A Kid Like Her (A Riddick - Jack Romance/Adventure Story)

The Fallout

Jack didn't get up off the floor for the longest time. She waited there, hoping to hear his heavy footsteps. Hoping to hear his hand at the door. Hoping he'd pick her up off the floor and hold her. Hoping to hear him say he didn't mean the things he said and that he would give this a try. If only he would say that, she would gently help him see that they could do this. He wasn't the only one scared shitless in this threesome. She stared at the door, unblinking until her eyes hurt, but all she heard were footsteps and quiet conversations of other guests in the hallway.

She thought perhaps he would be upset. She understood if he had reservations. His own childhood wasn't pleasant, his early teen years were obviously where his life really took a turn for the worse, and then he had spent over ten years on the run or in the slam. He had a calm period in there and now this. He was the Lord Marshal, basically forced to lead this race of people away from mankind. It wouldn't have surprised her at all if he didn't want a child because of those reasons.

But he'd gone far beyond that. He had absolutely, definitively crushed her, accusing her of getting pregnant on purpose, of lying to him. He even accused her of subconsciously knowing she might be able to get pregnant and then letting it happen. Not once did he ask what was going through her mind. Not once did he ask how she felt. Not once did he bother to listen to anything she was saying. Yes, she wanted children. But had she known she was able to conceive, she never would've done it like this. Never.

Jack wiped the remaining tears from her face, got up, and began to pace the room.

"What do I do? He's made himself crystal clear. He doesn't want this child and there is no way in hell I'm aborting it." Jack shivered at the thought. "I love you, but I have a choice to make, and I choose this baby. Hanging out here isn't doing me any good. I need to pack my things, finalize plans for the people we're dropping off and the Jakarnans, and then I can go. I can go and I won't be back."

Fresh tears started to flow again and she crumpled to the floor. "You're a fucking bastard Riddick! Why am I the one being punished? I'm the one who has to leave and you get to stay. I can't even take Eron with me. You need him too damn much! And you'll be just fine without me there, won't you! I won't be there anymore to get between you and the women. You'll get to be the kid in the candy store now, rutting with every Necro whore you can get your hands on. You'll do it, too. Just because you know that I'll be thinking about it, because it will hurt me, and because you can't get them pregnant. All the more reason to indulge yourself."

She slammed the floor with her fists and screamed, "God dammit, woman!"

She was furious with herself now and angry with him. She went to the bathroom and turned on the cold water, soaked a washcloth and pressed it to her face, avoiding her reflection, knowing she'd break down again.

Even as angry as she was, she didn't want to fly off and leave him stranded. So she left the hotel for some fresh air, some food, hoping to locate him so he could fly her back. Instead, what she found was Riddick at a bar with a woman in his lap mere blocks from the hotel. When it struck her what and who she was watching, she stood there immobilized for a good half a minute. Then the nausea hit her. She clutched her stomach with one hand and covered her mouth with the other.

"No."

She didn't stick around. She practically ran back the entire three blocks and headed straight for their room. The minute she got to the bathroom, she vomited. Her hand was shaking as she picked up a cup to rinse her mouth. She filled it a third time and slowly drank the water, holding the glass with both hands so she wouldn't drop it.

"How could you do that to me?"

She was about to hurl the glass across the room when she realized it was only thick plastic and let it drop. She sank to the floor again with her face in her hands. Not a sound came from her. If it weren't for the jerking movements of her shoulders, anyone looking at her would never know she was crying. After a few minutes, she fisted the fabric of the bedspread and raised her head. She was done feeling sorry for herself and now was just plain angry.