Author's Note: This starts about an hour into "Chronicles of Riddick"; right after Riddick is lowered into the slam on Crematoria. I didn't like the necromongers in the movie, so I decided they didn't exist. I apologize if that offends. I'm really nervous about putting this up here, so bear with me. Please read and review, but most of all, enjoy.

Riddick swung himself over the railing and onto the walkway. Instantly, an arm was around his shoulders, a familiar shiv pressed against his throat.

"How do I get eyes like those?" a throaty female voice whispered in his ear.

"Jack." Riddick tried to pull away, but he was jerked back against a decidedly female body.

"Jack's dead, Riddick. You killed her." The cold steel of the shiv pressed dangerously against his throat; then it was gone. Riddick heard the blade sliding back into a sheath. He turned to see the woman standing behind him. She was pressed against the rock wall, staring at him through narrowed eyes. She wore a stained white top, black pants, and heavy boots. Her long brown hair was twisted up in a messy knot on top of her head, a few strands curling haphazardly around her face.

Riddick raised an eyebrow, waiting. They were sizing each other up. Finally the woman's eyes widened. Riddick caught a glint of silvered green before she turned away. Shrugging, he followed. The two moved down the walkway until they reached a cell. Swinging open the door, Jack motioned Riddick inside and closed the gate behind them both.

The cell was a cramped hole in the wall, with a few crude outcroppings in the way of furniture. There was a shelf of sorts, large enough for Riddick to lay down on comfortably, situated in a natural alcove. The bed was exactly the same as the shelf, except someone had thrown blankets on it.

"So," she said finally. "You came back." Quirking a brow, she busied herself around the small room.

"Jack," Riddick started.

"It's Kyra. I told you, Jack's dead." She pulled the shiv and sheath off the waistband of her pants. Then she sat down and looked at him. "What do you want?" When Riddick didn't reply, she began studying her hands in the dim light of the cell. There were candles all over, but only a few were lit. Taking off his goggles, Riddick sat next to Kyra and looked down at the top of her head.

"I said I'd come back, kid," he said finally. Kyra's head shot up and she made a rude noise.

"That was five years ago," she shot back, her silvered eyes flashing. Riddick was sure of their color now. They had been green; he remembered that from T2. They were still green, just with a light coat of silver over them. The reason for the lack of lighting in the cell suddenly became clear. He raised a brow, but didn't say anything. "Five years is a long time. Lots of things can happen."

"What happened?" Riddick held Kyra's eyes, trying to draw her out. At first, she didn't answer. She glanced quickly toward a small shelf carved into the stone wall.

"Let's just say I killed a few people," she said softly, hauntingly. That wasn't exactly the truth; she'd only killed one person. But what did it matter? She had still wound up here; rotting in this slam…Kyra shook her head. That was over and done with. Standing up, she crossed to the cell door and looked out at the other prisoners, bustling up and down Crematoria's many underground levels. She had spent a long time here – too long. And she had spent too much of that time waiting for Riddick, wondering when he would rescue her. Well, that's over now. I can rescue myself, she thought.

"Do you know what those sick fucks did to me?" Kyra growled suddenly, whirling to face Riddick. Her eyes were bright with remembered pain as she gestured out her door to the slam's mass of humanity. "They tried to rape me." She fought to breathe. "I was just seventeen years old and they tried to rape me." She paused, taking a deep breath and forcing her voice into a more normal register. "And when they couldn't do that, they tried to kill me." I waited for you! I fought back because I thought you would come for me. Accusations were screaming through Kyra's mind, but she kept her face calm.

"How long've you been here?" Riddick looked around the cell, noting the signs of Jack – Kyra, he corrected himself – carved out of the barren rock walls.

"Too long," she replied. Suddenly, all the fight went out of her. She leaned against the door and slid to the ground. She sat with her legs pulled against her chest, her arms crossed over her knees, and her head resting in the hollow her body made. Frowning, Riddick pulled his goggles back on and watched her. How long had she been here? Checking his memory, he recalled her saying something about being seventeen…how old was she now?

"How long is 'too long'?" he asked, finally. Kyra mumbled a response that he couldn't hear because her head was still down. He waited.

