Title: Riddick's Bitch
Email: Xfjnky2 AT yahoo.com
Summary: What if Carolyn had taken Riddick up on his offer.
Disclaimers: Pitch Black, The Chronicles of Riddick and their characters belong to Universal Studios. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Author's notes: This was born of the frightening obsession I have with this movie. Its great, by the way. A little corny at times, but otherwise just brilliant. The first couple of lines come from the end of the movie, but this is more of an alternate ending. Its really short, and un-beta’d. If you’d like to send feedback, I think that’s wonderful.
“Strong survival instinct… I like that in a woman.”
“I’ve got a better idea. You come with me.”
“No one’s going to blame you, Carolyn. Save yourself.”
He sounded so convincing, so enticing, and I’d been weak, so very weak. The old man, the girl… at that moment in time, they meant nothing to me. I’d been ready to jettison them like so much garbage before. What was it? Days… hours… I didn’t know how long we’d been on that fucking planet. Fucking planet with its seemingly never-ending night and its riddles and teases and tantalizing prospects that always, always, fucked you in the end.
He’d held out his hand and I took it, pulled myself up into the dry, warm and inviting cabin, out of the rain and the night and the death. Pulled myself up into salvation. Or, at least as close to it as I thought I was going to get. I wouldn’t die there, wouldn’t wind up gristle in the teeth of one of those brainless monsters. And as for the others, the ones we were leaving behind… well, chances are they wouldn’t have made it anyway, right?
Which is how I wound up shivering in the corner of that barely held together scrap of metal, wet clothes sticking to my body like a clammy second skin, the stench of death hovering about me like a cloud. The death of those two, the ones who had trusted me, who had looked at me with hope and belief in their eyes when I left, taking our only light source with me. When I looked at them with confidence, assured them that I wouldn’t leave them there. That I would be back.
Some part of my mind, the part that wasn’t completely numb and the part that wasn’t attuned to the sheer miserableness of my situation had wondered what they were doing. Were they still crouched there, hoping… waiting… praying. Had they finally ventured out, figuring that I’d met my maker long before I reached the ship, thinking that it was their only chance? Did they get to the camp just in time to see us leave? Was I a hero in their minds? They didn’t know I was tucked away onboard the ship when it left. To them, I could be a martyr, my remains scattered across the sands of that hellhole. I could have died. Might as well have.
Maybe their very last thought would be, “Well, she tried. That’s all we could have asked.”
Comfort, I’m sure, as you’re being dismembered. As you’re being eaten alive.
Should have been me down there. Two minutes in the safety of the ship and I knew that. I was the lowest of the low, a captain that had abandoned her crew. No, I not only abandoned them, I did so without second thought. A moment’s hesitation, while part of me whispered that I should turn the offer down, if only because I’d look better for it in the end. No real battle of wills there. An outstretched arm and dark, shining eyes offering me a chance, and I leaped.
Which is probably why, when Riddick slid sleekly out of the pilot’s chair, his lean leonine body slinking across the space between us to kneel in front of me, head cocked to the side and silver eyes tracing down my body appraisingly, I didn’t say anything. Didn’t do anything but let him wordlessly pull the clothes from my body slowly, starting with my shoes and moving on up until they were a neatly folded pile by my side. I didn’t stop him when he touched me, callous roughened hands tracing over my skin. I didn’t look at him when he fucked me, when he parted my thighs and pushed into me hard. So hard that I flinched a little, the grimace a ripple fluttering over my features as I slid along the slick, wet floor beneath me. Cold steel underneath and furnace hot skin above me, inside me.
Almost as if it weren’t me there on the floor, I watched the play of muscles in his broad shoulders, the flex of his forearms as he took the pent-up frustrations of a long incarcerated man out on my body. I didn’t cry out, didn’t whimper. I didn’t even look at his face.
When he was finished, he stood, zipped up his pants, and walked back over to the pilot’s chair. I didn’t dress, not even when I heard the click of his safety belt. Instead I just lay there, legs still spread lewdly, his seed tickling down my inner thigh, the cold, wet pile of clothes by my side.
It was a long time before I put them on, before I made my way up to the second chair at the front of the vehicle, before I strapped myself in and stared without seeing as stars flew past us. As we flew forever, not running into any other vessels for so long that I began to hope that we’d never be found, that we’d just slowly waste away.
But, we got picked up. I didn’t say a word, just let Riddick do all the talking, and when he got us a single room instead of parting company with me, I just followed.
It was what I deserved, after all. Hadn’t I chosen him, chosen myself, over others. Hadn’t I prostituted out my morals and my sense of decency and dignity?
Might as well prostitute out the rest of me.
I should have died back there, on that planet.
Maybe I did, but the rest of me just hasn’t figured it out yet.