Title: I Want You To Need Me

Author: SlayerKnight2@aol.com (Mary)

Fandom: Pitch Black

Pairing: Richard B. Riddick/ William Johns implied Johns/other

Rating: NC-17

Status: In the works

Series: Yep! Probably be a long one, too.

Archive: Yes to CKoS, WWOMB, and anyone else, sure give me an ego-boost

Warnings: First-Time, AU, domestic abuse, extreme violence, m/m, Spoilers for the movie.

Notes: This takes place before PB, probably be an AU eventually. Johns captured Riddick once and now he's escaped. Johns is in the process of finding him again. This is will be ongoing series. Not sure exactly where I want to take it but any requests or feedback is great. If anything seems a little off, write me, and I'll fix it.

Dedicated: To Paula. You know who you are and I just had to slash this M*A*N* one more time for you.

Summary: Johns is looking for Riddick once again, only this time, he has some unwanted company. Riddick is forced to realize that the seemingly cold-hearted Johns needs his help before it's too late.

Disclaimers: Johns, Riddick, and everyone else from PB belong to David Twony or, however you spell his name. They are not mine! That character of Max Dallas is mine, though.



I Want You To Need Me
by Mary


He should have left.

Riddick stared at Johns from across the dimly lit bar. The younger man was not aware of his presence yet and Riddick should have left the moment he spotted the mercenary that was hunting him. Hell, he'd even backed up towards the door. But something in Johns' face had stopped him.

Desolation. Loneliness. Pain.

They were all deeply etched in the handsome face that was hung between the strong shoulders. His shoulders were slumped and his head rested on his folded forearms as he eyes stared off sadly into space.

Riddick shook his head from where he sat in the back of the bar. It gave him a good view of Johns' face. His expression and his body language made him look pathetic. Made him look broken.

Curiosity whirled around in the serial killer's mind as he eyed his current prey. This was not the loudmouthed, smart-ass merc who had captured him and sent him back to the Slam. He was attracted to Johns. Not just because of his physical beauty, which was lacking nothing. A strong jaw, smooth skin, and the brightest blue eyes that Riddick had ever seen. He could always tell what the young merc was thinking just by the look in his eyes.

But something in Johns' personality drew Riddick to him. The younger man had such fire in him, such spirit. Yeah, Riddick admired him. The merc was the only one who had the balls to go after him, not only once but twice.

As Riddick's silver eyes focused on Johns again he realized that the spirit was gone. And his curiosity made him stay. Dozens of serial killer, rapists, and child molesters hadn't broken the young man.

What had?

Well, he wasn't going to get answers from where he sat. If the merc still had enough gusto in him to chain Riddick up again, then he would escape later. Curiosity kills the cat. Well, not knowing would eat away at him. Johns' and his lives had been intertwined for too long now for something this drastic to happen.

He got up from his booth and stalked his prey. He took a seat across to the merc in the booth at the back of the bar. It was a darkened corner, so he took off his goggles.

Silence passed between them for long moments.

Riddick cocked his head to the side slightly, as if to inquire what Johns was thinking.

Johns sighed but didn't move."I'm not drunk enough for this."


2

Riddick snorted at the comment. "You gonna 'cuff me now?"

Johns remained silent.

Riddick slid over to where Johns was sitting. He took out his shiv and pressed it against the other man's side, not hard enough to pierce but enough to let Johns know he was in deep shit. No one could see the knife and from the looks of the people who came to this dive, they wouldn't have come running over to help a nun. At first, Riddick had been curious, now he was second-guessing himself. Not something he liked doing. He wasn't going back to Slam.

Johns didn't move. He felt the serial killer's knife and his hot breath on his neck. But he didn't care. "Then do it."

Riddick stared at him, surprised. He pulled his arm back and moved away a few inches from the man, so that he could look into his face.

Such sadness. The bruises on his face, the cuts. Must have been one hell of a fight with his last bounty. He leaned against the back of the booth. "What the fuck happened to you?" It was a whisper, bland yet it cut through the bullshit.

Johns snorted. He took a long gulp of his beer, which had become stale as he had sat there daydreaming, thinking about Max. " I went to church."

He glanced at Riddick and found the stoic mask unnerving. He shrugged. "I got into a fight."

"With who?"

Anger stated to bubble up in Johns. He needed an outlet for all the painful emotions whirling around in him, all the helplessness. " Why you want to know?"

Riddick noticed the tone but ignored it. "So I can thank him."

Before Johns could reply with a nasty comment, a voice called out, "Thought I'd find you here."

Riddick watched as a man in his early forties walked over to them. He had dark hair that was streaked with silver and black eyes. His presence radiated anger and violence. Riddick's instincts kicked up and his muscles were filled with adrenaline, ready for a fight.

The newcomer's gaze went from Johns, to Riddick, and then back to Johns. "Who's your friend, Will?"

Only then did Riddick notice that all of the anger had left Johns and deep-rooted fear had taken it's place. Riddick could smell the other's fear it was so tangible. He also noticed how tense the young merc was.

Johns stared at his bottle of beer. "He's no one, Max. Really."

The malevolence in the man increased with each sentence. "No one, huh? Well, while you're sitting in this dump, flirting with 'no one' Riddick's out there, running."

Riddick assumed that this guy, Max, was Johns' partner and a probably a merc as well. He wondered why Johns didn't tell him about the convict sitting right next to him. It wasn't surprising that Max didn't know what he looked like. Johns knew his face anywhere and didn't carry a photo ID.

Johns glanced at Riddick, then looked back at his beer. "Yeah, just thought I'd take a break."

Max must have caught the glance. He put a hand on Johns' right shoulder, squeezing painfully. Anger laced his words as he ground them out. "Well, 'break's' over, Will."

Riddick saw Johns wince in pain as the knuckles on the hand turned white with pressure. He heard the pain and defeat in Johns' whisper. "Please, Max."

The other man tightened his fist, pressing his fingers into a Johns' pressure point. The young man gasped in pain but didn't move.

Riddick's muscles tightened in anger, the source of which he didn't want to acknowledge at the moment. "Stop, "He growled. The one simple word a thinly veiled threat of impeccable violence.

For the first time all evening, the other man looked a little afraid.

Johns looked at the serial killer in shock. Max released his shoulder but pulled Johns by the upper arm. "Let's go, Will." It was obvious that the guy wasn't used to being afraid and he didn't like it.

Riddick watched, amazed, as Johns docilely followed Max out of the restaurant. This was interesting. And this wasn't Johns.He got up and followed Johns and the malevolent man that was connected to him.

*

Johns winced as Max slammed the door shut. He knew that his lover was possessive -- and angry. Two things that were a dangerous combination. He heard Max drop the keys down onto the wooden coffee table by the door. The loud clatter made him jump. Silence followed.

Johns stared at the white wall, feeling his lover's glare against his back.

"You know, Will, if you want to fuck him, just tell me."

Johns snorted, again. Of course he wanted to fuck Riddick. The man was like a panther, powerful muscles that glided beneath the surface of olive skin. Silver eyes that pierced a soul and a voice that sent shivers up his spine. But, he wasn't stupid enough to say it aloud to his current lover. "Don't be stupid, Max."

It was the wrong thing to say. Max flew at him. He grabbed Johns by the hair and slammed him up against the very wall he had been staring at. He grunted as the wind was forced out of him. Max punched him twice in his kidneys and grabbing his hair, slamming his head hard against the wall.

Stars swam in Johns' eyes as physical pains replaced emotional ones.

In a way, he welcomed the replacement. The physical pain was real, he could touch it and feel it fade. The emotional ones never faded, just ate away at him like molecular acid, seeping into his nightmares. It was rather amusing, actually. He had beat the shit out of numerous convicts who had looked at him the wrong way. But with Max and his short temper, he just took it. He loved Max. He knew he didn't deserve the beatings, but he put up with them because when the bruises faded and the cuts coagulated, Max would kiss the pains away and he would never feel happier.

He was thrown to the floor and Max straddled his hips. He punched Johns' face repeatedly, causing blood to flow and bruises to rise to the surface. And the younger merc took it with quiet gasps of pain and whimpering noises.

After a few minutes, Max stopped. His black eyes glinted in the florescent light as he smiled suddenly. He leaned down and gently kissed Johns. The young merc couldn't help it; he tensed at the contact and tried to get away. Max, angry that his lover wasn't completely subservient, bit down on his lower lip, drawing blood.

Johns cried out and struggled out from beneath the man.

Max laughed, cruelly. "You'll just take it, won't you?" When he got no response, his laughter faded. "You'll never leave me, will you?"

Johns tried to get his breath back, as his hand swept over his face.

He looked at his hand -- it was covered in blood. Pain and dizziness swept over him, as the beating mixed in with the alcohol, caused his body to cave in on itself. He needed fresh air to keep him from passing out. Johns stumbled out of the apartment and walked down the three flights of stairs to the ground level, where he collapsed on the stoop.

Max had let him go. "No. You'll never leave me." He whispered, softly.But no one was in the apartment.

*

Johns buried his face in his hands, wincing as his fingers pressed up against reopened wounds as well as new ones. A familiar feeling. He tried not to remember the times when Max had been so nice to him. His father had beat him, too. He was a mean drunk but a sad man when he was sober. He would beat Johns when he was drunk and then apologize sincerely when the alcohol had fled his system. Right up until the day he shot his mother with a .45 and then turned the weapon on himself.

That was what Johns knew.

Love begets violence and vice-versa. Max was the first man that he'd ever been with and had not been violent at the beginning. No, he wouldn't leave. He had nothing else but Max and morphine. His throat contricted.The tears of childhood threatened to rise again and the salt stung the open wounds.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on the back of his neck. The hand rubbed his neck in a gentle, soothing manner that calmed him immediately. The reassuring touch was such a contrast to the violence he'd just experienced that his chest heaved with quiet sobs.

He kept his head buried in his hands, he didn't want to know who it was, didn't care. His whimpers must have struck something in the other person because the hand changed into an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against a firm chest. Strong, muscular arms tightened around him and he welcomed the comfort. Eyes closed, he nestled into the nook of the stranger's shoulder but did not return the embrace.

A deep voice spoke softly. "How often does he hit you?"

Riddick.

Johns knew he should get away from the cold-hearted serial killer that he was hunting but he didn't move. He was the one that felt cold inside and the warmth of Riddick's skin slowly began to seep into his weary body.

"Too often." Johns replied, in an equally quiet tone.

They just stayed like that, sitting on the stoop. A few people passed but few gave them a second look. This was a town for the lost souls and people were numb to human suffering.

After about twenty minutes, Johns said." I have to go back upstairs."

Riddick tightened his arms around him. "No."

Johns didn't move, didn't want to. "He'll get angry again."

"Then come home with me."

The request took the merc by surprise. "Why do you give a damn?"

Riddick rested his chin on the top of Johns' head, his curly blonde hair surprisingly soft. "I don't know." A pause. "But I do."

(3)

Johns followed Riddick numbly as they boarded the subway. It was late by now, probably around one in the morning. Very few people were on the subway car. Aching from his injuries, Johns collapsed onto one of the empty seats. He saw the serial killer grab the bar next to him, giving Johns some space.

He sighed and surveyed the subway car in hopes that if he concentrated on the present he couldn't remember the past or worry about the future. It was an old car, benches were wood with cheap plastic seats and metal bars for when rush hour came each day. But now, it was like a ghost town.

A homeless man that was sleeping on a bench near the end of the car.

His dark skin looked dried out from the cold weather that had permeated the city during the past few days. He was older, probably around sixty. Johns wondered what his story was. Did he grow up on the streets or did he run away from home? Did his daddy hit him or mommy rape him? Did he have a family somewhere? Did they worry about him? Did he care?

The only other person was a brunette in her early forties sat a couple benches down, her legs crossed and her orange purse in her lap. Her cheap furcoat and black fishnet stockings completed her look. Her face was drawn and aged before it's time, despite the devil-red lipstick she wore.

She glanced over at him, staring for a few minutes before getting up and walking over to where he was. She sat down next to him, her eyes glued on Riddick. Her hair went down to the middle of her back and Johns could smell the sharp scent of the peroxide she had used to dye it blonde. He didn't look at her, choosing to stare out the windows on the opposite side of the car. A few months ago, he would have leapt at the chance for sex from her but now she merely annoyed him.
Even Riddick was annoying him but he wanted the serial killer to stay with him. He wasn't quite sure why the presence of a man who had killed several people suddenly was a soothing balm to his jittery nerves and nightmarish memories. Maybe it's because he's just as fucked up as you are, he thought to himself.

"You okay, Hun?"

Johns looked at her, startled. "Uh, yeah." He was suddenly and painfully reminded of the cuts and bruises on his face. He must look like hell three times over.

She must have caught the embarrassment in his voice. "Don't worry about it, kiddo. I've seen much worse. You get into a fight with a girlfriend?"

Johns frowned.

She laughed. "If it was a fight with a stranger, you wouldn't have that 'my-puppy-just-died' look on your face."

Johns sighed. He wasn't in the mood for this. He glanced up at Riddick, who was watching their conversation impassively. "Not a girlfriend."

"A boyfriend?"

He looked at her.

She nodded, her dark brown eyes filled with sympathy. "A boyfriend." She looked up at Riddick, eyeing him warily.

Johns caught her look and turned to stare at the floor. "He didn't do it."

The woman nodded, her gaze settling back on Johns. She started rifling through her bag. "You want a cigarette?"

"I don't smoke." Johns snorted.

"Yeah, neither do I." She said as she pulled out a joint.

Johns was acutely aware of Riddick's stare. "Look, could you wait until I got off?"

The woman stopped but didn't put it away. "You don't look like a goody two-shoes. I can smell the beer on you."

"I'm not." He replied. "I'm . . . I've just had enough bad habits for tonight."

She decided to take pity on him. "Okay, Hun. Seeings how it's the only thing I can do for you." She looked back up at Riddick. "What about you? You want a good time?"

Riddick shook his head.

Johns bristled. "You don't have to miss out on my account. I can go and get a drink and wait."

Riddick's goggled-eyes stared hard at him. He felt sorry for Johns' situation but he still didn't like him much. "You've had enough to drink."

"What are you, my mother?" Johns' reckless nature was taking hold again.

Well, Riddick thought, at least he's getting back to being his old self again. "No, but I'm the only one you got right now."

The truth of the words hit home. The anger seeped out of Johns, letting in the exhaustion. "That's depressing. "He replied drily, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the cold metal of
the subway car.

Riddick, satisfied that he'd gotten his point across, said quietly. "The truth usually is."

The woman looked at Riddick. "So, what about it?"

The serial killer shook his head. "You're not my type."

She caught the glance he shot the blonde man, who's eyes were closed." Not your type? Is it 'cause I'm a hooker or a woman?"

Johns kept his eyes closed, unmoving. He was rather interested in the answer himself.

However, Riddick didn't answer. He just smiled at the woman.

She didn't take offense. "Okay. You take care of the kid. He looks like he needs someone."

The subway came to a stop and Riddick put a hand on Johns' shoulder to signal to him that this was his stop. The merc looked up at him, tiredly. Riddick rubbed his shoulder before stepping out of the car.

He walked through the cold tunnels to walk up the stairs that led onto the streets. He was acutely aware of Johns following him a few steps behind, lost in his own thoughts. Riddick could help heal the cuts and bruises but there were some pains that he couldn't. He would try but there was little he could do. Johns didn't have to face the demons alone, but they were his demons. They would be there forever.

He reached his motel room and got into the elevator, following by Johns. They stood in silence as the metal box lifted them up the seven stories to the serial killer's current home. He'd only been there for a few days. It was a dump but no one asked questions and *no one* called the cops. It was a place for those who didn't want to be found.

They walked down the hallway, which were unnaturally silent. The halls were empty but most of the rooms were filled. It literally smelled of suffering. The walls were a dirtied brown and rust clung to the edges of the pipes above. They stopped before a room and Riddick used his keys to open the door. It creaked open and Riddick walked inside first. As soon as Johns was inside, he locked the door.

The lights were off. Riddick was used to staying in the dark. The light from a streetlamp cast a slight illumination into the room. He moved to turn he lights on for his guest, who wasn't gifted with his special sight.

Johns shook his head. "Don't."

His hand froze. "You can see in the dark?" The bite of sarcasm was little sharper than he'd intended.

The blonde-haired man walked over to the window to look down into the street below. "No. It just feels safer.

Riddick granted the request and stood where he was, by the door, watching Johns' face as the merc watched an unseen show below. You can't hide from your demons in the dark, Johns, he thought.

The merc didn't look up. "You have a lot of balls to bringing me here."

The serial killer leaned against the wall by the door, as he took off his goggles.

Johns turned to look at him. "We've been trying to 'x' each other out for years. Why are you helping me now?"

Riddick shrugged. "Takes two to play the game."

Johns didn't buy it. "What else?"

