Disclaimer: I do not own Jack, Riddick, or anything else in the Pitch Black world. I do, however, own all my original characters. Please ask before borrowing;-)


Amazing that she could still find it beautiful. And she did, she always had, in a sad messed up kind of way. Somehow she found it just a little bit soothing that the sun died every evening, sending the world into darkness.

Jack sighed slowly, misting the cool glass of the spaceport window her forehead rested against, her green eyes dull in spite of the last rays of sun shining in them.

There were people, hundreds of people, milling around getting ready to go off to destinations unknown. She could hear them, see them, because they were part of her background, just as she was part of theirs. A far lesser part. Lone wolf, that was what she was. Nothing but an observer.

God what she wouldn't give to get out of this life.

"All the king's horses, and all the king's men," she whispered to herself just as her flight was called.

Jack reluctantly pulled herself away from the view, walking mindlessly through the terminal, her light pack slung over her left shoulder. He'd taught her that, to always keep her right arm free to defend herself.

There she went again, thinking about things that would only pull her deeper into depression.

Him. She was going to meet 'him' on the other side. Or so she'd been told. Imam had recently fallen ill, and at his request she would spend the rest of her adolescent life with her "next of kin."

A.k.a. one Richard B. Riddick, escaped convict, murderer.