Disclaimer: This fic isn't really new, as Pitch Black came out in 2000, and this fic was written not too long afterward. It's being posted via request. Enjoy.
“Tell ‘em Riddick’s dead. He died somewhere back on that planet.”
It
sounded good, great even. Fry’s sacrifice was worth saying those words. She convinced him to go back for Imam and
Jack, and she said that she was willing to risk a nasty, violent death to save
them. What she wasn’t willing to do was
risk her life to save him, but ended
up doing so anyway. It happened so fast
and so suddenly that Riddick didn’t know how to react, and he was honestly
still processing the fact that Fry was gone.
He was obligated to take as many of those insane creatures as recompense
for her death, and so frying dozens of those bastards in the afterburners felt great.
Riddick
navigated the skiff above the comet remnants, deep in thought. Fry died saving him. He remembered the few scant minutes with her
in the skiff as she ran diagnostics. The
tension was there, present behind the thinly veiled fear in her eyes. She was a woman he could have conceivably
been with; someone he’d actually connected with…a moment of humanity, and like
that…poof!...it—she was gone. There hadn’t even been time to contemplate what it
would have been like to be unrestrained with her.
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