The serial killer paused, images of Kyle and Zach flashing before his eyes. The ten-year-old boys crying. Screams. Whimpers. Silence.

Riddick walked away from the wall, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind. "You better sit down before you fall down."

He was aware of Johns' eyes on his back and knew that the merc had caught something. Ignoring the stare, he grabbed a bottle of pills and a glass of water from the tiny kitchen off to the side. He walked out to find Johns sitting on the couch, staring at the blank television. He sat down on the opposite end of the black couch. It was surprisingly comfortable.

"It's more interesting if you turn it on."

Johns seemed to snap out of whatever reverie he was in. He turned to look at Riddick who handed him the bottle of pills and water. At his guest's inquisitive look, he replied nonchalantly. "Aspirin. You're head's gotta hurt."

Johns nodded and silently drank the pills down with a sip of water.

The killer took the glass from him and set it down on the table. "What are you, serial killer turned nursemaid?"

Riddick decided to ignore the comment. Neither of them had the energy for a fight, verbal or physical, right now. He tossed the remote to Johns. He didn't watch much television so he had no idea what was good to watch. Both realized that it would be a good distraction.

Johns skimmed through a few late-night talk shows that drabbled on and toyed with the idea of letting it stay on an infomercial, just to see how long Riddick would watch it. Instead he left the channel on Ricki Lake. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as Riddick turned to look at him.

He shrugged. "It shows you that someone else's life is more fucked-up than yours."

Riddick snorted in laughter as spouses argued over infidelities.

After the show was over, he glanced at Johns. The merc was asleep, leaning against the arm of the couch. He hadn't told Johns that the so-called 'aspirin' pills were actually sleeping pills. He didn't want the bounty hunter getting any ideas about bringing him in.

He turned the television off and pulled Johns from the hunched over position to lie down on the sofa. The merc shifted but was out-cold.

He debated whether or not to just to leave him like that in the cold apartment. Sighing, he went and got a spare blanket from the closet and pulled it over him. He stopped to watch him sleep for a moment.

Damn, the asshole looked young. Riddick wondered how old he really was. He was going to have to go see Squeaky tomorrow to book passage on a couple of transports. He wanted to be ready to leave in a minutes notice as soon as Johns got the idea back to bring him in.

*

//Mommy was bleeding and crying. He didn't understand why. Daddy had yelled about dinner not being ready on-time. Mommy couldn't help it, he'd fallen off his bike today and gotten hurt. She'd had to take him to the hospital to fix his arm. It wasn't broken but it hurt a lot still and he had to wear a bandage over it for a few days. Daddy had hit Mommy even though she'd said stop. Usually, he did but not tonight. I screamed at him to stop and he threw his beer bottle at me. It hit me in the face and broke. Shards of glass cut my face and the beer stung the cuts. I was crying. Why did Daddy do this? He said he loved us.

Mommy said that she was taking me and leaving. Enough was enough, she said. Mommy's pretty face was bleeding, it was even in her yellow hair. Daddy ran to his room and Mommy grabbed my arm and brought me upstairs. Pack, she had said. She pulled out my suitcase from under my bed and started to help me. I heard Daddy walking up the stairs.

Mommy had locked the door and he started banging on it and screaming.

Mommy told me to hide under the bed.

I wiggled under the bed and lay there on my stomach as Daddy screamed and banged on the door. Mommy was crying and I wanted to tell her it was alright but I was crying too. Daddy had never been this bad before. He shot the lock off the door and walked into the room. I could see their reflections in the big mirror that went from the ceiling to the floor. Daddy grabbed Mommy's arm and asked where I was. Mommy lied and said that she had sent me next door while she packed. Why did Mommy lie? Daddy said, "No one leaves me." And he fired the gun at Mommy. It was loud more blood came out of Mommy's chest. She fell to the floor but I remembered Mommy's words. "Be quiet."

Daddy put the gun to his head and another loud bang. He fell to the floor by Mommy and the gun went flying across the room. I could see them, they were really close now. I called for Mommy but she didn't answer. I knew something bad had happened. Mommy was dead. She wasn't my Mommy anymore. She left me.

I started crying, really hard now. I laid there until it was nighttime and my aunt came home. She ran upstairs and hugged me. But Mommy was gone. Mommy didn't hug me.//

A woman's scream pulled Johns out of his sleep. He was thankful for the reprieve from his dream but the sound startled him. A man and a woman were arguing heatedly in the room directly above them. He sat up and leaned his head back against the back of the couch, rubbing his eyes as he realized he wouldn't get much sleep with all the racket. He tried to forget about his dreams. He always went back to the same mentality he'd had when his mother had died. He never understood why but the psychiatrist had said that it was because he couldn't face it as an adult. Johns had laughed. He didn't have much choice, his parents were dead.

A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped. Riddick sat down next to him, clad in only his black pants. Johns tried to keep his eyes from scanning over the muscled chest. The silver eyes searched his face.

Johns sighed. "Jesus, make some noise when you move. You're going to give me a fucking heart attack."

Riddick nodded but was silent. The screaming intensified.

The merc glanced up at the ceiling, at the source of the noises. "Wonderful neighbors you got here."

Riddick shrugged. "They don't ask questions. It suits me."

"Guess if you want to hide, you gotta hide with the rats."

"Exactly." Riddick replied.

Just then there was a loud slap, followed by a woman's soft crying.

Neither men moved off of the couch. Johns stared at the floor as he felt the other man' eyes on him. They sat there in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of the woman crying.

"Why do you think she stays with him?" The quiet in Riddick's tone taking the sting out of the question.

"I'm not in the mood to play mind games, Riddick." Johns replied, anger tinting his voice.

At the serial killer's silence, Johns replied. "Maybe she loves him.

Maybe the bad times make the good times even better." His next statement was a whisper. "Maybe she doesn't know how to get out."

Flashes of the past echoed through Riddick's mind as another victim and another was remembered. Though not personally, Riddick understood that. "You let someone in, past your defenses. Make you trust them, love them. And then they betray you and you don't know how to deal with that. So you just hope it goes away. That the person you love will come back. And in the meantime, you let them take away a part of your soul, a little at a time, until there's nothing left and then they kill you."

Johns bit back the tears as the truth of the words sunk in. He felt a hand on his shoulder again. It was warm and strong, comforting. He looked at the serial killer who had become his savior in some ironic twist of fate.

"You sound like you speak from experience." It was a shot. Trying to find out the secret Riddick had almost shown earlier that evening.

"Not me." Johns was about to inquire further when Riddick spoke again. "You don't have to go through this alone."

Johns snorted. "Not being alone is what got me into this hell."

Riddick didn't know how to respond to that. Obviously, he was going to have to earn this man's trust. Tentatively, he moved his hand to put his arm around the other man's shoulders. Testing the waters.

Seeing how much Johns actually did trust him and how much further he had to go.

Johns allowed it. The arm was an extension of the hand and it warmed the cold inside him. He leaned back against Riddick's chest, sleep starting to chase him again. A thought occurred to him. "That wasn't aspirin I took, was it?"

A chuckle as the other arm came around him and they settled into lying on the couch. "Sleeping pills."

"Bastard." But Johns didn't have the energy to put his agitation into the word.

He felt the other man nuzzling his hair, then his temple and cheek.

He felt so warm now. He leaned up into the nuzzle and his lips grazed over Riddick's. There was a spark between them. And the kiss deepened. Riddick's lips opened to allow the demanding tongue entrance. He felt Johns twist around to straddle him, not breaking the kiss. He wrapped his arms around Johns, his arms massaging the other's back as their tongues danced and twined. He could feel Johns' hands roaming over his body, caressing his cheek, and his arms, clinging to him. Damn, he tasted good. Like the beer, something sweet, and a very minute taste of blood.

Johns kissed the other man back, fiercely. He poured all of his anguish into the kiss, hoping for an escape, at least for tonight. He felt impossibly strong arms pull him close. He tried to drink in the taste of the other man, who tasted of mint, probably a mouthwash. A sudden panic overwhelmed him. Max would kill him, literally. He pulled away from the kiss, and tried to run away, but the arms wouldn't let him go. He looked around, panicking. Riddick was going to kill him.

Riddick had felt Johns tense suddenly and now the young man had tried to make a break for it. His blue eyes were wild and his body was tensed for a fight. "Easy, easy. What's wrong?"

Johns closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down. He looked down at Riddick, saw the silver eyes searching his for an answer. He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't do this. Not yet."

Riddick suddenly knew. Ghosts were hard to banish, especially when they were, made of flesh and blood and carried a semiautomatic. "I won't let him hurt you."

Johns didn't respond.He didn't like being vulnerable. Shakily, he rested his head in the crook of Riddick's shoulder, feeling the arms hold him closer at the gesture of vulnerability. He didn't want to think anymore tonight. And after trying several escape routes, he decided sleep was the easiest. He closed his eyes and drifted off into nothingness.

Riddick felt the other man's body relax into sleep. Taking care of Johns was not going to be easy. He'd been more emotionally traumatized than Riddick had first suspected. It was going to be a long road, he thought sarcastically, I just hope we both survive it without beating the shit out of each other.

*

Johns awoke the next morning, alone. He was lying on his stomach with a soft, dark green blanket covering him. He grinned as he wondered how Riddick had managed disengaging himself without waking him. The drugs probably helped, Johns thought wryly. Wherever he had gone, Johns knew he would probably be back. The serial killer would never tell him where he was going. The mistrust seemed mutual, but then again what did he expect.

There was a knock at the door. Johns got up from the couch. Speaking of the devil, he thought. Johns undid the locks and opened the door saying. "What's wrong? Forget your key?"

Johns froze.

"Hey, Will. You never came home last night. I was worried. " Max's voice didn't sound the least bit sincere.



(4)

There was a knock at the door. Johns got up from the couch. Speaking of the devil, he thought. Johns undid the locks and opened the door saying. "What's wrong? Forget your key?"

Johns froze.

"Hey, Will. You never came home last night. I was worried. " Max's voice didn't sound the least bit sincere.

Johns paused, a moment of panic sweeping through him. The complete surprise of his former lover's visit stunned him. His formally quick-witted brain was caught off-guard at the sudden presence of violence when he had been expecting safety.

Max walked into the apartment, pushing Johns inside with him. The dark-haired man closed the door as his eyes swept over the dwelling. "Nice place." He said, sarcastically. " You know, it wasn't easy finding you, Will. I had to pull a lot of strings and I owe a lot of favors now. You want to know who?"

Johns remained silent, his eyes warily following Max's every move.

The other man shrugged. "I didn't think so."

Max started walking into the kitchen. The walls were a faded wood in color and texture, dust gathered near the ceiling and the corners. A refrigerator was snug in the far corner, beside that a small counter and a sink. There were a couple of cabinets above and below the counter.

Johns stood by the door as Max continued his exploration of the apartment. There was a horrible tension in the room, now. One of anticipation, anger, and fear. Johns was unsure of what to say or do to diffuse the atmosphere but he knew the wrong move would set Max off. Experience had taught him that much.

Max gazed back at him through the kitchen threshold. "You know I was waiting for you to come back up last night but you didn't." The older man walked over to a cabinet and withdrew a wodden-handled, eight-inch, butcher's knife from it. Max admired it, twirling the knife in his hands. Reflections of the sunlight outside bounced off the object, flickering over Johns' face.

The older man didn't look up from the weapon he held in his calloused hands. "You always came back to me, Will. " He waved the knife at Will, casually. "But you didn't." He looked back down at the knife, again. "I looked out the window and saw you with him. Just sitting there, on the stoop. I watched you leave with him. I didn't stop you. I didn't have to."

Confusion mingled with his fear and anticipation as Johns listened to the other man speak, wondering where the hell Riddick was. Did the serial killer sell him out? Was it all just a sick ploy to see whether he could get to Johns? He swallowed, realizing that if the that was true, his would-be savior could be in the next quadrant by now. And Johns would have to think of way to get out of here.

" I followed you, watched you get on the subway. I saw the hooker. I called in some favors and had a few guys pick her up and bring her to a...quieter place."

Johns interest was piqued. Few people had ever been kind to him in his lifetime, so it was easy to remember the ones that had.

Max never looked up from the knife. "She was fun, for a while. Not my breed, but good. Everyone took a turn. She screamed at first. But she soon realized that it was futile, so she just ... whimpered after that. We tied her up and beat her. She was a stubborn bitch." He looked at Johns. "Kinda reminded me of you, come to think of it.

Finally, he told us the place the you got off at and we slit her throat while she screamed for God and mercy." He imitated the stroke with the knife a few centimeters away from his own neck.

The bounty hunter's heart filled with dread. He had never even thought that she might be in trouble, but he should have. It may see like a cliche' but everyone around him seemed to suffer or die. His mother. His father. The aunt who had taken care of him after their deaths had become bipolar after his tenth birthday. His fiancee', Rachel, had been killed in a car crash. His baby sister, Tessa, had died of SIDS.Everyone. Guess Riddick got out while he could, he thought, morbidly.

Max seemed unaware of his lover's distressed state. "Then we found a junkie outside on the street and after some persuading, he informed us of your current residence in this flea-bag motel. The other boys left, their job was done. There was a young girl that was playing on the stairs, inside the building. Her mother was propositioning a customer outside her apartment. I grabbed the young girl, Arianna I believe her name was, by the throat and asked the mother if she had
seen a blonde-haired man, medium height, in his mid-twenties." He grinned, evilly. "She was pathetically informative."

Johns shook his head, speaking for the first time since Max had showed up. "You're a monster," He whispered.

Max strode up to where Johns was standing, but the blonde-haired man refused to back down. In a fit of anger, Max threw him bak against the wall.

"Always were a stubborn one." Max pressed his body against Johns in a way that made him nauseous. Now, the man's very touch made him sick. He could smell the hooker's blood and cheap perfume on him, but no alcohol. No, intoxication wasn't needed for Max The sick bastard *enjoyed* it.

Johns struggled but Max slammed the knife into the wall, just inches from the younger man's temple. He froze. He could feel the anger simmering off Max in waves. He looked around the apartment. The place that had once felt so safe to him, now felt like his prison. No one could hear him in this tomb.

Max roughly nuzzled the left side of Johns' face and neck, smelling him the way a wolf does prey. So different from last night with another man. After last night, Max's touch felt alien and noxious. A coldness settled in his stomach as he stood there, knowing that if he struggled, Max would end it. The older man didn't need his participants willing, Johns doubted he needed them alive, either. The thought sickened him, even as he realized he still didn't possess the willpower to fight back against the man who made him feel helpless.

Still, the other man must have felt Johns' muscles stiffen. His tongue traveled down the length of his neck, the smell of saliva making Johns gag. He whispered into the other man's ear as his hands traveled under Johns' shirt. " You know how it works. You fight me, it'll make it worse."

Johns didn't move, knowing that he'd wait until the right moment to escape. He may not be able to fight Max but he wasn't just going to stand there and take it. Not anymore.

Suddenly, Max stiffened and started gasping for air. Johns' blue eyes stared at him, questioningly. Someone stood up behind Max. Riddick.

The serial killer jerked the knife along Max's spine and then pushed the body away from Johns. Max landed a few feet away from the blonde-haired man, gasping for breathe. Riddick took a few steps back, now able to watch both Johns and the would-be rapist.

Boneless, Johns slid to the ground to sit against the wall, his knees up in front of him. A wheezing sound filled the air, hinting that the knife had hit the fallen man's lungs. Dark and pain-filled eyes
looked at Johns but ice-blue ones met them with indifference. He just didn't care anymore, the numbness circling his heart like a dark, cold cloud.

Riddick watched him with growing concern. Whatever progress they had made last night to help Johns seemed to have vanished. He waited for Johns to speak first, knowing that if enough time passed the young man would.

He didn't have to wait long.

"You're late." Johns said, blandly.

Riddick snorted. "Not that late, from the looks of it."

Johns stared at the Max, who was still wheezing. "How did you know?"

"I caught word of the hooker's death. I knew he'd come after you." He didn't touch him, not yet. He wasn't sure of the other man's mental stability after so much emotional trauma.

The young man nodded. After a pause, he asked. "Where'd you go?"

Riddick took a cautious step towards him. "Where I'm going to take you now."

Johns laughed humorlessly. "You're too late. I've already been to hell."

The serial killer knelt down next to him, so that they were eye-level but the young man kept staring straight ahead. "You trusted me once. Do you still trust me?"

"No."

Riddick nodded, accepting that for now. "I didn't tell him where you were."

The blonde-haired man looked down. "I know."

"Then why?"

Johns looked up and finally met Riddick's gaze, evenly. "Because *I* don't understand why. Why are you here? You have every reason in the world to want me dead but you save me. Why do you care?"

Riddick glanced at the dying body lying a few feet away and then at the dying soul next to him. He didn't want Max to pull Johns down with him. "Come with me and I'll tell you."

Johns nodded and followed Riddick out the door, not looking back but still haunted.



