to keep Johns at bay, but somehow he didn't think so. Either way, the idea of a woman so fearlessly giving herself to him - and fearlessly demanding from him in return - was blowing his mind. There'd been moments in the skiff with Carolyn when he'd felt more like the slave than the master. What's more, he'd liked it - liked it a lot - even though it scared the shit out of him. He was used to being in complete control when it came to women. He'd never known one who made him *want* to please her - not to make him feel he controlled her body, but simply to know he had given her pleasure.

And why *had* he saved her from Johns, anyway? 'Cause the asshole doesn't deserve her, he thought.

That brought him up short. He stopped walking and stood still, considering. Why should I fuckin' care? So I fucked her, big deal. He closed his eyes and let images of their time together in the skiff flood his mind. Nothin' special, he told himself. But the wave of mixed emotions that washed over him told him otherwise.

He opened his eyes and started walking again, shaking off his reverie. More important things required his attention now - like staying alive. He was already pretty sure that Johns, stupid fuck that he was, had signed their death warrants by waiting to bring the rest of the power cells to the skiff. No big surprise. What else could you expect from a paranoid, power-trippin' hype?

Riddick stopped walking again, looking around him. Something was different, the angles of the shadows...

He realized the sunlight was fading. Fast. And much sooner than they'd anticipated. Fuckin' Johns, he thought, breaking into a run. Say your prayers, people, 'cause you're all gonna meet your maker tonight. And I don't plan on goin' along for the ride.

Chapter 5-8   Chapter 9-13   Chapter 14-18