An awkward silence floated around the room as the two men sat across from each other in the old apartment. The floor creaked as the large man rose from his chair, stretching out his aching back. The old man watched as the large form moved across the room to the window. The sun had minutes earlier come to a rise, filling the horizon with it's warm glow. The huge silhouette on the wall behind him could speak a million words.

He didn't speak, he just looked out the old dirty window, just like he twenty years earlier had looked in through one the day his love died. Still he felt dirty. No matter how many times he tried to leave it behind him and move on, all the memories of him and her spread through his body, leaving a trail of guilt behind.

A loud noisy sigh drifted across the room to the old man as the large form turned around and leaned back against the wall. A hand which showed the life he had led moved up to run over a stubbled scalp where small traces of silver, which matched the eyes, glinted in the black.

"I found her," he said in a such low whisper that it made the old man shiver in his chair.

The old man lowered his gaze to the floor, his grey eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his words. "Found who?" he whispered back.

"Nedia." That was the answer the old man got, and it made him even more confused. Nedia? Who is she? Why would he be lookin-- His head snapped up to the large form, which now was standing in front of the window again, staring out at the park across the street. "Your daughter? But I thoug--"

"You thought what?" the large man interrupted and turned his head to look at the old man in the matching old chair.

A hard swallow made its way down the old man's throat. He cleared it and bent down, picking up the now almost completely empty whiskey bottle from the floor. "That you had the baby. We saw on the autopsy that she had had a baby not long before she was killed and we assum--"

"You assumed WHAT?!" the loud roar from the man at the window caused him to drop the bottle from his now trembling hand. "You assumed that the killer had the baby," the large man continued, "I'll give you that much. You were right."

The old man was just about to speak as the large form turned around and walked back to the chair. He looked on as a hand gripped the back of the worn chair, clenching around it. "The killer does have her." His brown eyes snapped up to meet the silver ones staring down at him. "He did a good job at hiding her from me for twenty years, but now I found her."

A hint of a smile ghosted on the large man's lips as he sat back down in the chair. Resting his elbows on the arms of it, he lifted his hands up in front of his face and laced his fingers. "My beautiful girl."

The old man bent down again and grabbed the bottle. He sat back up and clenched his hand around the neck of it as he rose to his feet, his eyes looking down at the huge man filling the chair in front of him. The man looked up and their tired eyes met again. Brown versus silver battled each other until the silver ones surrendered and a hand moved to cover them.

"You might want to clean that cut," he whispered, sadness filling his raspy voice and stance.

"I was just going to," the old man answered back as he turned around, his back now facing the elusive killer in the chair. "Can I ask a question?" his voice inquired as his feet made the old wooden floor creak in pain with every step he took, aiming for the hallway.

"What?" the raspy voice returned the inquiry as the large form rose to his feet, slowly following the old man.

Reaching the bathroom, the old man opened a cupboard grabbing a bag filled with cotton balls. He groaned at the empty bottle of alcohol and he looked at the whiskey bottle in his hand. He slammed the cupboard door shut and jumped as he turned around, seeing the large man's form filling the doorway in front of him.

"What's the question?," the man said with his eyes narrowed at the old man.

The old man turned around and looked at his face in the mirror, watching his features in the dim light.

His eyes were still narrowed at the old man, as he watched him stand by the mirror, cleaning out the small cut on his throat with a cotton ball soaked in whiskey. The man hissed and threw the blood stained piece of cotton into the old sink.

With one hand on either side of the sink, he lowered his head and sighed out the question that had been pounding on his brain for the last twenty years.

"Riddick... Who is he? Who killed her?"

*************

Chapter: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 (Incomplete)