(5)

They walked down the street, silently. Johns pulled his navy jacket closer around himself as the winds caught up again, it's temperature chilling him.

He walked a couple of steps behind Riddick, needing some space right now. It amazed him that the serial killer was clothed in only a black wife-beater and dark-green pants, yet the other man didn't appear to even notice the sudden drop in temperature.

He followed the man down into the tunnel and waited for the subway.

It was lunchtime and there were a fair amount of people gathered in the cramped space. Homeless people crowded into the corners to sleep, as others sang songs for money from the travelers who in turn paid them no mind.

Johns listened to an old woman's hauntingly beautiful lyrics as she recited a poem.



'Make a decision.
Then make another.
Go on with your life.
Because you cannot remake a choice.'

Johns snorted. Unless you keep repeating history, he thought. It always amazed him that he could find drug-addicts standing next to doctors, designers, and, well, serial killers. And yet, they have so much in common.

He pulled one of his hand from his pockets to rub his forehead. His thoughts were getting too disjointed. He was aware of Riddick's eyes on him, but he ignored the other man.

The subway car finally pulled up, heated wind blowing into his face and through his hair as it streaked past. It came to a stop and people rushed on board as others struggled to get off in the frenzied pass of life.

Riddick walked onto the subway and turned to find that Johns had not followed. The bounty hunter stood just outside of the door, staring ahead but his blue eyes were unfocused. He walked over to the door but made no move to pull Johns inside.

Johns shook his head. "Just wondering who will kill these people to find out where I am."

The serial killer blinked. He hadn't expected that kind of statement from 'Billy Bad-Ass.' Then again, this wasn't that man. He couldn't make Johns follow him; trust him.

He leaned against the metal pole that was inside of the car. "Stay or go, it's your choice."

The blue eyes that met his were just as unreadable as the goggles he wore.

The doors began to close and Johns walked through them just before they slammed shut. The other man walked past him and sat down on a bench that was near the back of the subway car. This time, it was Riddick who followed.

Despite the crowd of people that had boarded the subway, the two men were alone on the bench and the one facing them housed only a sleeping homeless woman. He felt Johns turn to look at him.

"You said you'd tell me," The younger man said, his voice quiet.

Riddick swallowed, but his face remained a stoic mask. He didn't like to dwell on the past. He couldn't change it, so why bother? But he realized he owed Johns as much and maybe it would help the other man trust him. "

I was raised a child of the system. Passed from house to house until they finally gave up on me and kept me at an orphanage that was run by the Catholic church. Guess it was pretty decent. Kept clean and we had good food, care from the nuns. I was twelve when it started happening, so I think I was too old for him to get near."

Johns unconsciously moved closer to hear more of the story.

"He was a priest. Father O'Malley. The nuns forced us to go to mass every morning, so we saw him a lot. He became our friend, our trusted priest." He saw Johns wince at his sarcasm at the last words. "One night he came into our room and took one of the young ones out with him, saying that they needed to go to confession. Cody was the first, but not the last. He was only eight. We laid in bed and listened to them talk, then we'd hear noises.

Whimpers and crying.

"He always went after the young ones because they didn't tell. Couldn't tell. The older boys and me, we didn't tell anyone for them. It wasn't happening to us so we didn't understand."

Johns was watching him intently. "You were afraid."

Riddick took a deep breath. "Yeah and we didn't want to believe he could do that. He was our hero. He was everyone's hero. Every night we would wait and listen as he took the young ones out for 'confession.' Some were later adopted and new ones would come in but he never left. But I did. I left them behind when I went to juvie and I never looked back." His story over, he could only wait for Johns' reaction.

"Is that why you hate God?" The blonde bounty hunter asked.

He frowned at the unexpected question.

At Riddick's inquiring look, Johns replied. "I read it in your file. You told the psych doctors in the Slam that you hated God."

Riddick nodded and leaned his head back against the subway car. They were going to the outskirts of the city, so it would be a long ride. They rode in silence for a good ten minutes when Johns finally spoke.

"So, you're trying to clear your conscience of the past with me?"

The serial killer smiled. "At first."

"And now?"

"Now I got some more reasons." He replied.

Johns bit his lip in irritation at Riddick's usual secrecy. He decided to change the subject. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Irritation turned to anger as Johns argued. "Goddamnit! Could you for once tell me what the fuck's going on?"

Riddick grinned at the young man's reaction. Maybe this was the way to get Johns back to his old self: just piss him off until he snaps.

Johns took a deep breath to calm himself, realizing his anger was getting him no where. "I don't like surprises, Riddick."

"That's too bad."

The bounty hunter sighed. Riddick wasn't going to tell him.

He looked at Johns. The young man was exhausted. He hadn't considered the possibility that Johns could be in a state of shock. Attempted-rape victims were always perfectly fine after the incident. Aside from the cuts and bruises, Johns had a faint tremor in him. "You okay?"

"Fine." It was a lie. He had a headache and was slightly dizzy. His hands were shaking a little. He tried to rest his head against the subway car wall that was to his left side but the jarring motions of the vehicle kept slamming his temple against the cold metal.

Riddick saw this and moved closer to him. He put an arm around Johns' shoulders but the young man pulled away. "Don't be such a pain in the ass, Johns."

The bounty hunter glanced at him but allowed Riddick to put an arm around him. He rested his head on the serial killer's shoulder, the warmth and strength from it soothing his frayed nerves once again.

*

New Terra was a suburban area filled with urban life. It reminded him of Brooklyn on Earth. There were cars around but most people walked.

Children played on the stoops outside of buildings while teens played basketball and mothers hung wet clothes on the fire escape clothing lines. It seemed like a completely different world from the one he had just left.Johns walked behind Riddick, watching the life around him. He was so busy staring at the new surroundings that he practically ran into Riddick when the serial killer stopped short. "Fuck! What the hell are you doing?"

Riddick turned to look at Johns. "You can walk next to me, you know?"

"I know. I was just thinking." He shifted on his feet, nervously.

"Then think while you're walking next to me. This neighborhood's nice but the place that we're headed isn't."

Riddick cut down an alleyway that led to another part of the town. This place was different, more reminiscent of their previous dwelling in the main city.

Here, kids played on the stoops and sold drugs in the same area, in front of younger siblings. Some of the mothers did the laundry while others just stared out the window, the haunted look of those who were trapped in a drugged-haze and could never leave. Men stood in gangs on the basketball courts and outside of drug stores.

"Now are you going to tell me?" He asked.

Riddick kept his eyes on the surroundings, to scout for danger. "An old friend of mine lives here. I managed to contact him this morning and he said we could stay with him until our ship leaves."

"What ship? Where are we going?"

"The Hunter-Gratzner and it's headed for Earth with a stopover at New Mecca. I hadn't really thought of a good place to go just somewhere off this planet and away from Dallas." Riddick turned into a building. It was an old-fashioned brick building that was at least ten floors high.

Johns winced at the painful reminder of his former lover. "Max Dallas is dead. There's no rush. Earth sounds fine. I haven't visited my aunt in years."

Riddick walked up the three flights of stairs it took to get to the floor he wanted. He heard Johns gasp out behind him.

"You got a problem with lifts, Riddick?"

The serial killer stopped and waited for Johns to catch his breath. They were on the floor he wanted. "You'd rather be sealed into a soundproof lift where there is nowhere to escape, with people you don't know the first thing about?"

Johns shook his head. "You're a real people person, you know that?"

Riddick snorted and stalked down the hallway past a couple of doors.

Johns grinned and followed him. They approached a wooden door and Riddick knocked.

They waited a few moments before a series of locks were undone and the door opened, revealing an African American man in his late twenties. His black hair was woven into thick dreadlocks that hung past his shoulders and his midnight eyes lit up when he saw Riddick.

"Richard B. Riddick, you son of a bitch!" His voice had a higher pitch to it than Riddick's, filled with a sort of natural strain.

The two clasped hands and embraced briefly. Johns squashed a sudden pang of jealousy at the closeness between the two men. They separated and Riddick motioned to Johns.

"William Johns, Desolation Keen."

The other man shook Johns' hand, amiably. "Good to meet you, kid."

He bristled at the word but then realized that the man meant nothing by it.

Keen motioned for them to come inside. Johns followed Riddick inside and Keen shut the door behind them, locking it up.

Keen moved into the kitchen. "You guys must be hungry. You want some sandwiches?"

"That's fine."Johns sat down next to Riddick on the sofa. Outwardly, the serial killer looked ready for anything but Johns knew that he must be tired.

He could tell from the way the older man had sat down so heavily on the sofa.

They sat in silence until Keen walked over with some sandwiches, orange juice, and chips.

"I thought about offering you some tequila but you didn't seem to be in the partying mood, Johns. " Keen said as he bit into his sandwich.

He smiled, weakly, and ate his food. He didn't know what he thought about Riddick, but he wasn't ready to trust this man just yet. Johns had always been wary about making friends, and Keen was no exception, no matter how good a host he was. He wasn't too thrilled about sleeping in a place with a stranger. Keen might be Riddick's old pal, but Riddick was a serial killer.

"So, Riddick, last I heard you'd escaped from SlamCity. How come you didn't call me?"

Riddick was quiet as he ate but answered simply. "I was busy."

Johns winced but Keen didn't appear to notice.

He also didn't appear to notice Riddick's unsocial disposition at the moment.

He turned to Johns. "So, kid, where're you from?"

"Earth."

Keen grinned around a mouthful of chips. "You're a long way from home."

Johns shrugged. "I travel a lot."

The other man nodded. "So, what's your game?"

Johns stalled by taking a drink of orange juice. "Um, I'm a pilot."

"How'd you two hook up?"

"At a bar." Johns said. Well, it was true enough.

"You becoming friends with strays now, Riddick?" Keen laughed, good-naturedly.

Johns forced himself to keep his anger in check but Riddick's comment pacified him somewhat.
"We are strays, Keen."

"True, true." The other man said.

It was getting dark now. After spending all day on the subway, Johns felt filthy.

"You got a shower I can use?"

Keen stood up. "Sure, kid. I'll show you the bathroom and your room. I only got one spare room, so you'll have to share."

Johns was beyond the point of caring. "Okay."

After the short tour, Keen handed Johns a towel."Go wild, kid."

Johns closed the door and shook his head. "Fucking freak."

*

A soon as the sound of the shower could be heard, Desolation Keen's whole demeanor changed. He walked out to find Riddick drinking his glass of juice.

"You're one large fucking asshole, Riddick!"

The serial killer looked up at him from the blank, black goggles. "You gotta problem, Keen?"

He stood in front of the older man. "You bring a fucking cop into my crib!"

"Not a cop. He's a merc."

"Oh, oh! That's so much fucking better, you bring a hack." Keen grabbed the plates and shouted to Riddick as he threw the plastic away. "Goddamn pilot, my ass."

Riddick remained silent through his friend's tirade.

Keen walked back out. "Why the fuck are you hanging with a merc?"

"Known him for a while now. He got into some trouble and he needs help right now."

Keen sat in the chair, opposite him. "So drop him off at a psych ward."

"So they can pump him full of meds until he can't remember what made him so fucked up? Not a chance." Riddick said, his voice filled with anger.

Keen felt his anger slip away. "You care about this kid, don't you?"

Riddick shrugged.

"Well, I don't care. I want him out of here when he gets out of the shower,"Keen said.

Riddick met his eyes. "His boyfriend beat the shit out of him so long he didn't bother fighting back anymore."

"Fuck." Keen whispered, his own memories resurfacing.

"Yeah. You know what that feeling is like. Helpless. Pain." Riddick said, his voice quiet.

Keen shifted. "I remember. Not much you can do to help him with that, Riddick."

"No, but suicide was also an option for Cody and Michael."

" It wasn't one for me. They did that when our dear *padre* stopped taking them to confession because they had gotten too old." Keen replied.

Both men sat in silence while painful memories streaked past their eyes. They couldn't help the ones that had died nor the ones that had lived. It had always been a shadow over their lives, even while they were in juvie and Slam.

Keen spoke up, his voice filled with pain. "You thinking of righting the wrongs with this guy Johns?"

Riddick nodded. "Started out like that."

"Then good luck, my brother."

*

Johns crawled into bed, exhausted. The past two days had been a nightmare that had never ended. Keen had given him a pair of gray sweat pants and a white cotton T-shirt. There was nothing but a queen-sized bed and an empty closet. The bed was in a corner and he turned towards the wall, curling up on his side. The last sound he heard before he drifted off into sleep was the sound of the shower down the hallway.

*

He was dreaming. He realized that belatedly. Max Dallas was on the floor, bleeding. His former lover started moving on the floor towards him. His stomach slid across the floor, leaving a wet trail of blood and gore.

Max's eyes were dark and filled with blood as he moved closer to Johns.

'You won't leave me.'

Johns glanced at the door and saw Riddick just standing there. The man met his gaze for an instant and then walked out the door, leaving them alone. He was too paralyzed to move.

Max was getting closer and closer to him. He just sat there, curled up on the floor. Max grabbed his throat with a bloody hand.

'You can't leave me.'

*

Johns eyes snapped open and he gasped. He sat up, trying to catch his breath.

The nightmare came back to him and he buried his face in his hands as he willed his heartbeat back to normal. Even in death, Max could torment him.

He felt a hand on his back that made him jump. "Jesus, Riddick. You gotta stop scaring the hell out of me."

The serial killer was lying next to him, on his back, in a gray wife-beater and black pants. His goggles were off and the silver eyes looked at him, worried. "Who do you dream about when you get nightmares?"

Johns laid down next to him and turned onto his side to face Riddick. "The people who leave me behind."

"Like who?"

He shrugged. "Friends, family..."

Riddick heard the pain in the last word. " I never knew my family."

"You're lucky. I wish I'd never known mine." Johns said, quietly.

Riddick frowned. "You mean that?"

"Yeah. When your family ends up giving you nightmares for the rest of your life, you kinda wish they were never a part of it. I don't have happy memories of my parents because the way they died is they only memory of them I have. The only one I can take." Johns' words were filled with pain but he didn't cry. He didn't have anymore tears for the two people who had given him life and then taken away his innocence.

Riddick decided to let it go. "There's a lot I don't know about you."

"That's a two-way street." Johns was calming down but he couldn't sleep.

"Give me time." Riddick's words were simple but held a lot of meaning. He was willing to trust Johns, if the other was ready to do the same.

Johns moved closer and leaned over the larger man. "I don't want to think anymore."

He kissed Riddick, his lips sliding over the ones beneath him. The kiss was hesitant at first, then needy as he slipped his tongue into the other man's mouth. He groaned and felt large arms come around him and pull him on top of Riddick, straddling his chest.



(6)



He kissed Riddick, his lips sliding over the ones beneath him. The kiss was hesitant at first, then needy as he slipped his tongue into the other man's mouth. He groaned and felt large arms come around him and pull him on top of Riddick, straddling his chest.

His arms gripped Riddick's shoulders, feeling the strength in the muscles as they rippled beneath the smooth skin. Johns broke away from the pulse-pounding kiss, and moved to trail kisses down the other man's jaw and neck. He nipped playfully at the warm skin behind Riddick's ear. He grinned, hearing the almost animalistic moans his attention elicited.

He could feel Riddick pulling at the oversized shirt he was wearing.

Johns wanted to continue his 'conquest' but was suddenly flipped onto his back. His surprised growl was muffled by a pair of insistent lips that collided passionately with his. A warm, wet tongue twined with his own in an ancient dance that sang threw their blood.

The kiss left him lightheaded and disoriented for a few minutes.

Riddick moved like a panther over him, his muscles gliding under his tanned skin. The larger man hovered above him for a second, his silver eyes searching Johns' face as if judging whether or not the young man was ready for this.

Johns wrapped his arms around the other man's neck, pulling him down for another kiss. He groaned deep in his throat as he felt powerful arms sneak under his back to bring his body against Riddick's in a crushing embrace. He gasped as their erections pressed against each other. He clung to the strong shoulders, trying to find a stability as his mind went spinning. Riddick must have sensed it because he stopped. Stopped moving his hands and body, stopped kissing.

Johns gasped at the suddenness of it, wondering if he had done something wrong. Riddick pulled back to gaze into the blue eyes of the man beneath him.

His voice was husky. "What do you need?"

Johns' blue eyes were almost black. "Now. No fluff."

Johns pulled him down for another kiss as they quickly undressed.

They weren't going to be able to savor this as well as they could have. There had been far too much going on recently and far too much history between them that had yet to be rectified. It was pure and animalistic. It was what they needed right now.

He laid on his stomach, feeling Riddick's body, an interesting interplay of hardened muscles under soft skin. He heard a fumbling noise behind him and gel-coated fingers entered him slowly. First
one, then two, then a third one was added.

He grunted, craning his neck slightly. "Jesus, Riddick. I'm not glass, I won't break."

The serial killer leaned over him and whispered in his ear in a serious but not taunting voice. "You're already broken. I'm trying to steady you."

