Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rain poured down like a single, inescapable sheet of icy water, punctuated by blinding flashes of lightning. Each drop pelted my face with the strength of high-velocity pebbles. It stung my cheeks and flattened my hair against my scalp; it dripped from my forehead and into my eyes. Half-frozen clothes pinched my skin with icy fingers every time I moved. Violent shivers wracked my body—but only some of it from the chill.

Water pooled around me where I was stretched out, partially held up by strong, scaly arms. Though I attempted to scramble away from the darkened, bleeding carcass next to me, my feet only slipped in the water and Wolf was an unmovable wall keeping me in place.

Panic squeezed my heart like a python, constricting my chest and making my stomach churn. I gasped and clawed at my abdomen with one hand, the other scraping around to find Wolf's arm in an attempt to pull myself upright. My mouth worked like a fish out of water and I fought to ignore the taste of bile at the back of my throat.

What do we do?

It took me several excruciating heartbeats to realize I hadn't vocalized the thought. My jaw bobbed and for another brief spell I only managed a strangled sound before I found my voice at last.

"What do we do?"

In the end I wished I hadn't spoken: my voice was shrill in my ears, slicing through the sound of rain pelting around us. Through the deluge and darkness, I could barely make out Wolf's features and it was his heat that drew me in, the strength that he promised.

My nails dug at the fleshy part of Wolf's bicep. He inclined his head toward me, his mandibles pressed tight over his mouth. His brow was furrowed, his muscles tensed and body rigid. Vibrant green blood mixed with the rain and I remembered—he was hurt, too. Yet he wasn't panicking. He wasn't even showing any pain.

I had to get a hold of myself.

I couldn't show my fear.

However, dread had sunk its fangs into me. It tore at my insides and drew fresh tears to my eyes. Ah, the rain was a blessing in disguise—it concealed my weeping. It was fear that shortened my breath and clouded my thoughts.

Wolf didn't show such emotions. Never since I'd met him. Why couldn't I be like that? Why couldn't I just calm down?

Every part of me not entrenched in terror was disgusted at how human I was.

At last, Wolf made a move: he growled and swept me up into his arms. I held tight to his shoulder, choking back sobs and gripping the front of my shirt with one hand. My eyes scanned his face, looking for an answer.

There was nothing there.

Nothing that I could read, anyway. His expressions were too foreign. Were his mandibles pressed in anger or concern?

"You have to help me you have to do something! Do something!"

Hysteria had won.

The words tumbled out of my mouth uninhibited. My throat was burning and made my voice thick. Each syllable was a kick in the teeth, each breath drawn was a betrayal to myself, to the strength I wished I had.

The rain poured without relent as he moved me to the edge of the roof. I wished the weather would swallow me whole or tear me apart.

Anything would be better than this.

Chapter Text

"Good morning, Nichole."

I barely spared my partner a passing glance as I made a beeline for the break room. Somehow, though, I managed to grumble a barely coherent greeting.

What made mornings so good?

A normal person woke up to some jarring noise from their alarm triggering, then they had to wade through the thick fog of slumber for their morning routine.

If you were me, you woke up to a much softer sound because even the typical blaring honk of a traditional alarm bell ruined your day. Riddled with anxiety. If you were me, you always woke up ten times more tired than your average bear because it took so long to fall asleep, and when you finally did fall asleep, all you had to show for it was a handful of nightmares.

It's a good thing I was used to it all.

Used to working on four hours of sleep. Used to guzzling down a gallon of coffee in order to function properly.

I had that shit down to an artform.

"Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever, I see," Devon observed, leaning against the doorjamb while I fixed myself a mug.

"Whaddya want?" I huffed.

"Just saying good morning. Have another rough night?"

I grunted a response and side-stepped past him with my personal mug in hand. He followed to his desk, which sat right up against mine, front to front. We both sat down, and I leaned back in my chair, eyes closed, while I took those first few sips.

"Well, we have an easy day ahead so feel free to take a nap," Devon said, flipping through some of the paperwork.

"Mhm."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Uh-uh."

He chuckled, shaking his head, and scribbled a few things down in pen. "You, milady, are the most eloquent person I know at eight in the morning, you know that?"

"Did you really just say 'milady'?"

"Yeah, 'cause I knew it'd get you speak instead of grunt like a cavewoman."

I shot him a glare.

He raised his hands in defense and said, "Hey, it worked. Can't blame me for that."

Rolling my eyes, I returned my attention to my coffee. After a few more sips, I felt awake enough to sift through some of the paperwork piled up on my desk.

Reports, statements, legal forms. . .even though we were technically a secret sect, we still had to follow the rules.

"So, what are your plans for today?" Devon asked after a few minutes of silence. Save, of course, for the scratching of our pens on paper.

I glanced up at him and said, "Probably going to the gym after work."

"No hot dates or anything?"

Sighing, I put my pen down and gave him a snark smile. "Why, are you asking me out?"

"Ha, well—"

"Excuse me, Agents Shain and Hart?"

We looked up at the man from records and put down our pens. Devon said, "Yeah, that's us. What can we do for you?"

"I just came from Dixon's office, he wants to talk to you guys."

The two of us groaned but stood up all the same. We thanked him for letting us know and headed toward the director's office. Usually, he only asked to see you if you'd fucked up your paperwork, broke a rule, or wanted to assign a case. None of those were particularly pleasant, especially since we had just closed a case a day prior.

A break would have been nice.

Devon held the door for me and I slipped inside, standing aside to allow him in. Dixon was in his chair, reading glasses on and nose buried in files and sheets of paper.

"You wanted to see us, sir?" I said.

He looked up, then finished what he was writing and sat back in his chair. "Ah, yes. I've got good news, especially for you, Nichole."

A good sign, but I was still wary.

"What's that, sir?"

Dixon rifled through some of the papers and then took two, one in each hand, and extended them toward us. Devon and I took them from him, reading over it.

"Your clearance came through."

At first, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'm sure I looked gob smacked when I glanced at him, but I was busy reading the paper over and over again to make sure I had heard him right and I was reading this right.

"Clearance to—you mean—" I couldn't form the words: my throat had run dry.

"Oh, neat," Devon said, cutting me off anyway. "We have access to the lower floors and all those aliens you have locked up. Nichole, you've been waiting—hey, are you okay?"

My hands were shaking, making the paper tremble and crease where my fingers were holding it too tightly.

Dixon said, "I'm sure she's just excited. You've worked hard for this clearance, the two of you. Your expanded background checks came back fine, so you've cleared for the next level. Congratulations."

I swallowed the lump of sandpaper in my throat and dared to shift my gaze to Dixon. "Can I—I mean, may we go. . . ?"

His lips quirked in amusement and he nodded. "Certainly. Just remember your deadlines and don't get in the way of the scientists. Do you know which floor you're going to?"

Nodding, I was already halfway out the door. "Yeah, I do. I mean, yes sir. Thank you."

"Yeah, thanks boss. Nichole, wait!"

But I couldn't wait. I'd already been waiting. Years of school, all that training, desk work, keeping my nose clean—so many times I'd thought it was all worthless, that I was never going to have access to them.

How many times had I thought about giving up and settling for a life of mediocrity?

How often had I considered trying to forget all about Wolf and the xenomorphs? The crash and my friends? The promise I'd made?

Now that I had it—now that all that hard work and patience had come through—I was finally going to be able to face them. To see them. To finally have some closure.

To eradicate them.

I was. . .I was. . . .

I couldn't stop trembling. I could barely breathe. The thought of seeing them again, hearing them again, and learning what they'd been up to—I couldn't tell if I was terrified or electrified with excitement.

Devon finally caught up to me while I waited for the elevator. "Nichole! Where's the fire?" he asked, slightly breathless.

"I want to see them," I said, barely audible even to my own ears.

He rolled his shoulders and pushed the call button a few extra times, as if it would hurry along the cab. "Yeah, it should be interesting. Wonder how many different kinds they got down there."

"Yeah," I muttered, bouncing up and down out of impatience.

Devon watched me from his periphery. I could feel his eyes boring into me until he finally made a tiny sound with his next intake of air. I closed my eyes and waited for it.

"Oh—oh wait. They have those, those things down there, don't they? The ones from when you were a teenager?"

Their cries and hissing came from the depths of my mind. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, squashing the memories like a bug beneath my heel.

Not now.

"Yes," I sufficed to say.

With a final nod, he let it drop. Devon was four years my senior, but he had been transferred to the "X-Files"—as he called it—branch of the FBI around the same time I had finished training.

His mouth worked for a moment, and then he sniffed. "I haven't had the pleasure. Anything you can tell me about them so I'm not blindsided when I meet them?"

Crossing my arms over my chest, I said, "They're black, mean, and loud."

"Sounds like some neighbors I had once."

I shot him a sour look and he quickly backpedaled. "I was kidding! I had very lovely people living in my neighborhood."

Rolling my eyes, I huffed. "Yeah, whatever you say."

He shifted his weight uncomfortably and watched the number above the doors come closer to our floor. After a few heartbeats, he asked, "So why you in such a hurry to see them?"

"Just wanna see them caged up."

"Makes you feel vindicated?"

"Something like that," I murmured, stepping inside the elevator as the doors finally opened.

I couldn't tell him that I wanted an opportunity, wanted to scour the security and try to figure out a way to destroy the abominations they were keeping caged.

There had to be a way.

And no one would think twice about the survivor asking questions about them.

"Which floor?" Devon asked.

"B1."

Devon hit the button for me. There were a few different basements, each dedicated to its own labs and teams for a handful of extraterrestrials. We now had access to most of them, but I was only interested in the one.

Still, though, it would likely be worth the time to check out the others when I had the time. Learn more about what visits us.

One of those floors had to have room for Wolf's species, the "predators". An entire taskforce was dedicated to finding them: every decade or so they showed up to hunt and kill humans they deemed worthy as trophies. It wouldn't surprise me if there was a whole floor just for them.

Even knowing all that, I could not condemn Wolf. He had saved my life when he could have left me to rot or killed me. He hadn't treated me like a damsel in distress, either. He'd given me the means to protect myself.

That had been five years ago. I felt so disconnected from him now, like I had no place by his side as I once had.

If I stared at the xenomorphs long enough, maybe I'd feel that connection again.

With a resolute ping, the doors closed, and we began our descent. Each tick of the floor counter made my heart beat a little faster. My breaths come a little quicker. I had to grab my wrist to keep my hands from shaking.

"I bet they've learned a lot about them by now," Devon said, trying to fill the silence.

"I'd hope so, after all this time."

"Bet you have a lot of questions."

Shaking my head, I said, "Not really. I know enough. I know they're dangerous. I know they all deserve to die."

Careful, Nichole.

"You scared they gonna get out at all?" I couldn't tell if he was kidding or being serious.

I gave him a sidelong look but didn't deign to respond. Admitting my fears would be too much at the moment.

Our ride ended, and the elevator spit us out. It opened to a single, straight hallway barely lit by a few overhead lights. Each side had two doors, marked by letters.

"So, which one is it?" Devon asked.

We checked each door before deciding it had to be the one marked with an X—for xenomorph. The other three were baring the letters R, G, and N. None of those made sense.

Upon reaching out to pull the handle, I came across an issue: there was a code to enter. I stood in front of the keypad and stared at it, as if that was going to make it unlock.

"Oh, hey, I got this," Devon said.

"You know the code? Neither of us asked," I pointed out, stepping aside all the same.

He smirked at me and waved the paper Dixon had given him. I still had mine in my hand, but it was crumpled and folded in my palm, forgotten in my haste.

"All the codes are on here. Let's see. . .it should be this one."

Sure enough, once he entered the numbers, the light turned green the latch turned with a metallic noise. Devon opened the door and motioned for me to head in.

Before I did, I straightened out my own sheet and skimmed until I figured out which one he'd used.

"There sure are a lot of these. Do they really need one for each race?" I muttered. At least they were all labelled, and it seemed as if there was only one per type of alien.

So, I would only have to memorize one code for each door in the xenomorph's wing.

There were a couple different hallways, but there weren't that many separate rooms. I figured we'd have to go through each one until I decided on the most promising, but Devon spoke up.

"So, do you know where you're going?" Devon called, jogging to catch up.

Licking my lips, I paused and looked around. "Well, I. . .no, but maybe someone can point us in the right direction."

He shrugged and followed me to the first room on the right. There was a person inside, organizing some shelves. I ambushed them, demanding to know where the xenomorphs were.

They gave me a bewildered look, then asked, "Are you even allowed down here?"

Devon waved his sheet at them. "Just got our clearance approved today. So tell the lady what she wants to know."

Sighing, they pointed. "Third door on the left is Observation, the one after that is access to the holding cell lab. You look like field agents, so I'd recommended Observation."

Though Devon had the presence of mind to thank them, I was already on the move.

"I've never seen you so intense before," Devon observed, falling into my pace. "I mean, you're always pretty intense but this is something else entirely."

"I'm very serious about these things," I said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Clearly."

His blasé attitude should have bothered me more than it did. As it stood, I could understand it. He had no way of knowing just how bad they were. Soon enough, though, he would.

Wonder how much I've forgotten over the years.

It had been years since I had seen them, since I had fought for my life against them. The memories and scars were still fresh in my mind but had healed enough that I'd stopped seeing my therapist every week.

Nope, I was down to bi-weekly.

I entered the fourth door on the left and held it open for Devon. A lone worker glanced up at us but paid us no mind otherwise one I flashed my clearance sheet with the codes.

Observation had a single row of up-to-date computers on a wooden work desk. The front of the room was made completely of glass, overlooking the large lab. Above the wall-sized window three flatscreens were mounted to show the cage's interior.

Only a section of the lab below was for equipment and tables—lined with test tubes, filing cabinets, work computers, and containers with weird chemicals—while the majority was taken up by a large cage comparable to a two-story house. It, too, was made mostly of glass, or a similar material. There was a handful of scientists milling about inside the lab, watching and recording info on hand-held tablets.

I could hear them from the live feeds.

Their screeches reverberated through the air, slightly warped due to the quality of the microphones and speakers. Each individual noise made the hair on my arms and neck stand on end.

Without the live feeds above the window, I never would have been able to see inside. The aliens within had completely covered every wall of their cage with the hard, resinous substance that I remembered so acutely.

Without realizing it, I had grabbed the front of my shirt so tight I could feel my nails digging into the flesh of my palm.

My eyes were glued to the monitors above, waiting for one to come into view.

"Where are they?" Devon asked, backing up so he could scrutinize the screens from a better angle. "They sure are making a racket."

"They're in there." The words weren't spoken so much as they were a single breath.

A camera was mounted in each corner, it seemed. At least that ensured that the xenomorphs never went unobserved. I figured that they guy sitting quietly at one of the computers was on duty, watching for anything weird.

"They just have you in here?" I asked him. If there was only one person in the room at a time, that would be better for me.

I could over power one person.

He barely glanced up from his screen. "Yeah. There's no big experiments going on right now, so it's just me."

"Must be boring," Devon remarked.

"Sometimes. They tend to remain dormant mostly. Something's got them riled up today," the watchman pointed out. "Someone might be planning something soon."

Devon and I returned out attention to the screen above the viewing window. Their screeches had turned into strange thumps. I held my breath, waiting for them to appear. The live feed shook, and I leaned forward.

A sleek black shape darted beneath the cameras, just barely in sight. A shiver went up my spine and I swallowed hard. Two more followed after it, hissing as they disappeared as quickly as they had come.

"Well that wasn't very—"

Another one cut Devon off with a squeal. It had leaped up from just out of the camera's range in the farthest right TV screen. It's head and jaws took up the entirety of the feed now, latched on as it was to the camera's protective shield.

It slammed its head against the dome, claws scraping and teeth gnashing.

Devon leaped away from the window, uttering a swear. I was following suit right before him, jolting back with a surprise and drawing my sidearm without another thought.

More xenos did the same, one jumping up to test the camera's security dome. They battered themselves against the thick sheilds three more times, one right after the other. Each time had me flinching as if they were hitting me.

"What the fuck," Devon uttered.

Behind us, the watchman chuckled with relief. "Yeah, gets me every time too. Keeps me awake, that's for sure."

I glanced at my partner; his eyes were wide and his jaw was hanging open. He noticed my gaze and turned toward me, his brow furrowing. He was looking at me like he'd never seen me before.

I let out the breath I'd been holding and holstered my weapon. My fingers were still shaking. "Told you. Mean and loud."

"What are they doing?" he asked at last, relaxing as he took a step to stand next to me.

Though there were only a few we could see, I knew there had to be more. They had to be scrambling around the darkened edges of the tempered walls confining them.

When the shields around the cameras didn't give, they moved to hurtling their bodies against the walls of their prison.

"What do you do if they get out?" I asked over my shoulder.

The watchman motioned toward a stand in front of the window, just to my left. It was black with yellow stripes and had a single button encased in a plastic lid.

"We hit that emergency button. Napalms the whole lab, the cage, and anything inside."

I stared at it, my hands balling into fists. Would it really be that easy? Would all I need to do is hit that one button and everything would be all over at last?

Give me a reason. Any reason, I begged them.

Another drone slammed against the wall, then dragged its claws down the glass with an ear-splitting ring. Devon and I both flinched; the sound set my teeth on edge.

I'd only need a real reason to do it if there were witnesses. If I could come up with an exit strategy and find a time when there wouldn't be anyone but the one guy in the room, I could just do it and be done with it.

I had the codes.

I had the resolve.

Now I had a means. All I'd need was a plan and an opportunity.

Then I could finally erase Earth of these rotten things. Then I could finally be free of the weight they had set on me so many years ago.

Chapter Text

"They've been restless lately."

The new voice startled both of us. Devon jumped next to me, and I put a hand on my sidearm—but, I was proud that I didn't draw it.

It was almost like we were two children caught with our hands in the cookie jar.

Devon said, "Sorry, these things got me all wound up. I'm Devon Hart and this is my partner Nichole Shain. We just got clearance to come down here, so we were seeing the sights."

"Ah. I'm Doctor Steven Shepherd. I oversee the xenomorph facility. I'd be happy to answer any of your questions, agents," he assured us, shaking our hands in turn.

I nodded in greeting and said, "What do you think's causing it?"

"We believe that they may be looking to expand the nest ever since we started giving them more hosts," Doctor Shephard mused. His sandy hair and squared shoulders reminded me of my father. He continued. "They stopped reproducing weeks ago and have been eating the possible hosts we bring in. Needless to say, we couldn't let them keep eating the inmates, so we stopped providing them hosts."

I set my jaw and scowled at him. "You're using humans? Who signed off on that?" I demanded.

"Well, we were using livestock, but we lost all but one from the original capture, so we needed more xenomorphs that were created using human hosts. Death row inmates made the most sense."

"That's cruel and unusual punishment!" I insisted. "Don't they have families? People who want to watch the execution for. . .closure?"

Though I personally would never understand that, it was still a thing.

Doctor Shephard seemed taken aback, like he hadn't expected to be given the third degree when he walked into work.

It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts, and then he said, "Well, yes. We take volunteers, but mostly we're signed off for anyone who wants to be cremated. The family or witnesses watch a fake execution where the inmate is put under anesthesia so it looks like they died, then they're brought here."

I narrowed my eyes but decided that pushing the matter any further might make them suspicious of me.

The scientist appraised me, then said, "Wait. Nichole Shain. . .you're the one who survived the initial invasion, right? The reason why we had that first batch in the first place?"

Happy for the change in subject—though not pleased with the new one being me—I said, "Yeah, but it's not my fault you guys have these things. I just live through the ordeal, that's all. Didn't do anything special."

Devon snorted. "Don't sell yourself short. Being the sole survivor is a pretty special thing."

Doctor Shephard inclined his head. "Your concern is understandable, then. But please, rest assured that we do what we can to make sure the inmates don't endure any undue stress."

"That makes me feel so much better," I droned in monotone.

My partner came to my rescue and cut off whatever the man was about to say next. "They're not real nice to look at, are they?"

"They are fascinating, if ugly," Doctor Shephard agreed. "You two are free to stay and watch them as long as you'd like. Just try not to interfere with any of my scientists or their work, please. It's very delicate and sometimes time sensitive."

Devon pressed closer to me, resting his hand on my shoulder, and I glanced toward him before addressing the other man. "We'll stay out of your way. Is there a report or file or something that we can read?"

He nodded. "I'll have someone print it up for you. It's admirable that you can face them, want to face them after everything."

I shrugged. "Therapist said it would be healthy for me."

"Ah."

That was a straight up lie. My therapist hadn't said one word about whether or not I should be there. It wasn't like anyone could corroborate that story without breaking privilege.

"How many are in there?" Devon asked. He let his arm drop to his side when I moved out from under him.

Doctor Shephard said, "One queen, four warriors, and a dozen drones. That's on top of the three and a half dozen eggs we have locked up."

"Haven't you had them for a few years now? Shouldn't there be more?"

While Devon asked his questions, I studied the lab down below. There was at least five people hard at work. Access to the lab was a door at the top of a set of stairs. No other exits or entrances, it seemed.

Upon further inspection, I realized that there was a way inside the cage—a set of doors, like an airlock. A security measure to make sure that even if those entering were ambushed at the second set of doors, the first set had been locked tight behind them.

I couldn't imagine anyone went in there unless all the beasts were sedated.

That meant, though, that there was probably no way I was going to be able to go inside. That wasn't exactly a priority for me, though. If I could kill them without having to fight that many of them, then all the better.

Probably not the most honorable thing I could do, but it was the most practical.

Flashing it would certainly be easier, but without a proper reason to hit the button there would be consequences. I'd just have to make sure the lab was empty, first.

The last thing I wanted to do was murder a bunch of innocent lab techs.

Once the aliens were dead, I would need only call Wolf and I would be taken far away from Earth. If his offer still stood. If he even remembered that I was here and—

—if I even still wanted to go.

It had been so long. . . .

I had promised Wolf I would be a better warrior when next we met, not a coward. That was what I was going to be marked as if I just burned them all down from the safety of Observation. There was no other way, though.

How would he even know? He wouldn't. I could tell him whatever I wanted and he'd have to believe me. I didn't need the trophies. I just needed to tell him I finished what I'd meant to.

That could all come later. I needed to decide if I still wanted to join Wolf in the first place.

"We were only cleared to start conducting host trials a year ago. Before that we were doing tests on the corpses of other xenomorphs and what eggs we could get out of the nest, once a queen was chosen," the doctor finished.

There was a collective wince when another drone smashed into a wall.

I turned to face him. "How do you get the eggs from them?"

He indicated to a computer down in the laboratory. "We can put them to sleep using a very heavy sedative. They're carbon-based thanks to the genetic patch job they use during gestation, so our tranquilizers do work at high dosages."

"Genetic patch job?" Devon, again.

"During gestation—that is, after the parasitoid implants larva into a host—the fetus attaches to a major artery in the chest cavity and receives nutrition." Doctor Shephard indicated vaguely to his own chest with a sweeping gesture. "However, it also uses this as a means to transfer DNA to its own genetic make-up, which is why the drones in there look different from the warriors. Those were born through goats instead of humans. I don't have the x-rays with me, or else I'd show you."

"I always thought of them as facehuggers and chestbursters."

The doctor chuckled. "Those are pretty accurate, if basic."

My gaze shifted from the drone rubbing its face against the camera's glass dome to Doctor Shephard. "Do all the xenos from animal hosts become drones? Are humans the only proper hosts for warriors?"

"No." He scratched the side of his nose. "The queen here was actually born from a cow. Those xenomorphs we caught in the forest were two drones and a warrior. One of them implanted the cow. A couple of those are actually implants from the two drones we started with. We're not really sure what dictates which fetus will become which role quite yet."

Hart leaned back, eyes wide. "They don't need a queen to reproduce?"

Doctor Shephard nodded. "To an extent, anyway. The one drone infected a cow and three goats, the other infected two goats. We think they have a limited number of fetuses, used only if a queen is not present. . .to ensure the continuation of the species."

"Is that what you meant when you said a queen was 'chosen'?" I asked, turning away from the laboratory.

"Yes. She was born as a warrior originally, along with two others from the goats. Of course, she came from a much larger mammal, so she had a distinct advantage. After all the new xenomorphs matured, they started fighting." He paused to walk away from the window and sat at a set of computers.

Devon followed after him, but I remained where I was, my body turned to listen.

"The drones didn't do any fighting, but the warriors were vicious. The two older, human-born drones died, and the last was mortally wounded. She was victorious and earned some sort of right. Weeks later, she metamorphosed into a much larger warrior. Shortly after, she became the queen you see now. Her genetic makeup completely altered to what we assume is a pure specimen. There was no trace of cow DNA left."

I assumed he pulled up a picture from the CCTVs, but I didn't see a reason to look. Devon had his hands on the back of Doctor Shephard's chair, leaning forward and staring at the screen.

"My god. . . she's huge! Nichole—did you—are you fucking serious?" He whistled low.

"I had some help." His awe almost brought a smile to my face, but I managed to keep my voice even when I spoke.

"Still," he muttered, shaking his head.

Doctor Shephard glanced between the two of us and sighed before continuing. "It took a while for her to build her ovipositor—uh, egg sack, if you will—and then she started lying them en masse. The drones moved them around and organized them, though we're not sure if there was any real reason for it. We sedated them all and took some of the eggs to study."

One of the drones had moved underneath a camera and stood up to its full height rather than climbing up the wall. Its oblong head swung left and right, then settled straight ahead. Even without eyes, and despite the fact I was staring at it through a television screen, I felt like it was looking right at me. I held its not-gaze without blinking.

"So, you started using human trials how long after that?" I asked.

"About seven months. Only four hosts, though. After that, they stopped taking them and just killed. They must feel like they don't have adequate space," he said, typing away at the computer in front of him.

I didn't look away from the drone, and after a moment or two it backed down and scurried out of range. Finally, I left the window and joined Devon by Doctor Shephard's side.

"So, what are you going to do? How much do you possibly have left to learn from them?"

The doctor looked up at us from the top of his computer screen. "I don't know. We need to move them to a larger facility. I think they were talking about moving them to San Francisco, where a specialized facility will monitor them. There's talk about weaponizing their anatomy."

"What?" The word was a whisper on my lips.

"Their exoskeleton is resistant to everything but the most heavy-duty firearms. If we can make armor from it, then we'd have a high advantage. On top of that, their claws cut through almost anything, as does the barb on their tail. That acid of theirs is something else, too. They're basically living weapons designed to kill." His typing stopped, and he leaned in his chair, fingers tapping the tabletop.

Devon sat at the edge of the table. "Alright, then the military just wants to harvest their parts for weapons and armor, not really make an army?"

Doctor Shephard shrugged. "It's not really the military. We've been receiving a lot of funding from Weyland Industries to continue our research. I'm not sure exactly what they want, but it's their direct involvement that's moving them out to San Francisco. I believe it's their own facility."

"And how do you know this facility of theirs is safe? What does a computer company want with aliens?" I demanded.

Both men glanced at me, but the doctor spoke. "I can assure you we'll take every precaution we can. They'll be sedated and out cold the entire trip. And, if they start reproducing again, we can attempt operating on potential hosts to see if the fetus can be removed. As for what Weyland Industries wants with them, I can only guess. We don't care where the funding comes from so long as it keeps coming."

Swallowing, I glared at him and decided to focus on the medical aspect. "You think you'd be able to remove one of those from someone?" It was five years too late to save Jess and my friends, but if they could figure it out now. . . .

I inwardly kicked myself. There wouldn't be a need to learn how if there wasn't another outbreak. I had to destroy these things before they were moved, or at least find a way to become part of the team moving the xenos to California. If there would be a time to strike, it would be when they were on the move and security was reduced.

He shrugged again. "We don't know. We took X-rays of some of the goat hosts and human hosts. They attach themselves to a vital artery, but we're pretty sure we can do it."

Though I hated to admit it, that was a noble endeavor. "Are you certain you can keep them sedated long enough to move them, though?" I urged, gripping the edge of the table like it was keeping me upright.

"Yes, agent. We are. We just need permission from the higher-ups now. It will most likely go through in a few months. There's some political stuff going on between us and Weyland."

"I wouldn't know."

I leaned back, unsatisfied, then turned on my heel and marched out of the room. My pulse thudded in my skull and footsteps chased after me. I ignored them and shoved through the observation deck's door.

"Hey wait!" Devon called after me.

Despite my better judgment, I stopped and turned toward him. "What?"

"You feeling okay?"

"Yes." He stared at me in disbelief and I sighed. "I just have a bad feeling about moving them. They can't get out of there right now. Security is tight, and it'll be easier to kill them if they try something funny. . .but out on the road, anything could go wrong. Especially with that queen in there."

His eyes widened and he glanced over his shoulder. "You think she'd cause problems?"

"I know she would. The one I helped kill was younger, I assume smaller, and we still barely made it out of that fight alive. I don't know how smart they are, but I'm willing to bet they're smarter than we think."

We turned toward the elevator and Devon said, "I'm sure they'll make sure nothing goes wrong. I mean, they've gotta know how bad these things are and what would happen if they got loose. An alien infestation is the last thing anyone wants."

"You better hope they know what they're doing," I sighed.

The elevator shook to a stop and we stepped out onto the main floor and headed back toward our desks. "Why'd you want to work for the agency if you hate these aliens so much, anyway?"

"Well," I murmured, skimming the tips of my fingers over the oddly-shaped scar under my clavicle, "they're not all bad."

Devon gave a sage nod and failed to stifle a smile. "Ah, you want to learn about your mystery alien, the one that helped you survive that first hive. You know they're trying to track them down and capture one, right? How do you feel about that?"

My chair welcomed me back and I flicked the mouse to turn on my computer screen. "I know. Is that where they all are now?"

Nodding, Devon sat at his desk. "I think so. I don't talk to any of 'em a whole lot, but I believe they said they had some leads on a possible landing or something."

I kept my eyes on my computer screen so I didn't seem interested. "Where?"

"I'm not sure. Europe, I think. Maybe Russia?"

"Those are two different places." I looked up from my game of Solitaire long enough to give him a withering look.

"Well, I don't know." He waved a pen in my direction. "I'm not a part of their exclusive club so I'm not exactly privy to their news. All I know is they said something about mysterious deaths."

"Alright, alright. Sorry."

There was a possibility that another predator was out there somewhere, killing. I should have been disgusted at the thought that humans were being hunted for game, but I bring myself to care.

"That'd be an interesting sect to be a part of. You thinking about getting transferred sometime?" he asked, filtering through his paperwork.

"Yeah," I said, pretending to look through mine, as well. My game of Solitaire was much more riveting, though. "I'd like to learn more about them, if I can."

If I could have, I would have made them hire me for that taskforce to begin with.

However, there hadn't been any openings.

They were based on how many people died. If no one was dying, then there were no available positions. The predators visited so rarely.

It was too cruel for me to wish someone dead just so I could be transferred. What would I do once on the taskforce, anyway?

"Well here's to hoping." He drank from his soda can in a mock toast.

My game ended a few minutes later when I ran out of moves and I closed the window with a sigh. "I wonder if they still have Rawlins and Cooper on the taskforce."

Devon glanced up at me. "Who're they? Friends of yours?"

I shook my head. "They were assigned to my case. Interviewed me, gave me the story I could tell my friends and family. That sort of thing."

"Gotcha. Maybe they are. You'll have to see when they get back. Can't say I'm familiar with them, though." Devon gave me another look before returning to his stack of papers.

Conversation dwindled and I rotated in my chair, eyes focused on nothing in particular. Though I was getting closer to finishing off the hive, I still felt so far away. An opportunity had to be found, and they were never unsupervised.

Was I going to have to sacrifice some people to get what I wanted?

Could I live with myself if I did that?

They were innocent an unsuspecting. Not only would that be cold-blooded murder of the highest order, but I doubted Wolf would approve, either.

If he knew there was a hive down here, though, maybe he would.

It wasn't like he was a stranger to killing humans, anyway. This was all on me and my conscience. I couldn't put it all on Wolf.

Until they were dead, I was stuck on Earth regretting every day that went by after I'd missed my train. It would have been easier to go when he'd first asked, when I was ready to just escape dealing with everyone.

Now I'd ha time to think about. Now I'd had time to second guess and overthink. Did I want to go? Was I better here?

Just a little longer, I'd tell myself. You'll think of something.

If I didn't. . .well, I would just live out my life like a human. When I thought about it, I realized I didn't have such a bad life. Most of the time I was behind a desk, filling out paperwork and waiting for a case to pop up. I had a decent one-bedroom apartment and made enough money to live comfortably and pay my bills.

The snapping of fingers pulled me from my thoughts and I whirled around, eyes wide as I sucked in a sharp breath.

Devon let out a surprised "Woah!" and chuckled at me, his hands raised slightly in a defensive posture.

I scoffed and readjusted my shirt. "You know not to pull shit like that."

"Sorry!" His hands were up. "Sorry, I didn't meant to. I've been trying to talk to you for like 90 seconds, though."

My hackles lowered and I exhaled loudly. "Alright, sorry, what?"

He sat back down, his eyebrows raised. "I was just wondering if you wanted to get a drink later or something, after work. Richard and Lucas invited me earlier."

It wasn't the first time he'd given me an invitation like that. It probably wouldn't be the last. I rubbed my forehead and centered an empty form I was supposed to fill out for the last case—a wild goose chase caused by some falling rock from space—and searched for a pen while I thought up an excuse.

"I don't know. I told you I was going to the gym after work, and I need to do some grocery shopping before I starve."

Devon smirked. "You outta sandwich meat or something?"

"Ha ha," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "No, I'm out of literally everything. I'll take a rain check though, so maybe next time."

His face fell and he swiveled in his chair. "Whatever you say. You can just tell me you don't want to spend time with anyone from the office outside of work hours, you know. No one will take offense. Plenty of people don't mix work with pleasure."

"It's not that," I insisted. "I really do just need to go grocery shopping."

"Whatever you say." He grabbed his own paperwork and aligned the sheets. "Just let me know if you change your mind.

I nodded, trying not to look him in the face, and tapped my pen against the top of my computer. "Sure. You'll be the first to know."

That was the only thing missing. A social life. With the promise of an alien waiting for my call, to take me away on a space adventure, I had isolated myself. The office was not unlike high school. If I wanted, I could slide in with some of the groups that formed and make friends.

But I'd forbidden myself from something as simple as making friends. After all, if I had no one I cared about on Earth, it would be easy to leave.

So then why?

Why was I filled with all this indecision? Go—don't go. Kill the xenomorphs—don't because they're not my problem.

My fists clenched and unclenched.

This had all seemed so simple before I'd given this clearance.

Now it was all real.

"Nichole!"

I started and gave Devon a bewildered look. "What is it now?"

"I'm not covering for you if you don't finish your paperwork," he taunted. "You better start getting to work, there."

Rolling my eyes, I leaned forward and started scribbling. "Yeah, yeah."

Chapter Text

The days were shortening. With the sun going down earlier and earlier, it was starting to be dark by the time I left work every day, despite how early in the evening it was.

A chill hung in the air, making me bundle up as soon as I stepped through the automatic doors. I almost thought about skipping the gym in favor of heading home and curling up in my warm bed, but I didn't do breaks.

"You sure I can't convince you to come with us? Tomorrow's Saturday, so we're meeting up around nine tonight. Should be plenty of time for you finish at the gym and do your shopping?"

Devon and I always left together—since we were partners, we usually finished all our stuff up at the same time, anyway. We'd even managed to finish the mountain of paperwork we had. A happy boss meant a happy work life.

I sighed and gave him a withering look. "I'll think about it, okay?"

"Sure, sure. You got my number."

"Yes, Devon."

He put his hands up in surrender and then gave me a light tap with the back of his hand. "You want a ride to the gym?"

"No." I shook my head. "I'm going home first to change, then I just jog down to the gym and—"

"On those legs?"

I frowned. "It's not far from my apartment complex and my doctor says it's perfectly fine for me to jog. I do it every day."

"Alright, alright. Your complex doesn't have an in-house gym?" he asked.

"It does, but it's terrible."

"Ah. Well, you want a ride home?"

Again, I shook my head. "I'm fine, thank you. I'm sure you've got your own stuff going on, I wouldn't want to put you out."

Devon shrugged. "Alright, suit yourself."

"I like the bus," I said, feeling oddly defensive. "I don't meet anyone on it, but I see a lot of people, and I get time to think and reflect. And it keeps my carbon footprint down to a minimum."

"You don't have to explain yourself to me," Devon said with a grin.

I glowered at him and said, "Don't wanna miss my bus. I'll see you Monday," and headed off to wait at the stop. He waved at me before walking to his parked car.

The cold didn't bother me much, even as I stood at the stop with one other person. It took several minutes for the bus to arrive, but it was right on time at least.

I swiped my pass and just as I sat down, my prepaid cell phone rang.

A quick glance at the caller ID made me sigh, but I answered the call all the same with a well-mannered, "Hello?"

"Hi, baby! It's Mom."

"Hey, Mom, what's up?"

"I was just thinking about you and thought I'd call. You still at work?"

Grimacing, I settled into my seat. It had been almost two weeks since the last time I'd spoken to her, and twice as long before that. Part of me wanted to keep up more often, but the other part thought it was better this way.

"Nope," I said. "Just got on the bus to go home. Gonna go to the gym afterwards and then buy some dinner, I guess."

She was quiet for a moment, probably trying to figure out how to say what she wanted to say without starting something. I raised my eyebrows and just waited.

Finally, she said, "You have any fun plans for the weekend with. . .friends?"

There it is. The bait.

"No, not at the moment."

"Mm, ok. You've made friends though, right? Everyone's treating you ok at the office?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Mom, everyone's nice. This isn't the playground at school."

She huffed. "Well yes I know that! I just have to make sure no one's picking on my baby and that she's not lonely."

"I'm not lonely, I promise."

"So you have made friends!"

"I have my partner, and I'm friendly with some of the people at work. I get all my socializing done there," I assured her.

And whatever interactions I had at the gym. Mostly would-be suitors or people asking if they could have the machine I'm on next. Still, though, those were interactions.

With people.

Mom still didn't sound convinced. "Well, alright sweetie. So long as you're happy."

"I am," I lied.

"Try to make some friends, though? This partner of yours—do you see them outside of work at all?" she asked.

"Sometimes, for cases."

"That doesn't count! That's still work."

I shrugged. "Yeah, but we're off the clock."

Even through the phone, I could feel her disapproving look.

At that point, I was ready to say anything to get her off my back. I sighed and chewed on my bottom lip before saying, "Look, he invited me out to drinks tonight with a few other people from work. I guess I could accept."

"Oh, baby, if you're not comfortable—"

"It's not that I'm uncomfortable," I assured her, "I just—I don't get out much, y'know? I don't know how to do this kind of stuff."

She made a sympathetic noise. "You used to be so good at making friends. You just need to get back out there. I'm sure it's like riding a bike. Once you put yourself out there, you'll remember."

I leaned back against the bench seat and held the railing when the bus stopped to let someone off. "Maybe."

"You're very likeable, Nichole," Mom said, switching into her mothering tone. "You can't let what happened keep you from having a life forever. You've been taking your meds?"

"Yes," I said, after pausing. Another a lie—but only a half-lie this time. "But my therapist says I'm doing good, now. Cut down the frequency of our meetings."

"That's good!"

Before she could try to pry any further, I asked, "How is everyone else doing?"

Anything to move the subject off me.

She happily dove into how well Alan was doing at school at what my sister was up to. I made sure to actively listen, but I was only partially checked into the conversation.

I'd trained myself not to call, not to get too involved with my family and their activities. It was easy when we were so many states apart from each other—my siblings had their own things going on so they never tried to contact me, anyway.

