One Mistake
Title: One Mistake
Summary: A woman helped a convict. Now because of this she has become just as much a convict as he. Now, the only one who can save her, is the one who condemned her in the first place. Possibly One-Shot, possibly more.
Rating:
R for language
Disclaimer: Do I wish I owned Richard B Riddick?
You bet your ass I do. Do I actually? No. You know who I do own?
My character. That's it. And this storyline.
Author's Notes: I'm not…entirely sure where this is going to go. I'm also not entirely sure when and where inspiration strikes me to update. It could be a few days. Could be a few months. It's never really clear. So please…don't piss me off by bugging me to update. I'm just going to take longer if you do that. Reviews would be nice though, as long as they aren't flaming me beyond belief. Thanks. I'm still deciding whether it's before or after Pitch Black. I haven't even SEEN Chronicles of Riddick, so yeah…
How the fuck did I get myself into this? This was the only conscious thought that could really make it through her jumbled up brain as she crouched behind a dumpster in a dark alleyway, rain pounding her shivering form. The seemingly unending train of police vehicles behind her on the street were reflecting blue and red strobe lights off the rain-soaked alley walls, giving her face an eerie desperate look as she tried to think. No where to run; the alley was a dead end, and the cops were going back and forth on the only other exit to the area.
The dogs couldn't find her because of the rain. At least that's what she hoped, because if that wasn't the case she was going to have to move soon. Her hands couldn't stop shaking as she gripped the edge of the dumpster, as if afraid that if she let go that gravity would release it's hold on her and send her spiralling up into the stratosphere to slowly suffocate. This was how Alicia Terries had ended up after one small encounter with a man named Richard B. Riddick.
Nobody would believe this was happening to Alicia, of all people. She couldn't even believe it herself. Alicia had been the model for the word goody-two-shoes. Hell, she'd never even met a police officer before; that was how far away from trouble she had always stayed. The security prison was a good forty or fifty miles away from her neighbourhood, and it was so rarely spoken of that you would think it didn't even exist. It was just an object of the fertile imaginations of the people. Public relations, you see, they didn't want everybody moving away just because they thought some escaped convict would murder them.
It had been nearly two in the morning. Something had kept her from sleep, but it wasn't until a lot later than she would realise that it was obviously some sort of higher power playing with her mind, setting her on the course to where she was now. Fucking bastards. Without explaining to herself why she thought it would help, she had opened her front door and stepped out, clad in only a loose white tank top and dark blue sweat pants, the clothes that served as her pyjamas, and that was when she'd seen him. Not well, mind you, seeing as it was nearly pitch black outside that night, but the movement had been enough to catch her eye. Goggles were sitting on top of his shaved head, and a trick of the light (or at least that's what she'd thought at the time) had made his eyes seem to almost glow in the dark, and even from afar she could see that he was huge. One hand could probably wrap around her neck without any difficulty and squeeze the life from her.
He was obviously injured, limping, and against her better judgement she had moved forward slightly to get a better look at him in the dark. It looked like he was bleeding badly from an injury in his leg and she'd watched with a gasp as he fell to his knees on the pavement. Despite the obvious idiocy of running into the dark street to a strange man with a shaved head, wearing all black and with goggles on his head, she wasn't really thinking that clearly. Crouching, she gasped as she looked at the long bloody trail that went all along the road from whence the man had come, not from the gaping wound in his lower leg, but from the slowly oozing pool of blood on his stomach. Oh. My. God.
"Get up…come on…I'm going to help…" She whispered, trying to pull him to his feet, but it was useless. He was half-unconscious, and she ended up dragging him most of the way, him half-getting up a couple times. In the end, she dropped him (by accident of course) on to the floor of her living room and closed the front door of her house. Deciding that there was no fucking way she could lift the dead weight up onto the couch, her hands fumbled with the phone, trying to dial the number for emergency, but she couldn't seem to remember what the numbers were. Her white tank top was stained with his blood beyond recognition and her hands were leaving bloody smears over everything, and she felt disoriented by the amount of it, dizzy.
