Disclaimer: Pitch Black & TCOR don't belong to me, yade yade... I'm a poor starving artist... Blah Blah Blah... please don't sue.

A/N Sorry it's been so long. Dreaming Dragonfly, blacktalon117, and KelseyParryMP, your support has helped carry me through thus far. I hope one day I can return the gift you've given me. Those who have been asking where I've disappeared to and whether I will finish this story please see my profile. Everyone else... on with the story.

Chapter 9

Letting out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the door closed behind Riddick, Vaako brought his hand to his face and tried to rub out some of the tension. He'd expected the man to smart ass him, make some kind of dig on his way out, but all he'd done was give Vaako another one of those long measuring looks that made his skin crawl... and then he was gone.

Fuck me, he thought for the third time with a sigh, and what do you know? Three wasn't a charm because he still had no idea what he was going to do about any of this. Not just the fact that she was lying there completely fucked out of her mind on medication... another thing to be grateful to that bastard for... He didn't have the first clue what the man had cooked up, but the concoction was a life saver. Or more accurately, a sanity saver because if he'd had to look at her suffer a moment longer he knew he would have lost it. That little box he'd been shoving everything into? It was full to bursting and he had two choices; deal with it now or wait for it to explode and deal with the fall out.

When another knock sounded at his door he was forced from his exercise in mental futility. This one was tentative, so at least Riddick hadn't decided to come back with a bowl of that popcorn shit he was so fond of eating to continue the show. Opening the door he found himself once again at a loss. Shaking like a leaf was a young convert holding a bundle of clothing as far from his body as his trembling hands would allow. The boy couldn't be more than 12 by the looks of it, and Vaako had the distinct impression if he made any sudden moves the poor kid would piss all over himself.

Taking a deep breath Vaako tried to even out his features into something resembling calm and collected. Taking the bundle he thanked the kid, having to resist the urge to roll his eyes when that only seemed to freak the boy out more. Childhood was another one of his no-go topics, but it wasn't like he had to actively dissect it to remember his promise. He didn't raise his voice, he didn't abuse them… he stayed the hell away from them completely…Promise kept.

'Am I sensing a pattern here Vaako?' The sound of Riddick's voice mocking him inside his own mind was becoming far too familiar. When exactly had the man become the voice of his conscience? The idea of it was wrong on so many levels he couldn't begin to count them. But truth was truth, there was a correlation between avoiding the youths and avoiding Aurora.

It seemed Riddick thought of everything. Pants and a long tunic that wrapped around the front, nice. Both were understated just like everything the man wore, so obviously he'd picked them himself, but more importantly, they were easy to slip on and off . Make that two more things to be grateful for. Considering the way his mind was slowly churning he wouldn't have realized slip on gowns and busted shoulders didn't mix until after he got the ripped gown off her and had finished cleaning away the blood. The last thing he needed was to have her lying wrapped in a towel while he hunted down suitable clothing. For once Riddick staying two steps ahead was a God send.

All that crimson staining her pale skin just served to burn a reminder of what she'd done into his retinas as surely as Riddick's words had burned it into his mind. 'He had no honor.'

Laying out the clothing he noticed the other items wrapped up inside. A sling, thoughtful... and a tablet with American Sign Language downloaded onto it. Prick. Even under the circumstances he couldn't help chuckling at that one. Make that three steps ahead.

Moving in to the bathroom he laid half a dozen towels down on the long marble counter. He couldn't get the bandage wet which meant no shower and even if that wasn't the case, there was no way he was getting into a shower with that girl. If holding her in his arms had rocked him, getting hot and steamy in a shower was a definite no-go. He already felt like a bastard and a letch for touching her as is, cause as clinical and detached as he might want to be, he'd be soaking in the memory of what touching her skin did to him all the same. Soaking it in, filing it away and bringing it out for future reference.