Mom, on the other hand. . . .

Dad would send a text every now and again, but he left it to Mom to keep me updated and to update him. We were both alike in that way, I supposed.

It would just make it easier on them, in the long run. If something were to happen to me. If I were to. . .go somewhere.

"Okay, Mom. I'm at my stop so I'm gonna let you go, okay?" I said.

"Oh! Of course, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to talk your ear off. I hope you have a good time tonight with your work buddies!"

Right. I'd said that.

"I'll try."

"You'll be great."

I thanked the bus driver as I stepped off and then I returned my attention to my call. "Thanks, Mom. I'll talk to you later."

"Alright, I love you baby."

"I love you, too."

"Bye, baby."

"Bye, Mom."

Before we could get trapped in a loop of good-byes, I hung up and shoved my phone back in my pocket as I walked into the gated complex where I lived.

No matter what I did, it would be hard on my mom. I would never win that battle. No matter how estranged I tried to be, it would be a blow that devastated her.

The guilt was almost enough to convince me to never call Wolf.

That list of cons was only growing longer.

I walked up the stairs to my apartment and tossed my bag on the ground by the door before turning on the entryway light. I went straight to my bedroom and stared at my dresser for a moment.

My hands balled into fists.

There was so much here for me, but there also wasn't enough. My mom, my work, my apartment, indoor plumbing and fast food.

Anything with Wolf was a mystery.

Taking a deep breath, I set my hand on the handle of my underwear drawer. I let it sit there a minute before slowly dropping it back to my side.

The thought of never seeing him again hurt, too. I didn't know what it was—obsession, fear, or something else—but I couldn't get him out of my mind. I hadn't been able to for years.

Maybe if I tried hard enough I could, but I didn't think I wanted to.

Sighing, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. Obsession was starting to feel more and more like that was the case.

I changed from my work attire to my gym clothes and stared at my phone for a moment.

For some dumb reason, I'd told Mom that I'd go hang out and be social with Devon. The option of just not going no matter what I'd told her was there, but then if she called me again I would have nothing to tell her.

Even after all these years, I still wasn't any good at disappointing Mom.

Groaning, I looked through my contact list until I found Devon's information. All I did was look at it for a few seconds, then I shook my head and dialed his number.

"Y'ello?" he answered.

"Hey, uh, it's Nichole."

"Yeah, what's up?"

Nervously, I shifted from one foot to the other while I spoke. "So, uh, I was thinking about your offer for drinks tonight, and. . . ."

When I didn't continue, he prompted me. "Yeah? You change your mind?"

I wet my lips and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. I guess it wouldn't kill me to. . .take one night to break out a little bit."

"Really?" I didn't miss the childlike glee that was in his voice.

"Yeah. You said nine tonight?"

"Yes, nine. You gonna take the bus or can I come pick you up?"

With a grunt, I relented. "Yes, you can come pick me up. I don't know where y'all are going, anyway, so I wouldn't know what bus to take."

"Sweet." His smile was audible enough to make me blush. Did he think this was a date or something? He continued, "I'll call you when I'm coming to pick you up."

I forced a smile even though he couldn't see it. "Alright, I'll see you then."

"Yup! See ya then."

We hung up with far more grace that I did when I was on the phone with my mom. I sat down on my bed afterwards, my phone tossed on a pillow, and I rubbed my face with my hands.

No matter how much I tried to keep people at a distance, Devon just wiggles himself in there as the closest thing to a friend I had.

Did it really hurt anything, though?

What proof did I have that Wolf would come pick me up anymore? The computer he had given me still worked, so I could call him, but would he even come?

There was no way he thought about me as much as I did him. It just wasn't possible and it would be self-centered and egotistical to think that he did. He may have forgotten about me altogether and I was here on Earth, pining for something that may not even exist anymore.

What if he was dead? He didn't exactly lead a comfortable and safe life.

And that was the life I was currently setting myself up for. Maybe my line of work wasn't exactly safe, either, but it was safer than his, I could guarantee it.

Going out for a few hours on a Friday night wouldn't kill me. At the very least, I'd flush it out of my system so I didn't feel like I had missed out on some great human ritual.

I still had to worry about those xenomorphs and plan something. Decide if it was even worth it to try and destroy them.

There was time, yet. I didn't have to make a decision tonight.

Yes, I still had until the move, whenever that was happening. I'd find that out, and then try to decide from there.

Once I set a timeline I could make the call. If I couldn't come up with some plan to kill off the hive at the end of my timeline, I would call try to call Wolf. If, by then, I still wanted to.

I felt better with a goal in mind. Nothing was actually solved, but I had a way to solve it. Kind of.

It was good enough for now.

Feeling satisfied for the most part, I left my room and slipped on my running shoes and grabbed the bare necessities for the gym.

Before I started the three-mile jog to the gym, I sent my mom a text message. A single question that would make tonight just a little bit easier on me.

What kind of clothes should I wear?

Chapter Text

I had never been to a bar before. I went to all those "family bars"—Applebee's, Buffalo Wild Wings, etc—occasionally during my youth, and they sold beer. Probably didn't count, though. Several different expectations warred for dominance in my mind—dark and scary? Bustling and loud? Quiet and full of burly bikers?

Devon came and picked me up shortly before nine with another man in tow—Richard, one of his friends from his previous department. Introductions were exchanged and then we were off to their "favorite place."

They chatted away in the front while I sat in the back and tried to swallow the butterflies.

At least, thanks to Mom, I didn't have to worry about my outfit. She'd told me whatever casual wear I like would be fine.

Don't know why I had been so worried.

Maybe because I didn't own any formal clothes besides work stuff.

It had been ages since I'd felt so out of my element, but it was also about time I gave up on my solitary life. Maybe Wolf would take me, maybe he wouldn't. If he did, I didn't want to have any regrets. I didn't want to regret never experiencing things that normal humans did; getting black-out drunk or going to a bar, seeing movies with friends, or just having a good time in general.

Maybe that was me trying to rationalize having a life. Maybe I'd spent too much time pretending to be an agent. I couldn't even convince myself that I wanted to live my life with an alien anymore.

All for the best, really. If Wolf wouldn't accept me as I was now, then I couldn't very well burn all my bridges on Earth or else my life would be miserable.

What if he came and I decided not to go with him? What if I chickened out and wanted to stay on Earth? What if he didn't like my limp?

There were too many variables.

"Here we are!" Devon announced suddenly, pulling into the tiny parking lot beside a building. "We go here every other Friday, just in time for the paychecks."

I had to remember that he was probably talking to me.

"Sounds like a fun tradition," I offered.

The brick face of the building was worn-down, and a large sign overhead read "Beer." Hard to miss. Devon pulled into a spot and the three of us unloaded.

"Designated driver?" I was barely out of the vehicle before I brought it up.

Devon made a dismissive noise and said, "I'll be driving the two of you home. Don't worry, I know how much I can drink before things start getting dangerous."

My eyes narrowed, and I slammed the door shut. "Everyone always says that and that's how people die in drunk driving accidents."

Richard shook his head. "Don't worry. When you drink as often as we do, you learn your limits," he said with an equally dismissive tone as Devon had.

"You're federal agents, you should behave as such and use a designated driver." I sniffed and put my hands on my hips, refusing to move forward.

"Yeesh, where did you find this chick again?" Richard teased, elbowing Devon.

He chuckled. "Ah, lay off my partner. She doesn't get out often."

"I'm right here."

Devon put a hand on my shoulder and steered me toward the front of the building. "Don't worry! We'll be fine. Would I lie to you?"

Only partially convinced, I made a mental note to walk home or call a taxi. After another moment of studying their confident expressions, I said, "Whatever you say, Devon. Don't kill me."

"Trust your partner." Richard grinned, nudging me with his elbow. "I know I do!"

He was the sole reason the "jolly fat man" stereotype existed. The only thing he was missing was a thick beard. As it was, all he had was a well-groomed goatee.

I shot him a look, but he wasn't paying attention. I brushed off my arm where he'd touched me and grumbled to myself.

Devon held my arm and pulled me back a few paces while the other two men hurried up the sidewalk. He gave me a reassuring smile and I gently tugged my arm out of his grasp.

"Just lemme know when you wanna leave. I'll either take you home or pay for your cab," he offered, speaking in undertones.

His gesture made me smile and I nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Richard stopped at the door and glanced over at us. "What are you guys waiting for? An open invitation from God himself? Stop making out and get in here!"

Richard was not making a good first impression.

Nonetheless, Devon and I hurried to follow him inside. My partner shot me an apologetic eye-roll and smile once Richard had his back turned.

The from windows were painted with colorful letters that's read "Dumpty's" and had a cartoon of Humpty Dumpty underneath holding a beer mug.

Cute.

When I stepped over the threshold, I was expecting a scene straight from Coyote Ugly—a hundred bodies all crammed into a tiny space, music blasting through the bar, and scantily-clad women dancing on the counter. I expected to wrestle my way to the front, shoulder-to-shoulder against sweaty men drunk off their asses. At some point, a bar fight would break out and I'd have to punch someone in the nose.

That was not the case. Far from it.

Well, the bar fight was still a possibility.

Though not empty, there certainly wasn't a hundred people inside. Maybe thirty. They were all in their own corners, in booths, or alone watching one of the large flat-screen TVs mounted near the ceiling. The interior was modern with sleek surfaces and clean floors, even a few arcade games pushed against the wall near the entrance. Various paintings decorated the walls, but it wasn't cluttered. A single pool table sat isolated in the middle of the room, surrounded by small, circular stands. Dart boards hung out on their own wall with a few people gathered around.

So much for my expectations of a dirty dive full of hairy bikers. Oh well.

"So, what? Do we pick a table and wait, or sit at the bar?" Despite the occasional bursts of laughter and quiet rock music playing over the various speakers, it was only loud enough that I had to speak above "inside voice" to be heard.

Richard walked ahead toward the front bar and I watched him helplessly, looking to Devon for answers. I was unsure of myself for the first time in years.

He put a hand on my shoulder and stepped up close so he could speak to me without trouble. "Lucas is waiting at the bar for us. We'll order there, and then we'll take our drinks over to a table. Just remember to tip well—you brought some cash, right?"

"Yeah, you told me to grab some, so I did. Why?"

"Just easier. Can't spend what you don't have. First drink's on me, though," he offered, allowing me to sit on the stool while he hovered behind me.

Richard slapped his shoulder and guffawed. "You hear that? Devon's buying the first round!"

"Alright, Devon!" Lucas said. He worked on our forensics team.

He snorted and shoved Richard away. "Not for you assholes. This is Nichole's first bar experience, so it's a treat for her."

"That's really not necessary," I chimed in, trying not to blush. They ignored me, but Devon shot me an encouraging smile.

"Man, she shouldn't have to buy drinks at all. Nichole, unbutton your shirt and show a little skin. You'll have them throwing drinks at you!" Richard said, grinning wolfishly. "Try to look a little available, you know?"

I didn't know him well enough to appreciate his brand of humor and I had to suppress the urge to pop him in the jaw. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and ignored him the best I could, eyes scanning the bottles in front of us. There had to be something familiar here for me to have as a first drink.

Beer certainly didn't seem right. My uncle had let me taste his once and I remembered it being just—just awful.

"Hey leave her alone," Devon said, shifting so he was between me and Richard. "She was made unavailable the second she walked in with the three of us."

"True 'nuff." Lucas was leaning over the counter, looking for a bartender.

Rolling my eyes, decided to get the topic off how available I was. "Hello? Can someone tell me what I should be ordering or something?"

"Shot of whiskey."

"Rum and coke!"

So. Very. Helpful.

Maybe tagging along hadn't been such a good idea, after all. I sighed heavily and rubbed my forehead. "Should I just order a beer?"

Shaking his head, Devon said, "You won't like it, no one likes their first beer. The alcohol itself isn't going to taste good no matter how you spin it, so be ready for a weird aftertaste. Ideally, you should get a cocktail, but it's traditional for your first drink to be a shot, like Lucas said. We'll see where we're at from there, but you can't go wrong with a margarita."

"So, a shot of whiskey then?"

He shook his head again. "No, probably tequila. Whiskey's not wrong, but tequila tastes better and will go down easier for your first shot."

"Tequila?"

It was like he was speaking a different language now. At least he sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

"Evening, folks." The bartender finally approached. He was wearing a dark, collared shirt. White letters sewn onto the breast informed us of his name—Jared. "What can I get you?"

Richard slapped some cash on the counter. The bartender didn't blink and I experienced the overwhelming urge to apologize on my companion's behalf. "I'll take a Corona, if you please. Keep the change, hombre."

The bartender nodded and turned to Lucas without writing anything down. "And you, boss?"

"Just give me a bottle of whiskey and a glass." He also slid a few bills across the counter. He seemed to think about something a moment, then shook his head. "No, two, actually. Glasses, I mean. Not bottles. One bottle, two glasses."

Jared nodded and turned to me and Devon.

"First, I'd like two shots of tequila, please. Then, she'll have a margarita and I'll just take some Miller, if you got it."

His attention turned to me and my face paled. He said, "On the rocks, frozen, or straight?"

My mouth bobbed and I turned helplessly toward Devon, my eyes wide. "Um—I don't—what's the difference?"

Devon smiled, and I wanted to slap him. "On the rocks is with ice, frozen is. . .kind of like a slushee, and straight is without ice. I would either get it on the rocks or frozen, if I were you. Doesn't seem right, having a margarita without ice."

There were too many options. I shook my head and turned my bewildered gaze to Jared who was patiently waiting. "Um, I guess frozen? I like slushies. . . ."

He nodded and took Devon's money for the shots and his beer. I could have insisted I pay for myself, but what was the point of going to a bar if I didn't accept one free drink? Jared counted out the cash and then sighed. "You're short."

"Oh, sorry, I'm paying for the margarita. How much?" I cut off Devon when he tried to explain.

Jared's expression softened with relief, and I paid for my drink. I insisted he keep the five dollars in change. He tried to give Devon his change back, but he told him to keep it as well. I hoped my five dollars was enough of a tip.

It was always my go-to no matter what restaurant I visited.

"Thank you," I said, almost in afterthought as he turned away. Jared shot me a smile before ducking beneath the counter.

Part of me felt like I should tell him my "buddies" were going to start driving later, but it wasn't my business. The last thing I wanted to do was start an argument, so I kept my mouth shut.

I did, after all, trust Devon.

Turning to Lucas, Richard asked, "Who's the second glass for? Is Rebecca joining us tonight?"

Lucas nodded. "Yeah, she gets off work late tonight, but she should be here in like," he paused to check his phone, "half an hour or something."

"Rebecca is your. . . girlfriend?"

"Wife," he said, smiling and raising his left hand to show the golden band.

"Ah, sorry."

The bartender popped back up with a set of shot glasses, Devon's Miller, and a bottle of Corona for Richard. He poured us each the shots and left the bottle of whiskey for Lucas before disappearing to make my margarita.

I stared at the tiny glass in front of me, scrutinizing it as if it were on fire. "So, what am I supposed do?"

"Like this," Lucas snickered, picking up his shot and downing it in one gulp, complete with the head toss I recognized from movies. He set the glass back down with a thump and grit his teeth. "Ooh that burns—first one's outta the way."

Devon raised his shot of tequila and motioned toward mine. "We'll do it together."

"Okay," I sighed, rubbing my fingers against each other before picking it up.

I watched Devon for cues, lifted my glass when he did, and gulped down the shot a few seconds later. The aftertaste was bitter, and I could feel it as much as I tasted it. I coughed and pushed the shot glass away, squinting and wheezing. My throat was warm.

"Oh my god what is that." I pressed my knuckles against my lips.

Laughing, Devon shook his head. He coughed once before saying, "That's the alcohol. Don't worry, your margarita won't be as bad."

The traces of tequila remained at the back of my throat for several more moments and I smacked my lips, trying to make it go away.

"Why the hell do people do this all the time? It wasn't very good at all—no offense to you." I noticed Jared in time to add the second thought.

He handed me a frosted glass with off-green, crushed ice. Salt rimmed the side. He shrugged and said, "It's an acquired taste."

Then, he left us to attend to other customers and we abandoned the bar, moving instead toward an isolated booth where we could socialize. Or whatever it was people did when they were trying to get drunk. I sat in the corner with Devon next me, though I had to scoot over to the wall when he sat too close.

"You guys come here every other Friday?" I asked, staring at my margarita before plucking the lime wedge from the glass.

Richard shrugged. "Sometimes we rotate to a different place. Keep things fresh."

"Drinking's a little too expensive for a weekly thing, so we do it on payday instead," said Lucas.

"Right. That's what Devon said."

Devon nodded and added, "Sometimes we just go to a 24-hour joint for late dinners."

Finally, I attempted a sip of the margarita. My teeth crunched the crushed ice and I shuddered from the cold. The taste of alcohol made me cough. Still better than the shot of tequila, by a margin. After a bit more of it, my face felt like rubber. I gently pat my cheeks, then ate a mouthful of green slush.

Salty. Tangy. Not half bad.

Devon leaned toward me. "Did you eat before we picked you up like I said?"

"Yeah. . .a sandwich." I took another sample of my drink and shuddered when I swallowed too much and icy pain shot through my poor brain.

"Do you live exclusively off sandwiches?" he chuckled.

"No!" I pressed the heel of my palm against my temple and clenched my eyes shut, using my free hand to slap at Devon's shoulder. I missed.

"Ugh. . .brain freeze."

"Push your thumb against the roof of your mouth. That'll make you feel better," Lucas said, pouring himself another shot of whiskey before gulping it down in one swig. He gasped and shook his head. "Burns so good."

"I'm not sticking my finger in my mouth," I snorted.

"It'll help."

"I won't!"

The two other men snickered and Devon grimaced. "How long ago did you eat?"

Shrugging, I wiped some of the salt off with my finger and, contrary to what I'd said before, stuck it in my mouth. Immediate regret. I gagged and took a drink of the margarita to chase the salt down. Richard guffawed at my expression and slapped his palm on the counter. Lucas was hiding snickers behind his hand.

"An hour ago? Two hours ago? When I got home from work." I shot everyone a glare, daring them to keep laughing. They did. A fork sat before each of us, next to a spoon and on top of a napkin. It would be easy. Just pick up the fork, slam it into someone's hand. . . .

Devon sighed. "That's too long—you can't drink alcohol on an empty stomach."

"Don't tell me what to do."

He'd get the fork, too.

For another moment he stared at me, lips pursed, then turned in his chair to look at the front counter. "I'm gonna go get her some food."

"Alright," Richard said, finishing off his beer. "Bring me back another beer, would you?"

Lucas filled his shot glass and passed it over in front of me. Meanwhile, Richard gave Devon the cash for his drink and my partner left.

"Here, try a shot of whiskey. Careful, though, it's gonna burn more than the tequila," Lucas said.

I stared at the shot glass and squinted. Brown. The color of shit water. "No."

He shrugged and pulled it back. "Suit yourself." He shot down the whiskey instead and wheezed. He was making a real good argument.

Still, I was up for new things. "Okay."

Raising his eyebrows, shared a look with Richard, then he poured out some and handed me the glass. I stared at it, eyebrows furrowed, then gulped it down. My throat burned and I coughed, nearly throwing the glass at Lucas' head. Instead, I slammed it down on the table and let out a whine, grabbing the edge of my seat.

"Why? Why why why why?"

"You took the shot, don't blame me," Lucas chuckled.

Everyone shared a laugh at my expense and I glowered into my tasty-by-comparison margarita slush drink. It was like I had swallowed woodchips instead of liquor. Woodchips that had been on fire. I rubbed my face with my hands. When that didn't quite fix it, I sucked on the lime.

I made a face, shuddered, but continued to suck on the lime anyway.

"Dude you weren't lying when you said this was her first time drinking. What a lightweight," Richard said as Devon returned.

"What? What happened?"

"Lucas gave me a shot of his whiskey!" I was tattling. Like a three-year-old.

Devon sighed and sat down, handing Richard his drink. "Why'd you take it? I told you it would be worse than the tequila."

I turned and glared at him, daring him to continue. He glanced at me, mouth agape, then shook his head and took a swig from his bottle. "Ah, she'll be alright once those fries come."

"That's right," I muttered, tilting my head back and shaking the rest of the margarita into my mouth. It gave me another brain freeze, but fuck it.

Unsuccessfully, I tried to stop from giggling. "Butt fuck it," I muttered, tittering into my empty cup. The dregs of half-melted ice slid down the sides, pooling at the bottom of the glass. I leaned back and tried to gulp down what little was left.

Richard shared an amused look with the other two. "What is she on about?"

Devon just shrugged. "Who knows."

"None-ya business," I growled, eyes narrowed. Soon after, I started snickering.

My drink was gone. I had to fix that.

"Can I get another? Do they have pee-nya coll-adas here?"

I turned, looking toward the bar and trying to spot Jared. Jared was cool. He'd make me a drink. "I hear those are pa-retty popular."

They all shook their heads, but Devon spoke. "Let that one settle first. You don't want to end the night throwing up into a toilet, do you?"

I pursed my lips and sat back in my chair, arms crossed. "No."

"Don't worry," he assured me. "I ordered you some fries. Eat those, then you can get something else to drink."

Lucas nodded and dragged his bottle of whiskey further away from me. Yeah. Like I wanted any of that hog swallow again. He said, "Yeah take it easy, you weigh like 80 pounds and alcohol poisoning is a real thing. The best way to ruin a night is a trip to the hospital."

Though my tongue was still sharp, it was starting to feel thicker and I stumbled on my words. "Says the—uh, drunk driving. . .shit lamps! And I weigh more than a hundred pounds, okay?"

Eighty pounds. . . I would have been dead. Idiots. No way they were gonna find out how much I weighed but it was more than eighty pounds.

Fuckwits.

Conversation turned after they all laughed at me, but I became fascinated with the men playing darts across the room, and then loud noises from the pool table turned my head. The paintings on the wall were interesting and caught my eye, only to lose it to the colorful neon sign flashing across the wall. It was too far to read, though.

Finally, my fries were ready. Jared signaled to us and I stood up. Devon walked me over and I thanked Jared, paid for the fries with my card, and headed back over to our booth.

"You know, I can walk by myself," I insisted, cradling the fries against my chest so I didn't drop them.

"Uh huh. We're over here."

Oh. He's here to make sure I don't sit with random people.

Devon was paying more attention than I would have credited him. He took my arm, pulling me back into the right booth before I made a fool of myself. I shot everyone a glare, daring them to laugh. This time they didn't.

Conversations started back up and I sat quietly, contemplating the culinary wonder that was my fries. They had to have been the best fries I'd ever tasted.

Even before I found the ketchup.

When they were gone, Devon was true to his word and let me buy a piña colada.

Let me.

As if I wasn't an adult who could do whatever I wanted.

Jared was a peach and had it ready lickety-split. I gave him another five-dollar tip before being led back to the booth by Devon.

"Are you happy with your drink?"

I took a tentative sip to avoid yet another brain freeze and I nodded. "Yes. It's my favorite thing so far."

"I think you should stick to water after that one," he chuckled. "More fries are coming your way, too."

"Neat."

After taking our seats, we were introduced to Lucas' wife. She'd shown up sometime after we left to order my drink, and regular conversation resumed.

We were in the middle of swapping work stories when I heard a strange buzzing noise. My piña colada was half gone and I was still nibbling fries. This time without ketchup. Fuck ketchup.

Devon shifted around next to me and I leaned away from him as he struggled to pull something from his pocket. The simplest of movements made my head spin and my stomach flop over itself.

"Stop wiggling!" If only looks could kill.

"Someone's calling me, calm down," he muttered, finally pulling his cell phone free.

Ah. The buzzing.

He read the caller ID, then swore under his breath. "It's Dixon."

"What's that stiff want? It's Friday," Lucas groaned, pouring his wife another shot. Before she'd arrived, I'd almost thought she wasn't real and he'd just mad her up.

Devon shrugged, then put the phone to his ear. "This is Hart."

I traced the pattern on the wall with the nail of my index finger, drawing each curl and bump. Devon was only allotted a portion of my attention. The fry I was eating received the rest.

"We're at the bar, why what happened?" Dixon said something inaudible. "Yes, she's here too."

She? Must mean me. I swung around to face him, then shoved him away when I wound up too close. "God don't crowd me."

Devon glanced at me, brow knit together in disbelief, but scooted away. "I mean, I guess we could come in, but Shain's a little. . .out of it right now, I don't know how much she'd—well, not a whole lot but—alright, alright. I'll. . .buy her some water. McGrath's here too, should I—ok. Alright. Be there soon."

When he put his phone away and stood up, I narrowed my eyes and asked, "What's he want? Where we going? Why we going? I thought we were having fun. What about my fries and drink?"

Sighing, Devon sat back down. "You can bring the fries with you, just leave the basket. Finish your drink quick, though: duty calls. You two can stay here and continue the fun, though."

"What did Dixon want?" Richard asked, swirling the remains of his second beer. "You guys got something super secret going on?"

"Like we'd be able to tell you," I snorted.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm the only one here not part of the club."

"I don't know what he wanted." Devon shrugged. "He didn't say, just that Nichole and I needed to come in. I guess he tried calling your phone but obviously you didn't pick up."

I tried to finish my drink as fast as I could while also saying, "I think I left it in your car." I stuffed a few fries in my mouth, trying to chase away the inevitable brain freeze. When it didn't work, I pushed the heels of my palms against my head and whimpered quietly.

"Idiot, you didn't have to finish it that quickly," Devon sighed, exasperated.

"Can't keep Dixon waiting," I gurgled, mouth and brain frozen.

He sighed and stood up again, shimmying out of the booth. He remembered his beer at the last second and drank the rest in one sitting.

"Well, grab your fries and let's go. We gotta stop and get you some water so you can sober up."

"I'm not drunk, limp dick." I gathered up my things, clenched my eyes shut against the pain in my skull, then dragged my ass upright.

Richard and Lucas snickered, but I missed Devon's reaction: I was trying to remember how to stand up straight.

"Damn she's fucking scrappy when she's lit," Lucas said, shaking his head and giggling like a stupid teenager. I narrowed my eyes and considered hitting him.

That, however, would be rude. Especially in front of my wife.

So, instead, I acted like a fucking lady and just swore at him. "I'm not lit either, you all just piss me off."

"Da-amn," Richard laughed. I was glad they found this so funny.

Rebecca said nothing, just shouldered her husband a little bit. I pointed at her and said, "Not you. You're nice."

"Ah. . .thanks."

Devon rolled his eyes and gripped my arm when I forgot walking required placing one foot in front of the other, not tripping yourself. I allowed him to brace me, then I tore my arm away and straightened my shirt. "Okay I'm fine, okay? God. Okay."

"You gonna be able to get home, Richard?" Devon asked, ignoring me.

"I'll just call a taxi."

"You sure?"

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Lucas here lives too far away for me to ask him for a ride. I can afford one taxi drive."

Lucas shrugged. "I'd be ok with taking you home if you didn't wanna pay for a ride."

Richard insisted. "Nah, man. It's cool. Gotta keep the taxi business alive, what with all these services you get on your phone now."

"Can we go?" I whined. "They'll figure it out, and if not, maybe we can pick him up after Dick-son tells us what he needs to tell us so late on a Friday night!"

Devon gave me one of his disarming smiles and motioned for me to walk ahead of him. "Sure. Ladies first."

My defenses came down and I said, "I don't deserve you."

"Nope. But that's alright. Let's get outta here," he laughed, urging me forward. I could still feel him just barely touching my back, trying to be sneaky and keep me upright.

I forced myself to straighten, then led Devon outside without further incident. Except when I tripped on the raised sidewalk. And when I failed to duck low enough when climbing into the car. I made up a few new profanities for that one.

Chapter Text

"Red light!"

"I see it. Thank you, Nichole."

He pulled to a stop and I sat back in my seat, satisfied at his ability to follow the rules of the road. Satisfied that I still remembered the rules of the road, even though I didn't drive.

Didn't want to buy a car.

I could buy one, but I didn't see the point in al the upkeep and buying gas and all that junk. Too much work. Easier to just take the damn bus. Let someone else drive me around.

"You know, I only had the one drink and one shot," Devon pointed out.

It was late enough at night that the light turned over almost right away and we were pulling forward again. I grabbed the "oh shit bar" hanging above my head.

"Don't accelerate so fast," I admonished him with a sharp hiss.

"I accelerated like I normally do!"

I huffed and refused to let go of the handle, just in case. "That's still enough for some people to lose all their coordination."

Devon laughed. "No, it's enough for you to lose all coordination. I'd need a lot more to consider myself drunk, okay? You don't need to worry that pretty little head of yours."

"My head's not pretty," I muttered, pecking at the fries in my lap. They were on top of a napkin soaked in grease.

We pulled off the side of the road and I looked around out the window.

"This isn't work," I observed.

"How astute. I'm getting you that water I promised. Stay here. Don't talk to strangers," he teased, leaving the car running for me.

Waving him off, I occupied myself with the radio. There didn't seem to be anything good playing, so I stopped on whatever station was playing actual music and not just ads or a talk show and called it a night.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of my window and took a deep breath. It seemed help some of the spinning, and it felt nice on my skin. Plus, I could look outside.

Devon had pulled off in a gas station, probably a 7-Eleven. There was one on almost every corner.

Sometimes across the street from each other! I wondered briefly if they ever just. . .had turf wars when that happened.

I giggled for a few minutes at the image of two 7-Eleven employees standing in front of their stores, shaking their fists at each other. Undercutting gas prices. Shouting "I'll get you next time!" across the road.

It seemed to take Devon forever to buy me a bottle of water and I took it from him, guzzling half of it down to chase the salty fries.

"What was so funny?" he asked. "I saw you in here giggling like crazy."

"Geez, I've only been here for three years waiting for you," I muttered, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. I elected to ignore his stupid question.

"Oh, get real," he said, not unkindly.

When he wasn't looking, I stuck my tongue out at him and went back to nursing my fries.

"What are you listening to?" Devon asked after a few minutes, giving the radio a funny look before fixing the dial.

"Dunno. Music, I guess."

He scoffed. "If you say so."

"I just picked a station, alright? God," I huffed, considering splashing him with my water.

But it was my water.

For the rest of the right, I pouted in my seat, turned to face the outside world as it went by. I remarked on his speed limit a couple times, but otherwise, I was giving him the silent treatment.

Well, until we finally made it to our destination.

"You didn't indicate the turn!" I gasped as he pulled into the parking lot at headquarters.

"Oh no, better call the police."

"I'm gonna."

"I wish you would."

"Fine, then I won't."

Devon shook his head in amusement and motioned toward my door. "Just get outta my car before you throw up in it."

"I'm not gonna throw up," I insisted. "I feel perfectly fine."

Luckily, I'd found my balance inside the bottle of water and at the bottom of my fries. The world had still lost focus and the slightest movement dragged my attention away from—everything. But, at least I could climb out of the car without falling on my face.

"I didn't even get to be in a bar fight," I grumbled, rubbing my face.

"That's a good thing," Devon insisted, closing my door when I'd forgotten to. I was about to apologize, then I forgot what for.

"So, uh, what did—what did Dixon want?" I asked, the words thick on my tongue. How many times had I asked that? I was pretty sure I'd asked the same question before. . . .

He shrugged. "Dunno. Didn't say. Just wanted us to come in as quick as we could."

"Why's he gotta be so cryptic? You sure he didn't have any information to give us?" I asked, letting Devon lead me around headquarters.

"Said there'd been a break in a case and he wanted to give us the good news in person," he finally relented, not quite touching me but still within arm's reach.

I stuck my tongue out at him and said, "See? He did say something!"

"Not much."

"Still something."

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry."

Grunting, I muttered that I forgave him and pressed the elevator button a few dozen times. While we waited, I asked, "Are you taking me home after this?"

"Yeah, course."

"Gonna walk me to my apartment?" I teased, poking him a few times in the ribs.

He twitched and pushed my hand away. "Hey—knock that off. Now I see why you didn't go drinking with us."

"Why?"

"You've lost all your composure! It's hilarious."

Frowning, I turned away and marched into the elevator to stand in the back. "I have not. I'm perfectly composed."

"Uh huh, sure."

I crossed my arms and glowered at the doors. He chuckled and said, "To answer your question, yes. I would walk you to your apartment. I'd be too afraid you'd try to get into the wrong one."

Lips pursed, I decided to shift my attention back to him. "Yeah I guess. Thanks."

"Hey, what are partners for?"

We somehow made it to our floor without me tripping on anything or veering off-course. I was still floaty, like I'd somehow become lighter, and my head was fuzzy.

But, I was functioning.

Dixon, however, wasn't in his office. It was all dark except for a couple of overhead lights in the main room.

After waiting a few minutes, he still didn't show up.

"Well?" I demanded. "Where is he?"

"Right here. Glad you two could make it."

I jumped four feet in the air and spun around; my legs threatened to give out from under me. Director Dixon was in the hallway leading to the elevators, his hands in his pockets as he approached us.

"God! Don't surprise me!" I sputtered.

Dixon made a questioning look at Devon, who shrugged and said, "Don't mind her. Nichole, drink your water. What do you need?"

He shifted his attention from me to Dixon and I grumbled about him telling me what to do, but I drank my water anyway. Devon had mentioned something about flushing the alcohol out of my system or some shit. It was almost empty, though. What was I going to do, then?

Guess I could fill it. There were some drinking fountains by the restrooms. The water from it was cold, if not the tastiest I've ever had.

Water was water.

More impatient than normal, I prompted, "What did you need, sir?"

Finally, Dixon explained himself. "There's been some. . .openings on the Predator team. They came back about two hours ago. Nichole, you were the first person I recommended."

Those words alone were enough to make my adrenaline spike and my mind clear enough to focus. The swaying didn't stop—and my legs were killing me—but he had my attention.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, then inhaled deeply. "Openings?" I said, working harder than normal to enunciate properly.

Someone died, the voice in the back of my head reminded me.

"Yes. I already put in the paperwork for your clearance level. Devon, I haven't asked you yet—did you want in?" he asked, pointing at my partner.

Devon glanced at me, as if waiting for me to protest. I scoffed and announced, "We're like, a package deal."

Wait, why did I say that?

He grinned at me and said, "You heard the lady. Wouldn't want to break up the dream team, would we?"

Embarrassed, I averted my eyes.

"Alright, that's settled," Dixon quipped. "I already pushed through the paperwork for you transfer, too. I thought you might say that."

"So, are we officially part of the taskforce, then?" I asked, meticulously enunciating everything I said, trying to sound more sober than I felt at that moment.

"Almost. Close enough, anyway. I might be breaking a few rules here, but I'd like you to follow me to the basement," Dixon said, gesturing for us to come with him.

I bit my lip. "You mean. . .their basement? For labs and stuff?"

Nodding, he held his arm out and we walked forward, matching strides with him toward the elevators. "That's right. I'd only meant for you to come, Nichole, but since I couldn't reach you, I had to call Devon, too."

"Thanks, boss!" Devon piped up, giving Dixon and incredulous expression.

Dixon ignored him.

"Sorry," I said. "Left my phone in the car."

"I know you were off the clock when I called, so I'll forgive your current state and apologize for ruining your night out," said Dixon. "However, I think once you're officially on the team, you'll find it in your heart to forgive me."

My mouth opened to ask, but Devon beat me to it and I clamped my mouth shut. What was I going to ask, anyway? The question had already fluttered away.

"So, who did we lose?" Devon's voice was calculated and flat. "And how?"

Ah Devon, asker of the hard questions. Though I tried, I couldn't hold back mini-giggles. "I bet I know how," I whispered in a sing-song voice.

There was a good chance it had to do with a large, muscular alien punching out their hearts.

The director didn't miss a beat, or maybe he didn't hear me. "Lena Henson, Jimmy Collins, Paul Kim, Letitia Wright, and Ethan Donahue. They were. . .slain, trying to apprehend the extraterrestrial."

"That's my bo-oy."

Both men turned their heads toward me and I pursed my lips, ducking my head. Heat—more than what was already there—flushed my cheeks and I fought to stifle a smile. I mouthed the word "sorry" and chugged the rest of my water.

I thought I said it quietly. Oh well.

"How many drinks did she have?" Dixon demanded. The elevator doors closed around us.

Devon sighed and scratched the bridge of his nose. "Two shots, a margarita, and a piña colada."

Dixon gave me a strange look and I scowled. "I never drank before!" I snarled.

Even in my state, I knew how out of line my tone had been. I clenched my eyes shut. "Sorry, sorry, sorry," I chanted, breathing deeply.

Maybe I could expunge the liquor by sheer force of will.

"Well, she'll sober right up when she sees it," Dixon said as the doors to the elevator opened again. It was the one basement we hadn't previously been cleared for.

Wait. He said. . ."it".

The word hit me in the stomach like an angry bull and I reeled, eyes wide. I glanced between Devon and Dixon, my mind cleared, and balance mostly restored. My hands shook, and my lip quivered as I tried to find the words.

Finally, they came. "What it?"

Dixon smiled, and my stomach churned. He held out his hand, inviting me forward. Devon looked to me while keeping the elevator doors open with his body, but I was frozen where I stood, paralyzed by the implications. I looked between the two of them, my mouth open.

"What it?" I demanded again with more force. I wasn't leaving the elevator until he answered me.

"The reason why I was only going to call you here. I thought you'd appreciate the courtesy."

When I still didn't move forward, he sighed and faced me. "Well, I wanted it to be a surprise, but. . .we have a specimen."

Another punch to the stomach. My hands clenched into fists, but I still left the car.

They couldn't have.

Dixon's smile broadened, and he ushered us on while saying, "Your expertise will be pivotal to this case from here on out. I've been trying to get you on the taskforce since you started training, but they weren't approving the man-hours required to add an extra person."

His words seemed so far away—I could barely process them. I was walking through a dream, leaning on Devon so he could help me reach where we were going. He didn't seem to mind and propped me up.

It has to be a mistake.

My mind was working overtime, trying to convince myself that there was no way they'd have captured one of Wolf's kind. They were so tough, so strong.

Another part was struggling with why I cared at all. Wolf could be an outlier—an anomaly within the race. If I'd met with Brutus first, he would have killed me. He was ready to kill me, if Wolf hadn't been there.

The smallest, but loudest, part was screaming at the top of its lungs—"what if it's Wolf?"—and I couldn't shut it out.

It's not.

It can't be.

They wouldn't be able to get him!

"Now we have the perfect opportunity. It's just unfortunate how it came to be," Dixon finished. I couldn't remember what he had said before that.

After a short walk through the hall, he opened a door to a room that wasn't unlike the xenomorph observation room. The only difference was that the room on the other side of the window wasn't a giant laboratory.

My feet carried me without hesitation to stand in front of the glass, leaving Devon behind at the entryway. When I saw what was waiting for me there, my breath left my lungs and I struggled to pull in air.

The white room on the other end of the glass was much smaller than the xenomorph lab. On one side was a metal table lined with tools all ordered neatly and ready to be used.

In the center was a metal bed, raised up so its occupant was mostly upright and turned toward what I assumed was a one-way mirror.

"We lost five good agents, but we finally have a live specimen to study, and a whole load of tech to reverse engineer," Dixon said, his voice smug and triumphant.

If I wasn't so preoccupied with the room and its single occupant, I would have slapped the smug right off his face.

But I couldn't look away. I could barely even remember to breathe.

Strapped to the examining table.

Barely awake, movements sluggish, visibly weak and confused.

Bruised.

Bloodied.

Naked.

It was one of them. They'd done it. I didn't know how. I didn't know when.