Alicia ended up dropping the phone and stumbling to her bathroom, first to vomit what was left of her dinner into the toilet, then to grab almost literally the entire contents of her medicine cabinet. The man was still where she'd left him, lying prone on his back in the living room. At least I don't have to roll him over. Some ironic part of her reasoned, and she knelt, pouring water all over his stomach in an attempt to clean off the wound enough that she could at least see it. It was a bullet hole, she realised with a gasp, her hand dropping the bottle of the water with a muffled thud on the hardwood floor, and it's contents spilling to pool around the figure, who had not moved the entire time.
Oh god, please say he didn't die…that'll be difficult to explain. He just HAPPENED to die of a bullet-wound in my house, officer, honestly! Yeah, that'll go over fucking well. However, she could still hear, if she focussed, the ragged in and out of his breathing, and she went back to the task at hand. The bullet was still in there, she realised, gagging. Luckily she had nothing left to vomit, or she would have as she examined the wound. The bullet had to be taken out. That was not something she could do.
"I've got to call an ambulance…" Alicia said out loud, not sure why, considering that the man was obviously totally out of hearing, and turned, grabbing the phone from where it had fallen on the floor just before the water shorted it out. Just as her fingers were pressing the buttons, there was something cold and sharp at her throat and her breath hitched in her throat as she felt the cold force behind it.
"Hang up the phone." The voice was like listening to thunder over a lake, deep and rumbling, with a threatening quality that showed that he had no qualms about killing her. Alicia was breathing hard, but did as she was told, placing the phone back on it's cradle with shaking fingers, though it nearly fell to the floor on it's way over. For a few moments there was silence, but there was no loosening of the hold on her throat, and she could feel his warm breath pushing lightly against the hairs at the back of her neck. Had she not been terrified for her life, she might have been uncomfortable with the closeness of him. At the moment, however, she was more worried that he was going to slit her throat. After a few more seconds of silence, she finally had to speak.
"P-please, d-don't kill me, I b-beg y-" Before she could even finish what she was saying, she was flipped over on to her back, and pinned to the floor, his knees pinning her legs to the ground, his upper torso pinning her arms, and the knife was thrust back at her throat. Her eyes widened as she looked up into the dark glowing orbs directly above her. "Y-your e-eyes…" She whispered, despite the obvious inappropriateness of the situation.
"Shut the fuck up!" He said roughly, and her breath hitched again as the curved knife (or shiv, more accurately) was shoved up against her throat harder. "Why are you trying to fucking help me?" It was the last thing she expected him to ask at the moment, and for a moment she was struck silent, but as he pressed the shiv a bit more, she was quickly provoked into speaking.
"You were bleeding badly and you looked like you needed help, so I decided I'd bring you in and call emergency, I didn't even realise you were a…." Finishing her sentence for her, there came the sounds of police sirens, and then there was the reflection of blue and red lights through her front window as a police car went by her house, with someone speaking through a loudspeaker. Apparently the fact that it was nearly three in the morning was of no consequence to them.
"Attention! Attention! This is a warning to all citizens of this city that a very dangerous criminal has escaped from the Planetary Penitentiary. We advise that you lock all windows and doors and leave lights on. Do not panic. Repeat. Do Not Panic." The message was repeated as they continued down the street, and then started to fade away as it turned the corner and started headed towards the next street. There went any hope of aid. The man, who hadn't even looked up when the police cars went by, was studying her, with something that might have been vague interest in his otherwise emotionless eyes.
For a little while there was no sound other than the slow dripping of his blood, which sounded eerily like a ticking clock, reminding both of them that there was not a lot of time left, and she could feel the warmth of it through her tank top as it dripped against her stomach. Finally the silence proved too much, and she had to break it, because the uncertainty of there being a tomorrow for her was grating at her nerves and her sanity. Because of this desperation, she snapped out with more force than she intended
"Look, you have a bullet wound, you need medical help!" Her voice shook as she looked up into those cold emotionless eyes, trying to gauge how many minutes of life were left, and how many of those she should spend praying that it wasn't the end just yet. There were a few more seconds of silence as he regarded her carefully, then he spoke, without shifting his weight, though he pulled the shiv away from her throat.