Johns knew his mental state hadn't been ideal the past couple of days but he needed this right now. Fast and hard. A strong contradiction to the slow and torturous past few days of *thinking.*

Riddick felt Johns relax as he entered him. The young man had been through this before but it had probably been a far less gentle previous partner. Tight. Slick. Heat. He struggled to keep rational
thought as he lost himself to a primitive rhythm. He pressed his chest against the damp back beneath him. He licked once at the back of the young merc's neck, tasting him. He nuzzled the soft, curly hair on Johns' head. Johns smelled faintly of vanilla and spices.

He angled his thrusts to hit Johns' prostate, causing the other man's moans to jump to a yelp at the shock of pleasure that shot up his spine. He licked up the jugular, kissing the side of the young man's neck. Johns turned his neck, leaning into the kisses. He let his large hand sneak down to grasp the other man's rigid erection. He pumped it in time with his thrusts. Johns clawed at the sheets underneath him, not trying to get away from the exquisite torture but to get more.

Johns came first, dragging Riddick down with him. The two men laid on the bed in the aftermath. Riddick moved away from Johns, so as not to smother the merc. He wasn't quite sure of how the younger man would react now. To his surprise, Johns followed him when he moved. The blonde-haired merc nestled up next to him, lying his head on Riddick's chest, tucked under the older man's chin. An arm lay lazily across his chest in a possessive manner as Johns nuzzled his throat.

Riddick had thought that the sex had been merely a much-needed distraction from the trauma of the last few days but apparently he'd been pleasantly surprised. He wrapped his arms around Johns, holding him close.

Riddick awoke with a start. He sat up, adrenaline racing through his system. His body was ready for a fight but his mind wondered at what it was that had caused him to panic. His hand rested protectively on Johns' shoulder even as he looked around the small room for danger.

Desolation Keen suddenly walked through the door, his brown eyes wide with similar panic. "What the fuck's going on, Riddick?"

The serial killer shook his head. "I don't know."

Johns was starting to wake up. In the warm haze of sleep, he sensed the fear that permeated the air now. He sat up, next to his lover. "Riddick?"

"There's something wrong." The serial killer stated.

He felt it now, too. An instinctual warning that informed him of danger. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Keen was freaking out.

"Man, what the fuck is it?"

"Calm down." Riddick answered.

While the serial killer attempted to soothe the distraught man with calming words, Johns moved over to the window that was next to the bed. He gazed down at the street below, the sight making his heart almost stop short.

"Riddick." He whispered.

His tone must have warned Riddick because the other man moved over to him.

"What?"

Riddick followed his gaze. "Oh, fuck."



Part 7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Please. Please," she whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Riddick."

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

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

"What?" Keen echoed Riddick's word.

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

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

"Riddick," he whispered.

The serial killer said one word. "Hide."

------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Shh."

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

------------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

//I knew something bad had happened.//

Johns' pulse went soaring. His muscles tensed.

//Mommy was dead.//

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

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

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

Booted steps.

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

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

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

"Riddick?"

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

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

"Keen's still in there."



Part 8

"Riddick?"

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

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

"Keen's still in there."

Johns' frowned. "Fuck."

"Stay here." Riddick started walking towards the building entrance.

"The fuck I am." Johns started to follow the serial killer.

Riddick turned and looked at the mercenary. It was quite obvious that Johns was not going to wait outside. "Alright."

Johns, thinking he had won the argument, stepped ahead of Riddick. He was about to step onto the stairs when he heard Riddick speak. "You can't be there."

There was a searing pain in the back of his head and everything went black.

------------------

Riddick came to a stop right outside the door to Keen's apartment. The wooden door was ajar. He pulled his shiv out from his left pocket and proceeded to open the door enough to allow him entry into the dark room. He used his other hand to remove his goggles and put them into his pocket. The door opened with a creaking groan that reminded Riddick of a shitty scary movie.

The room was not a mess. Everything was still in it's place almost as if there had been no intrusion. He walked into the living room and stopped short at the sight before him.

Keen was lying on the floor, on his back. There was a pool of blood surrounding his prone form. Gashes littered his chest and face. At first, Riddick thought he was dead. Then he heard the harsh wheezing sounds coming from the fallen man. Riddick ran to his side.

He knelt beside Keen, ignoring the blood that coated his shoes and pants. He could see that everytime Keen breathed, blood poured out of his various chest wounds. It was painfully obvious that the murderer had struck Keen's heart.

There was no saving him now.

-------------------

Johns groaned as he opened his eyes. His whole head beat in time with his pulse and dizziness threatened any movement with vomiting. He was lying on his side on the first few steps to Keen's building. Confusion set in for a few seconds as he wondered what the hell he was doing here. Then it hit him.

Keen. Killer upstairs. Riddick.

The fucker had hit him, while his back was turned no less. Anger at the betrayal sank in. A portion of their fragile trust had evaporated. Riddick had figuratively stabbed him in the back. Through his haze of anger, he realized that Riddick was still upstairs with the psycho.

Worry warred with anger as he started up the stairs at a dead run with a sinking feeling. And a question that nagged at him: What had Riddick meant by he couldn't be there?

-------------------------------

Keen's eyes opened to meet Riddick's gaze. "Hey."

Riddick didn't respond.

Keen frowned, panic starting to set in with the pain. "That bad?"

He nodded.

"'Sokay. The docs can fix anything round here. Just-" Keen coughed and his wheezing got louder as the blood spilled down his chest.

"They can't fix this. It's too late," Riddick responded. He pushed his feelings to the back of his mind. He could not afford emotions now, not if he was going to help his friend.

"Good-bye."

----------------------------

Johns arrived in front of Keen's doorway. He could see Riddick kneeling next to Keen. Jesus, there was blood everywhere. And nothing was missing or even turned over. Like there wasn't a struggle. No struggle means that Keen had known his assailant and had felt safe around him.

'You can't be there.'

The words made his stomach sink.

---------------------------

"No! No, Riddick! Please." Keen's body tried to squirm away but he had lost so much blood that his body only twitched and shook.

Riddick raised his shiv.

"No! I don't want to die! Please!"

He plunged the shiv with all of his strength into Keen's heart. He stilled, not moving.

Keen's eyes glazed over and he said in choking words." I... trusted... you." With that, Desolation Keen died.

Riddick remained impassive even though emotions raged in him. He felt eyes on him. Without looking up, he flew at the killer, slamming him up against the wall with feral rage. His hands grasped around the man's throat. But he wanted to look into the eyes of the man who had killed his friend.

He was shocked to his very core to see terror-filled ice-blue eyes meet his own.

"Johns."

He pulled his hands away and took a step back from the merc. The other man gasped a little. His hands were by his side, against the wall as if bracing his body for another attack. His eyes were wide and his body was trembling slightly.

Reflexively, Riddick reached out to reassure him but Johns recoiled. The blonde merc turned to look at Keen's body.

"You murdered him."

Riddick frowned at the tone of the other man's voice. "I put him out of his misery."

Johns shook his head. "He only had deep gashes on his face and chest. Nothing lethal."

"There was one in his heart."

"The one you made," Johns said. He pulled the gun that had been tucked into the back of his pants out.

Riddick eyed the weapon pointed at him. "You don't trust me."

"He did and you killed him in cold blood."

"You're wrong," Riddick said.

" I know what I saw."

"You saw wrong, Johns."

The merc looked at him, his eyes filled with sadness. "No. My eyes are the one thing I can always trust. Not my..."

There was an ache inside of Riddick's chest. It was unfamiliar feeling. "You really think I'd hurt you."

Johns touched the back of his head where Riddick had hit him. "You did. Then you tried to kill me."

Anger filled Riddick. "I stopped when I realized it was you."

"When you realized I wasn't the one who had killed Keen. You're looking for someone to blame for his death and I''ll be damned before it's me."

"You're crazy."

Johns nodded. "Yeah. I had forgotten you murdered people for pleasure."

"Johns..." Riddick's voice held a note of warning.

"You're going back to the Slam."

"I ain't going back," Riddick answered.

"You belong there." Johns' voice was cold.

With that, Johns flicked a switch on the wall. The bright lights blinded Riddick. He cried out and moved to cover his eyes. Johns took advantage of the situation and hit Riddick over the head with his gun, hard. The serial killer went down, unconscious

--------------------------------

Johns sank to the floor next to him, willing the tears to go away. First Max Dallas then Riddick. Everytime he trusted he got kicked in the ass for it.

Too many battle wounds made it hard to go again. The trust between them had been fragile.

It had been stupid of him to trust Riddick, to care for him. He had given in and almost gotten killed for it. It just went to show him what he had known his whole life. You can only trust yourself. Bitterness filled him.

Tomorrow he would board the Hunter-Gratzner. Tomorrow it would be okay. He went to search for chains that could lock Riddick up. He looked down at Riddick, feeling his chest constrict in pain, but he willed it away. Along with his memories.



Part 9

Riddick

I could smell him from my cryosleep tube. Johns. Softly scented vanilla from his shampoo, his body sweating from the drop in the cryotube pressure.

Something was wrong with the ship. I could feel my survival instincts heightened suddenly, the drop in pressure making me feel lightheaded as I felt myself lean downwards. We're crashing. I hear him move, groggy from the unnatural sleep. I can feel his gaze on me. Don't worry, Johns, I'm still packed away safe and sound which is where you better stay if you want to survive this.

I would have warned him but the bit in my mouth prevented me from making any kind of sound that would have been heard through the thick plexi-glass. So, I just remained as still as possible, hoping that he wouldn't open his container to come and check on me. Too late. I hear the door open and a grunt of pain as he lands hard on the unforgiving floor. Bad move, Billy.

---------
Johns

The floor is like ice, burning my hands and face. My mind is muddled from the sleep as much as my body is but the primitive side of me is wide awake.

Something's wrong. The same thought keeps running through my mind. I can't form a solution yet, hell I barely even recognize where I am.

I always remember Riddick, though. He's kind of hard to forget no matter how long you've been in a coma. Especially considering what had happened before the Hunter-Graztner. He's still in his pod, still asleep as far as I can tell. I've always had a sort of warning system in me, alerts me when danger's near. I wouldn't have lasted in the game for long if I didn't have it. Mercs have to corner their prey and usually they're not happy about it and they're hardened criminals who wouldn't think twice about killing you in your sleep.

For some reason, my mind won't work. Been asleep too long, need the morphine to calm my nerves. Why am I awake? Just as the question hits me, all hell breaks loose. The ship starts disintegrating before my eyes. The walls and the floor of the machine peel away like paper and a bright, glaring light nearly blinds me. I can feel the intense heat outside, pounding on my skin.

For a moment I think I really am in hell. And Riddick's with me. How convenient.

I turn to run but realize that there's nowhere to go, so I grab onto a pole for my life, praying that I'll be able to hold on long enough. Finally, the ship comes to a jolting stop and I crash into a pile of metal, smashing my skull. Darkness.

--------
Riddick

Gotta thank the pilot later for the expert landing. Instead of almost killing me, the jolt knocking the door loose. I could hear people calling out for friends and loved ones in the thick, dusty air. I'm sore but otherwise okay. Can't say the same for Johns. I spot him a few feet away from my cryo-tube. Leaning over him I can see that there's a nasty gash on the side of his head. Probably banged it pretty good on the console. Well, he'll recover. If anything, Johns had a hard head.

Time to hide until I can get out of these cuffs. I notice there's a ladder leading into the cargo apartment. I manage to grab his gun and jump down.

-----------------
Johns

Pain. My head would probably fall off if I let it. I try vainly to focus my blurry eyes ahead of me. Riddick. I swing my head around to look. His pod's empty. A sick feeling settles in my stomach. I reach for my gun. Not there.

No gun.

No prisoner.

In the middle of nowhere.

Despite the fact that I know Riddick's weaknesses, I can feel my palms start to sweat, my pulse start to race. I grab a flashlight and start looking for him everywhere he might be. Nothing. My guard slowly lowers as I think that maybe he died in the crash and was thrown from the ship. For some reason, that thought makes me more sick and I continue to look. I drop down lithely into the cargo apartment.

---------------------
Riddick

I watch him as he scans his light over the consoles and headboards. No gun. Brave little fucker to go after a big guy like me with nothin' but a stick.

For some reason, I'm fascinated with him. My eyes follow his every move. He's graceful but walks with a certain self-confidence that's been honed by fights and wins. He knows he's good but he knows that someone's always going to be better.

He sees his gun. Probably thought that he caught a break. I swing my legs down to capture him around the neck with the chain. He panics, clawing at the chain. Primitive instinct. It'll get him killed one day. Lucky for him I don't want kill him, just incapacitate him.

But he isn't a mind reader and he thinks I'm going to kill him. Grabbing his baton, he starts wailing away at my legs. He thinks that the dinky little stick hurts like hell. It stings but I've survived much worse. Besides, he ain't that strong with such little air left. I find myself hoping that he'll just pass out so that I don't have to hurt him.

He pulls me forward and I fall to the floor, stunned. He goes to hit me again but stops. Didn't think he could take care of himself but that'll teach me not to underestimate him.

He looks at me with a mixture of fear and understanding. He finally realized that I hadn't tried to kill him. Nonetheless, he's out of breathe and shaking.

"Somebody's going to get hurt one of these days. And it ain't gonna be me."

He's smiling, he's survived this one but he also knew that he didn't earn it. All he knows is that he won this round. Ego-boost. Just like a little child.

He pulls me up and ties me to a pole without anymore brutality. He's forced to lean over me to hook the cuffs behind the pole. His head is next to mine and I nuzzle his throat to smell his cologne. Nice. He practically jumps out of his skin. He looks at me incredulously. He stands up quickly, his eyes are dazed, as though he's debating something in his mind.

--------------------
Johns

I rush out of the cargo bay. What the hell was that? A serial killer presses up against my neck and I'm arguing with myself on whether or not to lean in again. No, I can't do this, not again. God, that felt good. Too good. Well, now I know how I won the fight. He doesn't want to kill me, he wants to fuck me, again. Outside, the heated air helped clear my mind somewhat. I took out my compass, not really seeing the arrow. I kept replaying the scenes through my head.

"Interesting."

-----------------------
Riddick

I'm free. Sort of. Johns' smart, he'll find me sooner or later. And half of me can't wait to see him again, the other half never wants to see him again.

These feelings are so strange to me. Knows I'm a serial killer, doesn't care, but also doesn't want to become my next victim. Like Keen.

I see him walking along the bones, trying to find me. He's so aware of his surroundings, searching for me. I land on the ground behind the woman. Kill her and take her oxygen tank. Easy. My shiv glistens in the sunlight.

Suddenly, Johns appears. I recoil back into the shadows and stare at him.

He's wearing a navy hat to shade his eyes, giving him a boyish look. The woman noticed, too.

Johns took a swig of the alcohol, obviously trying to drown out memories. He offered the bottle to the woman. " Drink?"

She glanced at him again, then the bottle. Grabbing it, she murmured more to herself than anyone else. "Probably shouldn't do this. Dehydrates you even more."

Johns shrugged, possibly thinking the woman was a little nuts to give out health advice when they were in hell's backyard." Yeah, probably right."

The woman winced at the acidic taste as Johns continued small talk. "You know you probably should have stayed on the ship."

The woman leaned her head back. "I wanted to get away."

That's interesting. Seems Johns picked up on that, too. Clever boy. "Never seen a captain so eager to leave her ship."

The captain stood up, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. There was something she was hidin' and Johns knew it. She was no longer in the chatting mood, though. "I think that we should keep moving."

But Johns wouldn't let it rest. I'd once taken a look at the merc's file. It said that he had a possible Obsessive Compulsive behavior but hell most bounty hunters do. It comes with the territory. "What did Owens mean when he said 'don't touch the handle.'" The woman remained unresponsive, thinking it over. Johns stood up, pulling his cap off casually as he did so. His golden hair was a halo by the sunlight behind him. He turned on the old charms for the young woman. " This is between you and me, Carolyn."

I moved closer to her, tired of the banter and I didn't like the way the conversation was heading. Kill her before they hook up, best scenario. I moved swiftly and silently up behind her. Sweat glistening on her back, her curly hair matted with the salty water.

She looked at Johns, gazing right into those same blue eyes that captured me and just about everyone else who looked into them. There was something about them that spoke to people, made them trust him, like him. Someone once told me a long time ago that the eyes are the windows to the soul. That statement was made for Johns. All you had to do was meet his gaze and you instantly knew what he was thinking and feeling. The woman fell for his puppy-dog-you-can-trust-me look. "I'm not your captain. During the landing, when things were at their worst, Owens was at his best.-"

My shiv neared her, close. Almost. My pulse races as I anticipate the kill.

"-He's the one that stopped the docking pilot from purging the main cabin, the passengers."

I freeze. Now this is interesting. A fellow killer in the midst of all the chaos. Well, I suppose I'll let her live, for now. Us murderers got to stick together.