But they'd done it.

They'd captured a predator.

Chapter Text

The acrid taste of bile rose in my throat. It took me several seconds to remember how to breathe. I braced myself against the glass, the smallest bump it made gaining the attention of the prisoner on the other side.

That tiny but loud voice in my head was off the rails, filling my thoughts. Blocking everything else out of them.

Wolf!

They got him!

I have to help!

Head swimming, I barely heard Devon ask Dixon a question. They seemed so far away, so inconsequential to what was going on right in front of me as my vision tunneled.

My stomach churned, and I wrapped an arm around my torso, trying to hold myself together. I turned around, eyes unable to focus, and searched for either my boss or Devon.

I realized too late that my breathing was more than audible.

With my other hand, I groped the air, looking for something to brace against or grab. Bees filled my skull, buzzing with static.

Devon found me, holding my outstretched arm with one hand and setting the other at my lower back. "Nichole, are you okay?" he asked. It sounded like he was speaking through water.

How? How did they get him? How dare they lock him down like some kind of animal? My fingers balled into fists and I searched until I found the fuzzy outline of Dixon. I stumbled toward him with malicious intent. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and held it out toward me, misinterpreting my intentions.

"Ms. Shain what's wrong?"

Somehow, I found my voice. "How dare—"

It was the catalyst my stomach needed. Cotton filled my head and I reeled, lunging across the room for the trash bin. I emptied the volatile cocktail of fries, water, and liquor from my stomach, making it to the trash by mere inches. Fingers brushed my cheeks and my hair was tugged back out of the way.

"Jesus Christ, Hart! Why'd you let her drink that much?" Dixon demanded from where he was standing.

"I didn't!" Devon's voice was right behind me. "I deliberately tried to avoid this."

I shut my eyes tight and coughed into the trash can, tried to wrap my mind around the fact that they had managed to capture Wolf—

No.

Not Wolf

"I didn't think she'd react this way. What's wrong with her?" Dixon asked.

Devon shifted next to me. "I don't know—I. . .it must just be overwhelming? Nichole what's wrong? Talk to us."

No, no, no. I shook my head and sat back on my haunches, wiping my mouth with my sleeve. They weren't getting a peep out of me, not about what I was really thinking, anyway. How appalled I was that they were successful in their endeavors.

That I was insulted by their success.

"It's fine," I said, my voice thick and wet. "I just—everything. . .I wasn't ready and. . .I feel better now, really."

When I tried to stand, Devon held his arm out and let me use him as a ladder to my feet. The contents of my stomach were replaced with a hate-fueled fire. Though already empty, I still wanted to throw up. If I had my gun, I couldn't have guaranteed I wouldn't use it and shoot Dixon to make an escape happen.

Even if I did, the predator in there—Wolf or not—was drugged up. He wouldn't have been any help in his own rescue. We wouldn't have gotten far. Devon would have stopped us, and I didn't have the heart to fill him with lead.

I moved over to the window and took a hard look at whoever was in there. Wrong skin color, too bulky—not Wolf. He was built more like Brutus had been.

Relief filled me, and I almost sagged back to the floor. It didn't matter who was in there, though, I wanted to help. Needed to help.

There had to be a way. Despite knowing he was on Earth to kill people, I couldn't bring myself to give a single fuck. Maybe if he was planning to kill people I knew, but as it was, he had been hunting on the other side of the world and there was no point in holding it against him.

The important thing here was that we had one of Wolf's people and that meant we had Wolf's tech. I had to get it back or find the means to destroy it.

My partner joined me, but I ignored him. Now that I wasn't blinded by surprise and rage, I could see he wasn't naked after all: his loincloth merely matched the color of his skin—charred wood, compared to Wolf's pistachio.

The small but loud voice in the back of my head had finally been silenced. It wasn't Wolf. I could relax, I could think.

"How did you do it?" I said at last, still hoarse in the throat.

Dixon shook his head and stepped up next to me, turning me by force with his hands on my shoulders. I refused to look at him, my gaze still drawn to the predator. He said, "None of that matters. What happened to you? Do you need some water?"

My mouth did taste awful. I sighed and touched my fingers to my forehead. A sheen of sweat had formed on my brow. "Yes, please. Water would be fantastic."

"Devon, go get her some water," Dixon ordered.

Devon didn't immediately move, and I turned my head away from the window to stare directly at our director. "Let me in there with him," I said, my tone calm despite the squall inside me.

What are you doing?

Silence met my request, but my resolve didn't falter. I kept my gaze even and my expression set.

After we stared each other down for a spell, Dixon shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "That's not happening," he said, trying to match my defiant stare. When I parted my lips to speak, he cut me off with a swift gesture. "You just had a full-blown panic attack at the mere sight of that thing! You're not going in there with it."

"I'm fine!" I ripped my arm free of his grasp when he tried to drag me off and I backed away. "It was just the alcohol!"

"You didn't look fine," Devon said, his voice soft and face contorted with concern.

Our gazes met, and my shoulders slumped. Devon was looking at me like I was an apparition. I imagined how I looked to him—tense, frazzled, aggressive. Here I was, the woman who had survived a night inside a closed ship with those vicious black parasites. . .torn to shreds at the first sign of meeting with the kind of alien that had saved my life.

This wasn't me. I'd been caught off-guard, flat-footed. I'd allowed myself to be rattled and I had to calm down.

I put a hand to my head and glanced out toward the predator. His wounds were many and I felt heat flood my veins—why wouldn't they treat his wounds? At least attempt to bandage him? And his breathing was labored. . .he was going to slowly suffocate to death.

My fingers flexed in and out of a fist. Demands halted at the tip of my tongue—help him, give him his mask, let him go, you'll all be sorry. . . .

"I need some air." I rubbed my face and inhaled deeply.

Devon was at my side instantly, leading me out of the room. Dixon followed behind us to lock the door. I brushed Devon away each time he offered a helping hand or moved too close.

"I want a chance to talk to him," I demanded once inside the elevator.

"You're still on that?" Dixon sighed.

Squaring my shoulders, I faced him and forced my voice to remain even. "You said it yourself, you're going to need me now more than ever. I've interacted with his kind as an ally. I've had a taste of their language and he'll listen to me."

"What makes you so sure?"

My gaze flickered to Devon, and then I sighed and lowered my jacket, then pulled down the collar of my shirt to expose the mark left by Wolf.

"Because I've got this." I shifted my clothes back when Dixon had a good enough look.

"And why would that bare any influence?" he challenged. "It's just a scar you got from the incident."

Again, my gaze shifted between the two men, trying to decide if it was worth it. If divulging this information gave me access to the predator in that room, then is was more than worth it.

"The one that saved me gave it to me after I helped him kill the queen. He. . .it was some sort of rite of passage, an honor or something. He had. . .a similar marking on his mask. I don't know what this one in particular means, but, maybe it'll help the one you guys have feel more. . .comfortable."

"Just with you, though," Dixon clarified, his expression dubious.

I nodded. "Most likely."

"Are you sure? What if that means something completely different?" Devon countered.

Sighing, I closed my eyes. "I don't know if it does or not, but it's a shot. He'll talk to me, at least."

"How will he understand?"

I bit my lip and said, "If you would give him his mask it would translate. At least, I assume that's how the other one was able to understand me, even I couldn't understand him."

Dixon shook his head. "Are you sure?"

I lifted my hands by my head and sighed. "You'll just have to give me a chance! I'm not certain about anything. All I have to go off is what happened to me on that ship."

The two men looked at each other, and then the elevator doors opened. I followed Dixon out, Devon still by my side.

"Fine, but definitely not tonight. Your clearance hasn't gone through and we need time," Dixon stated. "We need to tend his wounds, and there are tests that need to be run."

"Who's going to tend his wounds? We were the only ones there," I pointed out.

"No, they were testing his blood in the lab. That's just an examination room. They can't treat him until they know what he's made of, otherwise we could kill him. They'll treat him superficially for now, stop him from bleeding out," he explained, leading us back to the offices.

Not quite satisfied, I pursed my lips and made a non-committal sound. It was a start, at least. Maybe they'd give him some way to breathe, too. The air on their ship had been. . .excruciating.

Eyes narrowed, Dixon said, "Why do you care so much, Shain?"

You're in too deep! Real it in, Nichole.

Maybe honesty would work.

"Because," I started, unable to keep a sharpness out of my words, "his kind helped me. I want to make sure you guys are treating him as fairly as you would any other murderer put in jail. I'm not saying treat him like royalty, but he is a sentient being, surely that means something?"

"I'm with Nichole on this one, sir." Devon added the "sir" in afterthought. I shot him a grateful look and he nodded at me.

Shaking his head, Dixon turned away. "I assure you, he'll be kept alive. When you come into work on Monday, we'll let you have your shot at interrogation. The paperwork will have gone through by then and you'll officially be a member of the taskforce."

Waiting until Monday seemed too far away, but if that was what it took, then I'd have to deal with it. That would give me time to plot and calm down. I was too keyed up.

"Alright, you two go home for now," Dixon ordered, stopping at the entrance to finish the chat. "I should have waited until Monday to dump all this on you. This obviously wasn't the best of times to do this."

"I'm fine," I said through clenched teeth. "It's just because I don't drink."

Yes, blame the alcohol.

It hadn't been the gut-wrenching belief that my friend was going to be experimented on and tortured for science. Even the mere thought made my insides flop.

"All the more reason for you to go home, get some rest, and take the weekend to cool off," Dixon said with finality. "I'll see you guys bright and early Monday morning."

Before he could wander too far, I called out to him. "Dixon, wait."

"What, Shain?"

"They can't breathe very well in out air. Their masks act as a ventilator," I told him. "Please get it to him."

He looked at me a long time, then pressed his lips together and nodded. "I'll take care of it."

We waited for Dixon to disappear back into the elevator hall before I marched outside, coming to stand at the edge of the sidewalk, bent over at the waist and hand son my face. I took several deep breaths, letting the crisp air fill my lungs and clear my head.

My entire body trembled with the suppressed emotions. I waited for Devon to speak, acutely aware that he was hovering close by. He didn't, and I wasn't sure if I liked it: all I could hear was my heartbeat pounding in my ears and the sound of my own breathing.

"So. . .do you want a ride home?" he asked gently, putting a hand on my shoulder.

I stood upright and turned to face him. Something on his face made me want to flee. The concern? The pity? Whatever it was, I spun on my heel and started down the sidewalk.

However, he grabbed my arm and pulled me to a stop while saying, "Nichole, what are you doing? Where are you going?"

Hissing, I wrenched my arm free of his grasp and whirled on him, ready to lash out. However, those same expressions that made me want to escape extinguished the flame inside me and I lowered my gaze.

"Nothing," I muttered. "I'm going home."

"You live miles from here."

"So?"

"What happened in there?" he asked after a moment's hesitation. "I've never seen you so shaken like that, not even when went down to see those parasite things. I thought whatever they caught tonight helped you?"

"He did. Not that one, but one of them."

"So then why. . . ?"

When I couldn't find the right words, I tossed my hands in defeat and huffed. "I don't know, Devon. I just—I saw him on that table and I. . .I panicked, okay? The alcohol certainly didn't help but I was just. . .scared."

"Why? He can't get out."

"Not for me. For him."

He stared at me like I was speaking in tongues. I shook my head and turned away, marching toward in the direction of my apartment. "You wouldn't understand."

Once again, he stopped me by the arm. "Then help me understand."

We locked eyes, and then I shook my head and pulled away. "I can't right now, Devon. I need to go home. I need to walk. Just. . .I need to be alone for a little bit, please?"

For a moment he stood there, looking torn. I silently pleaded for him to drop it and let me go. When he did, he looked so crestfallen I almost took it back. It was almost the same look my old dog Atlas had given me if I ever accidentally stepped on him.

"Alright," he said with a shrug. "Well, I'll see you on Monday, then, Nichole. Though, are you sure you'll be okay walking home from here? I don't mind driving you closer."

My resolve faltered, but I held it together with safety pins and nodded, forcing a smile. "I'll be alright, I promise."

It wouldn't have been the first time I'd walked home from work.

He nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets and backed up to stand under a street light. I glanced over my shoulder a couple times to watch him as I walked away, shot him a reassuring wave, then hurried onward without looking back again.

I never did get my water.

*:･ﾟ✧

I hadn't dressed for a walk home in the middle of the night. Not even the brisk pace would stave off the cold and I huddled against myself, pulling my thin jacket as tightly around me as I could.

It didn't help.

What it did, do, was chase away the last dregs of inebriation. I could think. I could walk straight. I wasn't in the right shoes for jogging, but I jogged home anyway.

As always, jogging was a great distraction. I hardly ever hoofed it home from work, so I was forced to focus on which road I was on, where I needed to turn, and how far away I was.

Losing my way wasn't a concern: I had made sure to keep my phone on me after Devon and I had driven over from the bar. If I ever felt like I didn't know where I was, I could pop that out and check the GPS.

But, I was pretty good at landmarks and street names.

Even jogging, it took forever to make it home. I was breathless, dying of thirst, and my feet were killing me.

None of it mattered.

The second I was inside my apartment and the door closed behind me, I had one thing on my mind. The one solution I could think of to fix the problem I had run into.

Call Wolf.

I tripped over myself to get to my room, dropping my purse and coat somewhere along the way. Knowing I'd be home late, I'd left the hall light on, so I could find my way without fumbling through the dark.

Once in my room, I yanked out the top drawer of my dresser and dropped it on my bed, rifling through it. The contents were strewn all over the floor before I found it: Wolf's computer. I stared at it in my hands for a heartbeat, then I say down and put it on my lap.

My mouth still tasted of bile, pulling me out of my thoughts. I had been in such a rush to call Wolf, but now that I was staring at the wrist computer, my hands refused to work.

It'll still be here after I brush my teeth.

And had a drink of water. I set the computer aside and fled to my bathroom to clean out my mouth. Afterwards, I poured myself a tall glass of water and chugged the whole thing down. Then, I was right back on the bed, Wolf's device on top of my legs. It was the only thing—save for the trophy draped over the corner of my vanity mirror and the scar on my chest —tying me to him.

After opening the top, the buttons heated under the pads of my fingers. I lifted a hand, digits hovering just above the controls. All I had to do was touch the pad in the right sequence and he would head to Earth for me.

Maybe.

We would save that other predator together, then kill the xenomorphs in the lab. Their technology would be in safe hands. Then we would leave together.

Maybe.

Just had to put in the correct code and wait for him to show up.

Maybe.

How long would it take? Would he come to my apartment, or wherever the computer went? If I brought it to work with me, would he show up there? And if he did show up at headquarters. . . .

I swallowed the image of him cutting down the other agents, the lab techs. I clenched my eyes shut against the brutal scene of my coworkers' limp bodies on the ground and headquarters in shambles. Broken and burning down.

Me, flanked by two violent aliens, at the forefront.

The cause of it all.

It was easy to think about how I would free the predator, or how I would go about killing the xenos when it would be me doing most of the work. I would know my way around, how to get in without hurting a lot of people. With Wolf there, I knew it in my heart of hearts that there would be a ton of collateral damage. One or two people on my conscience I could cope with. . . the destruction of my entire workplace?

No. Not that.

Most of all, my will faltered when I realized Devon would be caught up in the crossfire. He would likely be killed during the raid. Obnoxious, aggravating, always following me around. . . .

Sweet, attentive, and caring Devon.

The thought of him lying dead, the look of betrayal stuck permanently to his face—I sucked in my breath and pushed the computer down to my kneecaps. I knew I had to do something; I couldn't just leave the predator there. I could. . .go at night or tell Devon to stay away. Somehow, I would find a way to convince him.

Once again, my fingers hovered over the touch pad. A few simple swipes and Wolf would be on his way to my side.

Maybe.

My mind froze. What was the sequence?

Doubt was replaced with alarm and my hands fluttered over the screen. Why couldn't I remember? It was right there, at the forefront of my brain. So close, like it was directly on my fingertips. A million thoughts raced through my mind like angry wasps, contingency plans—would our prisoner take me if I freed him? What was I going to do if something went horribly wrong and I needed to call Wolf?

I smacked the sides of my head with my hands and closed my eyes shut. "No, no, no. You can remember it, it was right there, just calm down and think," I muttered to myself.

However, I still couldn't bring myself to think that he was absolutely needed. Not right away, at least.

Though I was confident I could destroy the xenos on my own, I wasn't sure if I could rescue the predator by myself. That was an endeavor I might need Wolf for, but I wouldn't know if I didn't try. He could be a last-ditch effort.

If he came when I called.

A brief thought crossed my mind—would the predator help me kill those bugs off if I freed him? That was unlikely. He'd be too doped up.

So, I was stuck wondering what I should prioritize. Saving him or eradicating the xenomorphs. Despite how I felt about leaving my home planet, they were a menace and they were about to be moved across the country.

There was so much that could go wrong.

And if anything did go wrong, I needed to be able to call for backup. As it was, the only back up I knew of was Wolf. I could send the predator home, not go with him, destroy the xenos. . . .

Whatever. One step at a time. I could figure everything else out as it came up.

First thing's first—remember the god damned sequence. Then I would know what my plan was.

The computer's touch pad seemed flat at an initial glance, but it had seams to separate the different controls. I had learned the hard way not to touch them: even the slightest pressure caused activation. The year after I finished training I was a little too brave and ran my fingers over the buttons, causing the screen to light up with bright red letters. For hours I had been terrified that I'd set an explosive or called someone else to my planet.

Nothing happened, but after that I was extra careful. Each night I would go through the sequence to remind myself. Look, go through the motions, but don't touch.

So why couldn't I fucking remember?

The night's events had me wound up. I set the computer down and moved to my kitchen to fix another drink. More water. I paced the apartment, changed my clothes, washed my face, then leaned over the sink in my bathroom. Eyes shut tight, I focused on keeping my breathing even.

I pictured in my mind's eye the first time Wolf showed me the sequence—his "phone number." I imagined the million times I went through it in the mornings before work. I tried to think. My daily itinerary went through my head, as did the songs I liked to listen to and the last movie that I had watched. It was a remake of some movie my dad loved.

It wasn't at the theaters, but I'd rented it from a RedBox to watch on my TV. I didn't have cable, and I mooched wifi off my neighbors, so I needed something to pass the time. I'd rented it because Dad had been talking about it when I called him. That was weeks ago.

Taking a deep breath, I looked up at myself in the mirror. My usually pale face was reddened, eyes sunken in from exhaustion. It was almost two in the morning and I felt like I'd been up for days.

Epiphany struck out of nowhere and I remembered.

The bathroom light was left on in my rush over to my room. I scrambled to get the computer in my hands, lest I forget again. I fumbled to pull the top open and then poised my fingers over the controls.

They flit over pad like they'd been doing it my entire life. It forced a laugh of victory to my lips and I heaved a heavy sigh while rolling to my back, pressing my fist to my forehead. It had been there the whole time, I'd just been too keyed up. Like when you forget a word you use all the time—just a synapse misfiring.

I closed the computer, having ample time to convince myself I didn't need to call Wolf. Not yet, anyway. Not until I knew for sure I couldn't handle this on my own. The last thing I wanted was to level my entire building and cause the death of everyone in it, just because I was unsure.

A last resort.

Wolf's computer was tucked away into my underwear drawer once again and I returned my delicates to their proper places, folding them with precise movements. I was still too wound up to sleep, though I knew I needed to. The best thing I could do was watch a couple movies to calm down.

I didn't have anything going on in the morning. My trip to the gym could be put off if I needed the sleep.

Before starting up my copy of Office Space, I popped my sleep aids and a single Xanax to keep me level-headed. It had been years since I'd felt the need to take anti-anxiety meds, but now seemed like a good time.

By the time the movie ended, I felt relaxed enough to crawl into bed and attempt sleep. Maybe I shouldn't have mixed the residual alcohol and the narcotics, but whatever.

If I didn't wake up, that meant I wouldn't have to worry about aliens anymore.

Chapter Text

Monday wasn't coming fast enough. The hours themselves were taking forever to pass.

Sleep, it seemed—or at least the feeling of being well-rested—was a distant memory. Even after taking my sleep aids, I still woke up tired that morning. All I wanted to do was to sleep for several more hours, but once I was up from going to the bathroom, my mind was already in another world. I had too much on my mind.

Figure out what to ask. How to ask it. I wanted to know how they managed to catch him, and what they planned on doing with him.

Besides, of course, the obvious: experiments. Biopsies. Blood tests and interrogations. A stone settled in my stomach when I imagined what they'd do during those interrogations. Wondering if they'd allow him the same rights and protections a human would receive during questioning.

I doubted it.

All I could do was sit and glower at my Pop Tarts, waiting for Monday. A few times, I gathered my things and planned on marching down to my building and demanding I given an audience with him. It didn't close on the weekends, Devon and I just happened to have it off because of the closed case. People would be there.

Though I didn't know which ones, someone who had the power to let me in would be.

Whether or not they would was a horse of a different color. Dixon had said my clearance wouldn't go through until Monday.

So, I wasn't getting in. No matter how much I wanted to. The remaining question, then, was what I was going to do with myself until I could: the same things I always did on my days off.

When I could stop brooding long enough to pull my shit together, I went for a jog. Usually, I did that earlier in the morning when it was cooler. Thankfully, though, it was late enough in the year that it was always a bit nippy.

I normally liked running. On any other day, it quieted the voices. The ones that echoed every sound, every thought, every feeling that boiled inside me.

It was one of the times that everything was quiet.

And now even that was gone.

Call Wolf.

Get in there and help that poor thing.

He doesn't need help, he got himself in that situation the first place. He wasn't good enough.

Who took him down?

What does it matter? He's not Wolf. He was here killing people for sport. You owe him nothing.

Why do you care?

Why do you care?

Why do you care?

Why do you care?

Out of breath and heart pounding, I stopped at the corner of a street and put my hands on my head. I closed my eyes tight and teeth gritted, I tried to drown it all out. The music blaring in my headphones was already loud enough to damage my hearing, but it wasn't helping. My thoughts were louder than thunder.

When I'd finally quieted them through sheer force of will, I opened my eyes and stared up at the dreary, gray sky. Rain or snow was on the way.

I took one last deep breath, then took a look around to figure out where I was. Normally, I had a route, but I didn't immediately recognize my surroundings when I'm come out of my own head.

Soon, though, I realized where I was.

Without meaning to, I'd taken my jog all the way to work—I didn't even run that far on a normal day. The building was right across the street, the windows staring at me like dozens of judging eyes. I stood there on the street corner, watching it and considering taking the steps to cross the street. To walk inside. To find Dixon and demand an audience.

I leaned forward and my legs twitched, ready to carry me.

Closing my eyes again, I ran through my options. There weren't many. Either I satiated my own thirst and looked suspiciously desperate, or I kept up appearances and waited while not knowing ate me alive.

Though it didn't sit right with me, I gave up and started the trek back to my apartment.

For the next several minutes, I juggled between going home and deciding to go into work. I probably looked a fool, walking a block only to turn around and go back the way I came. Quite a few times.

Before anyone could call the cops on the crazy lady pacing between streets, I mentally kicked myself and left. For good. I didn't look back or have any second thoughts. Wouldn't allow it.

Appearances were all I had. If I let them go, I would have nothing. Everything would crumble apart from there and all I'd have left was the hollow person hiding within me. No friends, barely any contact with family, and a job that did nothing but pay the bills and further an agenda.

All for an alien I barely knew.

Oh, but how badly I wanted to know him.

Do you think helping this predator will make you look better to Wolf? He probably doesn't even know him.

It didn't matter. I couldn't explain to myself why I wanted to help him. Maybe it was to do right by Wolf. Maybe it was because it was another chance to learn more about them.

Or maybe it was because I was so desperate to see Wolf that I was projecting onto this one.

How desperate are you to see him really?

I smacked my cheeks and clenched my eyes shut, willing the voices to go away again. They asked too many hard questions. Questions I didn't want to or couldn't answer. I didn't like thinking. I liked doing. I had a tendency to overthink everything, and it was driving me crazy.

So that's what had to happen.

Doing.

My apartment wasn't that big and it didn't have a lot of stuff in it, but I cleaned anyway. Then, I took the bus to the store and bought some groceries. Even the tasks weren't enough to rid me of the thoughts. I bounced between "where's the Lysol" and "what's the point of anything I do". From "do I need eggs?" to "you're too inadequate anyway, best to just keep doing what you've been doing for five years."

Luckily, though, I was good at ignoring that particular line of thinking. It was when it concerned Wolf and now that new predator that I started to spiral. I somehow still managed to finish my errands.

Errands and chores took up a few hours of my time, and on top of the extra-long run, that brought me to the end of the day for the most part.

Close enough that it didn't make sense for me to want to go into work. Especially because my legs were ready to give out. I'd done too much exercise on a cold day for them to be okay. All I wanted to do was sit down and rest for the remainder of my evening.

Mission successful.

However, I didn't have any fucking idea how I was going to occupy myself the next day. It was a Sunday, so there wouldn't be a whole lot to do.

It was going to be a long day.

*:･ﾟ✧

I couldn't handle it.

I fought tooth and nail for the strength to ignore it. Sunday came and I worked out at the gym, took a walk—but the voices and the thoughts plagued me.

So I lost.

Took the bus out to headquarters.

I marched faster than normal from my stop to the building, ignoring the discomfort it caused me. The front doors slid open for me and I greeted the front desk clerk with a nod before heading up to the office that I had worked in.

When I made it up to the offices, Dixon was there in his office, his nose buried deep in paperwork like always. I had expected that I would have to hunt him down.

He looked up when I entered, knocking only once. He put his pen down and gave me a surprised look.

"What is it, Nichole?" Dixon demanded.

My entire trip to the building was spent deciding what I was going to say. That all went right out the window when it came down to actually saying it.

"Sir, I want to talk to him."

The director stared at me for a moment, then sighed. "I told you to wait until Monday."

"I know, and I'm sorry" I said, tipping my head up and trying to look firm but respectful. "I just can't. . .stop thinking about it. I can't sleep."

He raised his brows and rested his arms on his lap. "Why is that, Nichole?"

Despite my attempt at composure, I still found myself fidgeting where I stood. This was something I hadn't thought about. Well I had, but an idea had yet to present itself to me.

"I. . .I'm not sure."

Dixon paused, then sighed and pulled his reading glasses from his face to rub his eyes. "Though I sympathize with you to a degree, I cannot allow you to interact with him until your clearance is approved. You aren't technically on the team, and you haven't even met Hassan yet," he said.

"So. . .this Hassan is who I'm going to be working under?" I asked, my hand up to pause the conversation.

"Yes."

"Okay, so then, is he here? I could talk to him."

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. He usually isn't on the weekends, but considering the circumstances, he might be."

"Can you ask, or—"

Clearing his throat, he leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "Listen, you can't get in to speak with it. Not yet. But I could probably let you in to the observation room again if that would make you feel better."

His voice was firm. I opened my mouth to argue more, but thought better of it and just nodded. "Okay. That sounds fair."

It didn't, but maybe it was good enough.

Maybe I'd have an opportunity.

Relief was visible on his features and he relaxed. "Alright. By Monday morning, we'll have everything squared away and you can ask your new boss for a chance to speak with the alien."

"Of course, thank you, sir."

He motioned toward the door and said, "Let me make a call real quick to make sure you won't be getting in anyone's way when you go down there."

Somehow I managed not to jump for joy. I said, "Thank you, sir. I'll be right outside."

Nodding, he muttered to himself as I left to stand a few feet away from his office door. His shades weren't drawn, so I watched him chat on the phone with whoever. I'd never wanted the skill to read lips as badly as I did right then.

After a couple minutes, though, he pushed his chair back to stand up and I straightened up as he met me.

"So?" I asked before he could say a word. I realized how eager I might look and cleared my throat, looking down at my feet. "If I'm putting anyone out. . . ."

"They said it's okay, so let's go," he sniffed, beckoning me to follow him.

I managed to follow Dixon with some dignity into the elevator to the labs. It was difficult not to walk like I was on fire toward our destination.

Dixon readied the elevator and asked me a question. "If you do get the chance to talk with it, how do you plan to communicate? The only noises they're reported to make are roars and snarls. Do you think it'll understand English?"

He sounded genuinely curious, so I answered honestly. "They do have a language, though it's hard to pick up because it's mostly growls and clicks. They seem to rely a lot on body language, too. I was only able to pick up a few, like 'yes' and 'no' and small things. If you give him his mask, he might understand me better."

"What good will that do?"

"I think that's how the one I met understood me," I said. "It might have some sort of translator in it. It was either that or he'd been to Earth enough time to pick up a thing or two."

"Could be either one. They've been coming here a long time to hunt us," he huffed.

I couldn't tell what exactly he felt about that.

"Did you guys ever give him his mask last night? I told you he wouldn't be able to breathe—"

He cut me off with a gesture. "Yes, yes. I spoke with the scientists about it and they agreed. It was a good call, too, apparently it was having some issues. Do you think, though, that the mask will still translate without use of his wrist computer?"

That, I hadn't thought of. It brought me to a pause and I could do nothing but grimace. "I'm not actually sure. I guess we'll find out if we need to."

The elevator door opened and we stepped out. As we did so, Dixon said, "We haven't had the chance to examine the mask too much, nor his tech. Once we figure out what sort of atmosphere he needs to breathe, we'll rig up a system so we can take his mask and learn more about it."

I didn't have anything to say to that, so I just muttered, "Sounds like a plan," in a flat tone.

Dixon still had more questions as we made our way to the room he'd shown me the night before. "How do you plan on understand it, though? You said you only picked up a few small phrases."

Sighing, I nodded. "The one I was in contact with, I had to ask yes or no questions mostly. Everything else I had to play charades to understand. Might not be an option with him tied down, though. Wouldn't be able to read any gestures or anything like that—"

"Uh uh," Dixon grunted, shaking his head. "Not happening. He stays tied up."

Heat rose to my cheeks and my shoulders tensed. "I wasn't going to ask! I was just saying."

"Good. Because it won't happen."

My own bitterness kept me from continuing the conversation, but it seemed as if he was done asking questions, anyway. Next thing I knew, we'd walked through the predator's basement level to the observation room.

It wasn't inside with him, but it was a start.

The first thing I realized was that we weren't alone—another woman was inside, leaning against a single crutch. She was staring through the window with a blank expression. One I knew fairly well.

Dixon stopped short—as if caught off guard. "Morgan? What are you doing here? They didn't tell me you'd be here."

She glanced, her eyes going wide for an instant. "Oh, I didn't hear you come in, sorry," she said, turning away from the viewing window to greet us properly.

"Shouldn't you be at home resting?" Dixon asked, stepping out of the way of the door to let me in.

"I had to see it, make sure you all had it under control," he said, her gaze shifting back to the captive still tied to the examining table. "Make sure you aren't wasting my efforts."

Unease kept me rooted in place near the entrance and I glanced from Dixon to this new woman—Morgan, had he said? Dixon caught my expression and grunted, motioning toward the woman in question.

"Ms. Shain, this is K.B. Morgan. Morgan, Nichole Shain. She and her partner Devon Hart will be the newest additions to your taskforce," he said.

Besides a single large bruise under her cheek—I assumed she had been punched—and a few butterfly bandages across her right eyebrow on top of the crutch, she didn't seem too injured. I assumed she might have injuries unseen.

Though she leaned against a crutch, her favored leg wasn't in a cast. Mine hadn't been in a cast either, though, so that didn't mean anything.

Morgan was maybe six or seven years my senior. Short blond hair framed her sun-kissed face and it was the same fair, luscious color that Michelle's had been, though Michelle fancied longer styles. I felt a pang go through my chest as I brought up a memory of her; besides the short hair, Morgan looked like how I imagined Michelle would have if she'd lived past her high teen years. Give or take the thousand-yard stare that said "I've seen some shit."

It was in that regard I saw a little bit of myself in her, too.

I remembered my manners and reached out to shake her hand. "I look forward to working with you," I said.

She smiled and accepted my gesture. "You as well, Nichole."

Dixon remained nearby, his shoulders tense and hands clasped behind his back. "Morgan here has been on the force for six years and is the one who brought us the thing that you see in there today."

My mind was drawn back to my original purpose and I looked toward the window. He was still strapped to the table, but this time he had his mask concealing his face. Everything else, though—his armor and wrist computer—were still missing.

"You apprehended him?" I didn't look at her as I asked the question.

Morgan shrugged and nodded. "Yeah. He almost killed me before the sedatives could kick in, though. He did kill my teammates, too."

"Yeah I, uh, heard about that." I dropped my gaze.

"The hardest part was dragging him to extraction. He weighs a fuckton."

Smirking, I rose my eyebrows. "Is that a technical phrase? A fuckton?" The jibe was meant to hide how impressed I was. I couldn't imagine trying to drag Wolf anywhere on a good day, let alone if I was injured.

I also couldn't imagine winning in a fight against him, but maybe if he was halfway to being sedated I could have.

"It should be," she snorted.

Remembering myself, I turned to Dixon and asked, "You sure I can't get in there with him today?"

"What?" Morgan rounded a stunned look at me. "You want to be in the same room as that thing? What in the ever-living hell for?"

Before I could answer, Dixon offered an explanation. "Shain is the one I was telling you about, Morgan. And no, you can't get in there today."

I huffed and tried not to pout.

She furrowed her brow and, after a few seconds of thought, said, "You mean she's the one from the Estes Park incident?"

Dixon nodded.

Realization loosened her features and she made an O shape with her mouth. "Ah, the one who was found with the predator. Hadn't been on the task force very long when that whole thing happened. You. . .want to talk to it, don't you?"

I nodded and changed the subject. "What happened to your leg?"

When I gestured with my hand, she tipped her chin back. "This is nothing, just a bad sprain in my knee after the big guy took me down. The worst I got was a broken rib."

One of her wounds unseen.

"Alright," Dixon grunted. "I'm going to get back to work. Morgan, you better head home soon. I can't imagine you're supposed to be here with your injuries."

She made a face. "I'll leave in a few minutes. Wasn't going to stay long anyway."

Dixon nodded and turned to me. "It's your day off, too, so don't loiter here. I'll see you tomorrow morning when you come to collect yourself. Will you be able to find your way out of here?"

"Yup, I'll be fine."

Just leave already so I can break in there.

It didn't seem like he was going to insist that Morgan leave, either, but hopefully she'd make her exit soon enough. Then I could figure out a way inside. The code couldn't be too hard to break. Maybe there was a pattern with the others.

"Good. Then I'll leave you to it. No funny business," he added, pointing an accusatory finger in my direction.

I raised my hands defensively. "Wouldn't dream of it."

He gave me a hard, long look, then bade us farewell and disappeared out the door. I let out the breath I was holding and turned to look through the one-way glass at the predator.

The prisoner.

After a moment of us standing in silence, Morgan sighed. "I'm gonna go. If the doctor finds out I'm here, he'll throw a fit. It was nice meeting you, though."

"You, too." I smiled and watched her make her way out of the room. She almost struggled with the door, but she managed and it clicked shut behind her. I stared at it for a second longer to make sure no one came bursting in, then I took a long look inside the room.

One door. If I was reading the layout of the room right, the way inside was outside and around the corner.

I didn't know how much time I had. This would have to be quick—in and out. If I could even get in, and if there wasn't anyone walking around that could spot me lurking.

From what I could tell of the predator, he was at least calm. Maybe he was awake, maybe not. It was hard to be sure with that mask on him. Not that it would matter if I couldn't even find a way inside with him.

But I had a try. My sanity was counting on it.

Chapter Text

After counting out sixty seconds in my head, I was out the door, walking at a brisk pace down the hall and around the corner. The entrance to the examination room should be there, all I'd have to do is figure out the code and—

There was someone there, standing sentry.

I jumped back out of view and pressed against the wall. My heart was pounding and I was stuck wondering if they'd seen me. It would look really fucking suspicious if they had seen me. That whole spy move I'd just pulled off was the most suspicious thing I'd done all day.

Now I was stuck figuring out how to trick the person into letting me into the room. I didn't even know the code, so I'd also have to convince them to punch it in for me.

Assuming they knew.

My options seemed slim. I wasn't wearing my work clothes—since this was my day off—so it wasn't likely he'd buy that I was his relief. The only other option was some sort of distraction, but that wouldn't get me in the room.

Maybe I could just bullshit my way in.

Deciding to wing it, I took a deep breath and tried to reset my expression. Look. Natural.

When I walked around the corner, I kept my head high and forced purpose into my gait. A hard thing to sell with the limp, but I did the best I could to suppress it.

He spotted me right away and straightened up. Seemed like he was just an agent, not a security guard.

"Name," he demanded.

"Agent Nichole Shain," I said cooly, fishing my badge from my back pocket to show him. "Newest transfer to the case. Just stopping by to see the. . .specimen."

The word left an acrid taste in my throat, but I had a part to play. Didn't know if it was worth it yet, though.

After examining my badge, he hummed and relaxed. "Alright, well, what can I do for you, agent?" he asked. He sounded bored. Maybe that would work in my favor.

All I had to do was play it smart.

Or just knock him out. That was always an option. And doable, if I hit him just right. . . .

Call it "Plan Z".

"Oh, I thought I'd familiarize myself with everything. Thought I'd introduce myself, too, Mister. . . ."

He grunted. "Just Powell is fine."

"Alright, Powell. You been standing here long?" I asked, tilting my head to the side.

"Couple hours," he replied with a shrug.

"Must be boring. Why they got you here?"

Glancing at the door, he said, "Keep watch, I guess. Make sure that the specimen can't and doesn't escape."

This was Plan A. Try to schmooze my way in. Just be a regular, decent human being. Flirting was going to be almost impossible, so I wasn't even going to try. I hadn't been very good at it in high school, and then the whole notion of finding a boyfriend had gone out the window with the incident. I had bigger things to worry about.

Would prefer knocking him out to flirting. At least that I was mostly confident with.

"Is he not heavily sedated?"

"I'm sure he is, but I guess they want me here as extra security or something."

Yeah. One whole guy. Feel real safe.

If the predator in there was awake enough to break himself free, he'd just stomp all over one man, armed or not.

Well, if anything, maybe I could glean something from some this small talk. If I had him blabbering, maybe he'd give me something to work with.

"How much longer do you have on your shift?" I asked.

Powell made a face. "Another few hours. Just started."

"Any breaks?"

"I don't know. They didn't tell me. I sure hope so."

I made a sympathetic click of my tongue. "Man that must be rough. Well, do you need anything before I head out? A soda or something?"

He studied me for a moment as if he was debating something, then he nodded toward the door. "You were in observation looking at him just a few minutes ago, right?" he asked me.

"Yeah." I nodded.

"He look pretty out of it?"

Eyebrows raised, I said, "You wondering if he's gonna break loose and come get you?"

"Did he or didn't he?" Powell harrumphed, his face turning a light shade of red around his ears.

"I mean, sure. He was awake, but seemed pretty listless."

"Alright. Well, do you mind standing here for a couple minutes while I take a leak?" he asked. "Shouldn't take long, and I don't think the big guy's going anywhere."

God damn this was easy. I had to make it convincing, though, so I faked it a little bit.

"You're not afraid that you'd get in trouble?"

"Not many people come down here. I normally wouldn't ask, sorry. Just been holding it a while already."

I put my hands up and said, "You're not putting me out or anything. Just don't want to get you or myself in trouble. But yeah, I don't mind standing here if you think it'll be okay."

The look of relief on his face was delicious. "Thanks. I'll be quick."

Nodding, I took up position in front of the door. "Sure thing. We're all on the same team. Oh, I do have a quick question before you go."

"Shoot."