"You're wrong. I don't need help. But I do need some equipment. I see you have bandages, some antiseptic…" He motioned to the previously ignored items now lying scattered on the ground, before turning the eyes back on her. "I can get the bullet out and stitch it myself, I just need a needle and some thread…are you still willing to help me?" Alicia didn't answer for a second, then slowly nodded, and he read the truth in her eyes as he backed off, letting her sit up. "Don't try anything funny…I can kill you in about two seconds flat."
Alicia nodded, before standing up and stumbling into her kitchen, looking over her shoulder every few seconds to make sure he wasn't sneaking up on her. Once she was clear, she considered running, but something stopped her. She could have got away, the neighbour's house was nearly close enough to touch just out the kitchen door, but…something about this man made her think. He could have killed her and found the needle and thread himself, but he hadn't. Could have raped her, then killed her and found what he wanted, but he hadn't. He could have done a lot of things vile, hideous and unforgivable, but he hadn't. Maybe there was something in him that was human after all. Finally, after standing still for a few minutes, she started to rummage through drawers, finally finding an emergency patching kit she had received in a gift box or something of the like and tossed in a drawer just to get it out from underfoot. About to return to the living room, she paused, looking at the needle. It should be sanitised, or else he could get a disease or something…
A sneaky voice was asking her why she cared if he got a disease, but she was already looking for a way to sanitise the needle. With nothing better, she pulled out a matchbox, and struck it, holding the needle to it as long as she could until her fingers started to smart. Turning, she nearly screamed as the dark menacing form in the doorway came into sharp focus all at once, and she found herself looking, not into the glowing eyes of before, but a pair of reflective goggles, reflecting her own terrified image back at her. She hadn't even heard him move from the living room. Although she would never have said this out loud, in the dark, the goggles made her think of a huge bug. Unfortunately, this bug couldn't be swatted without a great fear for one's own health.
"I never introduced myself." The man said casually, as if he were at a dinner party, holding a glass of wine in one hand, and making casual conversation with the host. "The name's Richard B. Riddick." The name sent shockwaves through her system, as thousands of newspaper headlines flashed through her mind. They all told of the horrible murders that the infamous Richard B. Riddick had committed, how he'd escaped from a triple max security prison…the list was unending as the names and faces of the victims flashed through her mind. How had she not seen it? His picture had been published everywhere, wanted posters, newspapers, and even in libraries. The only explanation she could come up with was that she hadn't wanted to see it, or that it was because of the dark. Realising that he was waiting for her to introduce herself, she took a deep breath and held out the needle and the thread with a gulp.
"Alicia Terries." She whispered hoarsely as he took the items from her hands and was surprised at how gentle his touch was. She had expected him to snatch them from her hand roughly, telling her how he was going to kill her the second he was finished. Considering all the tales she'd been told of him, she'd made him out to be some sort of pyschopath who would rather spend his time killing people for no reasons, and would have limited vocal skills. The modern caveman. Yet here was this man, standing in her kitchen, making conversation and speaking intelligently, and he had even sheathed the shiv.
"A pleasure to have threatened you, Alicia." He said, before turning and disappearing into the living room, then through to the bathroom, as if he already knew where it was, leaving her standing in the middle of the kitchen, covered in his blood, wondering what to do now. She could have run for it now, for sure, he was in the bathroom, though the door was wide open, and the kitchen door was less than five feet from her. As much as her mind was saying this, her legs weren't responding, and she found herself walking back into the living room and sitting on the couch, ignorant of the mixture of blood and water that was staining her floor as they spoke.