"And the docking pilot being?" Johns had his theories but he wanted her to say it, to confirm it.

I slice off a piece of her hair. She smells good. Johns is a challenge but she's an easy lay and I'm beginning to like her. Johns nodded slightly, grinning as he put his hat on Carolyn's head. "Guess I'm more happy to be alive than I thought."

He walked away, followed by the woman.

-------------
Johns

Physco-bitch. She was going to kill us all. Looks like I'll store that little bit of information way for later use. She looks like she'll be trouble and it doesn't hurt to have an ace card hidden away. My nerves are heightened as I search for Riddick. No sign of him. I don't acknowledge the disappointment.

The Muslim kids find some sort of toy. Dammit! I can't seem to focus on anything. We find a settlement, looks to be abandoned - a long time ago. Dust coats everything and there's a feeling of emptiness and unrest. Something bad happened here.

Fry's working on the powergrid of a small escape ship we found. I'm replaying the images of the day back through my head trying to make some sort of sense of it. Humans have an uncanny ability of rationalizing things. I hear a shot ring out. It's soft, muffled by the distance. The stupid woman doesn't hear it, too focused on hearing her own voice as she drones on about the ship. I snap at her to shut-up.

The sound fades as quickly as it had began. I apologize halfheartedly to Fry.

We start back for the main ship - or what's left of it. My pulse is racing as I anticipate running into my quarry.



Part 10

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The same word kept repeating through Johns' head as he walked back to the crash ship. There was something on this planet, something that liked to hide in the dark. And something that had made one hell of a meal of Zeke if Fry's words could be trusted. The woman was scared shitless. She'd seen... something.

He knew he had to get Riddick's help. These fuckers liked the dark. He ignored the fact that he hadn't voted to kill Riddick. He ignored the reasons why.

"Finally found something worse then me, huh?" His voice sent shivers down Johns' spine as the man gloated.

He touched the top of his gun for reassurance. "So here's the deal. You work without chains, without bit, and without shivs. You do what I say when I say it."

Anger was in the other man's voice. "For what? The honor of going back to some asshole in a cell? Fuck you."

There was pain there. But Johns ignored it. He couldn't let the memories of the past surface, not now, not ever for that matter. "The truth is..." //I'm sorry. I can't do this. I'm scared of you or something about you. I don't know how to handle this or you.// He saw Riddick's head tilt to the side as he was obviously interested in the answer.

"Is that I'm tired of chasing you."

Riddick looked up at him, silver eyes stared at him, looking for an answer to a question that had nothing to do with chains. Wondering if this was Johns way of reinitiating their previous relationship, or whatever the hell it had been. "You saying you'd cut me loose?"

He shook his head. That wasn't going to happen. Johns couldn't afford to be that vulnerable again, to anyone. "I'm thinking you could have died in the crash."

The answer seemed to hit home with the serial killer. His voice was pure steel now. "My recommendation. Do me. Don't take the chance that I'll get shiv-happy on your wannabe ass."

So they were back to this. This was something he could at least deal with.

The lines were drawn. "Okay."

"Ghost me, motherfucker. That's what I would do to you."

The anger-filled words pushed his buttons. Johns was just going to untie him but he snapped and used his rifle to shoot the chains, barely missing Riddick. As the smoke cleared away, Riddick looked confused by this turn of events. Probably wondering what the fuck this all meant.

Well, Johns would have to clarify it. "Want you to remember this moment. How it could have gone and didn't. Here." The goggles were an odd act of kindness that he had done. He'd saved them after their scuffle. For what reason, he didn't know. Or he just ignored it.

Riddick looked oddly defeated by the outcome of the conversation. He reached out and, in the blink of an eye, had grabbed his rifle and aimed it towards his face. He barely had a moment to register the shock and raise his hands in surrender. Why the hell had Riddick pulled this? What was he trying to prove?

And why now?

The man had it pointed at him, ready for the kill. He hesitated and took another step towards Johns, causing the merc to backstep in confusion and surprise. He was waiting for Riddick to kill him. But the other man hesitated. His lips were pursed tightly together and his eyes reflected anger, hurt, and indecision.

Then Johns knew. Riddick still wanted him. The serial killer wouldn't kill him, even after all that had happened, because he *still* *wanted* *him*. The shock of it made Johns smile slightly.

"Riddick," he said in a pure taunting voice.

And the other man knew it. " Fuck you!" The anger-filled shout was interlaced with hurt.

The shout, or more like the emotions in it, made his smile vanish. The fucker was serious, about everything. But he ignored it, like he did everything. "Do we have a deal?"

Riddick, satisfied that his words had hit something in Johns, sighed. His eyes were somewhat softer when he spoke. "Want you to remember this moment."

He threw the gun down and grabbed the goggles roughly from Johns' hand and started to walk away. Johns smiled, knowing that he hadn't quite lost, but hadn't quite won either.

He went to turn back to walk out of this ship when Riddick slammed him against the nearby bunkhead. The serial killer's body was pressed up against his, trapping him. His breath was almost gone and he gasped as he felt the closeness of the other man. Riddick's heat was incredible. Before he could ask about what was going on, he felt the serial killer's lips pressed against his own.

He felt himself responding instantly to the other man's touch, the feel of his hands, his lips. He opened his mouth under the aggressive tongue, his own tongue eagerly responding, twining. Johns felt his hands moving over his body, his chest, hips, and arms. The lips pulled away to kiss over his face.

He trailed kisses down Johns' throat.

Johns' panted and moaned under his touches and kisses, totally lost in the familiar passion. The kisses on his neck were setting his nerves on fire. One of Riddick's hands undid the top off of his pants and grabbed a hold of his cock, massaging it. He threw his head back against the console, his hands clutching at the dark wifebeater, feeling the heat and muscles beneath it.

Riddick kissed his neck more fiercely, worked his cock faster. He felt Riddick's lips pressed over his own, tightly, as he came. The other man swallowed his screams.

Afterwards, he felt Riddick kiss his lips gently, strong arms encircle him to hold him close. He leaned his forehead against Riddick's, panting. He wrapped his arms around Riddick's back, and moved to rest his head on the other man' shoulder.

Riddick's voice was hoarse and coarse with emotion when he spoke. "Shit's going down. Watch your back. There are demons crawling out here."

Johns didn't want Riddick to leave, and damnit, the serial killer knew it.

The killer moved away abruptly and left the ship, picking up his goggles.

Johns looked after him, confused. But he ignored the reasons why he cared.



Part 11

The spherical orbs glide ominously as the numbers clicked into place.

"Eclipse."

Riddick turned towards him, gauging his reaction. He ignored the killer as he struggled with the spiders that were crawling through his skin. Riddick's gaze stayed with him for a second longer then turned towards Fry.

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?"

She gave him an annoyed look and got up to leave. Johns walked past Riddick, brushing up against him. That got the other man's attention. Johns grinned to himself as he walked after Carolyn.

"So we got to get the power cells. Shit! I've still got to check on the hull and patch things-"

She's nervous and he can tell. "Wait on the cells."

"Wait? For What? 'Til it's so dark that we can't find our way back?"

"We don't know when it's going to happen, so let's not get overexcited." This was all that he needed right now. A crazy woman flying off at the mouth.

"Just get the fucking cells here, Johns. What-What's the discussion?"

This was not good. He needed something to distract her. Fear was contagious and crippling in moments of crises. "Maybe I should tell you how Riddick escaped."

"He can pilot."

"He hijacked a prison transport and made a hell of a good run before I tracked his ass down."

"Okay, okay. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe we can use him to help us navigate or something?"

Johns sighed. She wasn't getting it. "He also figured out how to kill the pilot."

"Look, you told me that we could trust him. You said that we had a deal, Johns."

"You may not have noticed, but chains don't work on this guy. Now the only way you people are truly safe is if he believes he's going free. Let's just say he stops believing--"

"You mean if he realizes that we're going to royally fuck him over."

He didn't need this. "Now why don't you just listen to me for a second. If we bring the cells up at the last possible minute, when the wings are ready and we know we're ready to launch-"

"You know he hasn't harmed any of us. As far as we know he hasn't even lied to us. Let's just stick to the deal, Johns."

No, he didn't need this. Johns was already wrestling with his emotions, trying to convince himself that Riddick was evil and this woman was giving him reasons to think otherwise. The thought of how hurt he had been sitting in Keen's apartment, knowing what had happened. "He is a killer. And the law says he has to do his bid and there's nothing I can do about that, you hear me?"

The woman was shaking her head. "You're dancing on razor blades here."

He looked away. You get used to it, he thought. "I'm not going to give him the chance to grab another ship or slash another pilot's throat. Not on my watch."

As he stood up to leave, he wondered who he was trying to convince, Fry or himself. Flashbacks of that night flew before his eyes. The caresses, the scent, the pleasure... His head throbbed in agony, bringing him out of his reverie. It was time to spike up again.

He walked to the outside of the ship and leaning against it, dry-heaving. He didn't have anything in his stomach, thankfully. His head spun as he heard a deep voice off to the side.

"Bad sign, shaking like that in this heat."

Johns spit on the ground. "Thought I said no shiv-shivs--"

His stomach heaved again but met no relief.

Either Riddick didn't notice or he was trying to distract his stomach. "This? This is just a personal grooming appliance."

Riddick turned his head to the side to finally stare at him. His hands fidgeted relentlessly over his body as it begged for drugs or sex or both. He stalked away to the shed, trying not to feel the pair of eyes that followed him.

Johns sighed and leaned back against the barrels. His argument with Fry was not what he needed either. It brought back too many mixed emotions again. The first encounter with Riddick had terrified him, the second had thrilled him, and the third had captured him. He just didn't want to think anymore. His body shivered at the effect of the drug that he had injected. He felt cold with it in him.

"Gone back to the gee, huh?"

Johns didn't open his eyes as he recognized the voice.

"Like I said before, I got bad habits."

"I know what you mean."

"You don't know shit, Riddick." There was more malice in his voice then he'd intended.

"I know enough; about this place, about you."

Johns didn't respond but he felt Riddick's presence suddenly very close to him. Arms encircled him, pulling him against a warm body. It was a hold that was neither threatening nor comforting. It was meant to get his attention. He leaned his forehead sleepily against Riddick's shoulder. He felt warm now, safe. He felt the arms around him tighten.

Johns nuzzled Riddick's throat as the previous thought occurred to him again.

Drugs or sex or both. He slid his arms under Riddick's wife-beater, feeling the strength that came from the toned muscles that glided under the warm skin. He leaned up and kissed the taller man, pouring his need and confusion, everything into it. He felt Riddick return the kiss eagerly. They broke the kiss after a few moments, breathing heavily. Johns went to kiss him again, but Riddick veered his head off to the side to nuzzle against his cheek.

"You don't need that. You need to get off the planet."



Part 12

They were trapped in their sanctuary.

Johns shone the flashlight ahead, his rifle following. "You remember the boneyard? These just might be the fuckers that killed every living thing on this planet."

"What are we going to do now?" Jack asked.

The Muslims were mumbling to each other. Johns glanced at Riddick who met his gaze impassively. Darkness surrounded them as they listened to the screeching sounds from outside. Of course the fucker wouldn't be nervous, he could see plain as day in here. This was his ground. Johns wasn't sure whether that was a comforting thought or not.

"There's a cutting torch on the floor here somewhere." Fry. The annoying woman was looking around at the floor, searching for the tool.

"Quiet, please, everyone." Imam leaned against the opposite wall, listening to the monster's macabre lullaby.

"Why do they do that-make that sound?" Jack asked.

"Perhaps it is the way they see, with the sound reflecting back," the Muslim leader replied casually, his obvious knowledge beyond his religion coming to the fore.

Johns could feel Riddick's eyes on him as he leaned forward to hear. He wasn't stupid enough to actually press against the only barrier between him and the beasts. Even that was making the serial killer a little edgy.

There was a loud clashing sound and everyone jumped, turning to face the noise but no source could be seen.

"Could be a breech in the hull. I don't know," Fry answered the unspoken question with a wavering certainty as the survivors foolishly moved forward, drawn to the mysterious sound.

"C'mon, Johns. You got the big gauge," Riddick said to him.

Johns bristled. It was a blatant challenge. But by the way the killer was standing protectively in front of him, it was just a taunt. Johns toyed with the idea of actually going forward just to see how far Riddick would let him go. But the screeching sound made him think twice about the joke.

"I'd rather piss glass. Why don't you go fucking check?"

"I'm not staying here one more moment." Paris panicked. He started racing for the door, the others clambering over themselves in an attempt to stop him.

Fry shoved him to the floor, attempting to reason with him.

Imam opened a compartment door, allowing the others to enter before going in himself. They all started piling crates, barrels and other cumbersome objects into the opening to block the monsters from entering. In the confusion, Johns had lost sight of Riddick. Now he walked through the corridors, his rifle and light scanning the large room, Fry at his back with the torch.

She was extremely jittery. "Riddick?"

Johns frowned. The woman was not going to last long with that kind of intelligence. Riddick's a killer; a person didn't want a killer to know that they were looking for him. And if Riddick was in trouble he probably couldn't verbally respond.

"Don't. Stop. Burning." The deep voice boomed from around the corner.

"Take this," Fry said.

"Take that." He handed her his flashlight in exchange for her torch.

He knew what Riddick meant, the woman was oblivious. She took the light and went looking for him. The killer's words were a warning as well.

As soon as he'd finished cutting he heard noises coming from behind him. The creatures had found their meal. His pulse raced with panic as he rounded the corner just as Riddick ducked out of the light's blinding rays. Johns slung his rifle around and shot at the ceiling, his eyes following the beast as best he could. When he finally stopped firing he could tell that the others thought him insane.

Then the dead thing landed on the floor with a wet thud. The others screamed in surprise but he didn't. Neither did Riddick. They inspected the creature to find what they had previously suspected. The things hated light. Another horrible screech sounded in the corridor, closer this time.

"It that Hasan?" Imam asked, his voice full of foolish hope.

Johns reloaded his rifle casually. "We'll burn a candle for him later."

--------------------

"Johns you got some flares?" Fry asked.

He nodded pensively.

"That should be enough."

Those words gave Johns a chill. "Enough for fucking what?"

"We stick to the plan. We get the four cells back to the skiff. We're off this rock."

"Look I hate to ruin a beautiful theory with an ugly fact but that sandcat's solar. It won't run at night," Paris responded about the obvious as he took another swig from the bottle of whiskey.

"So we carry the cells; we drag them. Whatever it takes," Fry answered, determined to got out there.

"You mean tonight? With those things still out there?" Jack was clearly not thrilled about the idea, neither was anyone else for that matter.

"Look, how long can this last? A few hours? A day tops?" Johns spoke up, trying to be the voice of reason. The woman was crazy.

"I got the impression from the model that there would be a never-ending darkness," Imam said, as he fingered his beads. He wasn't trying to start a fight just stating his opinion. Johns didn't mind his opinion, even if it was wrong.

"The sun's got to come up sometime. And if these things are phobic about light then we just sit tight and wait for the sun to come up," Johns suggested.

"I'm sure that's what someone else said, locked in that coring room," Fry snapped. He could tell that she didn't like to be wrong.

"Look we gotta think about everyone now. How scared is this kid going to be out there--"

"Don't use him like that." Fry interrupted, her voice edgy.

"Like what?"

"A smokescreen. You deal with your own fears," she replied.

Johns reached for his gun. His nerves were on fire and panic was starting to set in. He needed drugs. He needed to get rid of Carolyn's annoying voice of insanity. He went to fire but Riddick stepped in front of him. His anger was boiling over as he pointed his weapon under the other's chin. The killer pushed his goggles up his head to stare directly into Johns' eyes.

"Where're you going?"

Instantly he felt a tapping. Glancing down, he grinned humorlessly. His expression said it all. Now he knew where Riddick stood in all of this. He wasn't on Johns' side that was for damn sure. Fry had that ally. Johns told himself that he knew this, had known this all along. But he ignored the hurt it caused.

Riddick walked off, his eyes downcast.

"And you're sure you can get us there? Even in the dark?" Imam asked.

"No. But he can."

Riddick took a second to nod before heading towards a top compartment. He glanced back, indicating for Johns to followed him. The merc sighed. What the fuck could he want now?

He stood up and followed nonetheless as the others milled around, preparing themselves to enter the darkness and the danger it held...



Part 13

Riddick took a second to nod before heading towards a top compartment. He glanced back, indicating for Johns to followed him. The merc sighed. What the fuck could he want now?

He stood up and followed nonetheless as the others milled around, preparing themselves to enter the darkness and the danger it held.

---------------

Riddick watched him as he walked into the dark corridor. Slow, smooth movements that hinted at mental and physical exhaustion. He knew Johns wasn't going to last long here. He was breaking down; the terror and death eating away at him like acid. Riddick had spent enough time in prison to know what could break a man, and the hell's backyard that they'd landed in was a prime cut.