"I haven't gotten the chance to memorize the codes yet. Could you write them down for me real quick? Before I forget to ask when you return." I fished around in my bag a second before coming up with an old wadded up receipt and a pen.

Powell chuckled. "Sure thing. I forget them sometimes, myself. I understand having different ones for each door or whatever, but still. So dumb."

"Yeah, you said it."

He took the pen from me and used the wall as a table to scribble out some numbers for me. After handing everything back, he started walking backward down the hall. "Alright, I'll be right back, don't worry."

I waved and he turned around, disappearing around the corner. As soon as he was out of sight, I counted down from thirty to make sure he was gone for good, then started punching the numbers into the security pad by the door. I couldn't believe me luck, but I had to remind myself that he had no reason not to believe or trust me.

We were supposed to be on the same side.

"Come on," I muttered, punching in another combination. I hoped there wasn't some alarm that would blare after a certain amount of failed attempts.

The third sequence I tried worked and the light turned green. I quickly pulled on the handle and slipped inside. My stomach felt like it was full of butterflies, and I knew I was seconds away from being caught.

If I was, I'd probably wind up dragging poor Powell down with me. Couldn't really bring myself to care.

The door closed behind me with a resounding click. The sound of it stirred the predator locked down on the table and I held my breath, waiting.

I put my hands up in surrender and quietly said, "Hey there, big guy."

When he finally realized I was there and what I was, he strained against his bindings and roared a challenge at me. Despite expecting as much, I still flinched.

My heart nearly shattered at the sight of what should have been a formidable creature struggling so much. His roar wasn't even at the decibel I remembered Wolf's being. It was like seeing a lion or a tiger stuck in a tiny cage.

However, I kept my composure and swallowed my pity. He wouldn't accept pity.

At least he still had fight in him. It gave me some hope.

"Easy," I said, raising my hands back up to show I meant no harm. "I'm on your side."

Unconvinced, he rattled his bonds and I couldn't help but think that under normal circumstances, he would have destroyed them as if they were made of paper. He attempted another roar and I sighed. The only good thing about him being tied up was that I was free to approach and show him my scar without fear of him crushing my skull.

Even though I couldn't see, I glanced at the mirror taking up the wall. I could only hope that no one was on the other side watching me. I was putting everything on the line for this encounter. My luck could only stretch so far.

"I'm coming closer," I told him. Whether he understood or not, I moved toward him.

He made an awful ruckus despite his weakened state, but I stopped outside of arm's reach of his table and took a deep breath. "I'm not supposed to be here, so please be quiet. I told you, I'm on your side."

His shoulders rocked and I waited for him to calm down before I moved the collar of my shirt aside and showed him the mark Wolf had branded me with all those years ago.

"See?" I said. "One of yours."

The predator stiffened and remained still for several seconds before his head slowly tilted and he let out a curious chitter. If I hadn't known to listen for the subtle noises his species made, I would have missed it. Still, he calmed further and I even saw the muscles in his shoulders relax.

I, too, calmed down and let my shirt fall back into place. "Can you understand me?"

A single nod. I straightened up and said, "The one who gave this mark to me, his name was. . . ."

Remembering Wolf's true name was easy. Pronouncing it was not. I worked my tongue for a moment, then just dove in and gave it a shot. "Shak'it'lar. . .chalk'ar. . . . Okay, I don't know. It's something like that."

His body shook with that same enraging chuckle Wolf had and I heard the deep grumble from his mask, correcting my pronunciation.

"Sha'ktil-ar."

Hearing Wolf's name sent a tremor up my spine and I leaned forward. "Do you know him?"

He shook his head with a snort and I rocked back into my previous position. Of course not. It was just a name. For all I knew it was a very common name, or a certain phrase. If someone asked me how to pronounce a name I'd probably know what they were talking about, too. Still, I'd been hoping he knew him. Then I could figure out how he was doing.

I chewed on my lip for a minute. I'd had so many questions, but now that I was face to face with another predator, my train of thought derailed so violently I was sure Dixon heard it from the other floor. It didn't help that the pressure was building—every second I spent was a second closer to being discovered.

"Do you know what it means?"

He snorted in contempt and I winced. "Right, of course. Does it. . . ."

It was like I was back with Wolf, trying to figure out how to find out what I needed to find out with only yes or no questions. First, though, I had to figured what I needed to know.

"Do you have one, too?" I finally asked. Wolf had shown me his. Brutus never would have shown me.

A single nod. He moved his head as if to indicate to something, but he couldn't move far. It was enough to know that he had one, too, even though he didn't know Wolf.

That meant it was a cultural thing.

"Did you get it fighting those xeno—um. . .the black things. Big, angry, long heads like this?" I pantomimed a long head with both hands. I felt ridiculous and put my hands back down by my side, glancing toward the one-way mirror. "Acid for blood?"

Another nod. My heart lifted and I closed my eyes. So it had been what I'd thought—something to recognize my achievement. I opened my eyes again and caught him staring at the mirror. I followed his gaze, my throat drying up.

Quietly, I asked, "Can you see through that wall?"

He shook his head, but the answer didn't make me feel any better. I'd been hoping it was yes so he could be my lookout. I sure as fuck couldn't see through the mirror.

I was just going to have to be quick. I was on borrowed time. There was only one more thing I wanted to tell him.

In the time I'd been there, I could see a difference in his physical state. His answers were becoming less sluggish, his movements more precise. I considered that this might be my chance to break him out.

Except the building was still full of people. I didn't want to be responsible for all those deaths—or risk the chance of the two of us being shot down without any other allies.

There was hope, though. I could come back at night. I knew the codes, I could let myself in the building.

First things first, though.

Before I could open my mouth to say or ask something else, the predator pulled against his restraints so suddenly that I took a step back in surprise. He thrashed and I placed my hand on my chest to still my beating heart. It was already pounding so heavily in my chest, I didn't need that extra fright.

His message was clear. "Let me out."

My fists clenched at my sides. "I'm going to try to get you out of here," I told him.

He chittered and growled.

"I don't have a lot of power, but I can get in and out. I'll do my best to free you."

The niggling voice in my head reminded me that I needed to leave. Powell could come back any second and the last thing I needed was to be caught red-handed.

So, I backed toward the door. "Just hang on until I can figure something out. I have to go now."

Before he could reply, I punched in the code to unlock the door and slipped through, closing it quietly behind me. My heart was about to beat right out of my chest and a sheen of sweat had formed on my brow.

Playing it fast and loose, Nichole, I berated myself.

"What are you doing?"

I nearly leaped ten feet in the air and whirled around, ready to fight or flee. It was just Powell, giving me the weirdest look as he returned down the hall. He'd caught me standing with my fingers on the door handle.

Mouth bobbing, I tried to come up with something. "I—he started making a ruckus in there so I was just listening, trying to decide if it was bad or just. . .posturing. . . ."

Fuck fuck fuck!You almost fucked everything up! Fuck!

Powell rolled his eyes. "Sedatives must be wearing off. I thought I'd heard something on the way back. Got some pipes on him, huh?"

I relaxed by a margin, but the blood was still roaring in my ears. "Yeah, really startled me," I muttered, stepping aside so he could take up his post again. Would he notice the nervous trembling? My flushed face?

"Well, thanks for standing guard for a moment. No telling when I'll get another chance for a break," he said, managing a small smile.

Mine was more reflexive than anything. "Yeah, course. Glad I could do my part to help."

"Enjoy the rest of your day off."

"I'll do my best."

We bade each other farewell and I tried to walk normally as I left. Not like I was fleeing the scene of a crime.

Though I tried not to look back, I found it difficult. It hadn't seemed like he noticed or suspected anything. If there was a night guard, then it would be a little more difficult to break the predator free.

That would probably require Plan Z—knock them out.

There had been more questions I wanted to ask, but there hadn't been time. I'd cut it close as it was. If I found the chance that I was looking for, I'd have all the time in the world to ask my questions.

If I went with Wolf, I could ask all the questions I wanted.

My thoughts were racing as I made my way down the hall. I wanted to check one more time in observation, see if anyone had been watching. Decide if I'd gotten away with this Scott free. I also wanted to see how he was doing.

More than that, I wanted another chance to look around the room. I hadn't thought to do so while I was inside, but maybe I could spot something.

I had to figure out what exactly they were doing to him—what kind of sedatives did they have him on? Were they using muscle relaxants?—then I would have an easier time getting him out. What should I prioritize? His escape or killing the xenos?

One task at a time, Nichole.

Around the corner, I found the door to observation. I un-wadded my list of codes and tried to decide which one to try first. Before I could pick one, the door opened and I leaped back in surprise, crushing the paper in my hand.

"Oh, Nichole," Dixon said, frowning at me. "You're still here. I thought maybe you'd gone home."

"Ah—no, not yet."

He eyed me, then opened the door wider and pointed at the predator. "You know what's got him all riled up?"

I stared at him a second or two, then craned my neck to look over my shoulder. The predator was shaking in his restraints, still trying to break through.

"Um, no? I don't. . .why would I know?" I said breathlessly. "I was introducing myself to Powell."

"Who?"

"The guy. . .standing guard down there." I waved my hand in the general direction.

Dixon furrowed his brow. "Uh huh. Well, I'm glad you stuck around. . . . Your new boss and a few others are on their way down. Figure you could get a jump and introduce yourself to him before tomorrow."

Swallowing, I nodded and rubbed my sweaty palms on my pants. "Um, sure. Yeah. That's fine."

"You okay?" Dixon asked. There was neither concern nor true interest in his voice. "You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

"I guess that's what you could call seeing another one after all these years," I muttered under my breath.

He let me inside the room and indicated to a chair. I thanked him and took a seat to wait for this Hassan guy to show up. I couldn't look directly at Dixon or the predator.

However, Dixon couldn't take his eyes off me.

Could you be any more suspicious? I was kicking myself and I tried to strike a conversation.

"You know much about this guy?" I asked.

"Who?"

"Um. . .Hassan?"

Dixon shrugged. "Oh. Right. We don't talk a whole lot, but no one's complained about him and he gets results."

As the silence continued, I was left trying not to look like I had a guilty conscience. Like I hadn't just broken protocol and sixteen different rules. I pulled out my cell phone to look busy.

All the while, the predator in the other room tested his bonds and growled.

Chapter Text

In the minutes we spent waiting for the supervisors to arrive, Dixon continued to glance at me on occasion. I tried to ignore it. I tried to look busy and unconcerned.

Hide the fact that I was sweating bullets.

But his eyes ate through me and I was squirming inside. I just wanted to scream "What do you want?" at him, but I had to stay calm. If I didn't, he'd get more suspicious. So, I sat in silence, staring at my phone.

"No pictures," Dixon harrumphed.

I glared at him and showed him my screen. "It's Flappy Bird. I know the rules."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, leaning against his wall.

His expression said do you, though?

Mr. Hassan found us sitting in silence as he entered observation. The sound of the door opening lifted my gaze from my infuriating game. I immediately turned off the screen, forsaking my streak, and put my phone away. When Dixon stood, I followed his lead and hovered behind him.

"Dixon, good afternoon," Mr. Hassan said, shaking Dixon's hand with both of his. He smile was too-white against his dark complexion and he spoke with the hint of an accent.

A man and a woman flanked him as he entered. Both wore neutral expressions; the man was carrying a clipboard and wearing a white lab coat, and the woman was in a sharp-looking suit. Glasses obscured both of their faces.

"Joseph," Dixon said, his smile just as wide, "good to see you again. How's Lucy?"

"Good, good. Still hasn't learned not to jump on the counter, but we're working on it," he replied with a fond shake of his head.

I stared at the two of them, my brow furrowed. Was this guy training his wife not to jump on the counters?

What?

Dixon shrugged. "You tried the squirt bottle? That's how we trained our cats when I was young."

Oh. Duh.

Mr. Hassan nodded and rubbed his mouth, covered in stubble. "Yes, but the crazy thing just keeps coming back. I think she likes it."

"Well, that's unfortunate!" Dixon said with a laugh.

Pleasantries exchanged, I cleared my throat to be noticed. Mr. Hassan glanced over at me and brushed past Dixon, his arms up. "Ah yes! Nichole Shain, I've heard good things about you. I have to say, though, I wasn't prepared for your ambition."

"Why's that?" I asked, trying hard not to make it sound like a challenge.

He took my hand in both his like he had Dixon and I tried to keep my handshake firm. "Most just wait around, so I wasn't expecting to see you until Monday. But here you are! I like an agent with some initiative."

Heat crept across my cheeks but I maintained eye contact. "Yes, sir. I've been waiting to be on this task force since I joined the program."

Mr. Hassan put a hand on my shoulder and spoke with a warm voice. "I can understand that. We appreciate you being so willing to help. I understand you wish to head the interrogations?"

I nodded. "I believe, sir, that he would be most responsive to me."

"Because of your history?"

"Yes, sir." I wished he'd take his hand off me.

As if reading my mind, he pulled his hand off my shoulder and clapped his hands together. "Always worth a shot. Anything we can do to get the information we need without causing undue stress on our important guest."

He made a sweeping gesture toward the other two that had come in with him and said, "These are my close associates, Jamison Blanco and Susan Kinnaps. Jamison is head of research and development. Very knowledgeable."

Jamison inclined his head in greeting. "I look forward to picking your brain later."

"Likewise," I said. No one offered to shake my hand, so I remained where I stood. The atmosphere was too casual for my comfort and bordered on aloof. I still couldn't help but watch Dixon from the corner of my eyes, but he wasn't paying me any attention anymore.

It didn't make me feel any safer.

"Susan here is my personal aid. She does everything and anything I need to do so there is no need to clone myself." He chuckled and Susan offered a terse smile in reply—she was in the middle of cleaning her glasses. "She'll oversee everything that has to do with the extraterrestrial and leave me to fill out the necessary paperwork."

She replaced her spectacles and glanced at me. Despite her hawk-like glare, her voice was pleasant.

Resting bitch-face.

"We're all very excited to have you on the team," she said.

I'd thought the pleasantries over with, so I struggled to keep my smile genuine and my voice as amicable as the others'. I hoped that the conversation would end soon and I could get back to my reason for being there on a Saturday.

"Glad to be here," I replied. At least that wasn't a complete and total lie. "Wish it wasn't because of your losses."

Mr. Hassan turned to his side and held a hand up. "Alright, now that everyone is acquainted, why don't I give you the basic tour and get it out of the way? You can show your partner—What was his name? Devon?—around when he's next in. Are you sure you wouldn't prefer having the time off?" The comment was accompanied by too much cheer.

"I don't do well with too much free time." I shrugged. " had all of tomorrow and whatever's left of today, depending."

He turned and grinned at me. "Yes, I suppose so. Having already detained the creature, our ground-team will have a little more downtime from now on, anyway. However, employees like poor Jamison will almost spend all their time here, won't you?"

The scientist chuckled without humor. "Yes, I'm afraid I'll be living here for the next few weeks."

"We all will be," Susan pointed out.

All three shared good-natured laughs, Dixon joining in as well. I shifted my weight from foot to foot but participated in the half-forced merriment to avoid being left out. I hadn't been expecting this: friendly conversation. Sure, I expected general introductions and exchanges, but I thought they would have been more business-like. In and out. I wanted to be in with the predator again, not making friends with these people.

"Well," I said, sensing a lull and pouncing on the opportunity, "I don't do much with my days off anyway. Might as well work. Will I do the interrogation after the tour?"

"After?" Mr. Hassan repeated. He hadn't stopped smiling and it made my skin crawl. "Oh, no. That can wait until Monday. We'll get your initial orientation out of the way now so you can speak with him first thing when you get in. Jamison has work to do with it and. . . ."

I stopped listening and had to catch myself before interrupting. Not today? Then what in the ever-living fuck were they doing here?

When I glanced at Dixon for back-up, I caught his gaze and we locked eyes for a moment. His brow furrowed so infinitesimally I might have imagined it. There was an intensity there and I found it difficult to hold his scrutiny for more than a few seconds. I looked away, my heart pounding, and was left feeling cold.

He knew—he had to—or he thought he knew.

I raised my hand and flattened my hair against my skull. I had to keep it from shaking somehow. If he'd been in the room when I'd snuck in, he would have already called me out on it. So there was no way he knew for sure.

That's it. I was just psyching myself out. Making a mountain out of a molehill. I was ok.

No way he knew. Maybe suspected, but didn't know.

Not for sure.

A sudden thought occurred to me. A camera. Was there a camera in the room with the predator? I hadn't even bothered to check. It hadn't been on my radar at all. Out of panic, I turned to look in the room and peer around.

Of course there would be. There had to be. They would want to keep an eye on him all the time, right?

There wasn't one I could see, but that didn't mean there wasn't one. It could be mounted above the mirror, in a corner I couldn't see, it could—

"Nichole?"

My head snapped toward Mr. Hassan and I looked around at the faces pointed at my direction. I hoped I didn't look too wild at that moment.

"I'm—sorry, I spaced out. What did you say?"

Mr. Hassan's didn't miss a beat and his expression became knowing. "I know this is a lot to take in for you. Though I am inclined to sometimes break protocol, I think we'll stick to it today. We will orientate you now, paperwork will be finalized early Monday morning, and by then, Jamison should have a functional breathing apparatus made so that we may take away that mask without risking the predator's life."

Though the words made sense, the delivery was simplistic and felt chastising. I turned away to glower at the floor, my petulant child leaking through the professionalism I tried to uphold. I shouldn't have felt that bad. I'd stolen a chance with the predator and that should be fine enough.

"Now, we'll begin the tour of your new office," Mr. Hassan said, voice upbeat again. He held a hand up and when I hesitated to do as I was told, his head tilted half an inch and his brow creased. An edge entered his voice. "Come along."

Goosebumps prickled my skin and I hastened to come stand over by his side. I couldn't even must anymore belligerence under that cold stare.

The darkness left my new boss' face and he turned to the exit. "Excellent! Let us commence!"

I managed to make one last glance in the direction of the predator. He was tugging at his bindings and I could hear faint snarls through the walls. As I left after Dixon and Hassan, Jamison took up residence at a computer.

"Give him another dose of anesthetic." If he said more after that, it was obscured when the door closed behind me.

*:･ﾟ✧

My new offices were two floors above Dixon's, and they were already on the fifth floor of the building that the public saw. That left two more above them, and then the hidden basements that sprawled below the building. It seemed, however, that all of the business floors looked the same.

Mr. Hassan escorted me through the cubicles and desks, naming off people I wouldn't remember until I'd had a chance to meet them. He even went so far as to point out the desks that belonged to the deceased. Two of which now belonged to Devon and I. I tried to memorize where Morgan's desk was so I could talk to her later.

Wouldn't matter until she was deemed healthy enough to return to work, though.

Despite Mr. Hassan's attempts at making friends, I couldn't help but feel sour toward him and his overly-friendly demeanor. Like he was trying too hard.

At least Dixon was gone. He had excused himself before Hassan had started the tour.

Which meant that I no longer had to worry about what he was thinking. It was still in the back of my mind, wondering and guessing how much he thought he knew. If, come Monday, I was going to be out of a job or if I was reading too much into everything. Entirely possible.

Hassan led me onward, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

"When you get your new keycard, you'll have access to the area downstairs and be free to watch what happens down there as you please. I extend the same courtesy to everyone on the team. I'm aware you already had access to the xenomorphs?" Mr. Hassan asked as we walked.

"Yes."

"Okay, we'll retain your access to the observation room on that level, as well. We'd prefer it if you tried not to venture into the labs, though. It would inconvenience the scientists."

"Understandable."

He didn't say I wouldn't be able to enter them at all. So it was still on the table if I needed something.

Didn't imagine what, but maybe it would come up.

"Now, while I mentioned agents will have more freedom, that, unfortunately, will most likely not be the case for you. You will be effectively on call, free to do whatever you like until we call on you at any point during the day—or night," he said, unlocking the door to his personal office. He made a gesture and allowed me to enter first.

"What kind of things will I have to do?" I asked.

He sat down in his chair and motioned toward the one in front of his desk. I sat down with some pause. He said, "Anything we ask, of course. While you are not our leading authority on this species, you are the only one who is on somewhat friendly terms. You will be an advisor of sorts while he is in our possession."

His words set my teeth on edge. "You say that like he's an object and not an actual sentient being with feelings."

Shut up, Nichole.

"Ah, yes, apologies," he said, raising his hands and ducking his head. "You're right. I didn't mean for it to sound that way. You must understand though, while you may have had generally pleasant interaction with this species—"

I raised my eyebrow at him and he cleared his throat. "Ah, I mean. . .directly. I'm sure that whole incident was unpleasant. I merely meant that—"

"Yes, I know what you meant," I huffed. "I haven't had one hunt me or kill my teammates."

"Exactly. We don't think of them quite as fondly as you do. I hope that, despite that, you can move forward with some objectivity. We want first and foremost to learn about their kind. I, for one, am not looking for revenge against them and hold my employees to the same standard."

But how many of them long for vengeance in secret?

Like I do with those fucking insects.

He leaned forward and straightened his pen holder. "At the very least, I know Morgan doesn't seem upset about the whole thing. We'll still have the resident therapist speak with her. I'm sure you're familiar with Ava?"

Nodding, I said, "Yes. We still talk occasionally."

"Good. We always have all of our agents see her at some point after particularly trying missions. Near-death experiences tend to wreak havoc on one's psyche. But I'm sure I don't have to tell you that."

The muscle in my jaw tightened and I started tapping my foot. Though I couldn't put my finger on why, I knew everything he said had a double meaning. "No, you don't. I'll do my best to set aside my bias and help us learn what we can about them."

Mr. Hassan rubbed his hands together and grinned. "Good, I'm glad!"

Somehow, I managed to return the smile.

"Now," he said, pushing away from his desk and pulling open a drawer. "I have some homework for you over the weekend."

I reached across and took the huge file he handed me, flipping through it. At first glance, I saw many written notes, witness testimonies, pictures, and initial lab reports. If anything good came out of this, it would be how much I learned about Wolf's kind.

"I'll be sure to read through it all," I vowed, setting the folder in my lap.

A hefty order: it had to weigh a pound or two.

And I only had the rest of the evening.

"Good, good." His words were punctuated by the sound of his drawer closing. "I've made a copy for your partner as well and will call him in to pick it up later today."

It seemed I could put "tree murderer" on the checklist for this guy.

"For now that will do, though. You don't have to read it all by tomorrow, a quick skim would do. I do expect you to have most of it read eventually, though," he said.

I nodded absently, already flicking through some bullet points. "Of course."

"I'll also expect you to check whatever loyalty you think you have to this thing at the door when you come in tomorrow morning," he quipped. It was subtle, but his pleasant tone shifted. His smile, which up to that point had almost never left his face, receded. I leaned back in my seat and swallowed hard.

The moment was fleeting and all at once, his grin had returned. Had I imagined it? Had it merely been my guilty conscience reading too deep? I looked away from him and busied myself with flipping through the file.

"I'll do my best to help you and your team out to the best of my ability," I assured him.

He nodded and stood up from his seat. "I have great expectations for you and Devon. As I said, your paperwork should be done in the morning. I'll see you then."

I followed his lead and we shook hands. "Thank you, sir."

"Please, call me Joseph."

*:･ﾟ✧

It was a surprise that a rut didn't form on my floor with how methodical I was about pacing between the breakfast bar, around my couch, and back again. There could be no more plotting, no more waiting. I would have to do something soon. Between my half-remembered drunken ramblings and the risks I'd taken to sneak in with the predator, I had raised suspicions.

How high I'd raised them I wasn't sure, but I had to assume the worst.

That I had fucked up.

The trip on the bus had been excruciating. As much as I'd wanted to read the thick-as-shit folder Hassan had given me (though he'd told me to call him by his first name, it still didn't settle well with me), I had been too busy thinking about all the things I'd done wrong. All I accomplished was reading several lines over and over without retaining the information.

All I could do was replay the day in my mind.

Forcing myself into that room, letting my emotions run wild in front of my bosses. I hadn't bothered to check for a camera. To make sure that no one had been in the other room. If I was going to make it, I had to continue on under the assumption that everyone knew that I was a charlatan.

Dixon had sure acted like he'd been putting the puzzle pieces together. Pretending everything was fine was just going to be a recipe for disaster.

So I'd managed to weasel my way into that room. Was it worth it to sate my hunger? If I was found out, I'd lose my position and never have another shot at the xenomorphs or the new predator.

I kept telling myself that I pushing so hard to be the interrogator so I could spare him the torture, but I mostly just wanted to be close to Wolf. The predator was the next best thing.

And. . .he was my ticket off this planet. He was my ticket to killing the hive of xenos locked up in the basement.

My time to complete that task was running out, too. Some company had paid off the right people or had enough power to claim a stake to the xenomorphs. They were going to be moved out to California for some reason. . . . To turn their hide into armor and weaponize their acid. Something like that.

So, no. I couldn't dally any longer. The time clock was ticking and I didn't know how far it was from winding down completely.

Now or never.

The file Hassan had given me was on the breakfast bar, taunting me. I'd been home for a total of forty-five minutes, but I'd been too worried to so much as sit down, let alone focus long enough to read anything in it.

If I was found out, everything would be that much harder. I was already looking at doing everything in one day.

Is that even possible?

Free the predator whose name I still hadn't learned. Destroy the xenos and their queen, plus any leftover eggs or chestbursters. I wouldn't be able to do one without doing the other quickly afterward.

I'd have to flash the lab, then run and fetch the predator.

Forget the excuse that I wanted to complete the task honorably. No one would know, least of all Wolf. No matter how I did it, I wasn't going to be able to bring home any trophies or have any proof of how noble the battle was.

That was all it was—a crutch to fall back on. I reason to stall a little longer.

Lying to myself.

All that mattered at this point was that the deed was done. I knew that now.

If I could find a way to clear all the personnel inside before flashing the lab, I could minimize casualties. Fire alarm? Rushing in and chasing them out at gunpoint?

I thought about rushing back to headquarters and doing it right there, but no, even if a lot of agents weren't there, the research teams and similar employees would be. As far as the R&D department was concerned, days off didn't exist. They had too much to learn.

A voice in the back of my head nagged at me. It started as a seed as I ruminated in my apartment, growing and feeding off of my unease and uncertainty.

You only made up the xenomorph excuse because you were scared.

The thought blossomed into a flowering weed and I pressed my hands to my head, squeezing as if the action would vacate that poisonous implication.

You didn't want to go with him. You were grasping at straws.

No matter how hard I tried to deny my own subconscious, I couldn't shake it. In the course of several hours, my entire world had been shattered. Aliens—near deaths—loss of my friends. In the end, I was returned to my home and I was feeling safe. Wolf had shown up in my house, with the rest of my family around. I couldn't deny the fact that going with him terrified me.

Was I really basing my entire life around the possibility of meeting him again if I didn't want to go with him? If it had all been an excuse to make Wolf leave without me, then why would I have gone through the trouble of landing the job?

That couldn't be it.

No, no I couldn't accept the fact that I was scared. I wasn't stalling. I hadn't come upon the right circumstances yet. Simple as that. I squashed the nagging voice in my head and drowned it with the last of my milk, smothered it with a ham sandwich.

Finally, I decided I needed to distract myself. I figured chipping away at the file would give me something to do.

An hour after I had made myself comfortable and started reading, there came a knock at the door. I stared at the door from my small dining table, my brow furrowed in confusion. No one visited me. I didn't have guests.

Ever.

After some hesitation and deliberation, they pounded on the door again. I sighed and headed over, swinging my door open with more vehemence than was necessary, scanning the front for who would possibly be bothering me on a Sunday evening.

Should have guessed it.

"Devon? What are you doing here?"

Though startled, he grinned and lifted up an identical manila folder to the one sitting on my counter, girth and all. "Hey, little birdy told me you already stopped by and picked up your 'homework'? Hope it's okay I dropped in. I tried calling but you never answer your phone."

I glanced toward my living area, but couldn't immediately find the phone. I sighed. My cell phone was forgotten so much I wasn't sure why I even bothered buying one. I really needed to fix that, especially if Hassan was going to be calling me at all hours of the week.

If I'm even still around for that.

"That's pretty stalkerish. What if I was out?" I asked, leaning against my doorframe.

He raised his eyebrows at me. "You suddenly pick up a life over the past twenty-four hours or something? I've never known you to go out."

Rolling my eyes, I stepped aside so he could enter. I gestured with my hand and said, "Whatever, just get in here."

"I bet you already read through that file three times, haven't you?" he teased as he entered, kicking his shoes off at the front door.

"No, actually." I slipped past him and picked up a stray glass from my coffee table and moved it to the kitchen sink.

"Really? That's surprising."

That glass was the only thing I had to clean up, and I was worried about how it looked to him. My apartment was deceptively clean because of the lack of actual belongings and the fact that I used the space to sleep and eat. All of my time was spent at work or watching old DVDs and keeping the place organized. I barely lived in the place.

Besides, I didn't want to disappear off the face of the planet and leave a giant mess behind. The more mystery, the better.

That was what I told myself, but really I had nothing better to do but clean the place.

"Make yourself at home," I said with an errant wave. The glass graduated from sink to dishwasher after a quick rinse and I snatched the folder off the counter and sat down on my single chair, folding one leg over the leg to use as a table. Despite the perfectly good coffee table in front of me, as it was.

Devon looked around and I furrowed my brow. "What?"

"You only have one chair?"

"Oh shit." I moved to the dining room table and slapped the folder down on top of it. "Sorry, I don't have guests often. We'll sit here and do our homework together."

Even though he put his copies on the table, he didn't sit and I hesitated as well, wondering what was up.

"Have you eaten yet today?" he asked me.

I shrugged and said, "I ate a sandwich a few hours ago."

Clicking his tongue, he pulled his phone from his pocket. "I'll order a pizza. What kind you like?"

"No Chinese food?" I asked, finally taking a seat. "Didn't you tell me once that Chinese was the only kind of food to eat for a mission?"

He shook his head with a chuckle and joined me in the adjacent chair, texting away on his phone. "No, no. You do Chinese takeout for stakeouts. It rhymes. This isn't a stakeout, it's a study session. Everyone knows you study with pizza, duh."

Rolling my eyes, I said, "Whatever you say. Want some water while we wait?"

It took him a moment to respond while he finished doing pizza-related stuff on his phone. "Nah, I'll get us some sodas. Now c'mon, what kind of pizza you like?"

"Whatever," I said, leaning back. "Ham, I guess."

"You mean Canadian bacon?"

"Yeah, whatever the fuck you call it. It's ham as far as I'm concerned."

Devon indicated to the phone with an exasperated motion. "It's cooked differently! You can get ham or Canadian bacon. Do you want ham?"

Somehow we managed to craft a pizza we could both enjoy—pepperoni with Canadian bacon and extra cheese—and we popped open our case files to begin our "homework" while we waited for the food and sodas to arrive.

"Brings back memories, don't it? You and me, sitting at a table, reading over a case file together." Devon shot a smile at me while he leaned back in his chair.

I snorted. "We do this all the time. With every case file. Usually it's at work, though."

"God, you're no fun."

"Have you met me?"

"Fair enough. Where should we start?"

All of my stress from earlier dissipated as Devon and I fell into a more normal routine of theories and discovery.

Chapter Text

Prefer hot and humid conditions, possibly cold-blooded.

That couldn't be. Wolf had been so warm. How did they figure that? The first two documented cases had been in the middle of the rainforest and then again in Los Angeles during a record-breaking heat wave in the middle of summer, so I could see the correlation—maybe they were like reptiles and couldn't produce their own heat.

But what about in Antarctica? Late-fall Colorado?

Though, Colorado hadn't been their first choice if I thought about it. They'd crashed into my mountain, that was it.

The captured predator had been found in southern Africa, drawn by local armed conflict, so it was probably warm there, too. That had been what drew the first documented predator attack as well: armed conflict. In Los Angeles, there had been a violent gang war, so everyone had been shooting at everyone. They were drawn to places where there was fighting.

And worthy opponents.

Worthy trophies.

I had the file open on my lap, reading through choice bits of information as the bus trudged onward. To avoid prying eyes, I sat in the back of the bus hunched over the papers like a vulture guarding a kill. Though I hadn't seen anyone so much as glance in my general direction, I couldn't be too sure.

There were only four—now five—documented encounters with the predators, but it was under the assumption they had been visiting for longer.

Each recognized visit shared a common denominator: one survivor. A member of Delta Force, LAPD's finest, an environmental technician, one high school soccer player, and finally the FBI alien-hunting veteran Morgan.

One of those things was not like the others.

At least now I was an alien-hunting veteran, but I wasn't sure how I managed back in the day.

I was unable to dwell further on my blind, dumb luck—gthe bus jerked to a halt. A quick glance outside told me it was where I needed to get off and I flipped the file shut, tucked it under my arm, and started walking the short distance from the stop to headquarters.

Devon was waiting by the first floor elevators. When he caught sight of me, he pushed the call button behind him and nodded his head in greeting. I acknowledged him with a wave.

"What are you waiting for?" I asked him.

"You," he said with a grin. "You're my guide, buddy!"

With a heavy sigh, I said, "You came in the other day to pick up the file. You should already know where to go."

The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. Devon said, "Nah, that Joseph guy was waiting down here for me. Introduced himself, told me to read this fucking novel over the weekend and sent me away right after. Dunno why he didn't just email me instead of making me drive all the way out here for it."

"Just likes killing trees and the ozone layer, I guess," I muttered with a shrug.

Both of us scanned our IDs to grant access to our division. My finger hovered over the button for old floor before I corrected myself and set a course for Hassan's instead. I hoped I remembered it right.

"I'll say," Devon scoffed. "It was like reading the whole Lord of the Rings trilogy all wrapped up in one big package. Except way more boring. Glad I came over yesterday, it was much more bearable with us going over it together."

I grunted in response. I didn't do any casual reading so I took his word for it. "It was nice having the company for a while." He'd gone home around midnight.

Didn't leave much time for sleep, but I was used to it.

It seemed like he slept pretty well, though.

"Think he'll give us a pop quiz or something? I don't think I'd pass," he teased.

Sometimes I didn't think Devon was real. He didn't seem perturbed by anything and was always happy as a clam. Meanwhile, I was trying not to crawl out of my skin or split apart at the seams as the elevator ascended, bringing me closer to Hassan and the promise of seeing our guest again.

"I doubt it, but maybe we should trivia-check with each other just in case," came my sarcastic remark.

"That's what I'm saying!" He flipped open his file and started to thumb through the leaflets. "I should have made some flash cards or something."

The fact that he didn't hear my eyes roll surprised me.

Thankfully, the door to the elevator opened before he could start drilling me for his hypothetical pop quiz. He groaned in disappointment but I hurried off, letting him trail behind me.

"You saw which floor I pushed?" I asked him over my shoulder.

"Yup, sure did."

Good. I won't have to explain.

"The floor is laid out just like our old one. Our desks are over there somewhere, I'll show you later."

"Woah there cowgirl, why you in such a hurry?" His footsteps hastened so he could catch up to me. "Oh wait, scratch that: I already know the answer. But I mean, shit, can't I go get a cup of coffee before we barrel into this?"

I glanced over my shoulder to see if he was being serious, and the big dumb grin on his face told me no, so I pursed my lips. "Haven't you already had five cups this morning?"

He shrugged. "Well, I mean, yeah, but I want at least two more cups to help me prepare."

"Don't you know coffee stunts your growth?"

It made me lurch when he pushed me, and I shot him a glare. He said, "Well that explains why you're so short!"

Half of me wanted to slug him, but I settled for an indignant huff. "I am not that short," I muttered. Maybe shorter than him, but I was the same size as most women my age!

We reached Hassan's office, but the doors were closed and the inside was dark. Dixon seemed to live in the building, so finding our new boss' office devoid of life was strange.

I turned to Devon and said, "Besides, I only have one cup a day, jackass. Maybe. Only if I've been awake all night."

"That just means you must not have as high a tolerance for it like me. Shorty."

This time I did slug him, right in the deltoid. He leaned away and grabbed the arm with a hiss in mock pain. "Ow! My old football injury!"

"Shut the hell up. You played baseball."

Someone cleared their throat next to us and I started, whirling around and raising my hands. When I realized it was Hassan, I dropped my arms. Heat rose to my cheeks and next to me, Devon turned and smiled.

"Joseph! Good to see you again."

Hassan offered us that uncanny smile and nodded. "It's good to see you both, as well. Glad you two seem to get along so well. That kind of camaraderie is always good to see. And how punctual you both are!"

He unlocked the doors to his office and flicked on the lights. He barely took as many as three steps into his office, then turned toward us and seemed to realize that we were still there.

"Was there something you two needed?" he asked, straightening back up.

I made a face and opened my mouth to speak, but remembered that I had to stop acting like this was the single most important thing in my life. So, I clamped my mouth shut and shrugged instead.

Devon glanced between the two of us and opened his mouth to speak, but Hassan interjected.

"Oh yes, right. The interrogation. Well, I have to check on the paperwork real quick, so why don't you two go gather your things from Dixon's department and set up your desks? You remember which ones are yours, right Nichole?"

"Yeah, I remember."

Nodding, Hassan stepped inside his office. "Good, good. I should be done by the time you make your way back up here. Did you manage to read much of the files?"

"Kinda," Devon said, thumbing the papers. "Lotta information in here."

Hassan chuckled. "Yes, we've been studying them for some time. They're only going to get thicker now that we have one in custody. There's so much to learn from him."

Custody was better than possession but it still made me grimace. I just hoped no one noticed.

After a quick dismissal, we left Hassan to fetch our things. Devon and I headed back to the elevators and I succeeded in not glancing over my shoulder. It was a good thing, too—I managed to avoid bumping into a man walking in the direction we had left.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said, nodding.

"We're good," I muttered with an errant hand-wave.

I watched him make his way toward Hassan's office and as the doors slid closed in front of me, I realized he was wearing a much nicer suit than any agent I ever saw.

Turning to Devon I asked, "Who was that guy?"

He shrugged. "Didn't get a good look at him."

A curious hum vibrated in my chest, but I brushed thoughts of the man aside. Hassan was an important guy, I assumed. He had people to see and shit to do.

The elevator descended at a snail's pace. Devon glanced at me several times but never spoke. There were a few instances I thought for sure he was going to speak up, but every time he sucked in a breath, he held it for a few seconds before letting it out quietly and resuming his silent sentry next to me.

Though I was aware he had something to say, I didn't press the matter and made a bee-line for our desks. There wasn't much there and I was glad the office was barren except for a few early-birds like me and Devon. I avoided conversation with them until I could gather my meager belongings—a sidearm I kept in my drawer because it seemed like a hassle to take home, a couple pictures of my family that I decorated my desk with so people didn't think I was weird, and some pens.

Devon didn't have much at his desk either; pencils and an armful of figurines, mostly. I didn't know what the little plastic figures were—I think he'd told me they were from some game he used to play. Unlike me, he took his handgun home with him so he already had it on his hip.

"Ready?" I asked him, quirking my eyebrow.

"Were you guys going to sneak away without saying goodbye?"

Dixon's sudden appearance made me start once again and I cast him an irritated look. He suffered it in silence and smirked. "A little jumpy there, Shain. Got a guilty conscience?"

I held my breath for an extra heartbeat before letting it out in a gust. "No, I've always been jumpy."

"Mm-hmm."

He knows how easily startled I am, I thought. That only cemented the belief that he knew.

"We weren't sneaking," Devon said, oblivious to the stare-down Dixon and I was hosting. "Besides, we're just moving upstairs, not leaving forever. We can visit whenever."

"True!" Dixon barked, clapping Devon on the back with enough force to make him stumble and cough. "Make sure you do. That is, if you're not too busy running around consorting with extraterrestrials and the like."