Finally, she lifted her head a tiny bit and repeated, "A year and a half." Riddick gave a low whistle. Long time for a kid like you, he thought. "Do you know what it's like to celebrate your eighteenth birthday in the slam?" She gave a smile that stopped far short of lighting her silvered green eyes.

A loud ringing echoed off the stone walls, filling the prison and making Kyra start. Sighing, she pushed herself to her feet. She crossed in front of Riddick to another small shelf in the rock. The confines of the cell forced her so close to him that he caught a trace of her scent. Surprised, Riddick noted that she smelled of fear. What was she afraid of? He watched her as she grabbed a small ceramic plate and her shiv.

Turning to face him, she asked, "Are you hungry?" He didn't answer. Sighing and rolling her eyes, Kyra led him out of the cell and down the walkway to a set of stairs. They climbed up for a while – Riddick didn't count the levels. When they stopped, he could see a mob of hardened men and women milling around. Checking for her shiv, Kyra pushed her way into the crowd.

Riddick was following her; she could feel his eyes fixed on the back of her neck. She wondered idly if he thought he needed to protect her. That made her grin; she had made her way here long enough. Waving at an older man across the room, Kyra took her place in line. Riddick fell in behind her.

They waited in silence, the line moving slowly. Kyra could smell the foul reek of the slop the wardens passed off as food. "God, what I wouldn't give for something other than this," she muttered, wrinkling her nose. As they passed in front of a steaming pot of stew, she felt bile rise in her throat and forced it down. A man in stained cook's whites slapped a large spoonful of disgusting looking gruel on Kyra's plate, then motioned her to keep moving. Suppressing a shudder, she worked her way through the crush of people toward the stairway. Riddick followed, keeping alert for any possible threats. When they were safely situated on a landing a few levels down, he glanced at the slop Kyra was choking down. She looked up guiltily, her fingers covered in the greasy stuff; they didn't trust convicts with utensils. Biting her lip, she hesitantly offered him the plate.

"Thanks." Riddick grasped the plate and frowned as Kyra flinched away from him. Scooping up a mouthful with his fingers, he licked his hand clean. "You don't need to be afraid of me, kid," he said after he swallowed. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"I'm not," she whispered. Riddick snorted. Yeah, right. Kyra's chin lifted and her expression firmed. "Why would I be afraid of you?" He raised an eyebrow as she finished the last of the slop on her plate, licked her fingers, and stood. She mimicked his expression, then turned and started down the stairs. A small smile curled up the edges of his lips as he followed.

Riddick couldn't help admiring Kyra as they made their way back to the cell. She walked like a predator – all loose-limbed grace and carefully controlled power. She'd done all right here, he figured. She'd survived, and more importantly, she hadn't gotten bitter.

When they reached the cell, Kyra pulled the barred door closed behind them and locked it. "Feeding time soon," she said, answering Riddick's unspoken question. Feeding time? he thought; but he kept his mouth shut, sitting down on the bed. He would find out soon enough. Kyra sat next to him, leaning back against the wall and watching him with wary eyes. They could both hear the commotion going on all around them in the crowded prison.

"So." It was Kyra who broke the silence. She fidgeted, but kept looking at Riddick. He looked right back at her, waiting. He always seemed to be waiting. "Are you here to rescue me?" she asked.

"Doesn't look like you need rescuing," he said flatly. Kyra blinked, surprised.

"That's right." Riddick relaxed back onto the bed, cradling his head in his clasped hands. "So why are you here?"

"I said I'd come back for you."

"We've been over that already. You came back. Now what?" She leaned her head back and closed her eyes; her foot tapped absently against the floor.

Riddick opened his mouth to answer, when a discordant clanging interrupted him. What the-? Sitting up, he stared out the bars as someone started to scream. Kyra quickly moved around the cell, blowing out the few candles that were lit, plunging them into complete darkness.

"Feeding time," she whispered. A large animal strolled past the cell, stopped, sniffed, then moved on. "It's a great security system." Another one of the animals bounded past, going the opposite direction; Riddick heard a blood-chilling scream in its wake. "They let the cats loose – I think they're cats, anyway. Keeps the population down and prevents escapes." Kyra held herself stiffly as she moved to the shelf-like seat. Lying down, she curled up on her side and tucked her head against her chest. Riddick was struck by how young she seemed right then. Not Kyra – Jack; just a sacred kid in a scary situation. Pulling his goggles off, he watched her as she pressed her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut.