He watched from the corner of darkness as Johns looked around for him. Ice blue eyes searched the empty room, glancing over his shoulder and back again.

His body was tense but he wasn't reaching for his gun. Riddick accepted the partial victory. He wondered how much of the tentative trust between them was still there.

Johns' voice echoed in the small room. "I'm not in the mood for any more games."

Riddick didn't move, just watched him. When no answer was forth coming, Johns sighed and sat down against a bulkhead. The floor was cold but the merc didn't seem to care. He looked so tired. The killer moved silently to stand in front of him, looking down.

Johns' eyes were closed but he seemed to sense the other's presence. "What do you want?"

Pausing, Riddick moved to sit down next to Johns. The other didn't move. The waters between them were dangerous and stirring but had yet to overflow. They weren't back to their old relationship of trying to kill each other yet they weren't where they had previously been a few nights ago.

He reached forward and touched Johns' hand, running his fingers over the other's palm, tracing invisible patterns. The tentative touches seemed to make the other relax. Johns sighed again, he turned to face Riddick.

"What do you wan-"

Riddick kissed him, gently at first, just a brief touch. He felt Johns return the kiss, deepening it. A hand touched his cheek, pulling him closer. Johns moaned and moved to straddle his hips, his hands clinging to Riddick, grasping handfuls of his shirt. Riddick growled, pulling Johns closer.

"Riddick?"

Carolyn's voice shocked them both as Johns practically fell off of Riddick.

The annoying woman appeared a second later. She took in the disheveled looks and panting.

She looked at the serial killer. "We need your help getting ready. What do you want us to do?"

Riddick nodded. "In a minute."

She paused to stare at him for a minute before going back downstairs. He suppressed a sigh and turned to glance back at Johns. The fucker had a vial of morphine out in his hand. Angrily, Riddick grabbed his wrist.

"Spiking up is a good way to get dead."

He was unprepared for the painful look in Johns' eyes and the humorless smile. "It helps."

Riddick released his wrist. There was nothing more for him to say, nothing more he could say. He'd already drawn the line earlier when they were hiding.

The meaning was clear. Johns was on his own. If he wanted to die, that was his prerogative. Riddick was going to do what he was best at, taking care of himself. He had done it for his whole life and he'd be damned if one man was going to make him change.

Standing up, he stalked out of the room, not even bothering to look back.



Part 14

Johns followed the others along as they traveled blindly through the dark. They couldn't see past their lights. He had an odd urge to just stick his arm out into the dark air to see how far it would reach. Yeah, before something fucking ripped it off. The air was humid but there was a light breeze that was just cold enough to raise the hair on the back of your neck. The soft screeches that echoed in the black distance made him shiver.

The sled was heavy and unstable. A bottle of wine fell off of the makeshift with a thud and the kid, Jack, raced after it in what could only be called an act of outright stupidity. Fry shouted for him and the Muslim leader dove for him. Johns grabbed his rifle, itching for a chance to shoot something, anything. He fired at the area just above the kid and Imam as they dove to the ground. He didn't see Paris scamper away, mumbling to himself in fright.

He squatted to the ground, reloading. He had almost hit Fry, been tempted to fire anyway. But whatever shred of sanity he was still clinging to made him stop. He heard Fry scream for Paris to stop. Confused, Johns ignored the whole scene. Then he heard a snap and crash as the whole lighting display, their whole protection gave way like a house of cards. He glanced at it, still reloading as the darkness closed in on them.

Johns fumbled for his flares, his heart griped with icy fear. The green light suddenly illuminated the field, revealing not monsters but four normal humans. He almost jumped out of his skin when Riddick appeared out of the moving darkness.

"Good to see you're okay." His words were laced with sarcasm and an undeniable truth.

Riddick tilted his head to the side slightly but otherwise ignored him. The coldness stung but that was the reaction he wanted. Hatred was best but he'd have to make do with indifference. He heard Fry ask something about what was going on. Stupid woman. Johns could plainly hear the wet noises and the ripping of flesh that signified the feeding frenzy that was taking place just out of their light's range. He was half-tempted to tell her to go take a look.

They started off again. Something caught his eye. In a brief glance his looked at the sand and rocks. What the fuck? It was their own tracks. Just then that annoying bitch asked about whether he could pick up the pace. In frustration he threw the ropes to the ground. The others gathered around him to shine their small lights over the shallow tracks.

He stalked up to Riddick, who was kneeling on the ground a few yards ahead. "Want to tell me what the hell's going on?"

"Why have we circled? Are we lost?" Imam asked calmly.

"Listen." That one words made Johns shiver. It was a warning. The others had no idea and continued to loudly interrogate Riddick while Johns grabbed his gun, pointing it into the darkness.

"Do you even know where we are?"

"Listen!" Riddick stood up with the speed and agility of a panther.

Everyone finally fell silent as the cries of the monsters filled the air around them. Horrible screeching sounds and battle whoops. Claws scraped against stone and sand. Sharpening the knives and forks, Johns thought morbidly.

"Canyon ahead; circled once to buy some time to think."

"I think we should go now." Imam said.

"I don't know about that. That's Death Row up there, especially with the girl bleeding." He turned to look back at Fry.

"What're you talking about, she's not cut." Johns said. He was starting to go through withdrawal again. His skin was overheated and the spiders were crawling again; little itches he couldn't scratch at enough.

"Not her." He tilted his head to the side. "Her."

Everyone turned to look at Jack. Tears formed in her eyes as the truth shown on her face. Her. This whole time it had been a *her.*

"You gotta be kidding me."

"I just thought it would be better if people took me for a guy, thought people would leave me alone. They are always messing with me." She fell to the floor as Fry cursed in anger at her.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, sweetheart. Are you really bleeding?" Fry asked as she sat down next to the girl.

"You could have left me a the ship, that's why I hadn't said something sooner." Jack whimpered.

"They've had their nose open for her since we left. In case you haven't noticed, they go off blood." Riddick explained.

"This isn't going to work. We're going to have to go back."

Johns turned to face her. Oh, he was not hearing this. This, this bitch had ignored not only Johns' warnings about doing this but Riddick's as well. She had pushed and stepped over everyone who had disagreed with her idea and now she wanted to turn back. Where was all her smart-ass words now? She had Riddick's ear. What was she afraid of?

"What did you say? You're the one who got us out here in the first place and turned us into sled dogs."

She knew he was not going to heel like a nice little doggy. "I was wrong, I admit it. Okay? Can we just get back to the ship?"

"No, no no, Carolyn. Nice breeze, wide open space; I'm starting to enjoy my-fucking-self!"

"Are you high again? Just listen to yourself, Johns" She was baiting him again.

"No, no. You're right, Carolyn. What's to be afraid of? My life's just a steaming pile of meaningless shit anyhow. So I say mush on. Canyon's only a couple of meters and after that, it's Skiff City. So why don't you butch up and stuff a cork in this fucking kid and let's go." The spiders were crawling faster as his heart rate sped up.

"*She* is the captain. We should listen to her." Imam attempted to make peace and sense of the matter.

But all he did was give Johns more fighting power. "Listen to her, when she was so willing to sacrifice us all."

"What's he talking about?" Jack asked. She was a lot like Fry, very naive but not nearly as stupid. And a hell of a lot less annoying. A least she knew when to shut-the-hell-up.

"This does not help us, Johns." She was trying to pacify him, get him to be quiet with rationale.

"During the crash, she tried to blow the whole passenger cabin; tried to kill us in our sleep."

"Shut your mouth!" All pretense was ripped away when he realized that she wasn't going to stop him.

"We are fucking disposable. We're just walking ghosts to you, aren't we?"

"Shut your fucking blowhole!" She flew at him, all her anger and panic breaking loss as she lost face in front of her peers. He grabbed her arm and easily twisted it so that she landed on the ground hard. He could have hurt her; could have broken her arm. But he didn't think she was worth the effort. She didn't seem to think so either as she just lay there on the ground, defeated and embarrassed.

"Fine. Fine! You made your point. We can all be scared." Imam stepped forward, afraid that Johns would further attack the fallen woman.

"Ah, Carolyn. How much do you weigh now?" The religious leader had nothing to worry about. He wouldn't beat a dead dog. She wasn't worth his time anymore. "Verdict's in. The light moves forward." He lit the flare by breaking it against his thigh. He glanced up at Riddick, seeing if the killer was mad at him for talking against his ally but he had an impassive countenance. He simply stood there as Johns walked in front of him.

"Looks like your captain is tainted as well," Johns mumbled as he walked past the killer.

***

He stopped and stood off to the side. An idea occurred to him. Their journey would be easier if they got rid of some heavy burdens. He thought for a second. Unfortunately, that girl was like a homing beacon for these beasts. He knew it wasn't her fault but if one had to be sacrificed to save the whole, than so be it. He wasn't willing to risk his ass for a stranger... not again.

Johns had seen this documentary of W.W.II where the doctors played triage for all the victims of Pearl Harbor. It had been such a small facility hospital and there had been over 1200 men and women in need of serious care. Sounds like hell. He could relate, especially now. Nothing like the classics.

"Ain't all of us gonna make it." He said casually as Riddick appeared. He purposely shone the light in the other's face.

"Just realized that." The killer shied away form the light but not from him.

"Six of us left. We could make it through the canyon and loose just one that would be quite a feet." Johns knew that they were back to level one. Merc vs. criminal. He would have to sell Riddick on this idea.

"Not if I'm the one."

"What if you're one of five." Johns countered. There was a screech close to them. He jumped and shone the light in the direction.

"I'm listening." It was Riddick's way of getting his attention. Johns flushed, feeling like a little kid with ADD.

"Doctors do it all the time, it's called triage."

"Kept callin; it murder when I did it."

"Either way I figured it was something you could grab on to." Johns grinned, a genuine smile that had been absent for quite some time. For a moment he got lost in this easy banter.

"Nice embellishment."

"I don't want to feed them. I just want to keep them off our scent."

"So which one caught your eye." Riddick had the balls to turn around and search. His voice was filled with a sick humor.

Johns grabbed his arm to turn him around. The touch sent a tendril of desire up his arm. Even in the cool breeze, Riddick's skin was heated. "No, no. Don't look! Christ, what's wrong with you?"

His body's reaction angered Johns even more The spiders were swimming under his skin, prickling in a thousand different places. His head swam with dizziness. He felt over-heated. "Alright, enough of this shit. You do the girl and I'll keep the others off your back."

Riddick stopped, his back to Johns. "It's not too big of a job for you, is it?"

"Just wondering if we don't need a bigger piece of bait."

The cryptic words made Johns' hair stand on end. "Like who?"

Riddick turned to face him, his silver eyes locking with Johns'. Electricity light the air around them. Muscles tensed. Enough of the bullshit. The fight was on, had been on for some time now. The others backed away even as the monsters honed in closer, drawn to the aggression.

Riddick went for his rifle, slinging it up but he blocked it, grabbing the handle. They fired shots and maneuvered for control of the weapon. He punched at Riddick's arm until he heard it snap in a gross disfigurement. He felt a fist hit him in the jaw, slamming him away form Riddick and crashing into the bones.

He turned to face Riddick, who snapped his dislocated arm back into place without so much as a wince. Nothing seemed to effect this man, not even the greatest pain. Johns grabbed his knife out of his shirt pocket, watching as Riddick brandished the same tool he'd used to shave with just hours earlier. His blood was on fire and his vision was blurring but he was ready to fight.

Johns swiped at Riddick, ducking to the side frantically, awaiting an attack. He wasn't used to knife-fighting but he needed to rush. Riddick swung the blade, knocking the knife out of his hand and the following backlash knocked him away.

The deep voice behind him echoed in the stillness. "Only one rule... Stay in the light."

He barely heard the older man's words. He grinned, enjoying the hunt. He grabbed his billyclub and swung at Riddick's knees, causing the other man to crash to the ground. He climbed on top of the killer, tried to hit him with his club again but s leg kicked it out of the way. Desperate, he grabbed for the other's shank, which was sitting just a few inches away. He went to swing it at Riddick, but a hand grabbed his wrist, preventing it from moving.

He struggled with the killer and, at least partially, with himself. He didn't know, f it came down to it, whether he could kill Riddick. Their history was far from clear cut, as was their future. He couldn't stop fighting, but he wasn't willing to let the other man win, either. The lines had been drawn, Riddick would kill him given the chance, Johns had no doubt about that now.

Silver eyes locked with his again. "Remember that moment?"

Johns blood ran cold. Riddick had signed his death warrant and was going to deliver.

The killer flipped him over like he weighed no more than a feather. The wind shifted above him as Riddick moved quickly in for the kill. He struggled to his feet and felt an intense pain in his back. It caused hi legs to give out and he collapsed to the ground. This pain was familiar. Images of the past flew before his eyes; Riddick had stabbed him before and left him for dead.

He struggled for his gun, Riddick's voice in the background barely a blur through the thundering in his ears. Something about Billy... Billy. Riddick had never called him that before. He moved onto his back and struggled to reload his rifle. Once he had, he struggled to his feet, trying to ignore the pain and the blood leaking form the wound.

Riddick's voice echoed softly through the air. "Told you to ghost me."

Johns tried to focus as his eyes blurred from pain and bloodloss. The flare went out.

--------

Riddick squatted to the ground. He knew he should move forward, leave Johns to die at the creatures whim, but something made him pause. He told himself that some sick part of him wanted to watch Johns die, watch as the only weak, humanity in him was killed. He needed to watch, to know for sure.

The light went out. It wouldn't be long now. Johns was bleeding badly from the shank wound in his back. His hands were shaking and his movements were erratic. Even now, he was fascinated by the man. He saw a monster move in on Johns, knock him to the ground. Riddick knew he should end it himself, but he couldn't. He'd stood there, taunting the other man but couldn't bring himself to kill Johns.

Riddick had killed Desolation Keen without more than a passing thought. Why couldn't he put this dog down? Johns was suffering long before Riddick had come into his life. Another creature moved in on Johns. It was almost over.

His hands clenched.

This moment would decide his future.


Part 15

This was it.

This would decide everything.

Riddick's hands clenched unconsciously at his side. The past flew by him at warp speed, brining with them long-forgotten emotions.

//The screams of the boys at the orphanage. Why a priest? Why someone that he trusted? Never trust again. Never care again. Let down your guard and this is what happens.//

//Juvy's rough. He saw his friend Keen again. Kid's hocked up on something. Can't blame him, everyone suffocates here under the unrelentless tension and confusion.//

//Prison's easier. Had a couple of fuck buddies but no emotion. He felt dead in here and the damned doctors were picking his brain in the autopsy. The guard's turned his back.. never turn your back//

//Johns. Quiet, alone, beaten on those steps. Should've just kept walking. But he looked so different. Call it morbid curiosity.//

//Took him back to my apartment. No one's ever looked to me for comfort before. It's odd to hold someone but I don't want to let him go.//

//"Where'd you go?"

"Where I'm going to take you now."

"You're too late. I've already been to hell."//

//"So, you're trying to clear your conscience of the past with me?"//

Riddick shook his head. The past haunted him with living ghosts of lessons never fully learned. Trust another, let your guard down, and the scars will never heal. Those scars never really heal, they just fester. After years of proof of this, Riddick had reopened the same wound. He'd allowed himself to trust and this was his punishment.

The beasts screamed around them, the scent of blood driving them into a frenzy. One landed a few meters from Johns. This as it. The end was near. Riddick moved closer. Could he let this happen? He couldn't kill Johns with his own hand, could he still himself to simply watch the same fate?

Johns stood up shakily, his wide blue eyes full of panic. He, too, saw the creature. Riddick took off after him. Pulling Johns to the ground with him just as the creature would have flown at him. He landed on top of the wounded man, hearing a grunt of surprise and pain from the man underneath him.

Riddick himself did not understand why had acted all he had known was that this was not the way this was supposed to happen.

For a moment, he relished the feeling of Johns; his body pressed up against him almost in a mockery of the past. He moved his hand to find it covered in blood. Ice coiled in his stomach. The monsters moved in. In the dark he could see them honing in on Johns. He roughly grabbed Johns' arm, pulling him up and half dragging him away.

"We have to find the light."

Riddick wasn't sure if Johns heard. The other man stumbled along after him, his eyes glazed over. They approached the others without incident, which made Riddick more nervous. this meant that these things were planning something.

The others were already in the canyon. Everyone was shocked to see them both alive.

Imam moved to Johns' side. "Are you alright?"

All the energy seemed to have seeped out of Johns along with his blood. He nodded numbly at the man's question. He allowed Imam to take his arm, his light shining over Johns. Riddick knew they couldn't move on just yet, they needed to regroup.

He moved the others to a rock formation, moving the 'door' out of the way for the others to file in. He eyes followed Johns but the other man ignored him.