My eyes narrowed and I nudged Devon. "Let's go. Hassan's probably waiting."

He glanced at me and nodded, rubbing the spot Dixon had slapped him. "Ah, yeah, sure. See you around, sir."

"I'll hold you to it," he said, pointing at my partner. His other hand was shoved deep into his pants pocket. Before I turned away, his expression darkened and he put both hands in his pockets. I quickly left, my cheeks burning.

Before the elevator closed us in, Dixon had one more thing to say to us.

To me.

"Hope you're not too disappointed, Shain."

A tremor shot its way up my spine and I held my box of desk shit tighter to my chest, willing my hands to stop trembling. What did he mean by that? My jaw clenched and I fought the urge to open the doors and confront him.

When I didn't move to push the floor button, Devon leaned over and did it instead.

"Guy must be torn up about us leaving, he's acting kinda funny," Devon observed, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes.

I huffed. "Just a little bit."

If only he knew how funny.

In the time it took to speak with Dixon and ride the elevator back up, more people from the predator taskforce had arrived. There still weren't many, and they were all clustered around Hassan's closed office door whispering to one another. We approached, and I was glad to recognize one person in the group.

"What are you doing here, Morgan?" I asked her, shifting the bundle in my arms.

She glanced at me and her eyes widened a few centimeters. She was still leaning on her crutch. "Oh! Shain, hey. Um, well, I was just coming in to see the shrink. You get all transferred and shit?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I think so. Moving my stuff up here." I lifted my arms holding my box of goodies.

Devon raised his brow and looked at the two of us. "You guys know each other?"

Chagrin washed through me for two reasons—not only was I was being horribly rude, but I also hadn't yet told Devon I came in without him. Maybe I could get away with not telling him anything about it.

"Sorry. Devon, this is K.B. Morgan. She caught the predator. This is Devon Hart, my partner."

They exchanged handshakes and Devon said, "Damn, I'm gonna need to work hard to keep up with you two, aren't I? Here you are, hunting aliens and taking names and I haven't done a damn thing."

"You have to work ten times harder to keep up with anyone," I snorted.

"Ow, my feelings!"

Morgan chuckled. "Well, it's nice to meet you."

He jerked his head toward the door and the other three men ignoring us. "So what's going on here? Some sort of pow-wow?"

She shrugged with the shoulder not supporting herself on a crutch. "I dunno. We all want to talk to Joseph but he's in there with some guy we've never seen before. He looks pretty irritated with him, too. We're trying to listen in but they're both being real quiet."

I peered around the shades blocking the door window, but I could only make out a few non-descript silhouettes. "How can you tell?" I asked, brow furrowed.

One of the men—a pasty, mouse of a guy—glanced at me. "I saw him go in there."

"Okay, so, why not just knock on the door?" Devon asked.

Everyone turned and gave him a look. "You don't interrupt Joseph when he's in a meeting with someone," the pasty guy said.

I heaved a sigh and left to find my desk. "Okay, sure."

Devon followed after me and I added under my breath, but loud enough for him to hear, "What a bunch of pansies."

He snickered but made no response.

"These are our desks," I muttered, dropping my box on top of the one that belonged to me. I'd organize my stuff later if I had the chance. However, I didn't think it would matter when I could possibly no longer be planet-side by the end of the day.

Whatever.

Devon, however, settled into his chair to put his stuff exactly how he liked it. I sighed and rummaged through my box, placing a few of the pictures.

My old dog, Atlas. A family photo we'd taken one Easter when I was nineteen. One of them was a stupid picture Devon had taken when I wasn't ready. He'd framed the dumb thing—he'd suddenly put his arm around my shoulder and shouted "New partners!" before snapping it—and gave it to me.

I knew it had just been a giant joke, but I didn't want to throw it away and be rude, so I'd just kept it on my desk. I was giving him the weirdest look, so it wasn't the most flattering picture of me, but whatever.

It was goofy and very Devon.

Before I knew it, he'd plucked the picture off my desk. "Hey!" I squeaked indignantly.

"I remember this! I didn't think you'd actually keep it," he teased, studying it for a moment before placing it back where I had put it.

"Why? I wasn't going to throw it away. You bought a frame and everything."

He chuckled and readjusted some of his knick-knacks. "Ah, it was just a cheap dollar store frame. I guess I never really noticed you had it."

"Sounds like a you problem," I said.

"Just didn't think you were so sentimental," he teased.

"I'm going to go see what's going on," I announced, standing up abruptly.

Devon frowned and said, "I was only teasing."

"Huh? Oh, no. Sorry, you're fine. I'm just impatient," I assured him, smiling.

With a snort, he said, "Yeah, you kinda are."

"Oh, hush."

Leaving him to his desk organizing, I headed to Hassan's office. The others had somewhat dispersed, giving the door a wide berth to make it look like they weren't eavesdropping. Maybe they were too scared to do something about it, but I wasn't.

I had spent all night after Devon left coming up with a half-baked plan. I wasn't going to let some stranger in a nice suit ruin it all for me.

Before I could make a scene, though, the door opened and everyone turned in unison. Hassan poked his head out and looked around, his gaze falling on me. I froze like a deer in headlights, ready to fight or flee. However, it was a fleeting glance and he opened the door wider to step onto the floor.

"Ah, I apologize. I didn't know I was keeping so many of you waiting," he said. Hassan lifted his arm and stepped aside to allow the sharp-looking suited man to make an appearance.

The same man I had almost run into earlier.

"This is Luis Barrera of Weyland Industries."

My heart skipped a beat, plummeting into my stomach at the same time.

Weyland.

"Here pretty soon, that might change to Weyland-Yutani," the Barrera guy said.

Hassan's smile was terse and his nod curt. "Yes, well, Mr. Berrera has just taken jurisdiction over our guest and will be moving him to the Weyland facility in California. He'll want to talk to each of you—"

"What the fuck do you mean he's moving him?" I shouted, unable to contain my outrage.

All eyes turned to me but I didn't waver or flinch. I continued my tirade, "Jurisdiction? What jurisdiction? He works for a fucking technology company! I can see him trying to fucking snag his gadgets but he doesn't have any say over who gets the alien!"

Another voice rose up with mine. "Yeah! We caught it! Our friends died catching that thing and Morgan was injured."

"How'd he even know it was here?" someone else called.

Berrera raised his hands and made a calming motion with them. "Now, now, please calm down. I'm not here to muscle in on your collar. Anyone who wishes to transfer and continue working with the specimen is more than welcome to fill out the request form. Just ask Joseph and we'll get it emailed to you."

Murmurs broke out but I was too furious to discern what anyone was saying. A cold fire was blazing in Hassan's eyes and it was directed at me, but I met it with my own raging inferno.

"I will be sending a few of our own associates to speak with you all in turn to get your opinions and statements. We aren't going to steal your research notes, just get copies. We're not here to tell you to stop investigating any further interactions with this species, but—"

"Then what are you here for? Last I heard you were coming for the xenomorphs in the near future, but what interest do you have with this species?" I snapped.

Devon put a hand on my shoulder but I ignored him, glaring instead into the calm face of Luis Barrera. His smile was hidden behind embarrassment, but I was certain it was false humility. "I don't think I'm allowed to talk about those with our present company?"

Hassan shook his head. "It's fine, we all have a general idea about the xenomorphs since they were seen in relation to the predators, twice now."

"In that case, I'm sure you're well aware of the incident in Antarctica."

I leaned back and took a deep breath. "The expedition, yes. Your company was involved."

"Precisely. We lost Mr. Weyland himself in that incident. It was through a combined effort of both xenomorph and the—predators, was it?"

"Correct," Hassan nodded.

"Well, as we've established, both of the species were there. We'd like to learn more about them and use what they used against us to better humanity. I know we're not a big government agency, but we are quite wealthy and have an impressive team of lawyers who worked on this," he explained. "Anything else I'm afraid I can't tell you unless you meet the requirements for the transfer."

Devon leaned in toward me and whispered, "Well this is weird. Usually, we're the people throwing around our weight. Never had it happen to us like this before."

It was an attempt at humor, but I didn't find it funny.

"Then what about the Xenos? You gonna come back in a month and run off with them, too?"

Barrera turned and laughed, shaking his head. "No, that would be a waste of time and resources. They will also be on their way to California in. . . ," he looked down at his wristwatch, "well, the next ten minutes or so."

Chapter Text

I choked on the air I was trying to breathe and reeled backward as if struck.

The corner of Hassan's mouth twitched into what was almost a grimace and he said, "We've only been talking for a short time, though. You must work quick."

"Yes," Barrera sighed. I tried to recover enough to hear him. "I'm afraid Weyland Industries has run out of patience, and you really had no choice with the subpoena we had. We can be very efficient when needed."

Ten minutes.

In ten minutes I'd lose my chances to rescue the predator and kill the xenomorphs. Then my only hope was chasing them all the way to California. Who knew how long filling out a transfer request would take.

Or if mine would even be accepted.

My sight narrowed in front of me and I turned on my heel to start toward the elevators. Each footstep was heavy as if my blood had turned into frozen lead. Icy claws pricked at my body and from somewhere outside the bubble around me, I heard a voice calling to me.

"Where are you going, Nichole?" It sounded like Hassan.

"Outside." My voice was sharper than I'd meant.

A hand settled on my shoulder with some force, popping my bubble and causing my senses to crash back. "I know you may be disappointed, but you'll be able to trans—"

I had no more time for the façade. With my forehead pinched and teeth on edge, I rounded on Hassan and slapped his hand off my shoulder. He looked at his hand and then at me with wide eyes.

"Do not. Fucking. Touch me," I hissed.

Everyone in the room fell into an awkward silence and I whipped around, storming toward the elevators. My eyes burned with frustrated tears, but I refused to let them fall.

In the back of my mind, I hoped my limp didn't diminish the impact of my exit.

There had to be something I could do. I used the hair tie around my wrist to twist my hair up out of my face, tucking stray bits back into the messy knot on top of my head.

Devon popped up just as the elevator started to close and he wiggled part way inside, forcing the doors back open. His look of concern was barely masked by his stupid smile and he stepped into the elevator with me.

"Hey sunshine, where you going?" he asked.

"Get. Out."

He hesitated, but when he took a good look at my face, he raised his hands in submission and took a step back. "Alright, okay. I'll come . . . find you later."

The doors tried to close but jerked back open until Devon stepped out. I dropped my gaze, unable to look at the kicked-puppy expression he was wearing. That little bit of guilt ate away at my outer shell and I slumped. "I'll be outside. I just need a little bit of air."

It hurt to chase him away like that. All he ever did was try to help me and lift my spirits. He was looking out for me when I refused to look out for myself.

But he couldn't come. He would try to stop me. He'd try to talk me out of it. I didn't know how far he'd go, or how deep his loyalty ran for the FBI and the brass, so I didn't want to risk it. I didn't want to have to hurt him if he stood in my way.

I didn't know if I was even capable of hurting him. If he did stand in my way, would I be able to push through him and do what needed to be done?

Or would I cave?

Chasing him away for now was the best choice I had. The only choice I had. If I could keep him away, none of my misgivings would matter.

So I hoped upon hope that he didn't hold this against me later. If I was going to leave, Devon was the only person I wanted to remember me fondly. Besides my family, of course, but I already knew they thought the world of me.

At least, Mom and Dad did. My siblings were beyond my knowledge. I knew they didn't hate me, and that was probably good enough.

But if Devon hated me when I left—I didn't think I'd be able to handle knowing that.

If Devon was going to say anything about the matter, the elevator closed and cut him off. I took a deep breath, buried all my emotions, and swiped my badge to go to the basement. Telling Devon I was going outside had been an excuse, but probably a strategic one: If they thought I was going outside, then I had a few minutes to see how far along they were.

See if they had actually taken everything as that Barrera guy had said and if there was something I could do.

How many people did he bring? How prepared are they?

I was going in blind.

Helplessness threatened to drown me and I punched the side of the elevator as it started to drift downward. Pain shot up my wrist but I ignored it: it didn't hurt enough to be broken. I rubbed the front of my knuckles with my other hand and glared at the wall, teeth grinding.

All that time—how many days did I waste staring at the xenomorphs when I could have been exterminating them?—and I'd done jack shit with it.

And now it was all ruined. I had failed to re-light the fire under my ass, content to let it simmer into a lukewarm coal. If I was allowed to transfer, would I be able to do anything at the new facility or would I have to find a way to stop them from leaving?

First, I had to check on the predator.

The doors slid apart and I marched down the halls. There was no guard at the lab door this time. I tried to punch in the code, but the door wouldn't open. It didn't matter how many times I typed the same code.

If they changed the code, then . . . ?

Panicking, I jogged back down the hall to observation. Everything just compounded when I couldn't open that door, either, but after a few tries, I realized I had switched two of the numbers in my head and was typing it wrong. When I actually got it right, it unlocked with a click and I rushed inside.

Quiet. No one was in the room.

I almost ran head-first into the two-way mirror to peer inside. If he was there, I would spot him immediately.

Empty.

A string of curses flew from my mouth and I slammed my palms against the glass several times. He was gone—the table was clean, the sterile room was devoid of life. I didn't know where they had taken the predator or what floor he was on.

There had to be a way to find out.

I whirled around to exit the room and go find someone. The door hit the wall when I opened it and I was running blindly through the halls before I made it to the elevator.

Dixon had just unloaded from the cart. He stared at me for a moment, then gave me a smug look. Both of his hands were in his pockets and I wanted nothing more than to smack the shit-eating grin off his face.

"Ah, Shain. I thought I'd find you down here," he greeted, walking toward me.

Swallowing, I pointed behind me and said, "Weyland came. They took the predator and everything. They're here for the xenos, too. I thought we had time."

"I'm well aware of all that, Shain. They sure do work fast, don't they?" he murmured.

My eyes tracked his progress as he sauntered toward me. When he was too close for comfort I stepped back and narrowed my eyes at him.

"We should stop them," I said, testing the waters.

Dixon shook his head. "Even if I wanted to, they brought all the legal precedence they needed. You're shit out of luck I'm afraid, Shain."

What he'd said earlier came back to mind; "Hope you're not disappointed."

There was no way. He wouldn't. It couldn't have been—

"You knew Weyland was coming for him today?" The accusation was venom spat from my mouth.

He nodded and rubbed his neck with a shrug. "Knew? Agent, I told them he was here in the first place."

His words were a kick in the teeth.

"You . . . you what? But why? They worked so hard to catch him and bring him in!"

"Don't play stupid with me, Shain. You were going to ruin all that hard work, anyway." Dixon's smug demeanor was gone, replaced with anger. "On top of that, you were going to make me look like a damn idiot!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Dixon rounded on me, jabbing a finger in my direction. All traces of his sneer was gone. "You were transferred to Mr. Hassan's division under my recommendation. If you did anything out of line, that would fall back on me."

"That's what you're worried about? Your reputation?" My hands balled into fists and rage filled my head with static. But it wasn't directed at him. Not all of it, anyway.

This was my fault. I'd let my emotions run away and acted rashly too many times.

"You broke in to see the predator when I told you not to," he continued, his tone dark. "I saw the camera footage, but no one else is going to. People can't know that I hired and recommended a rogue element into this establishment."

My face burned. I'd fucked it all up. I'd fucked everything up badly. My mouth bobbed up and down as if I wanted to deny it all, but I couldn't. There wasn't anything I could say that would explain or excuse my actions.

"You were planning on trying to help him escape, weren't you? The audio isn't very good, but I saw how you were with him," he said. "Don't preach to me about Weyland undoing the department when you yourself were going to unleash that monster on all of us!"

My jaw set and I said nothing.

What could I say?

He scoffed and shoved his hands back in his pocket. "Whatever the case, he's their problem now. I didn't think they'd come so quickly, though."

"Yeah, I'm sure," I couldn't help but scoff.

I didn't have control of my breathing, anymore. It was erratic and frantic. My whole body felt cold and hot at the same time as red started to tint my vision.

My fault.

My fault.

"It's done, now," he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Thought they'd just take his gear, and if you were planning on helping him escape, that would deter you. But, this works, too. If I can help it, I'm going to make sure they don't let you near it, either. Or any others!"

That was the final straw. My rage had reached a fever pitch. Anger at myself, anger at Dixon, anger at Weyland—all of it boiled over and I snapped.

A strangled cry left my lips and I charged him, catching him off-guard. Somehow, I had the wherewithal to keep my sidearm holstered and instead, I let him kiss my fist. I felt something crunch and he crumpled to the ground, clutching his nose.

Whether I would regret it later or not, I kicked him while he was down. He let out a choked oomph and fell to his side where I kicked him again. Blood from his nose spattered the hallway floor in little droplets

Again. The breath left him in a gush.

I stopped myself there, chest heaving, and stared down at my former director. His body rolled with every cough, his groans acute to my adrenaline-fueled hearing. I shook the ache from my wrist and rubbed my knuckles, then swallowed hard.

"I'm through with you assholes," I muttered, stepping over his fetal form. I jabbed the call button for the elevator until my finger was sore.

It was still there from when Dixon had arrived, so I hopped on and watched him try to pick himself up as it shut.

The predator was gone. The very idea of it was regrettable and I wished I had done things differently, but he wasn't the biggest worry. He wasn't a threat to the entire world if he went missing or escaped on his own.

Not like the xenomorphs.

I had to check their level. No matter how I felt about the predator's relocation, they had to be my priority now. If I could catch them while they were transferring the drones, I could figure out where they had taken the predator and bust him out.

Possible scenarios ran through my head. I would have to figure out what to do if they were armed. What to do if they were taking the queen, too. There were too many things for me to plan to be prepared for everything. I had no strategy. It was probably better that way. From there on, I was winging it. That was the only option left for me.

It was impossible for me to stand still as the elevator descended. I muttered the word "C'mon" a dozen or more times. Through some small miracle, there was no elevator music to accompany me.

Seconds later, a sound reached my ears. It penetrated the metal box I was in and the stone shaft around me. A piercing cry that grew louder and louder the further down I traveled until it packed my head with bees and made my heart quiver.

The queen.

She was still there and she sounded about as angry as I felt. That could only mean that they were stealing her drones from her, or already had. She would want them back—probably at any and all costs.

An angry queen was a dangerous queen.

I forced my way through the doors before they were even open all the way and sprinted down the hall, my heartbeat in my ears. All I could hear was the queen's lament and my frantic breathing as I made my way around.

Just like with the predator, I likely wouldn't have access to the lab. That wasn't important, though. I didn't need to have access to that room.

Though I didn't have a real end-all plan, I had one idea in my head. Destroy everything that was left in the lab.

Flash everything. Burn it all.

I could do that from observation.

This time, I didn't mess up unlocking the door. I took my time and made sure it worked on the first try. The lock turned with a heavy sound and I pushed the door open, looking around for the big red button that would be my—the world's—salvation.

Someone was standing there at the window, staring down into the massive laboratory. She didn't so much as blink when I entered, stopping at the threshold to stare at her.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

The woman, wearing a lab coat, turned to look at me with a startled gaze. Her palms were pressed flat against the smooth glass of the viewing window. A frown stretched her lips and she had sadness in her eyes.

"Who are you?" I asked again, walking into the room proper. "What's going on?"

She looked away and sighed, staring back down into the lab. Her voice was quiet and sympathetic when she said, "Momma's mad that they took her children."

Did I hear this bitch right?

"Lady, who the fuck are you?" I demanded again, marching toward her and grabbing her arm. "And who the fuck is this 'Momma'?"

Of course, I had a couple guesses.

Startled, she pulled her arm from my grip and stumbled backward. Her hands trembled and she stared at me with wide eyes and said, "Momma—that's, that's what we call the queen. We—someone jokingly referred to her as Moo Moo Momma one day, and . . . and it stuck."

"What? Moo—what the fuck?"

"Because she used to be a cow."

What the actual fuck?

The queen slammed against her confines and screeched, no longer attached to her egg sack.

I demanded to know, "You named that thing? What the fuck for? You know what—never mind. What are you doing here? What's your name?"

"Everyone calls me Mindy. I'm in charge of studying the queen." She stared at me a moment longer, her eyes flickering to watch the queen. When I didn't transgress her further, she placed her palms flush to the glass and leaned her head in to touch her forehead against the smooth surface.

"Why isn't she sedated?"

"She was." She continued to check on me from the corner of her eyes.

When it was clear the scientist wasn't going to elaborate, I pressed the matter through clenched teeth. "Then why is she awake right now?"

"Sedatives don't last long on her," she sighed. Not an annoyed sigh, I noticed, but one of longing.

"Did they take all of the drones and warriors already?" I asked, not bothering to close the distance she'd created. She hadn't pulled a weapon on me when I'd grabbed her, but that didn't mean she wasn't packing something that could hurt me.

She nodded, her forehead squeaking against the glass. "They gassed them and loaded them on a plane. They're going to take them far away, aren't they?"

It took an extra second for me to realize the queen had fallen silent. I looked away from Mindy and toward the cage. The giant beast was so much bigger than the younger queen on the ship. The cage she was in had her hunched all the way over, forcing her onto all her limbs. There was barely enough room for her crest without it scraping the ceiling.

Momma, as the batty woman had called her, was rubbing her snout against the fogged glass and seemed to have her sightless face trained on us—or maybe just Mindy.

We were so far away and behind glass . . . did she still somehow know we were there?

My eyes found and lingered on the command console by the window. I had to remember my goal, but I hadn't been prepared for these developments. This Mindy person had thrown a wrench into my bravado.

Mindy stroked the glass with a heavy sigh and moved her head away before saying, "Momma's going to need new babies. She has a few eggs left in there, and she wants me to let them out to find hosts. She misses her children so much."

Her words made me double take and I glared at her with narrowed eyes. She couldn't be serious. "What do you mean, she wants you to let them out?" I asked.

At last, she tore her gaze away to look at me. The faintest smile touched her lips.

"Can't you hear her speaking?"

Chapter Text

Coherent language failed me and I shook my head once, then trained my sights back on the robust form of the queen, now baring her teeth at us. There were no coherent words coming from that death-filled maw, and the only emotion I could decipher from her was hate.

"These things don't talk, Mindy. What the fuck are you going on about?" The thought of this thing speaking to anyone made me shudder in disgust. Not to mention that Mindy was suggesting that the queen was telling her to unleash hell into the building.

Bitch doesn't even seem alarmed by this at all.

In fact, it seemed as if she was actually considering letting the remaining facehuggers out to infect people. I narrowed my eyes at her and my trigger arm itched. Shooting her was a quick solution, but I wasn't ready to go that far. Not yet. Not until I knew for sure if she was armed.

Mindy looked frail. Like if I clocked her, she'd go down without much of a fight. I couldn't let her looks deceive me, though, so I'd stay on my guard for the time being.

First, I wanted to find out what she was going on about.

She cocked her head to the side and took a half step away from the observation window. For several seconds she looked confused, then glanced down at her palms. Another brief moment passed and she started to giggle—a shrill sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand.

"Oh no—silly, no. She doesn't speak like you and I are now . . . maybe you can't hear her because you don't work with her," she said, still tittering.

"What do you mean work with her?" I asked. "No one's allowed in there when they're awake."

Mindy smiled and shook her head. "No, we're not, but we have to go in sometimes to harvest eggs or materials, and that's how we found the jelly."

"The what?"

"The jelly—think like how queen bees are made. We call it Royal Jelly."

I clicked my teeth together in frustration. "Yes, let me just dredge up all that trivia about bees so I remember what the hell you're talking about."

Mindy shook her head and clucked her tongue, patronizing me. "Never mind. I must help the queen, not explain her brilliance to the likes of someone who cannot even communicate with her like we can."

"Help her how?" I asked, tensing up.

"She wants more children."

With that, she turned toward me and started for the exit. At first, I thought she was coming at me, but then I realized she just wanted to leave and I grabbed her arm before she slipped by me, holding on tight.

Through clenched teeth, I asked, "What do you think you're going to do?"

For a moment she stared at me, bewildered, and then bemused realization replaced her expression. "I was going to open the doors to the cage." She pulled her arm from my grasp and continued toward the exit.

Once more I reached out and snatched her arm up in my grip. "Oh no you fucking aren't."

She struggled and the dream-like look in her eyes morphed into agitation. "Let me go! She needs me! She can't get out of the cage on her own and she needs her children. I know you don't understand, but please!"

Was she actually begging me to let her infect the entire building? I wasn't fond of the bureaucratic bullshit, but I wasn't going to let her ruin their lives, not to mention threaten the entire world, too.

Shaking my head, I yanked her away from the door and swung her back around to the other side of the room, nearly wrenching her arm from its socket. I snarled, "She doesn't need jack shit from you. She just needs to die. Her and all her demon spawn."

Aghast, she used the wall to regain her balance as she declared, "You're a monster!"

I whirled around and thrust my finger in the direction of the screeching alien. "No," I hissed, "That is a monster. And I'm gonna fucking end her."

The button was right there. I flipped open the protective glass cover and slapped my palm down over it.

Momma bellowed in equal parts rage and pain as the room was engulfed in an inferno of angry red flames. They roiled and roared, scorching the reinforced glass. Mindy wailed and threw herself at me, trying to prise my fingers off the button. I grunted and shouldered her away, but she cracked back with a swift kick to my worse leg.

Intense pain shot up my leg and I nearly collapsed, the flash button's console the only thing holding me up. Mindy used the moment to rip my hands off the button and shove me to the floor. I flailed for a moment, catching myself on my arms, and she made a break for it. She was heading for the door, but I was able to dive and grab one of her ankles, tripping her and making her land flat on her stomach.

Her breath left her in a strangled rasp, but she'd saved herself from landing on her face with her hands. I thought I heard something crack, but I couldn't be sure.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I demanded, dragging her across the floor toward me while also trying to get my defunct legs back underneath me.

Fucking cheap shot, sweeping the leg.

Tears streaked her face and she turned to face me, kicking out to free herself. "You wouldn't understand. No one can hear her like us! You'll understand soon—everyone will. Everyone should be honored that Momma lets us be reborn as her children."

"Us?" I whispered, my brows pinching together. Has she been talking in the plural this whole time? Who else does she mean?

I finally managed to scramble into a kneeling position, pulling her closer to me. Just one solid hit, that's all it would take. All I had to do was avoid her frantic attacks then I could knock her lights out and—

One of her feet slipped through my grip and she landed a solid blow to my chest, driving the wind from my lungs. I'd never faced such a squirrely opponent; I was used to sparring with people standing upright and waiting for an opportunity to punch me, not someone who was prone, literally kicking and screaming for all she was worth.

It was enough to make me crumple over, couching and pressing my hands against my sternum. Nothing felt broken, and after a few deep breaths, the sharp ache had disappeared and in its place was a dull soreness.

The door was still closed when I checked it—I looked around the room and found Mindy at one of the monitoring computers against the back wall, her fingers clacking away at the keyboard. Glowering at her, I stood up and thought to leave her be, going back to that big red button.

Let her call for backup. No one's going to be on her side on this, I thought, sparing her only a small glance over my shoulder.

Before I made it, a klaxon inside started to blare, startling me. I peered inside the lab, not even for one second thinking that the short burst of napalm had been enough to kill the queen. It had been plenty enough to leave the laboratory in disrepair, burned and charred equipment littered all over the floor.

In the back of my head, sequestered in a dark corner, a tiny voice piped up; You didn't check to see if there were people in there.

I did my best to ignore it.

There were more important things taking up my attention.

Somewhere behind me, Mindy screeched with victorious laughter. The large loading doors in the side of the enclosure were spreading open. The alarms were going off from inside our room and outside, but they'd been rendered inoperable on the inside of the lab thanks to the fire. The opening was big enough for a couple humans to enter and maybe a drone, but I realized quickly that there wasn't room for the queen.

She was still trapped.

Above the view window, the CCTV showed an invigorated queen thrashing around in her chamber, smoke still wafting from off her thick chitin. She butted her thick crest against the walls, but to no avail.

"Thank god," I breathed, relaxing against the window.

"No," Mindy groaned, and I twisted around to look at her as she pushed her hands against her head. "You—no, no! The sedative hasn't worn off enough. She's not strong enough to escape on her own, yet!"

Relief cooled my fire and I huffed, "Good," while I left my post by the window and approached the button.

Time to finish the fucking job.

The chair she'd been standing behind clattered as she struggled to move around it. "No, no! No-just a little longer! She'll be strong enough in just a bit!"

"Not if I can help it.

"Stop!"

I pushed my palm against the switch and flames erupted in the laboratory once more, the subsequent siren overpowering the klaxons of the laboratory. The queen's cry of pain was barely heard over the roar of the fire.

Mindy was upon me, shrieking a battle cry that would make a banshee envious. She threw her entire weight on top of me and I stumbled on my feet, unable to keep my hand on the controls. The queen continued to howl, her pain giving way to anger. Mindy's hands clawed at my face without drawing blood, and I was able to grab and throw her from my shoulders before she caused any damage. She crashed into the wall and grunted, dazed but not too hurt.

"You're a crazy fucking bitch!" I shouted, pointing an accusing finger toward her.

Mindy pulled her feet under her and stood on shaky legs. Her assault had her between me and my goal, and I could see into the lab behind her. The malignant matriarch was at the human-sized doors, trying to shove her broad head through them.

Straightening, I made another move for the flash button but Mindy squared off in front of me.

"Fine," I huffed, taking a steadying breath and lifting my hands into a mock boxer stance. Mindy's pallid face scrunched with fear. "We'll do this the hard way."

I lunged, pushing away her hands at she slapped haphazardly at me, and decked her with a quick jab to the nose. As I had predicted, she folded like a wet tissue and fell to the floor in a heap, blood trickling between her fingers as she held her face.

What I hadn't been expecting was for her to immediately burst into tears and start wailing.

My lip curled in disdain and I stepped over her prone body to the console. Though my hand was on the switch, Mindy clutched at my ankle and I spared her a couple seconds, surprised she was able to function through her apparent suffering.

"Please—let her go. She deserves better than this," she implored, her words garbled through the broken nose. The second one I'd busted today.

"Why do you care so much?" I growled, looking down at her with borderline disgust.

She held still for a few heartbeats, breathing her nose, then babbled, "She talks to me, you know. Not like . . . in words, but if I fall asleep at my desk or close my eyes—she sends me visions. We've been wasting her gift on the wrong people."

"What gift? The gift of having some demented spider implant a parasite in you? Then have that parasite rip through your body and murder you?"

"You'll never understand . . . never understand . . . ."

"Oh just shut the fuck up," I grunted, freeing my leg by lashing out and sending her sprawling into the wall under the window. Standing was a chore, but I was managing. She'd really done a number on my leg.

A muffled crash from inside the lab drew my attention. The queen had powered through the first opening and was shoving herself through the short tunnel, thrusting her head upward until the compromised Plexiglas shattered.

All the color drained from my face as my heart skipped a beat. I was vaguely aware of Mindy's jubilant cry of "Momma's out!" before I whirled around toward the console.

"Enjoy freedom while it lasts, bitch," I muttered under my breath, slapping down hard on the emergency button.

"No!" Mindy sobbed.

It didn't wait for anyone. An alarm sounded and then the lab was engulfed in flames again, eliciting an otherworldly cry from the blazing queen.

Mindy tried to stand. I kept an eye on her, waiting. She was a blubbering mess, but she managed to curl her legs under her and was on her feet in a few more seconds, still clutching her bloodied nose as she came at me.

My right hook connected with her jaw, sloppy but effective. She reeled and hit the ground, her crying cut off abruptly. She was motionless on the floor for several heartbeats as I shook the ache from my hand.

Shit, did I break my fingers?

Flexing my fingers told me that no, my hand was fine, but I sure could have had better form when I'd hit her—there might have been one or two jammed digits, but at least it seemed like I hadn't fractured anything.

The same couldn't be said for her, slumped over on the dirty floor.

Then, all at once, everything settled and fell quiet. The ambient crashing as the queen moved about the room stopped and I released the button, eagerly stepping up to the window as the flames slowly sputtered and flickered out of life.

When I couldn't immediately spot the queen, my stomach twisted in on itself and I pounded on the glass, seeking a response from her if she was alive.

But nothing moved.

As Mindy stirred, I looked over my shoulder to gauge if she was a threat. I felt a little bit of relief at the fact that I hadn't straight up killed her with one punch, but that worry seemed silly when I considered it.

Wolf could maybe pull that off, but me?

"Momma . . . ," Mindy muttered, slurring every sound. She staggered around, holding her head, and slowly made her way toward the door. "Mom—Momma . . . ."

I let her go. I'd got her good with that blow and there was a fair chance that she had a bad concussion from it.

She wasn't going to hurt anything.

For a while, nothing moved except for the thick smog still hanging in the air. Then, it furled inward as something long disturbed the air, sliding on the ground.

The queen slammed face-first into the viewing window and I stumbled back with a sharp cry. Her carapace was steaming, her dark-gray hide charred into night black. Parts of it were still smoldering, glowing like a dying coal. Her claws raked down the glass and the sound made my entire body shudder, but despite all of her posturing, she was stumbling and was having difficulty keeping her head up.

She thumped against the pane and it shuddered under her weakened strength.

I was about to smash my fist against the flash command again when I spotted Mindy stumbling inside, nearly falling down the steps. Even the queen turned to watch her, that stubbed tail of hers lashing, and my body went rigid. I expected nothing less than a bloodbath.

Instead, Momma turned away and head-butted the window again, startling me. She hissed and rammed herself against the glass a few more times, making me stare at her with a gaping mouth, surprised that she hadn't straight up eaten Mindy yet.

Whatever weird effect that jelly or the queen had, she knew to leave Mindy alone. Just what were these fucking aliens?

Mindy waded through the blackened remains of the lab before slipping inside the cage. Momma turned again and staggered after her. With her giant head out of the way, I counted her missing limbs and saw just how shriveled her tail was.

One more blast and I was certain she would finally perish. I would have to hold the button longer.

Now, though, Mindy was inside, and who knew how many people I hadn't seen when I'd first seared the lab.

A tightness constricted around my heart and my hand froze over the command. I searched for the scientist inside the cage, but it was difficult to see much of anything through the fire-damaged glass and the smoke.

However, moments later, the queen backed out of the hole she had made and Mindy wandered out from underneath her, still unable to walk straight. Her mouth was moving, but I couldn't hear what she was saying.

Next to the window was a speaker and a button. I pushed it with a finger and her voice came through, albeit barely intelligible between the damage and her slurring.

". . . left were dissected . . . have to start over . . . make a new egg sack. It'll be days before she can start producing again . . . no warriors to protect her . . . ."

Momma hovered above her, mirroring the way Mindy swayed back and forth, unbalanced and unstable. The edges of her crown were glowing a dim orange, as well as the tips of her shoulder spines.

The queen was shaking it off, though. I could already tell that strength and clarity were returning to her as she looked around, spotting the door Mindy had left open when she'd entered the lab. She started walking over to it, her steps heavy and thudding with her weight.

"Go, Momma," Mindy called, finally falling to her knees. Blood coated the front of her. "I'll . . . stay . . . ."

Her massive head swinging, Momma continued forward. Her chrome teeth shone as her lips pulled back. She lowered her head, preparing to charge.

Don't let her out. You can't.

Biting my lip, I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. My resolve hardened and I buried my emotions deep inside me.

The queen snarled and bull-rushed the door. My eyes closed, I pressed the button with a trembling hand.

The roar of the fire filled me. I heard nothing from Mindy, and the screeches of the queen seemed far away. Though the queen's momentum wasn't interrupted, her impact was greatly diminished. Instead of exploding into splinters and debris, the walls shuddered when she hit them. They shook a couple more times when she made another attempt or two, but she couldn't combat the napalm consuming her.

Wails and squeals assaulted my ears and I kept my eyes shut tight. Momma abandoned her efforts and instead beat her large talons against the glass in front of me. My arms began to shake, but I held my positions until long after all noises stopped.

After several moments, the flash sputtered and died out, but still, I held the button.

Voices started to pick up outside. I was made aware of them only when the door started to open, but I kept my weight on the flash console. Nothing had moved inside the lab for some time, but it was like I was stuck there.

Droplets of water fell onto the back of my hands. My jaw hurt from how hard I was gritting my teeth.

It's done, a small voice told me.

I still didn't move.

Someone's hands gripped my wrist and pried me off of the console. I opened my mouth to protest, but all that came out was a choked-back sob.

"What happened?" a voice said into my ear.

I came back to myself then, yanking my hands-free and stumbling back. My cheeks were wet, but I didn't remember when I'd started crying. I quickly brushed the tears away on my damp hands, looking around me.

A few scientists had burst into the room, likely drawn by the sounding alarms. They stopped dead in their tracks and stared at me like I'd sprouted a second head. I recognized one of them, the one who had pulled me away from the flash pad, as the doctor that had sat in with Devon and me when we visited earlier in the week. I couldn't remember his name, though.

One of them lurched for the viewing window and let out a pained choking noise. "She burned it all! Everything that was in there is gone!"

The accusations and questions started up all at once and I felt trapped, cornered. I put my hands up and scowled ready for another fight. Mindy hadn't put up much of a fight after that first square hit, so many would it take to win this one?

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Why would you do something like this?"

"Did the queen escape?"

"Where's Mindy? She was overseeing the chain of custody when Weyland seized them."

More joined the first at the window and the others followed suit. I edged around in the direction of the exit and lifted my hand to my head. When I spoke, my voice was heavy and thick. I wasn't sure if I was talking to them or myself.

"She—she went crazy. Mindy—she opened the cage doors and let the queen out. She was spouting nonsense about how big of an honor it would be to be a host for them and all kinds of shit. She was fucking out of her mind so I flashed the lab!"

A few of them exchanged glances, and more muttered to themselves about the whole thing.

"Mindy did?"

"That sounds like a crock of shit!"

"Some of them have been acting weird as of late. . . ."

For the most part, they were all too shocked by the destruction to question my story. One of the ones by the window pointed out the destroyed entrance to the cage and impact damage against the far wall.

No one could see Mindy among the charred remains of the lab, but the queen's massive body was there, blackened and emanating an eerie orange glow.

Not moving.

I did it. She's dead.

With them occupied, I slipped from the room with satisfaction and headed toward the elevators, my hands trembling. I tried my best to keep my knees from shaking, but a few times I lost my balance and had to brace myself against the wall.

I'd condemned that woman to death. I'd completely erased her existence in a few minutes, reduced her to nothing more than ash on the floor. She'd been in my way and I'd smote her for it. I put a hand to my head and fought through blurry vision as the realization of what I'd done encumbered me. Both her and Dixon deserved their broken noses—did Mindy deserve to be cooked alive as well?

She didn't suffer, a little voice told me. And it was necessary.

Yes. Yes, it had been necessary. I had saved everyone from a fate worse than death—and not a single person was going to thank me for it.

Good thing I didn't do it for their gratitude.

Lightning struck the side of my head and I dropped to the floor like a sack. I didn't have enough time or coordination after the blow to brace myself for landing and I hit the ground half on my chest and half on my shoulder, the wind knocked out of me.

The world around me swam and stars obscured my vision. The spot where I'd been struck felt wet and cold, and my pulse thrummed in my head like angry wasps.

When I rolled onto my back, a weight dropped on my stomach and further chased away my breath. A sloppy fist collided with my cheek—once, twice, thrice—before I could come to my senses and defend myself.

Whoever they were, they removed themselves from on top of me and I rolled back over to my stomach, wheezing and choking. My ears were ringing, tears of pain burning the corners of my eyes. Every nerve in my body was on fire, screaming at me for some sort of relief.

