17. Jack: The Pawn In The Game

Feeling warm, safe, and utterly exhausted, Jack curled up on top of the made bed and dropped back to sleep for a while. She woke when their huge breakfast arrived.

Riddick helped her sit up while the food was brought in. Everything they'd ordered was there in enormous quantities. It took up three trays. Once Riddick had her in a comfortable sitting position, he arranged the trays in front of her and sat down on the other side of them, on the foot of the bed.

Despite her hunger she ate slowly, more out of lack of energy than anything else. She was aware that Riddick was deliberately matching her pace.

"So," he asked after a while. "Did they say what horrors they have in store for you today?"

She found herself chuckling. "They don't have any, thank God. Now I get to start healing up. They'll run some scans on me every few hours to make sure the tissue is forming properly, but unless something goes wrong, that's it. Bed rest and patience."

Bed rest, patience, and breakfast with Riddick. If only she could eradicate the pain, the day would be close to perfect. It still struck at her now and again, mostly cramping with the occasional stab-in-the-gut flash of agony. Nothing she couldn't withstand at this point, but she was looking forward to its end, when she could begin to forget how horrible it had actually been. The way she must have after her stay in the Special Forces hospital...

"You okay?" Riddick was watching her with concern.

She nodded. "Just thinking about how I seem to forget pain. I mean, I don't remember anything _like_ this from when the Special Forces docs regenerated my digestive tract, but it _had_ to be this bad, didn't it? So I guess I don't remember pain too well."

He frowned pensively across from her. "I guess not," he answered slowly.

"Funny thing is," Jack continued after a moment, "I hardly remember _anything_ about that time. I know I was hospitalized for two months, but it really doesn't feel like it could be that long. There's just not enough there, for some reason."

Riddick, she suddenly noticed, had stopped eating and was watching her closely. "Do you remember any of the dreams you had while you were there?"

"No... why?"

"You've always had very vivid dreams, Jack. I remember. And you always remembered them afterward in detail. You used to tell me stories about them. Sounds to me like they had to have drugged you. Fuckers were trying to pick your brain."

"They _couldn't_ have, though, could they? Drugs of that kind would interfere with the regen process."

"Maybe that's why it took you two months to heal," he suggested. "Or maybe..." his voice trailed off into a small, thoughtful growl.

"What?" she said after a moment of silence.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Something to check out later, that's all."

The statement on his face gave the lie to his words. It was the same look she'd seen him wear when he was listening to the ship engine, picking up a faint dissonance that indicated trouble to come.

"Riddick, if they did something to me I want to know about it." She was surprised to find herself getting angry with him. What was he keeping from her?

He gave her a funny look. "'Did something' to you? You sound like you think they molested you."

"Well maybe they molested my _head!"_ she snapped, abruptly furious.

"Is the pain getting bad again, Jack?" Riddick asked softly.

It wasn't, but suddenly everything was aggravating her, including his latest question. "No! I just want to know what's been _done_ to me!"

Riddick suddenly began lifting the trays off of the bed, moving them out of the way. He climbed up to the head of the bed and put his arms around her.

For a moment she almost wanted to shove him away. She felt like pounding her fists against his chest. She wanted to shout and kick things. Riddick's hand settled against her cheek and the rage abruptly melted into sorrow. She leaned against him, gasping at the intensity of the emotions she was feeling.

The first time he'd ever held her like this was after one of her nightmares. It was only because she'd literally flung herself into his arms. He'd had no experience with physical affection and had been completely lost as to how to react. Physical contact, for him, had up until then been limited to two things -- violence and sex. She'd had to teach him how to hug. He'd taken to it quite readily, which was a joy for her.

She'd always been a physically affectionate person. Up until her parents' deaths she'd still insisted on sitting in their laps constantly. It had led her into terrible trouble after they were gone, of course, but she still needed this sort of contact. She suspected she always would. She listened to the beat of his heart against her ear, letting it soothe her.

"I don't think they did anything bad to you, Jack," he murmured into her hair. "They probably just asked you a lot of questions about me, about where we went and what we did during those months together. That's probably all."

"But what if they _did_ do something?" she whispered.

"Like what?"

"What if they brainwashed me? Maybe I just _think_ I'm your friend and I'm really getting ready to turn you over to them--"

"Hey. None of that B-movie stuff, kid. They couldn't do that to you." He sounded very certain.

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know what they _can_ do, Jack. I know what kinds of mental 'readjustment' procedures they have. And there isn't _one_ of them that would leave your personality intact. You're still you." He leaned back for a moment so he could look her in the eyes. "I'd know better than anyone if you weren't."

His hand came to her cheek again, brushing at the tears resting on it. More tears abruptly poured onto his fingers. He pulled her up against him once more, stroking her hair. It took her several minutes to regain control of her voice.

"I'm just... so fuckin' _sick_... of being knocked around and having everyone _do things_ to me. I _hate_ being used, I hate it!" She pulled back now. At another time the empathy on Riddick's face might have left her speechless, but she still had so much she needed to say. "You know why I'm all tactics and no strategy when we play chess? It's 'cause all my life I've been everybody's fuckin' pawn!"

"Not anymore, Jack," he answered her, his voice suddenly equally fierce. "Never again. I'm going to see to it that nobody can pull that kind of shit on you anymore. Not even me. I promise you that."

Not even him? He'd never pulled anything on her, had he? It took her a few moments of thought to figure out what he meant.

Guilt. He felt guilt over the tenor and events of their reunion. He'd overridden her will then, drugging her, removing the tracer chip, and taking off from Seti Station without so much as a by-your-leave, before she'd even regained consciousness. It could easily have been a kidnapping if she hadn't still loved him. He'd more than made it up to her since then but he still didn't seem to think so.

He'd just made it up to her again, she realized.

He was watching her silently. A small, calm smile now touched his lips. "Feeling any better?"

She nodded, finding a smile of her own to give him.

"Still hungry?"

Was she? Yes, she definitely was. She nodded again and he brought the trays back. This time she dug into the breakfast with much more energy. They ate in silence but to her it felt like dialogue. The strong connection between them seemed to almost hum.

"What's happening to me?" she asked after a while. "What was that about? I'm not usually that... volatile, am I?"

Riddick reached across and, oddly enough, patted her hand. "No, you're not. But I remember Dr. Cartwright said you'd display unusual sensitivities. I think we just saw what she meant."

"Shit. How long is _that_ supposed to last?"

He shrugged. "A few days, I think. Probably not much longer than that."

She felt sheepish suddenly. "Sorry about that."

He rose and carried the emptied trays one by one over to the door and set them out in the hallway. Closing the door, he returned to the bed and sat down next to her on it. "You don't have to apologize for anything, Jack. It's not like you said anything untrue, you know. You can say anything you want to me. Always."

She meant to smile at him, but what emerged was a splitting yawn. He laughed softly.

"Sounds like you need some more sleep, kid. You had a rough night." He stood and turned down the spread. "Get back in."

She complied and let him tuck her in under the covers. "What are you going to do today, Riddick?"

"Well, I have something I want to research a little. I'll be back later, though. Figure we can have dinner together, too. You up for that?" He smiled at her.

"I wouldn't miss it," she smiled back.

He leaned down, but hesitated for a moment. Then he bent and kissed her on the forehead. "Sweet dreams, Jack," he murmured.

She watched him as he left the room.

Funny... for a moment she'd thought he was going to kiss her on the lips.