It was fairly large cavern but secure. No openings, save the huge boulder, that allowed the monsters in. Riddick watched Imam help Johns to sit down all the way in the back of the cave. The other man slumped down, brining his knees to his chest and folding his arms around them, resting his head on them. Imam wanted to help but took the hint and left Johns alone. He sat down next to Fry and the girl to pray for salvation.

Riddick walked up to Johns, standing above him for a few moments before choosing to sit down next to him. The whole time, Johns didn't move. He turned to watch Johns. The young man had looked almost exactly the same way he had that night. So lost and alone, curled up in an age-old gesture of insecurity. He'd been injured then, too, by a man who Johns had trusted. The truth stabbed at Riddick. This kid really did follow a pattern. They had been at a crossroads then and had chosen a beaten yet interesting course. Here they were again. What path would they chose now that they knew where the one lead?

He could see that Johns was shaking. Impulse drove his hand to caress the side of the young man's face. His heart ached as the other jumped and recoiled. A week ago, hell an hour ago, Johns wouldn't have reacted in such a way.

Blue eyes looked up at him. Not full of malice but devastation. "Don't touch me."

"A little late for that request." He couldn't help the jab. He was hoping for some sort of spark in the crystal eyes. But Johns simply turned away to look at the wall, hi head still resting on his arms as though he hadn't the strength to pick it up. "I just want to help."

"You've done enough." Riddick mentally winced at the bitter words.

He looked up to see Imam hand him some brown cloths. "To staunch the bleeding. I'm afraid there's little else we can do until we reach the ship."

Riddick nodded his thanks. He gently placed them on Johns' back, over the wound. The shirt was soaked with blood, it's white purity turned to a crimson stain. The sight was foreboding. He felt Johns jump beneath his hand but was surprised when the young man didn't move away.

"I just don't want to bleed to death." Johns' voice was soft, tilted with a sad sarcasm.

Riddick pressed down on the cloths, trying to stop the blood. They just sat there in silence for a while. After about a half hour, Imam walked over to them.

"He's asleep."

Imam looked at him. "How do you know?"

"His breathing. It's soft and slower." Riddick moved quietly, pulling Johns into his arms. The young man leaned against him, his head lying on Riddick's chest.

Imam looked unaffected, as though he had known of the relationship. Maybe he was smarter than Riddick gave him credit for. "He fell asleep?"

"More like passed out."

The religious leader nodded. "The others are tired as well. We should spend a few hours here to sleep."

"No rush, holy man. These beasts are planning something. Might as well just sit back and watch what happens."



Part 16

Numbness and pain.

Two different ends of the spectrum and both were the only things that Johns felt. It seemed as though his entire life had disappeared. Everything had come to a stand still. It was a though he had been meant to die in that beast's jaws and the universe was putting him on hold while they tried to deal with the change in plans. Probably never saw Riddick coming. He never did, that's for fucking sure.

Everything was as it should have been until that bastard came into his life.

Why had he needed to be so nice towards Johns in that seedy bar? Why had he cared? The questions plagued his mind as he listened to the rain and monsters' screeching outside, his only barrier a thick boulder. And Riddick?

His only barrier between insanity. The chaos beckoned him with the promise of release but a silent presence kept the voices at bay.

Jack sat a few feet away from him. Her face was illuminated by the eerie bluish light given off by the worms that moved overhead. Her bright eyes glanced over at him every couple of minutes, as though she was shocked that he was still alive as well. Imam sat next to her, fingering his prayer beads and mumbling hymns. Fry was across from the holy man, staring out of the cracks of the boulder to watch the frenzied animals feed off of one another.

No one had ventured near him. They acted cautious around him, as though afraid that they would scare him. As if he wasn't supposed to be here. Not among the living, not now. He leaned back against the solid wall behind him and watched the glowing worms move in an undetectable pattern. His knees were drawn up and his rested his arms in his lap.

He felt someone move to sit down next to him and instinctively knew who it was. The other man's aura was a tangible thing; his smell, his heat. Johns watched out of the corner of his eye as Riddick's hand reached for his shoulder, hesitated, and then diverted to look at his wound. Johns suppressed a sigh. There was a time when the hesitation wasn't there -- albeit a small amount of time but it had existed. Deft fingers checked the makeshift
bandages.

"Wanna fuck?" His words were bleached of emotion.

The killer paused. Silver eyes flashed over his face; a grim expression.

"Why?"

Johns attempted to shrug but the movement jarred his wound and he winced.

"Just want to *feel* something."

Silence ensued; unusual and uncomfortable. Finally, Johns spoke up again.

"What? No words of wisdom? No smart-ass remarks, Riddick?"

Riddick looked down at the floor, his hands busy as they folded the rope.

"What could I say to reassure you?"

Johns laughed humorlessly. "Fantastic bedside manner, Nurse Ratched."

The killer glanced up at him. "So, are you pretending to be insane or are you?"

"You should know. You're my guide in this hell."

"You created it." Riddick countered.

Johns nodded. "I don't belong here, Riddick." A curious glance prompted him to continue. "I should be dead."

"No one belongs here. Wait until we get off this planet and then sort through this." The deep voice reassured him somewhat.

A sharp pang of despair hit him through his desperation. He leaned against Riddick, feeling the other man lean over to nuzzle the side of his face. The gesture soothed his frayed nerves. He felt a strong arm wrap around his shoulder and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He straightened abruptly and moved away from Riddick. The other's confused look followed him but he ignored it, resuming his watch of the worms above. He couldn't explain it but everything felt wrong now.

Riddick stood up swiftly. "It's time to go."


Part 17

They were forced to move slowly, now. Riddick carried the cells and Johns could barely walk. Riddick glanced at the man walking a few feet a head of him. He was at a loss at how to handle Johns now. He was a physical and emotional mess to put it lightly. He was stuck between life and death in a sense. He thought that he was supposed to die back there. He was in shock. Riddick looked up as he noticed Johns had slowed down to walk beside him.

Whether it was due to intense pain or habit, the young man quietly walked next to him, a gesture that reminded Riddick of that night long ago as they had walked to the subway. Johns had made a choice then, to follow him. It had been an uneasy trust that was broken now. They couldn't pick up the pieced.

They would have to try to form something else.

Johns was looking down, his body slouched in an attempt to relieve the pressure walking put on his wound. "What do you see when you look out there?"

Hundreds of monsters ripping each other to shreds in a mad frenzy of incessant hunger and merciless slaughter. "You don't want to know."

"I asked." Johns persisted.

Riddick sighed. He refused to add to Johns misery and nightmares. "I heard you."

Johns jumped as a creature swooped close to him in the shadows. The movement brushing him against Riddick but he moved away. "Why did you save me?"

The question seemed to be one of many that were plaguing the young man's troubled mind. A question of which Riddick even know the answer. "I don't know."

Johns glanced at him, his blue eyes searching the other's face for more information.

The killer sighed. "I couldn't watch you die."He looked at Johns, seeing the surprised expression on the pained face. "What kind of answer did you expect?"

The harsh words made Johns look away. "You brought me to this place."

Riddick's sympathy for Johns only went so far. "You *chose* to follow me."

Johns turned and their eyes met for a moment. Neither were certain of what the future held or what the past had meant. The present did not hold a rosy outlook if the current body count was anything to judge by. Death and chaos surrounded them and Johns was sinking into his own private hell the longer they stayed. Riddick knew they had to get out of here fast. Other than that, there was little he could do for he mercenary at the moment.

The ship was ahead of them now. It was a blessed sight in the darkness. But Riddick paused. The creatures were circling them, blood and adrenaline calling them near to the food. He pulled the others off to the side by a boulder. Rain started to pour down over them. They were thankful that they had found the blue worms as the fires went out.

"Stay here. I'm going to run the cells down to the ship and get it powered up and then come back for you." He explained.

"Why do we have to wait here?" Jack asked.

"The monsters are out there, aren't they?" Fry said.

Riddick nodded.

Johns leaned heavily against the solid rock behind him. "Honey, dinner's on."

Riddick stared at him, his expression worried. They were running out of time.

Johns was running out of time. He grabbed the cells and took off towards the ship, trusting that Johns could take care of himself with the monsters. His blood was a homing beacon and the beasts were hungry.

-------------
Johns

Now he was spouting lines from Florence Henderson movies. His world was closing in on him and he couldn't stop it. He knew he was in shock from the way his hands shook and his head spun but there was something else. Something that had always been there but was breaking out of whatever barriers he had set up. Insanity was calling and he ached to follow it into nothingness.

Fry stepped closer to him. "You worried?"

"About?"

"You told me once that I shouldn't trust him." She said.

"I said a lot of bullshit. Why do--"

"You don't seem nervous about him going off and leaving us here." Fry interrupted.

Johns shrugged. "There's little we can do about that now, Carolyn."

"Or...or maybe you know he won't leave *you.*"

He closed his eyes against the pain and confusion that the words unleashed.

"I don't know what to think anymore, Carolyn." At a small laugh from the woman, he opened his eyes and glared at her. "What the fuck you gettin' at?"

"I was just wondering. How sure are you that he won't abandon you?"

"He saved my life."

"Look they own ass first, right Johns? Isn't that what you told me?" Fry insisted.

The nagging doubts bite at his ankles and whispered in his mind. He looked down.

Fry nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You talk a lot of shit for someone who knows nothing."

The usual fire that had endeavored Johns spirit was all but gone. He didn't even have the energy to fight her, to argue. His mind was a mushy mess of doubts, indecisions, and pain. He just wanted to curl up and hide. He had thought that night on the stoop was when he had hit rock-bottom but he realized that there was an extra layer of shit and rocks. Loneliness and despair was centered deep in his bones as he acutely felt Riddick's absence.

---------------------
Riddick

He powered up the ship and opened the hatch. His pilot's instincts were coming back to him the more switches he flipped. Bright lights shone out into the darkness and raindrops splattered onto the ground in a soothing monotone.

It was a deceptive sense of security. Riddick walked down the hatch and ran towards where the survivors were. He was about to reach them when all hell broke loose.



Part 18

Johns

He saw the creature land in front of them and attack the Muslim kid. Fry, Imam, and the girl panicked and took off running to the ship. But he paused. He watched, fascinated, as the beast ripped the boy apart. Blood spirited and the screams were silenced. Crunching noises now filled the air as bones and jaws snapped.

Suddenly, he snapped out of it and gingerly ran after the others. Adrenaline helped push him along but the jarring movements reopened barely healed wounds. Blood loss and intense pain finally caused him to fall to his knees, his hands preventing his face from hitting the wet, muddy ground.

He looked up, his vision blurred. The ship's lights shone like a beacon in the darkness. It teased him with the illusion of safety but pain and weakness prevented him from doing more than just sit there. The beasts moved in the darkness and advanced on him. It was only a matter of time now.

-----------------------
Riddick

The fools. All of them.

The monsters attack and they scatter; perfect game. The woman, the girl, and the holy man all ran towards the ship at different paces. His eyes searched the darkness for Johns. He found the merc, the dumb fuck was watching the Muslim child die. The gory scene didn't appear to disturb him but he finally started running.

He averted his eyes to focus on Fry. She stopped as a beast landed next to her. She looked at Riddick, her eyes pleading. Jack and Imam had reached the ship. Riddick motioned them inside but Jack hesitated. The girl saw Fry and her trouble.

"Please, Riddick. Help her." Jack said. The heroism in her eyes caused him to heed her request.

He took off to help the pilot, the woman who would risk everything to make up for her past mistake. He could relate. Something tugged at the back of his mind. A flash. He turned and looked in the direction Johns had been running. The young man had collapsed to the ground, sitting on his haunches, waiting.

Blue eyes looked around blindly in the surrounding darkness.

Riddick stopped. Fry was screaming at him now, begging him for help. And Johns just sat there, dazed. The creatures were advancing on them both. For a moment, Riddick wondered what was left of the merc to save. Then he made his choice.

He dove after Johns, reaching him just as one of the beasts pounced. He slammed into the young man, pulling him to the ground out of danger. He heard Johns cry out in pain as they landed, hard. He pulled Johns close to him as he watched the creatures attack Fry.

------------------------
Johns

Black dots swam in his vision as he tried to breathe. "Fuck." He gasped. "You trying to finish the job?"

The pilot's painful wails echoed through the cold night air, sending shivers down his spine. He looked up, vainly trying to catch a glimpse of the scene.

The ship's light allowed him to see a little of her death. Three creatures attacked simultaneously, ripping her apart. Blood spurted into the air as one of her arteries was severed. Bones snapped as they tore off an arm. Her howls of agony mingle with the screeching of the feeding frenzy. Finally, one thrust in to feed on her heart and the screams ceased abruptly.

Johns swallowed. The death had been horrible but all he could think was 'good.' The woman had been a thorn in his side from the beginning, a noisome pest. And now she was gone.

He moved to get up, acutely aware of the pain that sliced through him still.

The cold air stung the wound that continued to bleed still from the recent additional trauma. He struggled to stand up as Riddick moved beside him. Johns felt an arm come around his waist, whether it was to support him or protect him, Johns couldn't tell. Perhaps it was both; perhaps it was neither.

They stumbled into the ship and Johns slumped to the ground. Riddick stopped and Johns felt a hand cup his cheek, a thumb caressing. He looked up to see concerned eyes focus on him. A flash of anger echoed through him and he moved away from Riddick.

The killer went to follow but his words stopped him. "You said I had demons to fight."

"Not alone." The deep voice growled. Johns wasn't sure who the other man was trying to convince.

"Not with you." Johns wasn't sure where the thought had come from but they were voiced and it was done.

Riddick paused, silver eyes staring at him. Jack's voice called him away to pilot the ship and he went where he was needed.



Part 19

Johns

He must have drifted in and out of consciousness at least a dozen times over the course of the next few hours. He could feel it coming, a deep, thick cloud that would seep into his head until darkness overwhelmed him. It was a haunting state of being and nothing compared to sleep. In sleeping, a person dreamed. This...this was something different where you were suspended in time and helpless to break free of the hold.

Johns felt something cool and wet press against his forehead. He opened his eyes and saw Imam kneeling over him. The merc flexed his muscles, wakening them from his curled up position next to the hull. The holy man dipped his washcloth into a small bucket of water before returning it to his forehead.

The coolness soothed his headache somewhat.

Kind brown eyes gazed down at him. "How are you feeling, Mr. Johns?"

"Wonderful." His voice sounded hoarse.

"And your wound?" The holy man attempted to turn his shoulder to examine it but Johns shied away from the motion and he didn't press.

The hoards of bee stings only came when he moved. Staying still, it felt numb and raw. "Any luck finding a transport?"

Imam nodded. "We are being picked up by a Company ship."

For some reason the thought made him smile. "All four of us, huh?"

A new voice came from somewhere up front, thankfully interrupting the holy man's sympathetic look. "We're coming in."

It was the girl, Jack. He'd forgotten about her. Had Riddick told his plan to kill her down on the planet? He looks towards the front of the shuttle.

Riddick was sitting in the pilot seat, flying the ship into the docking port and the girl sat in the copilot chair. She glanced back at him but her expression was of sympathy and excitement. He guessed Riddick had kept quiet.

Johns could feel the atmospheric drop back to normal as they settled down into the hanger. He could hear the shuttle shut off and power down. Riddick and the girl stood up, walking towards him as the hatch opened. He felt strong arms pull him up into a standing position. They went to help further but he struggled. The killer guided him out mumbling.

"Stubborn son of a bitch."

They walked down the shuttle door and stood in front of a line of people.

There were four troops in the back, armed to the teeth. There was also a man and a woman standing in the lead, dressed in formal military wear. The man stepped forward, his gray eyes hardened from life in the service and salt-and-peppered hair.

"Admiral Ross Hawkins and this is Lieutenant Madeline Kennedy. Welcome aboard the Zeus."

The survivors remained silent and Johns knew that the paranoid military personnel were getting jittery. " Will Johns. Imam, Jack, and Max."

He didn't see the look that Riddick shot him. Hawkins and Kennedy seemed assuaged, though. The lieutenant gestured for the armed guards to leave and then turned back to their company. Johns' world tilted and everything evaporated once again.

-----------------
Riddick

"He's been sitting there the entire time. Just hunched over in that chair.

Only leaves every now and then." The dark-haired nurse murmured to her friend.

"I know. I brought him some food a few hours ago. Seemed surprised I even noticed him." The redhead added.

Riddick could hear every word. Johns' room wasn't that far from the nurses' station and he wanted to hear the new world around him. The survivors were forced to trust these people and he didn't like coercion. To leave the merc alone was not an option and here, the military personnel would not bother him for answers.

He had needed to think, a dangerous pass time. Johns was an emotional shithole, Fry was dead, and they were stranded on an unknown freighter. A freighter full of Company men. It had been about two days since they had arrived and no word from the Company. They had yet to ask any questions or make any demands. The irregularity of it disturbed him.