The growls of the cats, the cries of the dying, and the fleshy thumps of the bodies went on all around them, echoing crazily. Indifferent, Riddick crossed the tiny cell to Kyra. Carefully, awkwardly, he gathered her into his arms and cradled her against his chest. She was shaking and making little pathetic moaning noises in the back of her throat. Not quite sure how to comfort her, Riddick smoothed the stray strands of hair away from her face. He wondered if she always reacted like this. Shaking his head, he put it out of his mind and slowly rocked back and forth, holding Kyra securely against him.

-

Kyra awoke the next morning to find herself curled up on a sleeping Riddick's lap. Frowning slightly, she tried to disentangle herself from his arms; it wasn't possible. He was protecting her, even as he slept. Letting out her breath in an exasperated sigh, she relaxed and contemplated the man she had waited for for so long. As he slept, Riddick looked peaceful; still dangerous, but more at rest than Kyra had ever seen him. She wondered if he dreamed about T2. Her nightmares had plagued her since their escape. Some nights, she would wake to find herself under the bed or shivering in a corner, soaked to the skin with sweat and hiding from imaginary predators.

The worst of her night terrors had faded over time, especially as Kyra forced memories of T2 out of her mind. But here on Crematoria, here in this hell, it had all come back – the terror, the memories, all of it. During feeding time, when the cats were out, it was all she could do to not scream like the prisoners caught by the huge animals.

Sighing, Kyra pushed the thoughts behind a locked door in her mind and focused on other things. What was Riddick going to do, now that he'd come back for her? Turning her gaze on the man in question, she found his disconcerting silver eyes looking down at her. Kyra stared back for a moment. When had he woken up?

"Uh – good morning?" she offered, blinking. Riddick nodded, loosening his protective grip on her. Immediately, she slipped off his lap and sat next to him. "Sorry about last night," she tried again. "I'm not usually that bad," she lied. Riddick nodded again and stood. Retrieving his goggles from the bed, where he'd left them the night before, he pulled them on and turned back to Kyra.

"Flashbacks?" he asked.

Blushing, Kyra responded, "Yeah." Riddick nodded and looked around to survey the cell. Dim light filtered in through the bars of the door, casting everything in an eerie light. The few shelves carved out of the walls were cluttered with bric-a-brac and little oddities. Little pieces of her, he thought. There was her little ceramic plate; here a small, carved wooden box. He could feel Kyra watching him, so he sat on the hard bed and turned his attention on her.

"Now what?" she asked. Riddick didn't answer. Leaning back against the wall, Kyra wondered why she even bothered. It's like talking to a brick, she thought, growling. Getting up, she unlocked the cell door and swung it open. She stood on the threshold and watched the slam waking up. The smell of someone's early morning cigarette reached her and she inhaled deeply. Tobacco was a luxury – one Kyra had been forced to give up after the mercs had caught her. She heard Riddick come up behind her and considered turning. Deciding against it, she stayed watching the start of the day. The smells of a strong cigar and various blends of pipe tobacco floated past her, drawing a sigh from somewhere deep in her soul.

Riddick cocked his head slightly to one side and breathed in Kyra's scent. There was no fear this morning, only something light and natural. Apples. He didn't know where that came from, but that's what it was; he didn't even know how it was possible in this hellhole. Kyra smelled like apples. Shaking his head slightly, he cleared his throat.

"I went to see holy man."

"Really?" She turned, smiling slightly. "How is he?" Riddick shrugged and Kyra raised an eyebrow.

"Alive," he said at last.

"Good. Imam is a decent man." She paused. "Did he tell you where I was?" she asked hesitantly. Riddick nodded and Kyra let her head drop back against the stone wall. She absently rubbed her right arm with her left hand. Her eyes were closed as she pursed her lips. The silence spun out between them indefinitely.

"Alright," Kyra said suddenly. "This has got to stop. You're here. Great. Now what?" She turned her penetrating silver-green eyes on Riddick and waited.

"What do you think about getting off this rock?" he asked. Startled, she just stared at him for a moment.

Then – "I could live with that," she said.