Though I was still close to observation and the lab, there wasn't enough air in my lungs to call for aid.

Feet appeared by my shoulders—the person was standing over me. I tried to face them, but a hand gripped the back of my shirt and heaved me upward. My toes dragged across the ground and I was hauled down a different hallway, my hands clawing behind me to free my collar.

"You killed her." A man.

"She . . . ran in there . . . on her own . . . I couldn't . . . stop her! I didn't . . . want to, but . . . she forced my . . . hand." I swallowed cotton and tried to blink my vision into returning. Somehow, I had to force the crackling ache in my cheek to the back of my mind. I fought to keep my voice even through the gasps.

"What?" he snapped. His face was red and eyes glassy. "I—I'm talking about Momma!"

Chapter Text

My systems shut down while I tried to comprehend what he was talking about. Momma—the queen? He was talking about the queen? But that didn't make sense.

"What the fuck . . . are you . . . talking about?" I hissed, my voice muddled and my head spinning.

He ignored and dragged me onward while flopped and grunting the whole time. He brought me to another room where he dropped me on the floor just inside the door. Through some miracle, I didn't smack my head against the floor.

"I'll teach you," he muttered ominously.

I twisted around so I was on my front and pushed my weight onto my arms. I lifted myself up until I spotted him by a table a few feet away, rummaging with a container.

"We have only one choice. The honor should be going to Emma and me, but you have to learn the error and this is the only way." He rotated his body and lifted a large, skeletal parasite in his hands. The thing was limp but its limbs were twitching every few seconds.

Ice filled my veins.

"I can wait my turn if it means teaching you what Momma was all about. Once you're carrying her heir, you'll see—you'll see how great she is. What an honor it is."

That's a facehugger.

My stomach churned and I was back on that wall five years ago, helplessly watching as the eggs hatched and I tried so hard to free myself from my prison. There was no soldier there this time to save me. No one to walk me through how to escape, how to save myself. No Wolf to watch my back.

I was on my own, but I wasn't stuck. I could move. I wasn't a helpless teenager anymore. Those punches had taken me by surprise and I couldn't see straight, but I could do this. Adrenaline had begun flowing. My vision was slowly sharpening and my mind clearing up. I didn't need anyone. Not this time. I could do this on my own.

You've got this, Nichole.

Swearing under my breath, I staggered to my feet and drew my sidearm, staggering slightly. "You keep that fucking thing away from me! I'll shoot you, I swear to god I'll do it." The words were heavy in my mouth as my sore cheekbone moved to form the words.

Even if I couldn't physically fight back, I could lift my arms and fire. I had hoped I could go my career without shooting someone, but I'd already burned a woman alive.

Shooting an asshole wielding a facehugger as a weapon should be much easier.

And yet, my finger hesitated.

He cradled the parasite in his arms and twisted his body to protect it. "No, you won't."

I swallowed hard and adjusted my aim, taking that declaration as a personal challenge. "If you bring that thing anywhere near me, I swear I'll—"

Something pricked my neck and I slapped my hand against the spot out of instinct, my fingers brushing against flesh. I whirled around, waving my weapon in an arch. A new woman was standing behind me with an empty syringe in her hand, her eyes brimming with tears.

Where the fuck did she come from?

"What the shit?" I spat, glancing at my palm and the speck of blood there. "What did you do to me?"

She extended her free hand and shook her head. "Oh no. No, don't worry, it's not, not going to kill you. It's just a minor paralytic, um, a small dose to relax you."

I mouthed a silent question and a strange tingling crackled down my spine and throughout my limbs. Every part of my body turned into gelatin and I staggered at her, reaching out, but she side-stepped me and I fell through the doorway, finding nothing but an open hallway. Somehow, I managed to take another few steps until my legs gave out and I crashed to the floor, my firearm skittering across the tile and stopping a few feet away.

The woman (Emma?) approached with trembling steps. "I couldn't let her kill you and the royal heir, Melvin. What are we going to do with her?" Her voice shook with nerves and she stepped aside so the man could join me in the corridor.

Using the last of my strength, I propped myself up against the closest wall. "You fuckwads . . . are gonna get it."

Just as soon as I can move.

"Thank god you showed up when you did, Emma. I think she really was going to shoot me. That was quick thinking."

Emma didn't seem to think so. She was shaking like a leaf as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. "What are you going to do?" she asked him again, worrying a button on her lab coat and staring at me. I glared back. Her brows knit in anger before softening for a brief instance. It was almost like she couldn't decide how to feel.

"I'm going to make her see how amazing this species is. When she's reborn as one of them, she'll never hurt another queen," he explained as he joined us out in the hall.

"But Melvin, the plan—" Emma whined, following him.

"I know what the plan was!" he snapped at her. I strained to move while they were distracted, but my muscles wouldn't respond. There was a deep desire for me to sleep, but I fought it tooth and nail. I wasn't going to succumb and let them do who knew what to me while I was out cold.

Softer, almost so that I couldn't hear him, Melvin said, "I know—nothing's going to change. Don't worry. It was never going to be me, so I'm fine with waiting so we can teach this murderer a lesson."

Emma glanced down at me and I met her eyes with a piercing look, making her retreat further behind Melvin. Tearing her gaze away from me, she said to him, "But she's not awake yet. It'll be a few minutes."

Melvin—god what a fitting name for such an idiot—stroked the strange-looking facehugger and it shuddered in his hand. "Yeah, it'll be soon. She'll be so happy to have an immediate host, too. An agent will make a better warrior to protect the new queen, anyway, don't you think?"

He looked at his partner and motioned toward the end of the hallway. "What are the others doing? Will they come this way? You might need to distract them."

She shook her head, then dropped the syringe like it had become hot and flinched away from it, glancing from me to the needle-like she was surprised at herself. "No—they're, uh . . . in the lab, trying to salvage what they can of the data. I don't think they noticed that I left."

Her cohort breathed a sigh of relief and approached me with his hideous bundle. "Good, good."

"Are you sure about this?" Emma asked, fidgeting. "I mean—what if she doesn't become a warrior? What if she . . . gets to be the new queen?"

"It won't happen." His voice was certain. "This species has evolved to be better than that. If we have her go first, before you, she will be reborn as a warrior to help protect the maturing queen—you."

Emma stilled her jitters and nodded once. "Yes. You're right . . . you're absolutely right. It wouldn't make any sense."

Groaning, I enunciated each word with excruciating effort. "You. Are. Insane."

Turning to me, Melvin's lips thinned into a terse grin and he crouched down to give me a closer look at the strange parasite. "This one is special. Can you see?"

I battled against my own body to recoil, but it was as if the circulation to my extremities had been cut off: my limbs were laden with lead and rendered immobile. My vision blurred and I shut my eyes to take a deep breath. At least I could still think straight, but things were muggy and slow.

When I opened my eyes, I could see that what he held a mere few feet away wasn't anything like the facehuggers I knew from the nest years ago. It was a dark gold-black color instead of off-white; streamlined and much larger. He cradled it like a newborn, using both arms to support its spindly form and presented it as a prized trophy.

"Wh—" My dry throat prevented speech.

"We were doing experiments with the queen's secretions. When we exposed this one's egg to it, it hatched like this. All of them incubate in a similar compound, but the pure secretion straight from the queen did this. Isn't she beautiful?" Emma explained, awe breaking through her anxiety for a brief moment. "Just like a beehive—the queen's jelly can change the parasitoids, give them the royal bloodline to create new queens and new hives."

Her colleague nodded. "We couldn't dissect it like the rest. We wanted to learn more about it so we kept it sedated in order to take x-rays. It carries two embryos, you see? It can implant twice! The honor was going to go to Mindy and Emma, but . . . now Mindy's dead."

Both lowered their heads and took deep, synchronized breaths.

As if aware it was the subject of the conversation, the facehugger squeaked and drew my attention. One of its slightly-curved legs twitched—the first sign of movement since Melvin had picked it up, and it was enough to stall my heart.

"Now," Emma sighed, "That means we have a free embryo . . . for you."

Melvin stood, cradling the royal piece of shit, and placed a hand on Emma's shoulder. "It's for the greater good. As I said, you'll still receive your reward. I was always going to receive mine later, anyway. You might need a human's help."

She chewed on her lip and tilted her head to the side before reaching out to caress the top of the facehugger with her fingertips. "You're always right."

I tried to sit up further against the wall but ended up wriggling without effect. My head lolled with the effort, making me exert more energy to roll it back into place. I couldn't take my eyes off that thing, not for an instance.

Emma, in the meantime, let her hand drop and thanked Melvin for being so kind—fuck me—and I rolled my eyes. "Are all—all of you geeks . . . this delusional?"

They blinked at me and then Emma shook her head. "Delusional? No. However, the three of us were the only ones chosen by the queen as her subjects. No one else has heard her or received her visions. Mindy was the first."

Both fell silent and watched the royal facehugger. My sidearm was scant inches out of arm's reach. If I could recover my fine motor skills, I could fall to my side and grab it . . . . It seemed like an impossible task. Even finding the upper body strength to tilt over was daunting. Adrenaline fought against the drug and kept me from turning into a puddle—it was fighting a losing battle, though.

Somehow, my fingers twitched. That was all I was going to get, it seemed.

"Shouldn't she be okay by now? The drugs always wear off so fast on them once they're no longer exposed to the sedative. It shouldn't be taking this long! Someone might come along and see," Emma hissed, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Melvin changed the parasite's position so it was resting on one arm and extended the other toward Emma. "Calm down. She's waking up in her own time."

"It isn't fast enough!"

Groaning, Melvin turned away from Emma and back to his precious bundle and stroked it with the same level of compassion of a lover. My gag reflex triggered.

"A watched pot never boils," he recited.

Whatever drug the bitch had given me, the adrenaline coursing through my veins was trying its damnedest to counteract it. Through sheer force of will and desperation, I was able to force myself to slump over into a prone position, closer to my weapon. A sheen of sweat beaded my brow and I was out of breath, but it was still some progress.

The mobility needed to pick the firearm up, however, was still beyond me. My arm was pinned under my ribcage.

Melvin moved until he was in front of me again and clicked his tongue. "No, don't go anywhere. She's finally starting to come around."

I couldn't see Emma through Melvin's fat head, but her voice was clear enough. "Is it time?"

"Yes, I think so."

As he said it, the royal facehugger squirmed in his grasp with new vigor. The tail was still hanging limply behind it, slipping over Melvin's arm. He held it out to me and I struggled to control my arms and legs, to stand or crawl. If I could crawl away, I could—I could—

What can I do?

Words failed me as my throat clamped shut, not allowing so much as a breath. I wormed my way sideways, spurred by the new burst of energy brought about by the fresh adrenaline pumping through my veins. Melvin placed the floppy parasite on the ground, feet away.

My mouth gaped soundlessly save for a single strangled, incoherent plea in the form of a garbled half-wail. He urged it forward and it struggled to stand on its segmented limbs.

Before my eyes was the sudden image of Jess doubled over, clutching her chest and crying. Rapid breaths failed to fill my lungs with oxygen as my mind was forced into remembering the look on her face when the abomination burst through her ribcage to take its first gulp of air.

That was going to be me.

Angry, frustrated, and frightened tears burned behind my eyes, spilling past my lids and down my cheeks. The royal facehugger stood with increased confidence and skittered from side to side as it found its balance.

"Go on," Melvin urged, backing up until I was the closest thing to it. It wouldn't have any other choice but to attach to my face now.

A shout echoed from down the hall, but it was a pittance compared to the vile creature staggering toward me and the sound of my pulse in my ears. It was all I could do to inch my way, using self-discipline and what little strength I had in my hips, in the opposite direction.

It was gaining mobility faster than I. Its grotesque finger-legs tapped at the tile and carried it toward me in stilted strides. Some fleshy appendage from its underbelly pulsated.

Helplessness washed over me and I choked out a single sob as more tears trailed down my face.

Thunder boomed, cutting through everything else and sending Melvin sprawling across my periphery. Emma's scream was muted compared to the explosive sound of the facehugger's steps. I was plagued by the urge to look up, but I didn't dare tear my eyes off the advancing parasite. Its disjointed limbs ticked and jerked with each movement, but its objective was clear.

Three loud and jarring pops lit my nerves on fire. The royal facehugger jerked and squealed as holes ripped through its soft and wet body. The only sound that penetrated the ringing in my ears was the sound of Emma's horrified shriek doubling in volume and reaching new levels of pitch.

Through some stroke of luck, I was spared any drops of acid. More shots tore into the thing's still-spasming body and I flinched each time. Even when it ceased all movement, I still felt as if I wasn't safe. I couldn't put any more distance between the two of us. The drug's grip was slackening by margins, but fear petrified me.

Shoes interrupted my field of vision, obscuring the dead facehugger. I shuddered and panic caused my heart to nearly stop altogether when I couldn't see it anymore. One foot nudged it further away.

A familiar voice sliced through the terror. "I've got you," it said as I was engulfed by a pair of arms. Devon swept into view and I released a trembling gush of air, my eyes closing, as every one of my muscles curled toward him.

"Devon," I mouthed; my voice eluded me still. My heart thudded against my chest, drummed in my ears, and his arms tightened around me. I let a few more sobs escape me in relief.

He pulled me against his chest, embracing me close and he spoke into my ear. "I got you, don't worry. Are you alright? Nichole, what did they do to you? You look terrible."

I looked up at him and was taken aback: there was a darkness in his expression that I had never seen before. As he held me, I realized that he was shaking with anger and his fingers dug almost painfully into my skin.

Somehow I managed something similar to a head shake and I looked around. After a few seconds of trying to lift my hand, I pointed toward Emma, who was bent over the dead facehugger and blubbering, struggling to decide if she should pick up its body even as it sunk a few inches into the floor, acid blood devouring the tile.

Next to her was the unmoving body of Melvin, blood pooling under his chest. Behind her was the forgotten syringe she had dropped. My mouth bobbed in an attempt to work a few times before I found the voice that had fled. "Drugged," I rasped.

He followed my gaze and nodded. "Can you walk? I'll get you upstairs."

"I don't . . . think so."

Before he could prop me up, Emma spoke—her voice was wet and heavy. "What have you done? What have you done!"

She stood on trembling legs, her face red and slick with tears. Devon tensed against me when Emma advanced toward us. "You killed her. Now we—we lost everything! I was—I was so happy when they decided not to take our eggs today, we had more time with them . . . but now—now they're all dead and you killed Momma and our last hope for another queen!"

Devon glowered and carefully leaned me against the wall so he could stand and face her.

Her tirade gained momentum and she showed no sign of relenting. "What gives you the right to deny this species existence? The fact that they're scarier than you? We were trying to create life and you destroyed it! You and that—that whore!"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth before Devon slapped her across the face. Emma reeled and stumbled backward, her hand covering her stinging cheek. She gaped at him, affronted, and backed away with fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. The two of them stared off for a few seconds until Devon turned away.

At least she's not sobbing like Mindy had.

"You hit her," I breathed. It wasn't an accusation.

He ticked his head to the side and put his arm around me again. "Talk shit, get hit. She was hysterical, y'know?"

It was so absurd. He sounded flippant, but his scowl said otherwise.

With Devon's help, I found my footing and was able to divide my weight between my own strength and Devon's support. My steps were faltering and inclined more toward meek shuffling, but it was a notch above my worm imitation.

"Here, don't lose this," he said, sticking my sidearm into its holster. "Let's go get these bruises treated."

"Thanks," I murmured. My head buzzed with static and I cringed against him as we passed the dead parasitic alien stirring in its own acidic blood. I half expected it to spring back to life and finish what it started, however ridiculous the sentiment might have been.

I needed Devon's help striding over Melvin, and we skirted around Emma who collapsed once more by the facehugger's side. At the end of the hall, the scientists had started to gather.

"What happened?" one of them asked. "We heard gunshots from the lab."

Devon shifted his weight to pull me up straighter. "You have got to keep better track of your scientists. They just tried to infect in my partner with one of those things." His voice was sharp and it sent a tremor down my spine.

"Are you serious?" someone else gasped.

Another growled. "What happened to Melvin? What is he doing on the floor? Is Emma okay?"

Neither of us bothered to look back and Devon harrumphed. "That idiot dove in front of me when I tried to shoot the damn thing. Maybe he's alive, maybe not, I don't really give a fuck. Out of my way, eggheads."

We shoved past them and they scurried down the hall to where Emma was still sobbing.

"Don't touch that!" one of them chided.

Emma sobbed something in return, but she was too incoherent to understand.

"How did you . . . find me?" I asked once we were around the corner, finding it easier to speak by a margin. My gait had yet to stabilize; I hadn't felt so useless since my legs were broken.

He didn't look at me and his smile didn't touch his eyes. "I figured you'd either go to the floor with the predator or this one. I checked the predator's lab first and only found Dixon nursing a broken nose and ego, so I came here next."

I choked out something like a laugh. "He's just . . . sitting down there?" I had to pause for a respite. "Sulking?"

"Probably left by now. Did you hit him?"

"A little."

"I figured as much." This time his smirk was closer to bringing light to his face but didn't quite pull it off. "But anyway, when I saw all those people in the lab—I assume all the blackened shit was also your doing?"

My teeth clenched and I dipped my head.

"Jesus, alright. Well, I saw those guys in the lab and I asked if they'd seen you. They said you'd already left. I didn't meet you when I got off the elevator or walked down the hall, so I came looking."

"Why?"

We stopped at the elevator and he gave me a strange look. "You're my partner. I was worried about you. You seemed so . . . upset about the whole thing. And I had a bad feeling." Devon reached out and hit the call button.

"A bad feeling?"

He nodded. "When you work so long on the force, you get a sixth sense for these sorts of things. Something seemed off, so I had to make sure you were okay."

Heat flooded my cheeks and I looked down at the floor, a small smile touching my lips.

"Well, the thank you, Devon. You really saved me back there." I was loathe to admit it, but I'd been caught unawares. All I could do was to vow never to let it happen again.

Chapter Text

The adrenaline was ebbing and I was hit with sudden exhaustion as we entered the elevators. My knees buckled from under me and Devon had to adjust his grip to support my burden. Where Melvin had hit me in the back of the head was starting to throb and radiate through my skull.

"Are you okay?" Devon asked, hefting me up so he was almost carrying me.

"I'm fine. Take me to the back."

"Uh-uh," he grunted, jabbing a floor button. "I'm taking you to see the doctor. You might need to go to the hospital. Who knows what that crazy lady put in you and your face is a mess."

I shook my head and tried to reach for the buttons, but my hand wouldn't even come up higher than my hips. "No—the predator. We have to stop them from taking him. We have to go to loading and stop them."

Forget about my face.

He moved me further away. "No, you're going to see the doctor, and that's final."

"Devon—"

Devon shook his head and held me tighter against his side. "It doesn't matter, anyway. They're long gone by now, headed out to a private airport out north. You are going to the nurse's office right away."

Nurse's office. I rolled my eyes. What a dork.

"I'm okay," I insisted, even as I hung limply off of him.

"You can barely stand let alone walk anywhere."

I chewed on the inside of my lip, aware of how close I was to Devon; the pressure of his arm around my waist and his fingers against my wrist. My hands balled into a fist and he glanced at me, then sighed.

"We'll figure out where they're going and what we can do," he assured me.

Swallowing, I pressed my lips together before speaking. "We know where they're going. It's the 'what we can do' part that has me worried."

"Well, what do you want to do?"

The elevator reached its floor and we exited. I didn't know whether I should tell him or not—how I wanted to free the predator and eradicate the xenos. Part of me wondered if he hadn't already figured it out.

There was still the matter of whether he'd rat me out if I told him everything, too. He probably wouldn't understand, and I wasn't sure how to make him understand, either.

"It doesn't matter what I want if I don't know how I'm going to do it," I ended up telling him.

He seemed close to saying something, then thought better of it. After a second of reconstructing his thoughts, he said, "Nichole . . . I'm here for you, y'know? We're partners."

"You just saved my life because of a hunch," I sighed. "What makes you think I don't know that already?"

And yet here I am, wondering if I can trust you.

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing more as he led me through the hall.

I hadn't needed to visit the resident doctor since my annual physical months prior. It wasn't a very extensive operation—basic first aid supplies and beds for people feeling ill or needing a nap. Most damage done to a person was out in the field, and anything more than a few cuts or bruises was directed to an actual hospital where the official physician would visit to treat them directly.

Doctor Lee manned the infirmary, treating paper cuts, while Doctor Kendrick worked at the clinic proper, on both the hospital's and the agency's payrolls.

"Why'd you kill the queen?" Devon asked out of the blue, careful and nonchalant.

There were two answers—the real one and the less-real-but-still-kind-of-true answer. When I took too long to decide which version to give him, he pressed the matter. "Nichole? Why'd you do it?"

"Sorry," I muttered. He would have to be satisfied by the half-truth for now. The less Devon knew about my sordid plot, the better it would be for him in the long run. "That lady that was in there, she was going to let the queen out and get everyone impregnated so she'd have more 'children'. I did what I had to do."

He tightened his grip around my waist, electrifying my skin and making me squirm with discomfort.

"What was wrong with them?" he asked, that darkness seeping into his tone. "Did they go totally bonkers locked up in that lab all day and night or something?"

It took a moment for me to clear my mind. "No—no it wasn't that . . . well, I guess something like that but . . . . Mindy, the one I had to—um, the one with the queen, she was mentioning some sort of jelly the queen secretes or something. They'd been experimenting with it and studying it."

"And?"

Forcing my heavy limbs to move was taking its toll on my stamina. My feet dragged and Devon was all but carrying me toward the infirmary. He paused to let me catch my breath.

When I was ready, I continued. "And—and I'm not really sure. They said, well she said, that she was getting, visions or dreams or something. Tried to tell me that the queen was talking to her or some shit."

"Hallucinations? Or . . . ?"

"I don't know," I huffed in irritation.

We continued onward and Devon was deep in thought alongside me. Something occurred to me and I shook my head. "I don't know, but they, the xenomorphs, they work on a hive mind, right? Like ants and bees? Maybe the—whatever the queen makes gave them glimpses of it?"

"How would it do that?"

"I—how would I know? I'm not a scientist."

He chuckled. "I can tell." His posture relaxed compared to before and it was good to have him back to normal, or at least almost back to normal: the tendon in his neck was still tense.

At last, we reached the infirmary—I inwardly scoffed again at the thought of Devon calling it the "Nurse's Office"—and he hauled my ass inside. Doctor Lee was standing at the treatment table with his back turned to us and a disgruntled Dixon sitting before him.

Dixon peered around him when we stumbled in and pointed at us, his hand covered in nasal blood. "There she is! She did this to me!"

Doctor Lee turned, preparing for a lecture, but his irritation was replaced with concern when he saw my condition. He hurried over and slipped next to me, helping Devon support my weight and move me to a table.

"Get off the bed, Chris," the doctor said. He was urgent but not mean about it.

"What? She broke my nose! Maybe bruised a couple ribs. Why should I do anything for her? I'll have her fired for this," he ranted, his face red.

The doctor stopped and shooed Dixon away with a hand. "And we will deal with it later, but right now I need her on this bed. There's nothing I can do for your broken nose. You'll need chest x-rays and Allison will have to realign your nose at the hospital when you get there."

When he didn't immediately move, Doctor Lee reached out to force him. However, Dixon stood up beforehand, his arms up defensively.

"Don't touch me, I'm moving," he harrumphed.

I couldn't help but glare at him as Devon and Doctor Lee had me sit on the reclining examination chair. He motioned behind him at the sickbeds without looking. "Sit there and wait for me if you don't want to go to the hospital right now. Give me a few minutes to look her over."

Eyes narrowed, Dixon glanced between us and shook his head, sitting on one of the other cots as he had been told. He was holding a bloody rag up to his nose and his eyes were puffy and bruised.

Fucker deserved it.

"What happened to her?" Doctor Lee demanded.

Together, Devon and I recounted the last fifteen minutes, leaving out the part about me burning the entire lab down, including a scientist. No one asked why I hit Dixon, but I knew it was coming at some point. Until then, I was glad for the chance to come up with a reason. For the most part, though, I figured the truth was the only thing I could offer that made any sense.

Especially since he was right there and would tell the whole world if I was lying.

A few minutes were spent checking my reflexes and heart rate before the doctor could come to any conclusions. It included poking me with a needle—the resulting pain, I assumed, was a good sign. He tended to my bruised face and fetched an ice pack for the swelling.

I could only imagine what I looked like.

"Well," Doctor Lee said, his hands on his hips, "I'm afraid there's not much I can do about the paralysis. She wasn't given a very high dosage, so it should wear off within the hour. You already have some response to the tests, which is a good sign. Until then, you'll just have to take it easy. Drink water to help flush it out of your system faster. I'd put you on an IV, but I don't have the equipment for it."

"I don't have time for any of that," I muttered.

His forehead creased and he gave me a stern look. "Well you'll have to make time, since . . . well, you can't move. You'll have to stay here anyway while we file the incident report. You did a pretty good job on Chris' nose over there. You'll probably be written up for it."

"Which is less than she deserves."

"Shut the fuck up, asshat," I groaned, bobbing my head. "I don't want to hear anything from your back-stabbing ass."

The rest of his face turned beat-red. "Look at the pot calling the kettle black!"

My hackles raised but he had such a volatile point that I couldn't find a proper comeback. Instead, I sneered at him with rising anger.

"I should press charges!" he continued. "You assaulted your superior, a federal agent and used excessive force!"

That, however, earned a hearty laugh from me and I managed to say, "Do it! It doesn't matter me. Not going to make a bit of difference in the long run."

"Enough," Doctor Lee commanded, putting his hands up. "I'll not have you two squabbling like two children in my infirmary! Now, I'm going to make a call to Allison about Chris, then have someone come deal with both of your incidents. Do not speak to each other while I'm gone."

He rounded on Devon, who leaned away from him in surprise. "I'm entrusting them to you."

Devon gave him a half-sarcastic salute.

With that, Doctor Lee left for his office and slammed the door shut. Devon watched it for a second, then looked at Dixon. "I'd ask, but I'm pretty sure you deserved what you got."

"Watch it, Hart. You better pick the right side on this."

Devon snickered and walked from my line of sight. I shot Dixon one more sour look before resting my head against the shitty hospital-grade pillow and closing my eyes. At least the drug made it easy for me to relax.

When Devon returned to my side, he had a paper cup in his hand. "Here. The doc said you need to drink water."

Groaning, I shuffled to sit up straight. I promptly had to dodge him as he put the cup in my face. With a sour look, I told him, "You don't have to water me like a plant, I can do it."

"Nichole, you can barely lift your arm," he reprimanded, shooting me a scathing expression. "Besides, it's only me and Dixon here. And no one cares what Dixon thinks."

The man in question growled quietly in his corner. "Gonna fire both of you."

"I can do it," I insisted, leaning as far away from him as the examining chair would allow. "Just, I just need a couple seconds to work up to it."

Devon rolled his eyes and took a small step back, holding the cup out to me. "Fine, fine."

Taking a deep breath, I concentrated on convincing my arm to raise high enough so I take the god damn water Devon had brought me, but it wouldn't budge. In the end, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't lift my arm higher than a couple inches.

Can't even drink my own water.

Glowering at the wall, I huffed and declared, "I'm not thirsty, anyway."

"Nichole."

My brief bout of petulance faded at his chiding look and I relented. "Fine, whatever."

He waited for me to recline against the back of the chair, then came closer again. After waiting for more resistance—which I didn't offer—he brought the rim of the cup to my lips.

I spent the entire time drinking from that damn stupid cup waiting for some snide comment from Devon, the incarnation of the peanut gallery. I expected it, and I didn't look forward to it. It never came, though; he was cordial through the whole situation and set the cup aside once it was empty.

"Thanks," I grumbled, trying to ignore my flushed face.

"Don't mention it," he chirped, pulling the doctor's stool up next to my bed to sit. He grinned that stupid grin of his, and this time it reached his eyes.

It was all I could do to keep myself from smiling back.

Instead, I cleared my throat and grunted. "Believe me, I won't."

From his isolated corner, Dixon snorted. "Instead of firing you two, maybe I'll just make sure you get separated. Probably a worse punishment."

Devon turned and pointed at him. "You're not supposed to talk to us. Doctor's orders."

Holding his arms under his ribs—maybe I shouldn't have kicked him that many times—he turned away and glared at the wall. Satisfied, Devon shifted his attention back to me.

"It's not your fault, you know."

I looked up at him. "What?"

"What happened. That wasn't your fault. It was a couple of crazies. You couldn't have accounted for that," he said.

Swallowing, I could do nothing but nod. I didn't trust my voice enough to attempt to speak. Devon gave me a reassuring smile, then pulled out his cell phone and a silence finally fell over the room as we waited for the doctor.

He exited his office shortly after, declaring, "I'll be right back. Hassan isn't answering his phone so I have to go fetch him."

"We'll be here," Devon assured him.

Doctor Lee glanced at us with a withering expression, then headed out the door, leaving us to sit in the quiet room.

Thanks to Devon, the heavy pressure of what I'd been through weighed on me once again. Neither Devon nor Chris were speaking, and I was in no mood to fill the silence, so it was running amok in my mind. I stared unseeing at the ceiling, my vision spotty from the fluorescent lighting.

The royal facehugger squealed. It skittered toward me, slick and slimy appendage extended and primed. . . .

I clenched my eyes shut to force the vision out of my head. When a panic attack loomed over me, I worked through my breathing exercises. It had been years since I'd learned them, yet they were still coming in handy. My chest settled with thick, hot coals and my eyes stung with tears desperate to be free.

Not here.

Not now.

Don't let them know you're weak.

A headache pounded against my skull thanks to my efforts. My throat burned like I'd swallowed a sheet of sandpaper.

Unable to do much else, I chewed on my bottom lip. The pain gave me something else to think about besides the instant replays running wild. All my muscles flexed and relaxed as I tried to force mobility to return to my limbs. I needed to leave. I needed to plan. I needed to get away from the office and out into the field. Away from Dixon, away from the bureaucratic bullshit. I needed to get to that predator.

But I was stuck and he was on the way to an airport. Probably being boarded on a plane already. Shipped off to California.

Out of my reach.

At last, I managed to move my right arm across my face. It was a last-ditch attempt to keep my anguished expression hidden. It also meant the drug was wearing off.

It needed to wear off so much faster.

"You doing alright, Nichole?"

Despite how soft he spoke, Devon's words sent a surprised tremor down my spine. I didn't move my arm and took an extra second before responding—I had to make sure my voice wouldn't crack when I spoke.

"I'm fine," I quipped, my tone sharper than I'd intended.

"Do you need any more water?" he pressed. How did he always seem to know when something was upsetting me? Maybe I was just that transparent.

When I answered, it was through gritted teeth. "No."

I was not going through that humiliation again.

He shifted on the stool and said nothing more than a quiet, "Alright, just let me know."

My anxiety was manifesting as anger and Devon was an easy target for venting. A safe target. He would endure the flack I sent his way and wouldn't think any less of me.

It was unfair to him, but I couldn't help myself.

For several more minutes, I suffered in silence until Doctor Lee returned, Hassan following closely behind him. I dropped my arm a few inches to try to gauge his expression. Nothing. His face was impassive as if two separate cases of assault was a common occurrence within the bureau.

"Chris?" Doctor Lee said as he entered.

Dixon turned away from the wall he'd been staring at and demanded, "What?"

Doctor Lee told him, "Allison will be waiting for you to arrive at the hospital. Nichole, are you feeling any better? Have you drank any water?"

I nodded. "Devon gave me some. I can move my arms kind of, now." To prove my point, I raised my arms up by my face and wiggled my fingers. "Haven't tried to stand up or anything yet, though."

"Good, you shouldn't be standing. I'll let Joseph take your statements and sort all of this out, then we'll see about getting you mobile," he said.

"Thank you, Doctor," Hassan said, shaking his hand.

"Sure. Good luck."

As Doctor Lee left, I found myself wishing he'd stay so I'd have an objective person who didn't care what happened. At least Devon was in there with me, though. His presence would make this all bearable. He'd have my back. He always had my back. Even if I didn't deserve it.

Chapter Text

"Good morning, everyone," Hassan greeted us. "I heard there was an incident. Or, rather, two incidences . . . both of which involving you, Ms. Shain?"

His hawk-like gaze cut through me sharper than any blade could have.

Not even two hours into the first day of my new department and I'd assailed my former boss. On the same day, I'd killed a woman and burned down an entire lab.

Good thing it was going to be my last day.

"I suppose so," I said, guarded and weary.

"We will start with what happened to have you bedridden, then deal with the incident involving Dixon. Please, tell me everything," he sighed, sitting down on a folding chair the doctor had brought in with him.

Dixon harrumphed. "Why does she get to go first? I was here before her!"

"Hush, Chris," Hassan chided, shooting him a look. "She merely assaulted you. Someone attempted to murder her. That takes precedence."

He wasn't happy about it, but my former boss fell quiet and sulked.

Hassan listened with his hand cupped over his mouth, elbow propped on his knee. His eyes never left me while I spun the tangled web of half-truths. Dixon remained quiet the entire time, though I'd expected commentary. I assumed it was because he was waiting for his turn. Maybe even writing an Oscar-worthy speech while he sat there.

When Hassan turned his attention to Devon, my partner sat up a little straighter. "And what of you, Mr. Hart? Why were you down on that level?"

"Uh, right. See, I noticed how upset Nichole was, so after giving her what I thought was enough time to cool down, I went looking for her. I found Dixon first, sitting in the predator's observation room, all . . . bloody and stuff."

Dixon scoffed. "Didn't even offer to help me."

Devon shrugged and ignored him. "Dixon looked like he was okay enough to move, so I left him to do his thing and went searching for Nichole again. I decided to check the xenomorph lab. It was pretty bad shape, and the lab techs there said she'd left already . . . but I hadn't seen her, so I had to look around to make sure. Something seemed off."

When he paused, I glanced over at him. The muscle in his jaw was taut again, brow set and tense. "I heard voices down one of the hallways. I knew then something was definitely wrong."

"Please," Hassan said in a quiet voice when Devon paused yet again, "what happened next."

My partner rubbed his face and nodded. "Yeah, I saw Nichole on the floor with two of the lab techs standing over her. Um, the woman and the man—Frank and Emily or whatever their names were."

"Melvin and Emma," I whispered.

"Yeah, them. They were standing there, and they had one of those implanter things on the floor with her. I shouted at them and when I tried to shoot the . . . um . . . the parasite thing, the dude just jumped right in front of me, like he was protecting the damn thing. Emma was the only smart one—she hung back and I was able to kill the thing before it could attach to Nichole."

Devon's voice took an edge the further into the story he delved. Knowing how weak I must have looked to him corroded me from the inside out. Remembering how close I'd been, how the facehugger only needed a few more steps, threatened to pull me under and drown me.

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek and closed my fists so tight my nails bit into my palms. The pain was a focus I clung to. Eyes tight, I struggled to tread water and stay afloat. It was never going to end. I was never going to free of those demonic abominations. I should have left with Wolf when I'd had the chance.

After clearing his throat, Devon added, "How is he? The, uh, the dude I shot."

Lips pursed, Hassan pursed his lips and adjusted his position in his chair. I didn't like the looks of that. He said, "He did not make it."

Devon wiped his face with his hands and nodded, saying nothing. If I could have, I would have reached out to comfort him.

"But," Hassan said, pausing as if trying to pick the right words. "You are not in any trouble, Devon. I'm very sorry that you both had to go through that, Nichole especially. It's not my division down there, but I will look into the whole thing personally. As for this . . . situation with Dixon, what happened?"

He cut me off with a sharp gesture before I could open my mouth. "I would like to hear the victim's side of the story, first. Dixon, can you tell me what transpired?"

Victim. I snorted and rolled my eyes.

If it was at all possible, Dixon's face had never looked so punchable. Not even when I'd first hit him.

With the smuggest look ever conceived by man, Dixon described the moments before I'd broken his stupid, ugly mug. "Of course, sir. I had heard that Weyland had appropriated the prisoner—"

"Subject," Hassan corrected.

Both of them were lucky I was confined to my bed, or else I might have done something stupid. Like beat both of them to a pulp. Did they even know what they were talking about? Prisoner, subject. The words twisted a knife in my stomach and left a bad taste in my mouth.

That predator was more of a man than they'd ever be.

"Yes, sorry. Anyway, I heard what they'd done and went down to supervise the process. Ms. Shain arrived moments after they had left. She was agitated and irrational, and when I'd attempted to calm her down and send her away, she punched me, kicked me while I was down, and stormed off."

That son of a whore—how long had he been rehearsing that in his head? Sure, I figured he'd try to pull something like that, but it still infuriated me.

And I thought I was the one cooking up a pot of bullshit.

"He's lying!" I spat. Devon helped me sit up when I struggled to do so on my own.

"Oh?" Hassan said, quirking a single eyebrow and sitting up straighter. "Then please, Nichole. Tell me your side of things. Somewhere in the middle will be the truth."

Dixon glared at me from his seat. His nose had stopped bleeding minutes ago and was at an odd angle, diminishing the effect. I met his gaze without flinching and nodded. "He didn't hear about them coming to take the predator, he called them and told them to come pick him up. That's why I hit him, because he's a fucking narc!"

Frowning, Hassan turned to Dixon. "Is that so?"

Red-faced and tight-fisted, Dixon looked between me and the others. "Well—you see, the thing is . . . ." He floundered and Hassan looked less and less amused. Then, something broke inside Dixon and he pointed an accusing finger at me. "Yes! Yes I did! Because I had reason to believe that she was a sympathizer for that—that thing."

Had I been able to move, I might have leaped across the space separating me from Dixon and broke more of his bones.

Thing.

Subject.

Prisoner.

It.

I hated everyone involved with his capture. Murderous intent pumped like poison through my veins.

I should have left earlier.

Once more, Hassan's shifted his attention to me. I kept glaring daggers at Dixon even as Hassan spoke about me. "We all know her past with the visitors, it was the main reason we hired her, was it not? How are you certain her enthusiasm equated to possible treason?"

He was silent, his lips pursed together. Then, he turned toward me with a victorious glint in his eyes. My scowl dropped and so did what was left of my spirits. He said he hadn't wanted to admit to anything so it didn't look bad on him, so would he really announce it now?

Of course he will. That was before I'd beat the snot out of him.

I was going to get thrown under the bus.

"She tricked the guard outside the interrogation room with the predator. She snuck inside to talk him. The audio was turned off because no one was in there interrogating, but I'm fairly certain she was conspiring with the thing," he announced.

For some reason, I decided to try to backpedal. "No, it wasn't like—"

"Quiet," Hassan snapped. I clicked my jaw shut.

Devon's surprised look burned holes into the side of my head. I ignored it: I was far too busy drinking in Hassan's quiet rage bubbling just beneath that calm exterior.

Hassan murmured and regarded me for a moment, knuckles pressed against his thinned lips. After another second, he dropped his hand and said, "You say you saw her in their first-hand from the security footage?"

Dixon nodded. "Yes. She was acting strangely just before you met her, so I reviewed the tapes to see what happened."

"I see. I'll have to review these tapes myself. Protocol."

Our positions swapped. The color drained from Dixon's face and I narrowed my eyes at him, a sneer turning up the corner of my lips.

"He'll have to see the tapes, Director," I goaded.

Dixon floundered, shifting his desperate gaze from Hassan to me and back again. Then, red-faced, he admitted, "You can't see the tapes, sir."

Brow furrowed, Hassan leaned forward. "Excuse me?"

"I already removed the footage."