He'd only had two thoughts while Riddick stitched her up. 'Mine' had been the first and most disturbing. Only slightly better was 'if that bastard hurts her, I'll fucking kill him.' Which said a lot about the state of his sanity... non existent. It had been a strange kind of torture watching Riddick's hands on her. It didn't matter that she felt no pain. He'd hated seeing that needle pushing it's way through her skin, lifting it up in to a point before breaking through, leaving a tiny pinprick of blood to well with each pass. Part of him had known Riddick was trying to minimize the scar and was glad the man was being so meticulous. The other part just wanted the man to hurry the hell up and get his hands off her, fuck the scar... So irrational on top of insane, he was really winning.

Crossing back to the couch he lost momentum, stumbling to a stop and staring dumbly down at her. Eyes hazy and sleepy, she looked up at him with a small smile which was exactly the last thing he needed to see when he was debating the best way to get her naked.

Couch or bathroom? Christ, I'm losing it. There was no difference between the two. Debating was just putting off the inevitable. Pulling his own blade, he decided finishing the job Riddick had started was better than fumbling around trying to get the gown off her the old fashioned way.

Focusing on the slide of the blade through the material, he tried not to think about what that blade was revealing one creamy inch at a time. Those initiates gowns looked like rags for a reason. But on her they didn't detract, they intrigued, they enticed. Molding to her just long enough to accent a curve and draw his eye before flowing loose again, making him wonder just how well she was filling out. Watching the hallows in her cheeks disappear had been gratifying, seeing the curve of her hip as the blade slipped lower was even more so.

Taking a deep breath, he replaced the blade and carefully shifted his arms underneath her. Did she have to look at him like that? That dreamy expression was killing him. Feeling her arm snake up and around his neck as he lifted her assured him of one thing... There was a God... and he was fucking with him.

It had to be the drugs. Suddenly Vaako had the sinking suspicion that concoction was another one of Riddick's little jokes. There was a vast difference between sedation and whatever was going on with the girl nuzzling her face along the crook of his neck. Feeling her chest expand as she inhaled his scent, he tilted his head to the side giving her better access before he realized what he was doing. The way her hand clutched at his tunic made his chest swell and told him all he needed to know about her thoughts on the subject. Gritting his teeth, he lifted her gently trying not to analyze the burst of male satisfaction he got from it all. Nothing was ever simple, nothing, and he'd do well to keep that little gem in mind dealing with her.

After all, simple would have been her relinquishing her hold on him as soon as he set her down on that nest of towels. But since the girl didn't do simple, he was forced to grit his teeth again, that small hand sliding along the nape of his neck before descending down his chest. Damning himself, damning her, he grabbed the hand when it hit the plane of his stomach. Removing it before it could travel any lower, his exhale straddling the line between frustration and relief.

Hazel eyes taking on a blue cast, he knew instantly what that particular color meant and was hard pressed to remember why he was trying to be honorable. Taking long, slow, deep breaths, he filled the basin. Concentrating on the sound of water rushing in and focusing on blocking the sound of her steady breathing out.

Riddick had been wrong. Vaako didn't come running into the gym an hour later like his ass was on fire. It took two hours. When he finally did burst through the doors, the scowl marring those pretty boy features was nasty enough to rival one of his own and what do you know; the other Necros scattered about the gym seemed to share his opinion on Vaako's state of mind. They took one look at his First's face and decided they had urgent business elsewhere. Every last one of them, five seconds and the room was cleared. Impressive...

Vaako was back to pacing like a caged animal and Riddick decided to let him for the time being. It wasn't like he had anywhere pressing to be. He could plant his ass and wait for Vaako to stop circling, or he could go back to wallowing in his own self misery staring at Jack's face through the glass. The fact that his First was an hour late... now that intrigued him. It was one of the things that he liked about Vaako. Man kept him guessing, made playing the game more interesting.