Then there was the sound of dogs barking, coming closer, and she frowned, standing up and walking to the window, peering out through the curtains. There shouldn't be anybody out walking their dogs at this time of morning… Through the window, she could see wildly swinging rays of light, coming along the dark street, and a great many hound-dogs, probably five or six, all running frantically, stopping every so often to smell the ground. They were followed by a bunch of men in uniform, all holding guns and she gasped, putting two and two together. They were nearly where Riddick had fallen to his knees, where, if they were really on his scent, they would turn and walk right up her front walk and straight to her door. For a moment there was nothing. No thoughts, no emotions, just staring blankly at the dogs as they paused exactly where she said they would. Then something kicked in.
A life for a life…With that one, single, blind thought, she turned and ran straight to her kitchen, and came back out with Cayenne Pepper in her hand: the one thing that could turn a hound dog off the trail. The dogs were coming up the walk now, followed by the men, who had their guns trained on her door. Not enough time! Fuck! Racing across the living room, she nearly crashed into the wall as she skidded on the wet hardwood, leaning down to snatch up the bandages and antiseptic from the floor, before grabbing the bathroom doorframe as support. She stood silhouetted, staring at Riddick, wondering if she had lost her mind. The image that met her eyes made her throat close up and she started gagging before she could get a word of warning out.
In the sink was the bloody bullet, and his hands were bloody, so he had obviously fished it out himself. She hadn't heard a sound of pain from the bathroom, and he was now stitching himself up without even a wince. Even just watching him do it made her turn pale, and she took a deep breath. It was so bloody, that she very nearly passed out at that exact moment, but held herself up, holding out the pepper to Riddick.
"Dogs. Cops. Go out the window." Pointing at the bathroom window which led to the back of the house, she shoved the Cayenne pepper into his hand, as well as the bandages and antiseptic which were a bit damp, but still useable. "A life for a life." Riddick looked at her, registering the only emotion she had ever seen on his face. Surprise. Then, more oddly, admiration…for her? Then he was moving, out of the window, but he paused and looked back at her, and an odd smile crossed his face.
"I won't forget this...Alicia." With that, he was gone, and she was closing the window and her heart nearly jumped out of her chest as somebody pounded hard on the door, and she looked frantically around the living room. It was covered in blood from Riddick, as was she, and there was no way she could clean it up now or even get into non-bloody clothes before they'd just break their way in. Finally, she opened the door just a crack, not even enough for them to see anything but her face and neck.
"Yeah? What the fuck do you want, disturbing me at four o'clock in the fucking morning? It better be fucking important." She said, glaring at the five of them, trying to make them wilt, but none of them even reacted, in fact they didn't even ask her if they could come in. They just came in, shoving her out of the way, and she stumbled and fell to the ground, revealing how bloody she was, and how bloody the room was. Fuck. A news report's line ran through her head momentarily, from a few years ago:
"The murderer known as Riddick has escaped once again from police custody. Those now searching for him have been given orders to shoot on sight, and also to shoot anybody they believe could have aided his escape…more information to come."
Time was slowing as the guard's were pointing their guns at her. There could be no doubt that she had helped him get out of her house alive. They had their orders and were willing and ready to obey them, even if it meant killing an almost totally innocent young woman. Each of those shiny metal barrels glinted lethally in the small amount of light that there was in the room. Her eyes darted around the room. The front door was blocked, the bedroom was out of reach…There was only one escape now. The bathroom. Screaming, she lifted herself and flung herself into the bathroom, just as shots began to fire, one of them embedding itself into the mirror, shattering it into a million deadly pieces, all reflecting her image into thousands of different angles. She slammed and locked the door, then ran to the window, forcing it open before leaping out into the night, falling on to the ground with a thud before racing away. Towards the city.
Just then, both mercifully and fatefully, it began to rain. Not just a little sprinkling, I mean heavy, driving rain that coated her in seconds. It was so thick that she could barely see three feet in front of her, and she knew it was masking her scent. Whatever higher power liked her, they had come through for her again.
((Yeah, it's not that good, I know. It will get better, I promise. Review…maybe? That would be nice if someone did…okay, next chapter will be up really really soon. I'm working on it even as I write this.))