"You removed the footage," Hassan almost whispered, leaning back in his chair and giving Dixon a deadpan look. "Why would you that, Director?"

When Dixon didn't answer, only stared at his lap with his hands balled into fists, Hassan shook his head. "We can discuss this later. I'm disappointed and frustrated with all of you."

Devon lifted his head, but Hassan quickly put up his hand and amended, "Not you, Devon. I misspoke."

Both Devon and I sighed in relief. I would have had to add one more thing on top of my pile of guilt if Devon was going to be in trouble, too.

"There will be consequences for what you both have done," Hassan announced, standing up. "You think there is any reason to be giving out top secret information to anyone? It's bad enough they were able to procure the xenomorphs, but now you've handed over my asset, and we have no evidence against these claims that you have against Nichole."

This part, at least, was turning out so much better than expected.

I couldn't help the self-righteous grin that split my face. There was an urge to stick my tongue out at Dixon, but I resisted it.

Then Hassan turned to me and I wiped the expression away.

"And you—you will be reprimanded for this assault. I must confer with the tapes and investigate the claims against Melvin and Emma. Dixon, I will have you escorted to the hospital, please head downstairs. Devon, come with me so that we may confer together. The good doctor will need to speak with her and we should leave her be."

With some reluctance, Devon stood from his chair and followed after Hassan. Dixon, grumbling the whole time, had already stormed out. "You'll be okay?" Devon asked.

Stop. I didn't want him to care.

His concern elicited another embarrassed blush and I jerked my head away from him. "I'll be fine. I'm not a child."

I hid my chagrin behind barbed words. Why? Why was I suddenly so flustered?

He nodded and forced a goofy grin on his face before giving me a thumbs up. "Alright, see you soon then. Get well soon."

"Shut up," I whispered, rolling my eyes.

It was hard not to return his smile, so I kept my gaze averted. He'd saved me and I was grateful. That was all it could be. It was all it was allowed to be. Hassan informed me that he, too, would return to deal with my violence toward a superior and ushered Devon out, closing the door behind them.

Sensing his moment had arrived, Doctor Lee left the calm of his office. "Alright, how are you feeling now?" he asked me.

*:･ﾟ✧

By the time Hassan and Devon returned, I was up and hobbling from bed to bed. It was as if I was back in physical therapy, and I was itching to run and move like I always did. At least this time it was temporary. Not like the limp that was a constant reminder of my minor disability.

"I see you're mobile again," Hassan observed, standing in the entrance.

"Kind of," I muttered to myself. Doctor Lee had refused to give me painkillers for the headache, lest they clash with the sedative. Instead, I'd taken to using an ice pack to reduce the swelling where Melvin had struck me in the back of the head.

Devon walked in behind Hassan and pushed past him. He wore an expression I was more familiar with—like a happy puppy glad to be outside its kennel.

"Good interrogation?" I asked him.

He shrugged and grinned. "They're gonna get theirs, that's all. Batshit crazy, though. Melvin was in the hospital in surgery, but that Emma lady . . . definitely a crackpot. Talking about the xenos being a divine race and that we should all let them impregnate us."

"Mr. Hart," Hassan warned with a sharp quip, his harsh gaze turned toward him.

With his hands up in surrender, Devon said, "Sorry, sorry. Can't speak ill of former employees or whatever, but what do you expect? They tried to kill my partner. I'm not gonna treat them like they were the victims in all this." His tone was just as crisp.

Hassan sighed, then straightened his suit and looked at me. "Ms. Shain, we reviewed the tapes from the xenomorph labs. I've determined you were acting in self-defense, though I'm still uncertain about why you were down there in the first place. However, you have the clearance and were within your rights to visit the lab, so we will investigate your motive later."

"Or I could just tell you right now—I was going to try to talk some sense into those Weyland people, try to oversee that they were moving them correctly, but they'd already left."

"And," Hassan said, brows raised, "that was when you met with Miranda."

"Correct." Not bad for a half-baked story I'd made up.

Again, he sighed. "Well, as for the incident involving Director Dixon, I cannot condone what you did even if I understand why. Barring self-defense, as was the case with the three scientists, there is no reason to strike another member of this bureau . . . especially your former superior."

I glowered down at the bed I was using to support myself.

"So, I'm going to have to bench you for a while. No suspensions—this time—but you are no longer a field agent until I say otherwise. Instead, you will be confined to your desk, filing paperwork and filing reports." He said it as if he was the one receiving such a punishment.

Not that it mattered. Today was my last day.

"Furthermore, I—"

Doctor Lee shoved open his door and we all turned toward him. "Joseph, Susan is on the line and says she must speak with you—it's urgent."

He looked at each of us in turn, then excused himself with a curt nod. Doctor Lee let him have privacy in his room and looked everywhere but at us. I rolled my eyes and limped to the sink to grab myself a cup of water. My ice pack was no longer an ice pack, so I set it down on the counter.

"Hey, the big girl's learned how to walk," Devon snickered.

"Devon I promise you I can still shuffle over there and kick your ass," I snapped. I downed the cup of water in one swig and tossed the empty container at him.

All he had to do to avoid it was lean in either direction, but he let it hit him square in the chest anyway. He clutched at the spot and reeled, groaning as if in pain. "Ahh, I'm hit! Man down, man down! Oh, cruel fate . . . ." He fell onto one of the beds and grasped at the air.

I rolled my eyes and turned to fill another cup to hide the smile teasing my lips. "Stop being such a fucking spaz. I know you're just trying to make me feel better."

The bed creaked but I didn't turn around. "Is it working?"

"No." I said it without conviction.

"Damn. Well, I'll just have to try harder while we're stuck on desk duty for the next ten billion years, or ol' Joseph decides he needs us," he said. I finally turned to see him sitting up.

"What do you mean? You're not stuck to desk duty, just I am. You didn't break the rules."

He shrugged and stood up to examine a jar full of tongue depressors. "You think I'm gonna let them assign me some random no-name as a new partner so I can go gallivanting across the country solving mysteries without you? Nah no way."

"Please leave those alone," Doctor Lee groaned. He hurried over to take the jar from Devon and put it back in its place. Devon lifted his hands and left the counter to sit back in his chair.

Doctor Lee straightened up his space to make sure Devon hadn't touched anything else. Then he turned back to the two of us and said, "You should have full mobility soon. You're free to leave when Hassan has finished speaking with you. How's your head?"

I reached back and felt the knot that had formed. Doctor Lee had told me I was lucky the skin hadn't broken. "Hurts, but I'll live."

"Yeah, it will for a while. You sure you don't want me to have Allison check for a concussion? You passed my rudimentary tests, but she can always do a more thorough scan at the hospital if you'd like."

"I'm fine." I wasn't going to go to the hospital for a single sucker punch.

"If you change your mind, or the headaches worsens, don't hesitate to visit her. Otherwise, you'll be fine to take pain meds in another four or five hours, when the drug should be flushed from your system completely," he said.

"Yup, I will. I'll be fine, though." Once I figured out how to find my way to California, free the predator, and kill off the rest of the Xenos. Then I'd high-tail it the fuck out of Dodge.

Disappear forever.

A disgruntled Hassan exited the doctor's office and motioned to Devon. "Devon, please accompany me again. We have to speak with the lab techs post haste. There may have been yet another, ah, incident, and we must confer with them."

"And Nichole?"

"Nichole will return to the offices and write up a formal report of what happened in the Xenomorph labs and with Dixon—due on my desk by five. I'll want yours, Devon, by tomorrow morning at the latest. Now come." He spun on his heel and left without another word.

Devon shifted to me then shrugged as if to say "I gave it my best shot," then followed after him. I huffed and started toward the door, then spoke over my shoulder. "Thanks for your help, doc."

"It's my job . . . hope I don't see you too soon, but hope your head feels better. Remember, if you feel dizzy or light-headed, you'll need to pay Allison a visit. Just to make sure he didn't hit you hard enough to cause any real damage."

I waved at him as I made torturous progress out the door. "I know, I'll remember. Have a good one." And with that, I let the door swing shut behind me and headed to my new desk.

Chapter Text

Ten minutes into writing my first report, I suddenly had an epiphany.

Why the fuck am I doing this?

I didn't have to try. None of this would matter in the long run. I deleted the try-hard sentences I'd made and spent my time doing other things. Like researching the best way to California, and figuring out where the office was. I tried to see what security was like at Weyland Corp., but there wasn't much information about the company at all.

On top of that, I wanted to know why Hassan needed Devon. What this new incident was that had Hassan in such a tizzy. It required the aid of the scientists working on the xenos . . . .

Had something happened during transit?

I decided to stop procrastinating and fired up that report again. I threw the date and time of incident up as a header, then dove into the report—"I ran into the xenomorph observation room and found some bitch named Mindy making goo-goo eyes at the queen."— I followed with more of the most professional and articulate sentences I could muster and did the same for the incident where I'd punched Dixon's lights out.

Once printed, I stuffed the papers under some paperwork already on Hassan's desk. I hoped it would be a while before he saw them. Anything to stall the shit-storm I'd receive once he discovered my well-written recollections.

My phone jingled in my pocket. I checked the caller ID before answering the call. "Why don't you walk up to the office if you want to talk to me?"

"Can't get away right now," Devon muttered, voice so quiet I had to strain to listen. "I only just now managed to slip away to make this call, and I don't know how long until Hassan comes to find me. I figured you'd want to know."

"Know what?"

He paused. "The group in charge of transporting the xenos and predator haven't checked in since they left here. They were supposed to stop at a private airport along the way as a checkpoint, where a team would meet them to transfer and re-administer sedatives, but there's been nothing."

All at the once, the rug was out from under me. My legs gave out and I fell back into my seat. Head spinning and throat tight, I ran through the implications of what that meant.

They were loose. Somewhere in the country, those abominations were loose.

"You're sure?" My voice was nothing but a whisper. I wasn't sure I'd even spoke.

Devon hummed in the affirmative. "I gotta go, Hassan's calling. We're down in the labs."

The line went dead without another word. I surged to my feet and marched for the elevators. I ignored the strange look the others in the office gave me, as they were of no consequence.

The sound of the door slamming shut seemed miles away.

Before I knew it, I was on the floor with Devon and Hassan. My legs burned like I'd run the whole way there, but I barely even remembered the trip. Devon saw me first, but he didn't say anything and just made a face at me.

"Nichole, what are you doing down here?" Hassan demanded as soon as he spotted me.

I made a bee-line at him, expression set. "Do we know where they went down?"

Devon shrank away from Hassan's razor-sharp glare, but the man said nothing about my partner's indiscretion. "You are off field duty for the next week, this does not concern you. Finish your reports and go home."

"Not happening," I hissed through clenched teeth, meeting his eyes without flinching. "Where did they go down?"

He pointed a finger at me and growled, "Ms. Shain, this is a direct order and if you don't—"

"With all due respect," I spat, "I have finished my reports and I am the most qualified person to handle this situation. Where did they go down?"

Before Hassan could retort, Devon stepped between us. "There are reports of a radio tower near Gunnison, Colorado receiving a distress signal from a private craft. It's said there was a lot of interference, so they couldn't make out any ID numbers. They also reported strange noises."

My blood ran cold, but I kept my exterior collected. Hassan looked about ready to backhand Devon and his cool composure was shattered for the first time since I'd seen him.

"You both are out of line!"

Already my patience was thin; every moment Hassan wasted with his displays of power was a moment that the predator could be in danger, or that the xenos could be spending building a new nest and terrorizing town folk. I lunged before I could think better of it and grabbed Hassan by his lapels—a difficult task with him towering above me by half a foot.

"Listen here, sir. I am the best shot you have at bringing back the predator and any of those xenos. Weyland has shown their incompetence. We can stand around and bicker and dick measure all day long, or we could jump to the end of the argument where I win."

Though his expression was neutral, there was a fire burning behind his eyes. I released my grip on his shirt and took a step back, allowing him to readjust his collar.

Still and all, he had to reprimand me.

"I do not appreciate being manhandled by my subordinates, Ms. Shain. If you are trying to convince me to give you a favor, you are doing a piss poor job of it!"

Once I'd begun, I couldn't stop myself. I was on thin ice, so I tried to placate him.

But I wouldn't apologize.

"I am sure you have capable operatives under your command who can deal with a single inured and unarmed predator, but I'm the only one here who knows what those the xenos are like in person. I'll know what to look for and how to deal with them when it comes down to it."

Hassan sniffed. "We could just as easily inform whoever I deign to send off what lies ahead. The scientists are well aware of how to deal with them."

I scoffed. "Please!"

"You don't think so?" he said, one eyebrow cocked.

"The complacent, half-drugged things those squints had in that room are nothing compared to the killing machines that might be out there now."

"What makes you think they even survived the crash?" he asked, voice unwavering despite the pent-up anger underneath.

It was impossible not to laugh. "Are you serious? It took the entire reservoir to burn the queen alive before Mindy or Miranda or whoever she was could let her out. I'm sure you've already asked the techs whether or not they could have survived. What did they say?"

In his corner, Devon whispered, "Mindy is her nickname."

Hassan stared at me in disdain. He knew what I was asking. "The predator most likely didn't survive, but the xenos could have, potentially."

His words sent me reeling as if he'd struck me. My heart seized and my resolve faltered for a fraction of a second.

No. I won't believe it. They're better than this. He's fine.

He has to be fine.

"Do you really believe that after hunting one down for all these years?" I asked in return, keeping my voice even.

He raised his head and huffed. "They said he was already in poor condition from his fight with Morgan's team and being our prisoner for a few days."

My hands balled into fists. If he hadn't died out there in the plane crash, that meant he was in the wild, behind enemy lines, with even more grievous wounds. He could be bleeding out somewhere in the cold Colorado mountains.

And I was stuck in headquarters. I could have screamed in frustration if I had been alone.

"Protocol says to involve the military if there is a threat of an outbreak. We need to find where they crashed and quarantine to make sure they're all dead. Sending agents isn't protocol even if I wanted to send you," Hassan said,

Devon spoke up at that time. "Why not? Send someone to find the crash and talk to locals. We can go, be there in a few hours, and decide whether anyone survived the crash."

"Then we'll call and tell you if you need to send someone," I added, glancing gratefully at Devon.

Hassan looked between the two of us. "Weyland will be sending people to retrieve what they think belongs to them. And why would I send a couple of rogues like you two?"

Before I could say something stupid, Devon cut in. "We already know. We've been briefed, basically. You don't have to explain anything to anyone else, so there will be even fewer people to know how badly we fucked this transport up."

"It was Weyland's transport," Hassan pointed out.

My partner shrugged. "Potato potahto. The Pentagon isn't going to care whose fault it was. We'll shoulder some of the blame because they were our assets."

Sighing, Hassan nodded. "That's true. There will be investigations. I still shouldn't send Nichole. IA will want to talk to her about these messes she's found herself in today. Two incidences within minutes of each other looks bad."

"When I come back they can have me," I said. Whatever I had to say to convince him.

"And Weyland?"

"You can stall them, can't you? Send them on a wild goose chase. These things aren't theirs. They stole our assets. Give us a chance to bring them back. No one but us and these scientists will know what happened," I said, pouring every ounce of conviction I had into the words.

Still, he did not look persuaded.

"Then," I added, "when this over, I'll fulfill my suspension. You can add another week to it, make it a month, whatever. I'll be on desk duty forever if that's what it takes."

All empty gestures.

I wasn't coming back.

"What could it hurt?" Devon shrugged. "One last field mission. Give us that."

The anger I'd seen dissipated from Hassan and he rubbed his face, his head down. Devon and I waited, everything hinging on his decision. It wouldn't matter for me—if he said no, I'd go anyway. I was certain I could purchase last minute tickets at the airport and go on my own, but it would be easier if Hassan would cooperate.

Devon—I wasn't sure what his motive was. Was it like he said and he wanted to go on one last mission with me before I was stuck on filing duty?

Whatever it was, it just meant I'd have that much more difficulty convincing him not to go.

"Alright. I'll call ahead and get you a plane. I'll keep Weyland away for as long as possible. Decide if anything survived and if quarantine is necessary, then contact me to report. Do. Not. Wait. If you find evidence that the specimens are alive and a threat, call me immediately. If you mess this one up, either one of you, I'll see to it personally that the only jobs you'll ever qualify for is flipping patties at McDonald's."

Though Devon stiffened next to me, I was unperturbed by the threat. I nodded and released the breath I'd been holding and I said, "You won't regret this, sir."

"See to it that I don't."

I turned on my heel, Devon at my flank, and we headed upstairs. "What did the scientists say?" I asked, all business. I wouldn't look at him, dreading the moment I'd have to tell him he wasn't coming with me.

He'd argue, probably even straight out refuse, but I had to try. I had to try because he'd make leaving so much more difficult.

"Sedatives might have worn off faster than expected. They might have been faking it . . . they have a lot of theories. Nothing concrete," he reported.

"How typical."

We stepped out at the ground floor and were on our way. I had my phone out, checking bus routes that would bring me to the private airport we often used to travel when in a hurry. If we could avoid it, the bureau made us fly commercial. Coach. Sometimes business, if we were lucky.

The sliding automatic doors opened as we approached and I stopped Devon, pulling him aside. "I have to talk to you for a minute, Devon."

"Sure. What's up?"

It took me a second to compose the words and I averted my gaze as I spoke. "Listen . . . this is nothing personal, but I need you to stay here this time."

He gave me a surprised look and scoffed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I can't let you jeopardize your career over this," I said quickly. "This is something I can handle on my own, and I'm already on thin ice. If something happens, I should be the only one who gets screwed."

Devon shook his head. "No way I'm letting you go on your own. These things are pretty bad, aren't they? You couldn't even handle them on your own the first time."

I hunched my shoulders; the truth stung. But, mostly, I knew I wasn't going to be alone.

He must have read that in my expression because he settled back on his heels and made a mirthless sound in his throat before speaking. "You don't plan on actually being alone out there, do you?"

Before I could say anything, he continued; "You think that if that predator is still alive, he'll help you."

Lifting my head, I met his gaze. It was close enough to the truth and I sighed, nodding. "I guess. They took everything—even his gear. He could help if he's okay."

"And what if he's not okay?" Devon countered.

"He will be!" I insisted.

"How do you know?"

"Because Wolf was okay!" I spat back. "His spaceship crashed from outer space and he—along with at least one other that I know of—were still in fighting condition!"

Devon raised an eyebrow. "'Wolf'?"

A blush rushed up my neck and across my face. I tore my gaze off of my partner and muttered, "That's what I called him."

He looked around, then pulled me further around the corner for more privacy. Others were going to start filing out for their lunch breaks. His action caused me to realize just how fast the morning had flown by.

"That's all well and good, Nichole, but what if he's not okay? What if you show up and find the crashed plane and he's dead but the rest of them are loose?" he asked, still holding my arm. "You'll be out there alone until the military can show up."

I pulled my arm from his gentle grip and shook my head. "I'll be fine. I don't need a partner for this, Devon."

"Why?"

Still shaking my head, I closed my eyes and backed away from him until my back hit the wall. "I just don't! I'll be fine on my own. I don't need a partner for this!"

Sighing, he shot me a half-smile and said, "In my experience, that's when someone needs a partner the most."

His sentimentality touched and sickened me at the same time. That smile made my heart skip a beat and I looked away from him. From his sympathetic smile.

When I didn't immediately respond, he said, "We're a team. I can't just let you go out there on your own knowing that you won't have any backup."

Right then, I thought about telling him about Wolf. About how I would have backup. As soon as I could, I was going to use that computer he'd given me and call him. If the xenos were alive and threatening a city or something, he'd be able to help me kill them all off.

If they'd died in the crash, then I could just tell him I was ready to go. Everything had worked out and my goal was complete. They were dead.

But, I couldn't bring myself to. I didn't know how he'd react to that knowledge and that scared me more than anything.

Instead, I blurt out, "You'll just die," in a quiet voice.

He stared at me for the longest time, saying nothing as he took in my defeated expression. I whispered, "Just like they did. I don't want your blood on my hands, too."

With a chuckle, he put his hands on my shoulders. "Don't you know?" he said, giving me a soft, reassuring smile.

I looked up at him and waited.

He couldn't keep a straight face when he said, "Thanks to denial, I'm immortal."

Before I could stop myself, I choked out a laugh and shoved him away from me. "You stole that line from a cartoon you asshole!"

Hands up by his head, he replied, "Guilty as charged, but it's still true."

Rolling my eyes, I tried one more time to convince him to stay, but my resolve was already shattered. I knew I was fighting a losing battle.

"I'm not planning on coming back, Devon," I said. "I wasn't lying when I said this was going to be my last."

"That's crazy. You don't need to quit!" he said.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I shrugged, refusing to look at him. Of course he wouldn't know what I meant.

His expression faded into worry and he frowned at me. He jiggled me a little and I looked up into his eyes. When he had my attention, he said, "You're being ridiculous, Nichole. I'm coming with you. You don't need to quit. They'll put you back in the field eventually when this goes off without a hitch."

You don't understand.

I looked away from him. The words were right at the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't bring myself to speak them: "I'm not coming back at all. I'm leaving."

When I glanced back up at him, his face had taken a dark edge and I knew immediately my mistake—he thought I was talking about dying. I opened my mouth to assuage his thoughts, but he spoke first.

"I'll bring you back. No matter what."

It was impossible to argue with him when he looked at me like that. When my chest was so tight. He didn't understand. He wouldn't ever understand. I didn't know why I bothered to try and convince him to stay. Devon was coming with me. There was nothing I could do to change that.

I broke eye contact first and turned my body to avoid it further. "Fine. But there's some things I need to pick up from my apartment first."

Chapter Text

"I'll be quick."

"Please do. Flight's in thirty minutes and I need to pack some stuff, too."

"Then just go get your stuff and come back to pick me up when you're done!"

Devon stared at me and then huffed. "Right. Duh. You're not going to jump the bus and go there without me, right?"

"What? No."

I honestly hadn't thought of that, but he'd planted the idea in my head. I was already running through the bus schedule to see how plausible that was, but at this point, the bus would take too long to arrive and I didn't even know which line to use that would drop me off close enough to the airport.

Not that it would be that hard to do a quick Google search and find out.

"You promise?" Devon pressed.

"Oh my god, I promise. Get out of here."

He gave me a serious look, pointed at me as if to say he was watching me, then used his free hand to shift into gear and drove off. I rolled my eyes and jog-ran up into my apartment.

It wouldn't be the first time I'd been shipped out of the city—or state—to a mission. No, it would be the second time. I grabbed the backpack sitting and waiting in the corner of my bedroom and tossed it on my bed where it fell open. I rifled through my dresser to pick out some clothes to wear once we reached our destination. The great thing about not caring or needing to pretend to care anymore was that I was going to wear whatever the fuck I wanted.

FBI regulations be damned. How could they expect us to wear the damn monkey suit regardless of the nature of the mission?

We were going to the mountains for crying out loud. You'd think they'd let us dress a little more appropriately. Well, I was only going to wear those awful clothes for traveling, so I threw some warm clothes and my active shoes—different from my running shoes—a light jacket, and a heavy jacket into the backpack. I was so full of nervous and angry energy that I wound up yanking my underwear drawer off its track when I went to gather the computer that Wolf had given me.

For a moment, I stared at it in my hands while I sat on the floor of my bedroom, wondering if I should hit the code now or later. My fingers hovered over the commands, but I lost my nerve and just shoved it under the change of clothes so it would be hidden.

At least I wouldn't have to try to sneak it through any security.

Thank god for small miracles.

As I went to leave my room, something caught my eye and I stopped, turning to look at the vanity mirror and what hung there. I stared at it for a moment, then sighed and took it off the corner. I opened up my backpack and buried the trophy Wolf had made me within it, right under his computer. It was dear to me, and leaving my first trophy would be an egregious error.

Once I was packed and ready to go, I checked the window overlooking the parking lot. Devon's car wasn't out there yet, so I pulled out some stuff to make a sandwich and threw something together. In afterthought, I made a second one for Devon and scarfed down the first.

Back at the window, my gaze wandered to the breakfast bar sectioning off the kitchen from the living room. A couple of pill bottles sat there; a variety of drugs to keep me going. Painkillers for headaches, over the counter meds for sleeping, a bottle of gummy vitamins . . . . After some deliberation, I walked over and grabbed the anxiety meds. If things turned sour, I didn't want to rely on my own stress management skills.

At least until Wolf showed up. If he did. The last thing I wanted was to make it seem like I had to rely on drugs to stay functioning under a crisis.

Upon a second thought, I put the bottle back down.

You can do this, I told myself. In order to keep from being tempted, I plucked the vial back up and popped a couple pills right there—to take off some of the edge—swallowed dry, then headed outside to wait for Devon by the curb in the parking lot.

Once again, I was brought to pause. My fingers tightened around the strap of my backpack and I closed my eyes, my other hand on the doorknob. My pulse thundered in my ears and I moved my hand from the strap to the bottom of the backpack, feeling for the hard corner of Wolf's computer through the canvas.

What if it's not enough time?

We were talking about traveling through space. I had no idea how far away he was. How many millions of lightyears. How fast his ship could travel and if half a day was enough for him to reach Earth.

I couldn't wait.

I had to decide.

My fingers slipped off the doorknob and I backed up until I was sitting in my easy chair, my backpack on my lap. Hands shaking, I fished around inside until I touched the rough, alien surface of the computer. I pulled it delicately from the folds of my clothes and set it atop my backpack.

There's no time. Call him now or don't call him at all.

Glancing out the window, I still didn't see Devon's car. I took a deep breath and refocused my attention on the bulky device in front of me. Weighing my options.

The longer I waited, the longer it would take for him to make the trip. If I didn't call him at all—well, I wasn't sure what would happen. Maybe nothing. For all we knew, everything died in the crash. There might not be anything left.

I still had a chance to stay. To make a real life. If everything ended with the plane crash, then I didn't need to worry about the xenomorphs. I wouldn't need to worry about Wolf and whether or not to go with him. It would be over. It wasn't too late to rekindle the relationship with my family. To make friends. I already had Devon.

If I called him and he came, I wouldn't be able to say no to him again. Not out of fear of retaliation, but because I knew that once I saw him, I wouldn't have it in me. If he came hurtling through space just to pick me up, that meant he was serious. It meant he still wanted me, and I couldn't turn that down.

The scar he'd left on my chest—and a great many others I'd sustained in that horrendous ordeal—meant that I was worthy of something.

He wanted me. I was more than just . . . Nichole. The girl, the woman, the human.

I couldn't tell him no just because I was afraid. Of what might be.

Nothing settled well in my stomach. No matter what I chose, I was going to be filled with regret. Haunted by what could have been.

In my heart of hearts, though, I knew what I was going to regret the most. Deep down, I knew there was only one choice I could make that would bring me any sort of satisfaction. The end game. The culmination of all my blood, sweat, and tears.

What if it doesn't work out?

Eyes closed, I pursed my lips and tried to still the nervous fluttering of my heart, calm the churning uncertainty in my stomach.

It had to be done. I couldn't not call him. The stakes were too high and I'd need his help if the predator we'd captured was injured. I wouldn't know how to treat any of his injuries or help him get home without Wolf.

And the xenomorphs . . . .

So what if it didn't work out. It would be one hell of an adventure finding out.

Before I could talk myself out of it again, I swiped my fingers over the controls and sequenced in the signal that Wolf had given me. I waited on baited breath until a silent light started to blink.

That was it.

It was done.

Swallowing hard, I stuffed the computer back into my bag, hiding it under the heavy jacket, then left my apartment.

By the time Devon finally returned to pick me up, I was waiting with my foot tapping impatiently, my backpack clutched against my chest. Several times, I'd had to convince myself not to take the bus and leave him. He pulled up and I handed him the plastic bag with his meal as I climbed into the passenger's seat. Devon fumbled with it, dropping it in his lap.

"Took you long enough," I muttered.

"Did you really make me a sandwich?"

I shrugged and said, "Made one for myself and thought you might also be hungry. We didn't get a lunch or anything yet."

"Aw, you're so sweet."

"Can it."

He chuckled and pulled the food out of the bag and took a bite out of it while he started driving toward the private airport. I almost wished I hadn't eaten that sandwich: I thought I was going to heave because of how nervous I was. It was as if Wolf's computer was pulsating in my lap, alive and breathing into my ear.

Throughout the trip, I glanced at Devon. He was prattling on about something, but I couldn't bring myself to pay attention. The blinking light wasn't making any noise, but I still wondered if maybe he could hear it. Sense it. I hugged my backpack closer to me, squishing it against my torso.

Eventually, my eyes wandered skyward. Wondering if, hoping that, Wolf received the call.

When we finally reached the designated airport, Devon parked, double checking that everything was locked up and he'd have a car and all his belongings to return to. He'd packed his own bag and pulled that out of the trunk.

"We could have taken a company car if you were that worried about it," I pointed out.

Devon scoffed. "I'd rather not add to all the paperwork we gotta fill out. I trust the security in this place just fine."

"Whatever you say."

A thought occurred to me as we approached the runway and I tugged on Devon's arm. "Hey, can you check us in? I'm gonna make a quick phone call," I asked once he'd turned to face me.

"Yeah, sure. Lemme take your bag."

I pulled it out of his reach a little too quickly, clutching it to my side; I had it slung over one shoulder. "No! Uh . . . no. It's fine. I'd rather hang on to it."

Though he looked about ready to argue, he shrugged and said, "Alright, if you say so. Don't be too long, we need to get going," before making the final walk toward the private jet where a security guard was waiting with a clipboard.

After he was out of earshot, I used my cell to make the call.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom," I said.

She replied, "Hi, sweetie! How did your weekend go? Did you make it to that get together with your coworkers you were talking about?"

"Yes," I said. "It went pretty good. Had my first shots of tequila."

Mom sounded bewildered. "Really?"

I nodded. "Yep. That was an experience. Nasty stuff."

"I bet it was. Hope you didn't go overboard and get sick."

Well, I threw up once and might have tried to start a bar fight, but that was only half my fault.

"Nah. No hangover or anything like that," I said, glancing over to check on Devon. He was still talking with security and he pointed over at me. I waved back to let them know I was almost ready. To my mom, I added, "But that's not what I wanted to talk about."

"What's on your mind?"

My throat suddenly swelled up and I had to swallow a couple times before I was able to speak. Her mom senses must have kicked in because she prompted, "Is everything alright, sweetie?"

"I'm about to get on a plane," I began, doing everything in my power to keep my voice from cracking. "I got assigned to a pretty big mission. Um . . . it's related to my incident, back in the day and . . . I dunno. It's gonna be rough."

I could almost see the worry lines in her forehead over the phone as she spoke. "Isn't there anyone else who can do it? They shouldn't force you to deal with any of that anymore."

"Mom, I volunteered," I sighed.

"What? Why would you do that?"

With a shrug, I said, "I don't know. Because I know the enemy. I have experience and allies. I want things to go differently this time."

There was a pause while Mom mulled that over before she said anything again. "I don't think it has to be your responsibility, and it's obvious that the idea of it is bothering you a lot, but I know you're a strong, brave girl."

"Thanks, Mom," I muttered.

"You're sure it has to be you?"

"It doesn't have to be. I want to do this. I have to do this. For myself."

She sighed, probably shaking her head at me. "I think you should have let someone else take care of whatever . . . mission this is, but if that's what you want to do . . . ."

"I just—I just wanted to tell you that it's going to be rough. And . . . just talking to you made me feel better," I said. Something else sat at the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't bring myself to say it. I wouldn't be able to explain in terms she'd understand and all I'd have on my hands was a panicked mother.

"Well, I'm glad that I could help."

"Yeah. Listen, I gotta go for now. The plane's trying to take off and this is kind of a time-sensitive thing."

"Of course," Mom said. "Call me later to tell me how it went."

Once again, my throat closed up and this time I couldn't keep my voice even. "Y-yeah. I'll talk to you about it later."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Before she could read too far into my tone, I hung up and took a deep breath to compose myself. After wiping a stray tear or two from my cheeks, I approached our ride with strong, determined strides.

"We all set?" I asked.

The security guard nodded. "Everything checks out. We're cleared for takeoff."

Devon grinned and clapped his hands together. "Alright, sweet. Let's go. You alright?" He added the question after he took a look at me.

Nodding, I climbed the small ramp into the jet and said, "Yup. Dandy."

He followed me up and we sat across from each other, a single table between the two of us. I did my best to ignore the way he was looking at me. Though it wasn't the first time I'd been relocated for a mission, it was a whole new experience being inside a private jet. Everything was sleek and modern; not to mention the comfortable seats and ample legroom to stretch out.

And yet, I probably wasn't going to enjoy any of it.

There was no speech about safety, just a quick announcement that we were going to take off and that we needed to put on our seatbelts until it was safe to take them off. Shortly after, we were in the air and on our way to Colorado Springs: the closest airport to Gunnison that would clear us for landing on short notice.

Wolf's computer sat in my bag, proving to be nothing more than a stressor. I didn't dare leave it, though. It was the only way Wolf would find me.

Assuming it was giving off a constant signal and hadn't just alerted him to where it had been.

That would be stupid, though. Why would it continue blinking if it wasn't putting off a constant signal? I had to stop worrying.

Devon had moved up front to schmooze with the pilot while I was left staring out the window, watching the scenery pass by—clouds. The ground below was obscured by the lazy formations, only peeking out every once in a while. Around me, the drone of the jet engine threatened to lull me into a nap despite the turmoil within me.

My stomach flipped and churned into a concoction of worry, fear, anticipation, and nervousness. It was the same feeling I used to have when I was preparing for a match. Now it was tinged with another, less familiar sensation: excitement. Though muted by the other emotions, it was still there in the back of my mind. Excitement not for the mission ahead, not for being outside the office and doing something, but that warm tingle in your chest when you know you're about to meet with an old friend you haven't seen in ages. My mind was also buzzing with so many questions.

How has he changed? Will we still get along?

Is he still a giant dickhead? My head throbbed at the prospect of earning another swift slap to the back of my skull.

What if he doesn't remember me? Or want to see me again?

What if his offer has expired?

None of these thoughts were new. They were the same thoughts I always had when I considered calling him. The same thoughts that kept me from calling him for all these years. They were just so much louder now that I'd done the deed.

Part of me was worried about the predator we'd captured, as well. Wolf and a few members of his clan had survived a crash-landing from somewhere in orbit, so I knew he had a chance. The question was: how much of a chance? He was drugged and restrained, and who knew what effects that would have on him.

And what of the xenos? Their condition was also a giant hole in our sights.

Fucking idiots. They should have known better than to ship the two species out together. I could only imagine there was a high chance most of them survived the plane crash. They were just as hardy, maybe more so, as the predators.

"Alright, so tell me."

I jumped at the sound of Devon's voice but managed to keep myself from lashing out. I glowered at him and asked, "Tell you what?"

"About the thing you brought."

"I didn't bring anything!" I countered too quickly, pushing my bag closer against my side.

He cocked his head and gave me a withering look. "Well, now I definitely know you did. You've been clinging to that bag and protecting it like a hawk the whole trip. What's in it?"

"Nothing," I insisted. "Just something that means a lot to me."

"Yeah?"

Nodding, I tried to deflect. "Thought I'd have it on me when shit hits the fan."

"You think something bad's gonna happen?" He took the bait.

"'Something bad' is what the xenos are made out of," I intoned, closing my eyes. Their shrieks echoed in the far recesses of my consciousness.

Devon leaned back in his seat and propped his feet up on the table between us. "I'm sure they are, the way you go on about them. We've handled a few tough cases, though. We'll be fine, just like we always are."

"Yeah, maybe." He wouldn't be singing the same tune after facing one for the first time.

Up close and personal.

"Alright, well, I'm gonna take a quick nap. Soak up some of this heat before we're stuck freezing our asses off in the mountains. Is it really that bad?"

I pulled down the shutter to my window, casting the cabin into darkness, and told him "This time of the year, yeah. Plus, we'll be in the mountains so it'll be even colder than it is in the valley 'cause we're higher up. Hope you brought some warm clothes."

"Yeah, I brought a coat. Wake me when we land," he grunted, shutting his eyes.

Like the turbulence won't do that for me.

All the same, I mumbled an affirmative and stared at the screen up front, tracking our current course. We only had three hours out of our four-hour flight left. Three hours for me to kill while stuck on a plane with a ticking tracking device in my bag.

Nothing but my own thoughts for company.

Though I didn't know when I would next be able to sleep, I couldn't bring myself to nap even if I tried. I watched the tiny plane icon drift across the map until it slowly faded out of my attention.

My partner shifted to make himself more comfortable and I watched him for a second. He was a capable agent and though I hadn't had any other partner, I knew he was one of the better ones. If there was one thing I was going to do before I left, it was to make sure he made it out of this alive.

I would do things right this time.

Chapter Text

It seemed that Devon could sleep through anything, even a rough landing. Through the turbulence of descent and roar of the engine, he was out like a light. I, on the other hand, was woken from the doze I had finally fallen into, and I shook Devon until he was up, as well.

"We there?" he grunted, rubbing drool from the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah, get out." I suppressed a yawn.

He scoffed and said, "Once we land."

Our pilot offered us a fond farewell and we thanked him for the ride before departing into the crisp mountain air of Colorado Springs. Though the sun wouldn't set for a few hours, the cold had already set in thanks to the altitude.

I had never been to the Colorado Springs Airport, but it wasn't anything to write home about. It had a tarmac and runway and a building like they all did. It was nowhere near the scale of the Denver International Airport, but it was just as obnoxious. Even more so: we were on a private jet so we had to make a break for the building across the tarmac.

Once inside, it was all the same awful experience of wading through people and searching for gates but dulled down because of the small size of the airport.

"Joseph said he'd booked a helicopter for us to take to Gunnison to make the trip quicker," Devon said in my ear.

"Who?" I muttered. There was no reason to be as discreet as we were, but it was a habit hard to break. No one here cared what we were doing or why we were doing it.

He stared at me for a second then furrowed his brow. "Mr. Hassan."

"Oh. Right."

"Are you okay? You seem really distracted."

There had to be somewhere I could get away from him for a couple minutes. "Yeah, I'm fine. Listen, I'm gonna go the bathroom. I'll meet you over there by that . . . I guess it's a bookstore?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "I'll call Joseph and see about that helicopter."

We exchanged waves and I searched out the bathrooms. Locking myself in a family restroom so I'd be alone, I spread my shit out on the baby changing table and unwrapped Wolf's computer from the extra clothes that I planned to change into.

Truth be told, I hadn't taken much. Only what I thought I might need to stay warm. We didn't plan to spend more than a day and a half looking for the wreck, not spending days on end in Colorado. I was glad I hadn't mentioned to my mother the fact that I'd be visiting our home state: she would have pestered me into coming home for a stay.

That just wouldn't be possible.

While I stripped and changed out of my FBI sanctioned monkey suit, I ran through the plan in my head. There wasn't much time left and if we didn't find anything soon, it would be too late. We'd already lost so many hours on traveling alone. The xenos would have had plenty of time to recover and find their way to a population. A whole town within their reach . . . .

Before I stowed Wolf's computer away again, I stared at that blinking light. It was still working. I wasn't sure how he was going to find me if we kept moving, but within an hour or so, we'd be in Gunnison. I'd just have to keep it on me at all times until he showed up.

If he shows up.

Taking a deep breath, I tucked the machine away and left. My bag was heavy on my arm, burdened with my own apprehension.

Devon was where I'd left him, lounging against the wall next to the bookstore. He stepped up as I approached and pointed somewhere behind me while saying, "Hey, you changed! I didn't know we didn't have to stay in uniform."