Stumbling to a halt like he'd abruptly run out of steam, Vaako turned slowly to face Riddick. Sitting against the wall, arms hanging relaxed off his knees, he looked like a man. Not the Lord Marshal, not Riddick, just a man, which told Vaako all he needed to know about how fucked he was. There would be no getting out of this shit till the man had his say.

Christ, he thought irritably. "If we're going to do this, mind if we do it in your quarters?" He felt exposed enough as is without having to worry about wondering eyes or ears and he needed a drink... bad.

Wrong again, Riddick thought as he pulled himself to his feet. He'd been certain the man would need to get his shit rocked before listening to reason. That was the way the man worked and it had been Riddick's pleasure to exorcise the man's demons every time Dame Vaako's memory came back to haunt him. The need to fight, the need to bleed when life went to shit on you was something he could understand and fulfilling Vaako's need gave him a hell of a work out. Vaako was a challenge, which meant Riddick was able to work out some of his own shit concerning Jack, not that he'd ever tell the man that. Yeah he was a hypocrite, but he was the hypocrite with all the power.

Shrugging like he didn't give two shits, he just led the way out and down the hall.

"So" Riddick drawled casually. "You gonna tell me what actually went down in that Med Bay?"

Chuckling at the startled look his First threw him he shook his head. "Come on Vaako, you didn't honestly believe I wouldn't look over the video feed when you showed up here lookin like you just found out the Devil was real and gunning for your ass." Giving him a measuring look he took a long slow sip of his Jack before continuing. "Considering your line of work that says a lot don't you think?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Vaako's words barely registered as a whisper.

"Try me" Riddick responded thinking of Shira.

His life had never exactly been normal, but those visions had put things in a whole new realm of fucked up. Anytime he made the mistake of thinking he'd imagined it all, that hand print lit up like his own personal night light. Apparently that ghost of Furyans past had a direct line to his psyche and a lot of clout when it came to his life choices. He resented it and her on both counts but he wasn't stupid enough to deny the truth. All he had to do was look around. Being a leader wasn't exactly his style and that was putting it mildly. Yet here he was... Lord Marshal. That was a hell of a long way from man alone, freezing his nuts off.

Considering the thought's he'd been having about who the Head Purifier should be, he had to wonder if Shira didn't have her hand in that as well. Most of the time he couldn't give two shits about what happened to the Necro's as a whole. They were just a means to an end, Jack being that end. But somehow, and fucked if he knew how, one of them had come to be more than just a name and a face in the crowd.

Now here he was playing shrink to said Necro and wondering where his own mind had disappeared to.

"I saw something" Vaako blurted out suddenly before clamping his lips shut lookin like he'd love nothing more than to take the words back.

Riddick just lifted a brow, settling back into his chair.

Sighing, Vaako lowered himself into his own chair trying not to remember the way Aurora had looked curled up asleep in it every time their meetings ran late into the night. Taking a long pull from the tumbler in his hand he savored the feel of it burning all the way down, burning away the thoughts rolling around in his head. He was finally starting to understand Riddick's choice of liquor. When the finest the galaxy had to offer was at your fingertips, Jack really was little better than rot gut. He'd chalked it up to the man's overall disinterest in superfluous finery. After all, expensive liquors wouldn't get you drunk any quicker. They just wouldn't burn all the way down while they went about doing it. That burn... In a situation like this there was no denying it provided the same unexpected comfort the leather chairs did.

Taking another deep breath he held out his glass, grunting when Riddick topped him off without a word.

"They put that collar on her when she was a child... I watched them do it." Chuckling darkly, he shook his head letting out a deep sigh. "I felt them do it."

"What are we talking here Vaako, a vision?" Riddick asked after the man had fallen silent and shown no signs he was going to speak again anytime soon.

"A vision." Vaako repeated, seeming to roll the words around in his mouth, testing the feel. "More like a memory, but even that isn't an accurate description."

"Why's that?" Riddick prodded when the man had fallen silent again.

"Memories lack substance."