Johns stirred in the bed in front of him and opened his eyes slowly. The lights were off so they didn't hurt the merc's eyes either. He looked disoriented and panicked and the serial killer ached to touch him but refrained. If Johns wanted his help now, the man would have to ask.

Eventually his calmed down, gathering his bearings.

Ice-blue eyes focused on him and a scratchy voice broke the silence. "Shit."

A long pause. "Got a pillow there, Chief?"

Riddick was not amused.

Johns' half-smile faded and he cleared his throat. "So, what did they do to me?"

"IV, heart monitor, stitches, and minor surgery." He replied.

"Pain killers?"

"Moderate and withdrawal meds." He finished.

Johns nodded. "How long you been here?"

"Long enough."

Cerulean eyes gazed at him for a while. There was pain there that all of medicine couldn't cure. "There's something wrong."

Understatement. Riddick shifted to lean back into the chair. "The Company's silent. No questions. No answers." Another pause. "How are you feeling?"

"Amazing." Sarcasm coated his words. Johns took a deep breath and looked like he was about to say something when the redhead walked in.

"Oh, you're awake. And how are we feeling, Will?"

"That's a popular question."

The nurse was either used to cranky patients or she didn't care. She put a new bag up to his IV "You were stabbed, honey. It's like telling the bride she's beautiful at the recital. Even if you don't care, you say it."

Riddick snorted. At least the woman was honest.

Johns sighed but kept quiet afterwards.

The woman finished and walked out with the coolness of her profession.

The uncomfortable silence ruled the room once again. There was a lot to say but not a lot of patience or energy to voice it. Riddick needed to voice one question, though, that had been milling around his head since they had first arrived.

"You called me Max."

Johns frowned and looked up at him. "Huh?"

"When we first got here, you introduced me as 'Max'. Why?"

The young man shrugged. "It was the first name that came to me."

Anger laced Riddick's words now. He knew things had deteriorated between Johns and him but this? "You think of me as him now?"

"Didn't say that--"

"You usually say what you think, Johns."

The merc lashed out in irritation. "Next time I'll give them your real name." He glanced warily out the door at the nurses' station and lowered his voice. "Fuck, Riddick. You know they are checking us out as we speak. What was I supposed to do? This is not supposed to be this hard."

He remained silent.

"Aren't you going to say 'it'll get better'."

"No."

"Why?"

"'Cause things with you never seem to get better." He regretted voicing the words but it was too late now.



Part 20

Johns

He was finally able to leave. The nurses couldn't wait to get rid of him. He hadn't made any demands on them with the exception of nagging for a release from this hell hole. The redheaded nurse, Annabelle, had been more patient than most and his primary caretaker. She walked in as he was zipping up his pants.

"I'm outta here, Annie."

"So I heard." She was shutting down the monitors.

Johns put on the white T-shirt that the Company had supplied. "Must be good to get my cranky ass outta here."

Annabelle laughed. "You're not as bad as Mr. Levine across the hall who plays with himself all day long."

He put on the black jacket over the shirt. He'd been freezing since he'd left the planet. It was as if the chilling rain had never left his skin. "See ya later, Annie. I'll be back tomorrow for the check up."

The redhead nodded. "You make sure. The doc didn't want you gone so early but you insisted. If you don't show up, we'll admit you back in again."

"Uh, has that guy been around here?" John asked.

"Your friend? I've seen him a couple of times. He just lurks out in the hallway. I asked him if he wanted to go in but he refused. Odd fellow."

Her comment had a mixed effect. On the one hand, he was glad Riddick had come by but why hadn't he come in? The killer had been distant since the ship.

'You said I had demons to fight...Not with you.' Johns winced as he remembered the conversation. There was a huge rift between them and neither knew how to get around it. Whenever they were near each other, familiar anger took over.

Johns walked down the corridors to where Annabelle said his quarters were. He smiled at Jack who went into her room a couple doors down. He figured that the Company had grouped together all of the survivors together to keep track of them and give them a false sense of security.

He pressed in the six-digit code and the door slid open. The room was dark. Johns could only see as far as the light from the hallway shot in. It illuminated the edge of a bed in the corner of the room and the door that led to the bathroom. He walked through and the door slid shut.

Suddenly a hand shot out from behind him and touched his arm. Johns jumped and rushed at the intruder. He caught the person off-guard and they slammed into the wall by the door. He felt hands place a steel grip on his forearms.

"Johns." The deep, familiar voice growled the word.

The mercenary was breathing hard from the adrenaline rush. A heedy mix of arousal and dizziness coursed through him. He leaned against the other man, feeling the hard muscles flex under his touch as he ran his hands over them.

There was a pause. He could almost hear Riddick thinking, calculating what the hell he thought Johns was doing. "Lights?"

The blonde man shook his head, leaning in closer to the other man. His lips brushed lightly over Riddick's. "Spent so much time with you I like the darkness. It's easy to hide in the shadows. "

As he eyes adjusted he saw Riddick frown. Before the killer could say anything, Johns kissed him roughly. Riddick tightened his hold on Johns but tried to slow him down. He kept kissing him though, ignoring the calming gestures that the other man offered. His hands were rough, almost violent, as they traveled over the hard body beneath him. Riddick allowed it, his touch still light.

Johns kissed his neck, nipping at the jugular. He dropped to his knees and pushed the dark wife-beater up to lick and bite at the flat stomach as his other hand undid the buttons on the pants. Riddick jumped and cautious hands rested on his shoulders. He pulled the pants down and licked the tip of his cock. He felt Riddick jump again. The other man had no idea what Johns was going to do and hated not having control.

Johns leaned in and deep-throated him. He heard Riddick groan and drop his head back against the wall. The surrender was electrifying for both of them.

After a while, Johns felt the hands on his shoulders tighten and the groans above him come more quickly. He ignored the warning and heard Riddick growl deep in his throat as he came. He swallowed, never missing a drop. One of the talents Max had made sure he mastered.

Johns stood up, a chilling feeling settled over him. The whole thing had been a dizzying experience, almost out-of-body. He wondered if he was truly crazy.

Now, he felt even more alone than before and the coldness hadn't left. He watched Riddick for a moment. He watched as the serial killer hesitantly leaned in to kiss him but Johns moved away.

"Leave." And the merc walked to the bathroom and shut the door.



Part 21

Johns

Johns leaned over the sink. He watched the steam from the running shower climb the cool air to cover the ceiling-high mirror. He looked up to see the distorted, blurry image of his reflection. 'The mind's eye.' He frowned at the sudden and unwelcome thought.

He sighed and quickly shrugged out of his clothes. He opened the shower door and stepped under the hot stream of water. It traveled like a warmth blanket over his back. Johns grabbed the soap and lathered up his body in a rush. He closed his eyes as the heated water washed the soap suds off his body; the soap lightly caressing as it moved down his body to the drain at the bottom.

He paused and reached for the soap bar again. It was odd how he had never felt dirty before after being with Riddick.

-------------------------
Riddick

He had instinctively moved to follow Johns into the bathroom. Questions and worry clouded his mind as the door slid shut in front of him. He'd known the merc would not let him follow but he'd gone anyway. One single word, one single glance was all he had needed to see the pain Johns was in. And it clawed at his insides.

He couldn't explain it but the pain he had witnessed, the isolation, burned inside of Riddick's mind like a brushfire. And he couldn't make the other man's pain go away. Riddick had never been faced with something he couldn't overcome and now the problem was not his -- but a part of his life somehow.

He hated being in the passenger seat.

Riddick pressed his hand against the door. The cold, hard surface was an ominous symbol of the dark barrier that kept Johns far away from him. He leaned his forehead against his arm as he once again tried to make sense of the hell he'd once again jumped into with both feet.

"Is Mr. Johns alright?"

He didn't look up, recognizing the voice. "Damned if I know."

"You are worried about him. I am as well. Maybe you should talk to him." Imam replied, calmly.

"Me." It wasn't a question.

"I thought he could talk to a counselor here at the station or I could speak to him but you have known him longer. Perhaps--"

"Johns doesn't want my help." Riddick growled.

"Even so--"

"He's on his own." The serial killer snarled.

"Just as he was on that planet." Imam's voice was quiet but strong.

Riddick's silver eyes snapped up at the statement. For not the first time in the past few days he had no idea what to say. He simply walked away, leaving the holy man to his own deeds.

***

It was almost four in the morning. Riddick had always been a night person. He finally stopped his pacing in his room. Johns was in his head; his voice, his face, his memories. The other man had likened Riddick to Max. A Freudian slip. The very thought had angered Riddick like nothing he had felt before.

He had shanked Johns in the past, almost killed him. But this was different, somehow. Max had beaten and tore away at the young man's soul. And he hadn't known Johns then; hadn't...

Riddick stormed out of his room, his powerful walk silent in the empty hallways. He knew that he would not rest until he had answers to his questions. Only one person could quell the anger and restlessness inside of him now. He opened the door, surprised to find it unlocked. The room was dark. Riddick smelled soap and the faint lingering presence that Johns had. The merc wasn't in the room.



Part 22

Johns

He sat on the edge of the platform. He closed his eyes as the artificial air moved over his face and through his air the in draft that echoed up the metal walls. About 30 feet below there was a gathering of military personnel. The high-ranking officials, maybe three dozen, gathered about in a semicircle unaware of the solitary figure observing them.

Johns mind was blank. The small apartment that the Company had supplied had grown suffocatingly small and his thoughts had turned introspective again. He didn't want to think anymore. There was a darkness festering inside of him and he didn't know what it meant. It clawed at his insides, trying to climb out and...and what?

Johns leaned his head down to rest his chin on top of his knee. In such a small amount of time his life had begun to change and had never stopped. He had yet to find a constant in his life. The doctor had told him that he had depression and shell-shock. Johns had told them to fuck off.

He felt a presence behind. It was subtle; a primal scent, a slight change in the air, a teasing heat. But Johns would know the man anywhere. There was a hesitation, a supreme caution in the way the man moved to walk up behind him.

Johns smiled, his mood even more sour. "Come to talk me down off the ledge?" There was a long pause and he sighed. "I'm joking."

Riddick remained silent as he moved to sit down on the ledge across from Johns. He moved with the strength and agility of a panther, all of his muscles gliding beneath the caramel skin with a familiar ease. Riddick didn't look at him but at the assembled company of men a few stories down. Johns knew that the serial killer would be especially uneasy around the military types.

"You got balls for days to stick around here with the record you have." Johns said. He didn't know where the thought had come from but it rang true.

Riddick remained impassive.

The lack of response angered Johns' anger. He'd come to this balcony to be alone. Not only did he have unwanted company but the other man refused to acknowledge his existence. "You here for a reason?"

Goggled eyes still watched the gathering below. "You weren't in your room."

"Didn't answer my question."

Riddick nodded. "No, I didn't."

Johns bit back the anger that threatened to boil over. A random thought occurred to him, something that would help him to not think. "You wanna fuck?"

If the killer was surprised he hid it well. The man simply shook his head.

He stood up. "C'mon, let's go."

Riddick looked up at him. "No."

The single word held such coldness that it stopped Johns dead. The anger seeped out of his body and the darkness retreated a bit. He suddenly felt tired and leaned against the wall, sliding down to sit in his previous position. He could feel Riddick's eyes on him.

He watched as the other man move to kneel in front of him. A hand moved rub his thigh. He felt Riddick lean in to nuzzle Johns' neck, and he closed his eyes at the warm sensation. Johns ran his hand over the other man's shoulder, the muscles flexing under his touch. Darkness suddenly enveloped him and panic set in. He pushed the other man off of him and stood up in a rush. He felt Riddick reach for him but he left.

Johns entered his room, surprised to find the lights on and Lieutenant Madeline Kennedy. The hard-faced woman looked up from her computer printout as he entered. Every part of the woman screamed military from her straight posture to her dark hair that was pinned in a bun. Her dark eyes acknowledged him and her thin lips pressed together. She motioned for him to close the door.

"The man you are traveling with, Mr. Johns, is not who you think he is." Her voice was crisp and clear.

"Really." His voice was disjointed and cold. The darkness was raging inside of him once again.

"I knew I recognized him when he stepped off your shuttle. I took the liberty to conduct some research and found out that he is the escaped felon known as Richard B. Riddick. His record is miles long, the latest multiple murders of prison guards."

"Anyone else know?" Johns asked.

"No. I just finished my search and since you are law enforcement and had been traveling with the criminal, I thought it best to alert you and your companions." Lieutenant Kennedy replied.

Johns nodded. "Good."



Part 23

Johns

"No. I just finished my search and since you are law enforcement and had been traveling with the criminal, I thought it best to alert you and your companions." Lieutenant Kennedy replied.

Johns nodded. "Good."

Lt. Kennedy walked over to his computer console. She sat down and started typing quickly on the key pad, the precise clicks the only sound in the room. Johns leaned against the wall behind her.

"What are you doing?"

"Typing out a report for you to have. You'll need an arrest warrant to bring him into custody." The woman replied.

Johns smiled slightly. "Of course."

"Tell me. Did he kill your the rest of your crew?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It's a simple question. Did the butchering bastard kill the other members of your crew?" Kennedy asked.

"No. Why haven't you interrogated us?"

"We are under strict orders not to."

Johns didn't like the sound of that. "By who?"

"The Company Command Center on Earth."

"Why?"

"We do not question orders." The programmed command came out with similar coldness. She stood up and walked around to the printer, handing Johns the paper. He nodded his thanks and watched her go to collect her datapad.

"Where are you going now?"

"To inform my captain of the present circumstances." Her back was to him.

The darkness beckoned once again, a howling in his soul and mind. It saw an outlet, a reasonable opportunity and it begged for release. Johns pulled the hunting knife out of his boot. He quickly walked up to her. With one hand over her mouth, Johns slit her throat. Her body stiffened and a muffled cry and she collapsed onto the ground. Johns let her fall, watching as her body landed with a sickening thud. He could tell she was still alive from her haggard breathing and her dark eyes looked up at him in anger.

He swallowed. "I'm sorry. I couldn't let you tell."

A little trail of blood leaked down out of the corner of her mouth and suddenly her chest stopped moving. Johns gazed at the dead body for a few moments. He felt numb now. The dark torrent had been appeased and withdrew to a small whisper in the back of his mind.

There was a noise from the behind him but Johns couldn't take his eyes off of the woman's body. He had done this. He'd killed an innocent woman in cold blood. Johns has done a lot of fucked up things in his life but this... this was a nightmare. He felt someone standing directly behind him, felt the heat. He finally tore his gaze from the body to look at Riddick.

The serial killer's face was a blank mask. His goggles reflected in the bright lights in the room. Riddick reached a hand out and Johns didn't move. The other man's hand slowly took the knife from his hand. Johns hadn't been aware he had still been holding it. Riddick used his other hand to guide Johns to sit down on the bed. The blonde man obeyed as his head spun with memories and possibilities.

He watched quietly as Riddick began to clean up the crime scene. The tall man used a towel to wipe off the handle of the knife. He brought out a different gray towel and handed it to Johns. The merc accepted it, touching Riddick's hand on purpose and holding it for an instant. Johns felt the man's fingers run over his cheek in an odd gesture of tenderness. He leaned into the caress in an attempt to absorb the other man's warmth.

"The body." Johns' voice was hoarse.

"I'll take care of it."

"They'll notice she's gone."

Riddick went into the closet and came out with a large sheet. "There's a transport coming for us in a couple of hours."

Johns watched him put the sheet over the woman. He wanted to help but his limbs were weighed down. He watched as Riddick lifted the woman effortlessly and placed her body in the air duct above his room.

---------------------------------
Riddick

This was not something he'd ever counted on seeing. The military bitch was dead and her body was hidden. He moved like a well-oiled machine, all of the past memories rushing back. Old habits die hard. He'd spoken with the captain a few minutes ago and they were leaving soon. Apparently not soon enough for the merc.

He glanced at Johns as he wiped the blood off of the walls, furniture, and floor. The man was loosing it. Riddick should have gotten him help long ago but things just seemed to get worse. It was like Johns was a magnet for trouble. Well, Riddick was stuck. That was for damn sure.

"Lotta blood." The voice sounded odd, strained.

"The jugular is messy."

There was a moment of silence. Riddick wouldn't probe. If there was one thing he learned from the slam it was that guilty men talked when they were ready. He didn't have to wait long.

Johns mumbled something.

"What?"

The blonde man stared at the newly cleaned floor. "She knew about you."

Riddick nodded."I figured they would sooner or later."

"She was the only one."

He understood. Riddick walked over and kneeled down in front of Johns. "Johns."

The young man didn't respond.

Shit. He didn't need the merc cracking on him now. He gently grabbed Johns face between his hands."Johns."

Cerulean eyes finally focused on him.

Riddick took a deep breath. For once he was at a lost for words. "We're almost out of here. Just...wash up, change."

Johns nodded. "Riddick."

There was a sudden knock at the door that startled them. It was still early morning. Who the hell could be at the door? And why now?




END PART 23