I scoffed. "I'm not going to the Rockies wearing a pantsuit. I don't care what the brass says."

"Well shit, I should have brought something other than a jacket, too. Anyway, the helicopter is being fueled, so you wanna grab a bite to eat?"

"I gave you a sandwich earlier," I said.

"That was like, four hours ago! I'm starving again."

Rolling my eyes, I scoffed and said, "You're always eating."

"I'm a growing boy."

"Well, I'm not that hungry right now, but I'm not gonna stop you from eating," I said.

His brow creased and he opened his mouth to say something, then shut it and sighed. He said instead, "Alright. But when we get to Gunnison, you're eating something."

"Yeah, sure," I sighed. In reality, I wasn't sure we'd even be able to eat anything when we made it to the town, either. We were already stuck at the airport, and there were a few places to choose from to get a bite to eat.

I wasn't hungry—or, rather, I was too nervous to be hungry—but I would need the strength. We both would.

"Never mind. We're here anyway until the chopper is fueled, I'll just eat something now."

"Oh thank god," Devon groaned, taking my wrist and hauling me toward the nearest Burger King stand. "I'm starving."

"What? You were going to eat here!" I said.

He flashed a grin at me. "Not if you weren't going to. I didn't want to be rude and eat in front of you."

Heat flooded my face and I glowered at the tile beneath our feet. "You're a giant idiot."

Devon ordered nothing less than the entire menu and I picked out a modest bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries and a water.

"So what can I expect going into this?" he asked halfway through his first entrée—nuggets.

Though he'd picked a table far from anyone else, I still looked for potential eavesdroppers and swallowed my bite. "Is this appropriate airport talk?" I asked.

"Why not?"

"The common rabble doesn't need to know anything about our work."

"They can't even hear us even if they did care one iota about us. They wouldn't even know what we're talking about, either," he insisted, pointing a fry at me. "C'mon, I took a nap on the plane so I couldn't ask."

"I fail to see how that's my fault."

A wadded-up straw wrapper hit me in the forehead and I glared concentrated rage at Devon, only to have it diffused by his goofy smirk. He pressed, "C'mon, tell me what I can expect. You're the expert here."

Sinking into my chair, I fiddled with a napkin. "You saw them in the lab. You read the files."

"Yeah, but how accurate are the reports?"

Anything left of my appetite fled. I pushed the last few bites of my burger away and pressed my fingertips against my forehead, throat dry and lips pursed. "It's so much worse," I said. "They're ambush predators . . . wait for you to get close. Hide in the shadows. They blend in so well in the dark . . . by the time you realize one's there, it's too late."

He took a drink of his soda, his eyes not leaving me.

"They're unrelenting. Unpredictable. And fast . . . so fast . . . ."

There was no more air left in my lungs to scream—it landed on top of me, driving the breath from my chest—its claws dug into my body and yanked—

Devon reached out and rapped his knuckles on the table, grabbing my attention. I sucked in my breath in surprise, my eyes refocusing on his hand before I looked up at his face. My fingers were trembling and I put my hands in my lap.

"I'm sorry. I get it," he said, his voice soft.

Swallowing hard, I pulled myself back from my thoughts and shoved the memory back down into the vault. In closing, I said, "Our only hope is if the predator survived and his weapons were on that plane."

"There's really nothing we can do?" he asked, his mouth full.

"Our sidearms won't do any damage. Maybe if we can get a hold of some heavier firepower we might be okay. Swat gear from Gunnison, maybe."

He nodded and said, "That could probably be arranged. Finish your food!"

"Yeah, okay Dad," I shot back, reluctantly finishing off my meal. All the food did was sit like a smoldering coal at the bottom of my stomach as I replayed that first encounter and my subsequent capture over and over again in my head.

The helicopter ride saved hours' worth of driving that we didn't have. It was loud, but it was gorgeous. I'd never seen the mountains from above before since I'd been strapped to a gurney during my last helicopter ride, and I found myself in awe as I leaned over, watching the evergreens go by beneath us. We were just in time to catch the aspens changing colors, and I'd forgotten how much I'd enjoyed that back home in Estes.

It only could have been better if there was some snow coverage, but it was late in coming.

We touched down atop the city's hospital, abreast of the emergency chopper. Devon and I jogged for the door, ducking against the wind created by the rotors. As promised, the sheriff was waiting for us just inside the roof access, ready to see us out of the enormous hospital; he was bundled up against the cold in a puffy police jacket. His dark features were soft, and his greeting smile was reserved and worried.

"Evening, agents. My name's Eddie Morales, I'm the sheriff here in town."

"Nichole Shain," I said, shaking his hand. "This is my partner, Devon Hart."

He shook Morales' hand as well, grinning, and said, "Pleasure to meet you."

Morales led us outside the hospital to the curb where his car was parked, the air frosted for autumn. He said, "I wish I could be more help, but I don't know much about the crash. You said one of your planes carrying precious cargo went down in the forest a few miles out?"

"That's correct, Sheriff," I said, hands gripping my backpack so tight. We were so close.

"Well, then maybe it has something to do with my missing hunters."

My heart crashed into the soles of my feet and I was left to digest that while Devon picked up my slack. "You got some missing people?"

"Well, Buddy Benson and his son Sam went hunting early this morning and his wife says he hasn't come back. This wouldn't normally be cause for alarm, but he gave her a set time he'd be back and it's been hours past that," Morales explained, stopping by his car.

Buddy Benson. What is the hell kind of hick name that? Buddy.

"I went looking for him myself earlier, all I found was his empty Jeep."

Devon nodded and I composed myself while he said, "You think they might have been caught up in the crash and injured?" He sent me a knowing glance and I shuddered inwardly.

"It's a possibility, yes. The plan he gave his wife coincides with the projected coordinates your team faxed over earlier. Deputy Ray is in the process of organizing a search party and we hope to comb the forest as soon as possible."

"Since we'll be in the area, mind if we join the party?" I asked, cutting off whatever Devon was about to say.

Morales looked at me in surprise and asked, "You want to help find them?"

"Finding your two missing citizens and our plane might be one in the same," I pointed out. "It's imperative we find them and the cargo, and if they're alive we need to know what they saw."

He gave me a long look, trying to decide what that meant, then shrugged and motioned to the SUV, ignoring my use of the word if. "Sure. We'll head out there now unless you want to stop somewhere first? You did just land, after all.

"No," I said, forcing a smile. "We'll be fine."

"You heard the lady," Devon said, loading into the passenger seat. "Sweet ride."

"As you wish," Morales said. I took my seat in the back, content to distance myself from the two men and their conversations. I pulled my backpack around to sit in my lap, the hard surface of Wolf's computer pressed against the top of my thighs.

How I wished there was some way I'd know he was on his way.

A feedback ping—anything. But I was left guessing and wondering.

I was too far into my own thoughts to focus on the mission and being a proper agent, so I was glad Devon was there and more than willing to chat it up with the sheriff. I was left wondering how old this kid was, trying to figure out when they would have been caught up in the aftermath. The time frame was too skewed and I had no way of knowing the when of anything.

I'd made it to work around seven, Weyland had taken the xenos and the predator around, what? Seven thirty? Eight? Then that whole shitstorm with Mindy and the xeno-huggers. That put the crash around noon or one. It had taken us five or so hours to travel, and the clock was preparing to strike six thirty. Darkness was creeping in, so any incubated chestbursters would be . . . .

Already out. Close to maturity. If that was the reason for their disappearance. It was still a possibility that they were just lost, or had been caught in the crash.

That was a little too optimistic for me. Too many ifs.

Then there was the matter of how far away the plane had crashed. If it was close, and the xenos were alive, they could have found the town already, infiltrated the area. They'd need a nest. At the very least, I could take solace in the fact that it was too early for a queen. They would only be able to reproduce so much before a queen was able to mutate.

So many ifs.

"How was your flight out here?" Morales asked, speaking loud enough to pull me from my thoughts. I jolted at the sudden intrusion, looking around the vehicle. For a second or two, I had completely forgotten where I was.

"Not bad," Devon answered. "Pretty important mission, so we were flown out in a fancy private jet, then the helicopter ride wasn't too bad. Never been on one of those before."

"I have," I almost whispered, rubbing my legs. "Too loud for my tastes."

"I imagine you can't talk about the mission?"

"No," I said quickly.

Devon leaned into Morales and said, "Between you and me, it's aliens."

I glared daggers at the back of Devon's head and kneed his seat, but Morales laughed. "Oh, yeah alright. I'll be sure to keep that one a secret . . . . Aliens."

Though the two of them had a five-minute hardy-har-har fest over Devon's stupid joke-not-joke, I didn't participate in the merriment. Devon might have dealt with his pre-mission jitters by cracking jokes and making nice with the locals, but I liked peace and quiet. I supposed that was why we worked so well. He handled the social nonsense so I could brood.

I glanced up front and the two men were busy having bro moments so I chanced a peek inside my bag, carefully unzipping it just enough so I could fish around for the computer.

That light was still blinking. That had to be a good sign—it meant he hadn't cut off the signal.

A bone fragment poked out from its wrappings. I pulled the fabric away and ran my fingers over the smooth, bleached surface. A testament to what I'd been through if the scar on my shoulder wasn't enough evidence. I carefully tucked it into the inside pocket and closed the bag.

The small town buildings eventually gave way to woods and my chest constricted. I turned my gaze away from the trees and shifted to the edge of my seat. "Sheriff?" I called to the front.

"Call me Eddie, Ms. Shain."

Though I had no real intention of doing so, I said, "Eddie, then—have you noticed anything strange happening in town the past few hours?" Might as well pretend to be an agent for a little while longer. Distract me from the coming search.

"Besides Buddy and Sam going missing—well, no. Not really."

Devon jumped on it before I could. "Doesn't sound like nothing."

The sheriff fidgeted in his seat some and then shook his head. "One of my officers found an arm at the entrance to the sewers. We're not sure who it belongs to, but one of the homeless that squats down there, his dog was chewing on it."

"That's gross," Devon muttered. Professional as always.

Ignoring him, I pressed, "Anything else you can think of?"

Eddie looked at me in the rearview mirror and scrunched his face. "Why? Was there something dangerous on the plane? An animal?"

"I told you, aliens," Devon snickered. I kicked his seat again.

This time, Eddie didn't laugh but offered a terse chuckle. "There you go again."

"Yeah, he's a real laugh riot," I said, rolling my eyes. I was going to beat the shit out of my partner before the night ended, I already knew it.

We pulled up to a large group of people and cars, all milling about and huddled up against the cold. All of the able-bodied citizens of Gunnison seemed to be present at the trail's start. The deputy, Ray as Eddie had called him, was setting up teams as we parked.

"Eddie," Ray called, raising his hand.

"We ready to get started?" the sheriff asked, clapping his deputy over the shoulder.

"Sure are. These your agents?"

He spread his arm toward us. "Yes, agents Shain and Hart, fresh from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They've offered to help with the search since it might be related to their missing plane out here."

"The more the merrier. I'll get you some flashlights."

As he left, Devon and I turned to Eddie and I asked, "How much does he know?"

"Only as much as I know about it. We've all kind of put two and two together, that they might have been hurt by the crash," he explained, passing us some flashlights handed to him by Ray.

"You two can stay with our group. We're going to fan out and go as long as we can," Ray said.

"We'll keep an eye out for anything that might be your crash, hope one can lead to the other."

I motioned to the other citizens. "And them?"

"We haven't told them anything, if that's what you're asking," Eddie assured, sounding almost insulted by the question.

Devon nodded. "Probably best. The less people we involve, the better."

Ray and Eddie relayed the plan to the rest of the party and I slung my backpack over both shoulders instead of over the one. Wolf's computer bumped my spine, reminding me that it was still there. Palms clammy and throat tight, I stared into the looming trees and tried to keep my knees from shaking. My heart was thundering in my chest as my eyes darted around, searching for danger. Everything around me tunneled and the words the officers spoke faded into obscurity. It had been years since I'd set foot in a forest, and my legs felt as if I was going to collapse at any second.

Those things could be in there. Watching. Waiting. Silently biding their time until they could strike and send us all into chaos. There were so many people around, and the sun was setting fast.

Now more than ever, I was desperate to see Wolf again.

The glint of flashlights, the low murmur of the citizens, even the chill in the air and way the wind blew through the leaves was enough to set my teeth on edge.

Too many people.

We should stick together, not spread out.

Gently, a breeze rustled my hair and the cold seeped past my clothes, settling into my bones. I was rooted to the spot, the trees before me rising up as if to swallow me. The evening shadows moved between the branches, daunting and cruel. From inside my mind came the slow crescendo of building screeches and wails.

" What are they?"

" Run! Run!"

" Don't look back!"

All of a sudden, I couldn't breathe. My breaths came in short huffs and a tremble started deep in my chest, radiating out to my shoulders and rocking my frame. A pressure formed behind my eyes and I couldn't stop my lip from quivering.

I was lost in that devouring darkness, my eyes prickling with held-back tears.

" Nichole wait!"

But I couldn't wait—they were coming—I wouldn't survive if I turned back—just had to keep running and make it to safety—survive—survive!

A hand lighted on my shoulder and I was wrenched from the black memories with a violent jolt, a half-scream permeating the air before I could stifle it. My partner could do nothing as I grabbed him, twisting his arm around and throwing him to the ground. He grunted and wheezed, staring up at me with wide eyes.

"Devon," I exhaled, reaching out to help him only to pull back out of shame. "I'm . . . I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to."

He raised a hand and picked himself up off the ground. "Hey, don't worry about it. I should know better. That was . . . that was a solid takedown. No one's getting the jump on you," he said, stretching his back and groaning.

"I'm . . . I'm so sor—"

"Nah, nah. We're cool. Really." He smiled at me and touched my arm. "Are you okay?"

Nodding, I said, "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

Breathe and count to ten.

Eddie walked over, concern etched across his face. "Is everything okay? She looks like she's just seen a ghost and she nailed you." Ray was right behind him, looking equally as floored about the display. I tried not to look at the civilians to gauge their reaction.

With a chuckle, Devon said, "Oh, that? Ah, I let her get one good one in before we start a mission. Keeps me on my toes and loosens her up. Like a warm-up stretch before the big game."

The sheriff did not seem like he bought it.

Before either of them could pry further for an answer, a harried woman handed me a sheet of paper and I lifted it up to see in the dying sunlight. She told me, "Here, a picture so you know who to look for. Thank you so much for helping me find them."

"Of course, Mrs. Benson," I said, sparing a few seconds to check it.

Doesn't matter. They're probably dead.

How many more would die in the next few hours?

Swallowing hard, I showed the picture to Devon. He studied it and huffed in amusement. "Guy certainly looks like a Buddy. Kid's cute. Hope we can find them," he said, folding the printout and sliding it into his pocket.

"Yeah, me too," I said, my voice low and lacking conviction.

Ray and Eddie signaled for the search to begin, announcing that it was going to be dark soon. When I didn't immediately move out, Devon set his hand on my upper arm and pulled me away from the crowd by a few feet.

"You don't have to come. Someone can take you back to town and you can book us some rooms at a motel. Or something," he said, all traces of his previous mirth gone. I glanced up to read his expression and saw the same look he'd wore when he found me incapacitated in the labs.

Taking a deep breath, I shifted my gaze to the woods and balled my hands into tight fists, my fingernails biting into the flesh. "No. I'm fine."

"No one would think less of you. I can come up with a story no problem," he assured me.

I shook my head and met his eyes. "No, it's fine. I can do this. I have to do this."

Eddie and Ray came over to see what we were doing and Devon took up a more professional position next to me as they asked, "Is something the matter, agents?"

Devon turned to me for the answer and I squared my shoulders. "No, nothing's wrong. Just had a bad experience in the forest back home. I'm from Estes Park, and I went camping a lot with my family. The last time was—it wasn't a good trip. I'll be fine, though."

"No kidding? Well, there's nothing in these woods to be worried about," Ray said, giving me a reassuring smile. "No bears or lions or even any wild elk. Maybe the occasional deer herd or a fox or something. Birds, too. Buddy and Sam were hunting for whitetails."

My partner and I shared significant looks, and I took another deep breath, saying, "Yup, that's all good."

"Shall we?" Devon asked, raising his hand for me to go first.

It took me another split second to dispel any lingering doubts and fears, but then I was following the two police officers into the woods with Devon at my side, always keeping a watchful eye on me. I wasn't going to run away because I was scared, though, or guilty. Because of the ghosts of my past.

This time, things were going to be different. Sure I was scared, but I was prepared and experienced. I would prove that I was better than my fear. That I was the warrior Wolf thought I was.

Chapter Text

Around every corner, behind every tree, inside every shadow—I expected it to begin. The screaming. The shouts. Gunfire. Blood. Even the distant calling for the two missing people was getting under my skin. Something was going to happen. Something always happened.

The forest was only going to grow darker and darker.

Any minute now.

But nothing ever happened. I refused to take up the cries—not that it mattered. If there was anything out in the woods, they would already know where we were.

As it was, I was too busy with other things.

Every one of my nerves was alert, all senses strained to their maximum as I kept up constant vigilance. I kept my eyes on the darkness between the trees, in the branches. Twilight faded into a pitch darkness and every scrape, snap, and shout made me shudder. I wanted nothing more than to warn them of what might be lurking. I was desperate to tell them to stop, that the search was futile and they should go back to town.

Barricade their homes. Hide.

It was still too early to tell. No matter how much I strained, I couldn't find any signs that there were any xenomorphs out in the wild. Not nearby, at least. It would be unprofessional to incite a panic over nothing.

Was it truly better to be safe rather than sorry in this situation? If I waited too late . . . .

That was all I could do, though. Wait. If I revealed everything to an entire town's worth of people and it turned out that everything had perished in the crash, Devon would be lynched for it back at the bureau. Going with Wolf might spare me from the consequences of my actions, but I couldn't let Devon shoulder all of it in my stead.

He didn't deserve that.

We hiked well past sunset in a spaced-out line, sweeping in tandem to cover as much ground as we could while remaining within eyesight of one another. High-grade flashlights provided by the police department pierced the darkness with rays of white light, banishing the shadows for scant seconds before it bore down on me with a crippling pressure once again.

Devon remained close to my side at all times, bumping his shoulder against mine from time to time to remind me that he was still there.

At one time, he asked, "What kind of signs am I looking for?" in an undertone. No one else was nearby, though. We could see Ray and Eddie just barely on either side of us, but could only hear them when they hollered for Buddy and Sam.

"Slime. Thick, snot-like slime," I said back.

Every few minutes, if things were becoming too silent, I gave away an unspoken cue only Devon was looking for, he'd bump me and say, "Nothing yet."

I knew what he was doing. It was sort of working. His voice and occasional shoulder tap rooted me back into reality. I could focus more on the sound of his footsteps and less on the night that threatened to consume me.

That pill I'd taken was useless now. I almost wished I'd brought the bottle with me.

You can do this. You are doing it. Just remember to breathe.

For once, Devon was keeping whatever snide comments he had to himself. I was the only one with my sidearm up in a tactical position, following every sweep of my flashlight. It was only going to annoy anything that came at us, but it still made me feel a little better.

Suddenly, The bushes rustled at my left and I swung my light around, gasping and freezing in place as I stood my ground. Devon grabbed my arm and pushed it down with a gentle weight, standing almost on top of me. "Shh, Nichole it's fine. It's an owl, see?" he said, pointing his light upward. Sure enough, a big owl stared down at us with its round eyes before taking off, scared away by the lights. A mouse was in its beak.

"Fucking bird jump scares," I muttered, finally holstering my weapon. I was liable to end up shooting someone's eye out at this rate.

"It was getting itself some breakfast," he mused with a grin.

Rolling my eyes, I started walking again. The people of Gunnison never once stopped calling for the missing father and son.

As the night continued to wear on, there was neither hide nor hair of the two or the crash to be found. There was no sign of the xenomorphs, either. I counted that as both good and bad—good because we were safe for now, and bad because that might also mean they had already made it into the town. Nesting. Trying to breed.

Despite Eddie trying to cut everyone some slack and send them home for the night, most wanted to continue. It was still early, even if it was almost too dark to see anything.

Finally, though, after two hours of walking in utter blackness, everyone's spirits were low and their voices hoarse. The calls had waned, and people were lagging behind. I struggled ahead, leading the pack with Devon, Eddie, and Ray. My legs throbbed with each step, my knees shaking, but I forced myself to keep going, scouring the ground for any sign of debris. I kept one eye on the tree line for broken branches.

"Agents, this way," one of the officers bade.

Devon and I followed Ray's voice to a charred patch of ground. Whatever had been burning was gone, turned to ash and ground into the dirt. I kneeled down and touched the cold, dry spot.

"This yours?" Eddie asked.

"Don't know. Could be something burning fell here," Devon sniffed. "Buddy and Sam known for setting fires without a pit?"

Ray shook his head. "They would never build a campfire without a pit. Not with how many wildfires we get here in the Rockies. We've got strict rules about it here and Buddy wouldn't risk his hunting license over something like that."

"Then it's probably from the plane," I sighed, standing up.

Or acid from a bleeding alien.

Eddie asked, "So what do you wanna do?"

I looked over my shoulder to check the position of the others. They were behind us by several meters, still shouting for the missing father and his son.

"We'll canvas the area. Whistle if you find something," Devon suggested, gesturing around.

"I hope it goes without saying that if any of us find something, we're sending everyone back home." I thrust a thumb toward the citizens.

Both officers nodded and Eddie said, "Of course, agent. You have our full cooperation."

"We definitely appreciate it, boys," said Devon.

At that, we split off to search. I grabbed Devon and held him back, unable to lift my gaze to meet his as I said, "Stay close, Devon. I don't know what kind of shit is going to . . . well, no. I do know. And please, Devon. Stay by my side. You'll be safe."

He stood still for a moment, the only sound that of his steady breathing. Then, he chuckled and shook his head. "Sure thing. I'll do my best. I mean, I've already been attached to you at the hip all night, what's a bit longer?"

Relief removed a sliver of tension from my chest and I dropped my grip on him. "Thanks."

However, I knew he didn't understand what I meant. He would assume I was talking about the xenomorphs, but I was talking about Wolf. I didn't know what to expect when we met, how he'd react to another human. His kind hunted us for trophies, took our skulls and mounted them on their mantles. There would be nothing stopping him from killing Devon unless I was close by to stop him.

After all, I wasn't just any human to him. The mark on my shoulder made me one of his kind. Even if he didn't want to be my mentor anymore, he shouldn't be able to ignore the scar that marked me as a warrior and not prey. At least, I hoped. Though, if his offer didn't still stand, I couldn't imagine he'd show up at all.

That left Devon as a prime target if he didn't stay by my side. I had to send these people home sooner rather than later. Most of them were civilians, so I had to believe that they were safe from Wolf at least.

My better judgment begged me to tell my partner the truth. The longer I hid it from him, the angrier he was going to be, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I had kept it a secret for so long, the words refused to leave no matter how many times I opened my mouth to speak them. They caught in my throat and forced me to swallow them, where they festered in my chest.

Eventually, he would find out. I would try to make amends when that time came.

After we split up from Gunnison's finest, Devon said, "I've never seen you like this before. Not even at that haunted restaurant with all that shit going on. I mean, I totally understand. That shit's tough for a teenager, but—"

"Could you get to the point or stop talking?" I snapped.

"Sorry. I just . . . I guess wanna say everything's gonna be okay, y'know? We're in this together. Partners. There's nothing we can't do, cuz we're like super agents."

Everything is going to be okay.

Jess clutched at her chest, coughing and holding onto me. Michelle sobbed in the background. I pulled them onward, telling myself that—

I stopped short and clenched my eyes shut, trying to dispel the image of my friends staggering around the dark hallway of that ship. Jess, doubled over and coughing . . . .

Everything is going to be okay.

Eyes opening, I turned to him and forced a smile to my face. "Yeah. Super agents. Just keep your eyes out. It's hard to see them in the dark." The residual memory of my denial and the death of my friends burned at the back of my skull.

A shrill whistle gathered our attention. We shared a look, then took off at a jog toward the signal. My legs protested each step, but I ignored them.

Devon noticed the increased intensity of my limp and pulled me back. "You okay?"

"Fine. No pain, no gain."

"Okay," he said, indicated to my bag, "Can I at least carry your bag for you? I promise I won't look inside it."

Shaking my head, I gripped the strap tighter. It wasn't any heavier than the clothes inside it and it certainly wasn't the problem with my legs. On top of all that, I wasn't going to let another soul have the computer.

"Alright, if you're sure."

"Positive. I'll take a break when we find the crash."

"Good."

Eddie was waiting for us between two large trees, his flashlight hovering at the ground by our feet. When he spoke, his expression was grave.

"We found your plane, agents. This way."

After sharing a significant look, Devon and I made haste to follow him.

The site wasn't much farther than where we had been. We hadn't come across any debris or disturbed flora yet because we were coming from in front of it. Once we passed a thick copse of trees, the wreckage was scattered all over the forest floor. Bits and pieces were strewn about, stuck in the canopy and littering the ground. I caught myself just as I started to rush the scene, fingers itching to dive into the debris and find my lost predator.

The plane looked small smashed into the earth. It was a cargo plane, fat and gray, so it was anything but. Yet it was in pieces, wings tattered and shell stripped. The fuselage was still wholly intact for the most part, but windows had shattered on impact and all its bits were every which way.

There has to be a way inside.

Somehow, I kept myself rooted and turned to the officers. I surprised myself with the composure I had when I spoke. "Alright, send your people back to town. Agent Hart and I have to canvas and find what we came here for."

"Do you want some help?" Ray asked.

Devon gave him a hearty pat on the back and smiled. He said, "Nah, we'll be fine. Go wrangle up the citizens. Agent Shain and I will be fine here. Make some calls, uh, use our . . . trajectory and GPS to send out some coordinates and a bunch of other FBI mumbo jumbo."

"Don't want us seeing the aliens, eh?" Eddie mused, letting Devon lead him and his deputy away. I stood watching, waiting.

My partner laughed and shook his head. "Exactly! Can't let you see the aliens."

"Aliens?" Ray questioned.

Eddie waved his hand by his head dismissively. "Just a joke. Let's send these people home."

"What about Buddy and Sam?"

Guy just doesn't give up.

"Take care of your people, first," I said, using my best authoritative voice. "It's late and they should head home, anyway. We'll secure the cargo on the plane while you do that and then if you want, you can resume the search and we'll get them found."

"Of course," Devon said, "we'll keep an eye out for them as well until you get back. Once we know the cargo's good, we'll call back to our brass and have them bring some dogs to help."

Ray's face lit up. "You'd do that?"

Devon nodded. "You and yours have been incredibly hospitable and cooperative. It's the least we can do to help find that father and his son."

The two police officers nodded and Devon sent them off with a wave, standing sentry at the two trees they passed through. Then, a moment later, he turned to me and made a wild gesture with his hand. "Okay, they're gone. Go ahead."

I didn't have to be told twice. I turned on my heels and made a lap around the wreckage, sweeping my light over every nook and cranny and the ground, looking for any sign of entry or survivors. Some glowing blood, melted metal, anything. Eventually, I came to a large hole in the left side of the aircraft, where it had hit a rock or a tree or something, and I squeezed inside with my bag against my chest.

"Nichole!" Devon called from outside. He'd followed closely behind me. "Do you really think it's safe to just go in there like that?"

"They won't be in here," I assured him, squirming past some snapped wires and hanging circuitry. It was a tight squeeze, but I made it into the plane proper with some finagling. "If any xenos survived, they would have left through this same hole."

"How do you know?"

The first breath I took was full of dust. I coughed until my lungs cleared, waving my hand in front of me to clear the air. My eyes were watering some, but it didn't hinder my ability to see. I shouted over my shoulder, "This plane shouldn't be big enough to nest in. Not the right conditions in this cold weather, either. They'd be looking for victims if they lived. Unless there's injured ones in here, we should be safe."

Still and all, there was protocol to follow and safety measures to perform. I brought my weapon to bare and swept over the fuselage, checking every corner for danger. When none presented itself, I called, "Clear!"

"Alright, then I'm coming in."

While he was busy coming through the hole, I took the chance to search every box, steel container, or fluid-filled liquid canister. There was no sign of any of the xenos, each crate busted open either from the crash or melted away by acid blood.

Dumbasses, the lot of them. Couldn't even think far enough ahead to acid-proof anything.

They had thought that they could just fly on out to California with them under sedation under short notice. Had they even thought to re-apply the sedatives at all during the flight? To reinforce their crates? They might have worked on your average puma or another large beast, but not these things.

"Find anything?" Devon asked. He'd made enough noise stomping through the fuselage that I didn't jump at his voice.

Standing, I brushed dust and grime off my hands and said, "Just a lot of empty cages."

"Any sign of the predator?"

"Not here," I sighed, motioning to a pile of mangled manacles that had probably once held down the predator. "Either Jailbreak was dragged off by a xenormoph or he walked out of here all on his own."

"'Jailbreak'?" Devon repeated from the other end of the cargo area.

I shrugged and said, "That's what I'm calling him."

"How appropriate," Devon chuckled.

He kneeled by a slightly melted containment unit that had fallen on its side and he yanked something out from under it. As I was walking toward him, he said, "Looks like someone was crushed when the plane crashed."

When I reached his side, he lifted up his find and I illuminated it with my light—a black, clawed hand. Xenomorph.

"Sucks to be it. Careful with that thing, it could still be acidic."

"It's all good. Seems to have lost its bite. I'm thinking that these things probably escaped midflight," Devon surmised, dropping the appendage and wiping his hands on his pants. He searched some of the other cages before turning to me and asked, "What do you think? One of them wounded itself and bled all over the place, then they took out the pilots?"

We moved as one toward the cockpit, our firearms drawn and ready for action. I said, "It's as good a theory as any."

"Chances any of the crew survived?"

"Slim to none."

The two of us stood on either side of the door to the cockpit. Our eyes met and Devon nodded. I reached out, my back to the wall, and pushed it open. It fell off its hinges at the slightest provocation, making both of us jolt in surprise. When the racket of the door falling didn't elicit any wild screeches or roars, I could only assume that the room was empty.

Still, we followed our training. Devon counted to three with his fingers, then we rushed inside, ready to open fire if anything remotely alien came at us.

Chapter Text

Crimson coated the walls and control panel in thick spatters, dark and shimmering under the glare of our flashlights. The pilots sat in their seats, slumped forward and unmoving. Their faces had been mauled beyond recognition, their chests cleaved and rent into gorey ribbons. The very seats upon which they sat were shredded and full of holes, their fabric hanging by threads.

Devon gagged and ducked out, his arm obscuring his face as if that was going to block out the acrid, coppery stench of stale death. I heard him mutter "what the fuck" under his breath.

I remained standing in the doorway, frozen and nauseated, my own sleeve drawn over my nose and mouth. It wasn't the first time I'd seen blood, it wouldn't be the last time, but it hadn't been anything like this. Never so angry. I hadn't known the xenomorphs to maul people like this.

When a chestburster breaks out, that was plenty gruesome, but the scene before me, that was something else entirely. Awful.

It was rage. It was vengeance.

To think that those beasts were capable of such deliberate wrath was beyond me. It wasn't like they didn't have a reason to be furious and full of hate, I just hadn't thought them smart enough or developed enough to express it.

From outside the cockpit, Devon asked,"Was there anyone else on this flight?"

"I can only imagine there was," I murmured.

"So where are they?"

Devon, his hands on his hips, beckoned me to leave the pilot area. "I didn't see any bodies, not even any xenos. Just that one limb. Maybe a crushed corpse under the unit."

"We'll have to look harder."

Before we could search the rest of the plane for more remains, though, Ray's voice cut through the tension. "Agents? Agents are you in there?"

"Yeah, one sec. Gotta find a new way outta this dump," Devon called back.

I motioned in the direction of the hole. "We'll just go out the way we came in."

"I'm not crawling through that thing again," he harrumphed.

Groaning, I rolled my eyes and picked my way back through the fallen crates and over melted holes in the hull until Devon and I made our way to the back where the loading ramp was. All we had to do was find a way to open it.

Without really thinking, I attempted to kick open the cargo hatch—bad idea. The pain had me on the ground, holding my leg to my chest and teeth gnashing. Devon had had all of two seconds to babble a protest, and he was at my side in an instant, helping me back up to my feet.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" Devon asked.

"I thought it would open easy like the cockpit door did," I whined.

"My god, Nichole, you know better than that."

"Oh shut up!"

He made a patronizing clucking sound and left me there to nurse my wounded ego, walking toward the door. Using his flashlight, he examined the wall around it and the hinges. I couldn't see what he was doing, but there was a whole lot of banging before the door finally started to open manually with Devon pulling on a chain.

"See? Easy peasy. There was a latch. There's probably a control switch somewhere, but there's no chance it has any power right now," he said, walking back over to me once the ramp was all the way down. "You need any help limping out of here, gimpy?"

"I have everything under control," I hissed through clenched teeth, hobbling to the large bay door so I could exit.

Devon marched along behind me, shaking his head the entire time. "Still don't know what would have possessed you to kick it down. This thing is huge . . . it would never have worked even if you didn't have a bum leg."

Heat burned my neck and cheeks and I was thankful for the dark. "Just drop it you piece of shit."

"Woah, no need for such hostility," he chuckled, walking past me and around the plane. Glowering, I followed him, still rubbing my leg and trying to walk straight. Ray was standing nearby, keeping to a respectable distance from the crash.

"What do you need, Deputy?" I demanded.

"You alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine." It seemed like I was saying that quite a bit lately. "What do you need?"

"I told Eddie to head back to town and make sure everyone got there safe, but I wanted to keep looking for Buddy and Sam with you guys."

"We can't have you—"

"That's great!" Devon interjected, placing a hand on my shoulder. "The pilots are dead, but there may have been others on board and we can't find them. A third set of eyes might help."

I glared at my partner, hoping to drill my displeasure directly into his brain, but he wasn't paying me any attention. Whether it was because it was too dark for him to see me or he was ignoring me I couldn't tell.

Ray didn't notice anything either and said, "You think someone survived?"

More like was dragged off the ship.

Devon shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Might have been thrown from the plane or any number of things. We've got the fuselage secured, so we thought we'd have a look around before calling it a night and continuing in the morning with backup. First, though, my partner needs a break."

"I can keep going," I insisted.

He gave me a withering look. "You said you'd take a break when we found the crash."

"Yeah, well," I said, crossing my arms, "now I don't need one."

"But you just hurt yourself!"

"I said I'm alright!"

"How far did you want to search?" Ray asked, speaking over our bickering.

Nodding, Devon faced him. "We can maybe go—"

Growling, I pulled Devon aside and swung him around to face me. "What are you doing?" I asked in a harsh whisper.

"What? You said it was safe. That they aren't here," he pointed out. "What's the harm?"

Swearing, I rubbed my face and glanced back at Ray who was watching us curiously but trying not to make it obvious by examining the broken plane wing. "He doesn't know anything. What if he comes across something he can't know about? The predator? A xeno carcass?"

"Then we'll just kill him."

"Devon!"

He pushed me playfully and chuckled. "I'm just kidding. It'll be fine. He wouldn't know what he was looking at anyway."

"Maybe . . . except you thought it'd be hilarious if you told Eddie we were looking for aliens!"

"It was funny!"

I groaned, half a second from slapping him silly. "Devon, you need to take this seriously!"

"I am taking this seriously, Nichole," he soothed, both his hands on my shoulders. "Just because I don't have my deadly face on like you do doesn't mean I don't know this is serious. But you're going to worry yourself sick if you don't loosen up just a little bit."

Shaking my head, I pulled away from him. "You don't know anything, Devon. Bring him if you want, but don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, I turned and headed back into the woods, scanning the ground for clues.

He doesn't know anything because you won't tell him. If you do, this would be a lot easier.

The thought plagued me as we searched within a mile radius of the crash. If Devon knew what was really going on, why I was there and how I planned to fix it, he wouldn't be so happy to include the entire town of Gunnison.

Or maybe he still would. I didn't know what that fucking guy was thinking half the time.

In my heart of hearts, I knew he was just trying to relieve the tension. It was his shtick. I was too worried for it to work on me, for his behavior to relax me. I would apologize. Later. When we were safe from everything.

If there is a later.

"Agents, what am I looking at?" Ray called, standing several yards away.

We met up with him and crouched low to the ground, craning our necks to catch a glimpse of what he was looking at. Even in the pitch blackness, it was easy to spot. Though its glow had dulled with time, it stood out like a sore thumb.

Fluorescent green blood.

Jailbreak.

My hair stood on end and I dropped my composure. Without a word, I abandoned the two men and frantically searched the entire area, looking for more of the blood until I spotted it on a bush—a pinprick beacon against the black-green of the forest.

"What is it?" Ray asked somewhere behind me, following along. I found that I didn't much care what he did anymore.

"Um. Leakage, from one of the packages. An animal must have gotten into something and took off with it." If Devon was one thing, it was quick with the covers.

None of that would matter if we followed the trail and found what we were looking for at the end. If he saw Jailbreak, there wasn't going to be any kind of cover that would explain away the presence of a real alien.

"We can handle this. You look for your missing citizens," I demanded. It was safer if they were close to me, but I didn't want Ray to see what we were really after.

Devon nodded and pulled Ray away. To me, he said, "Shout if you need us."

"I told you to stay with me, Devon," I said, taking a few steps toward him. Somehow I managed to keep my expression under control.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. One of us needs to stay with Ray, anyway. We shouldn't be splitting up at all, but there is the matter of secrecy . . . ."

"I don't need a babysitter, agents," Ray frowned. We elected to ignore him.

Once again, I was pulling my partner aside and leaving an irritated Ray to stand on his own. "This is why I didn't want to bring him along. He's not safe here and we can't let him follow us around like a stray dog or something."

He waved his hand errantly by his head. "Yeah, but you said that the xenomorphs aren't out here, right? So we're okay."

"That's not—they might be hiding or there could be stragglers!"

Just tell him.

"If it's just one or two stragglers we should be okay, right? They'd be injured, left behind by the others. We can handle a couple injured ones," he argued. "I know they're pretty vicious, I see that now, from the pilots, but we're ready for them. Especially injured ones. We don't know if they're even alive. If you think they are, then we need to call Joseph and let the military handle it."

My mouth bobbed up and down as I tried to find the words that would make him stay. But, we couldn't bring Ray, and he couldn't be left alone. Besides that, there was no way I wanted to hand this over to the military yet. Above all else, I couldn't tell Devon about Wolf.

Not yet.

It was my precious secret, one I couldn't bring myself to give away. I'd ferreted it away for all these years, clung to it, and I didn't want to share now. How could I explain, anyway? Never once had I ever considered divulging the information, so I had no plans for when I did.

Defeated and deflated, I lowered my gaze and huffed. "Fine, whatever."

Devon grinned and gave me a squeeze. "You'll be fine. There's nothing out here that can hurt you anymore. But still, shout if you need me."

I nodded and, when he was out earshot, muttered, "I'll just follow your screams."

"Wait, is it really okay to leave her by herself out here in the dark like this?" Ray asked, glancing over his shoulder as Devon pulled him away from me.

"You saw her throw me, she can take care of herself . . . ."

Their voices faded as we drifted apart. I watched the spot they'd disappeared for a moment, panic rising like bile in my throat. I was alone. My fingers flexed in and out of a fist and I closed my eyes. I had to hope that we really were alone out in the woods, especially since I wasn't a hundred percent sure there weren't any xenos around.

We'd walked in from in front of the crash. That burn mark on the forest floor couldn't have been from burning debris. If wasn't from that, and it wasn't signs of a campfire . . . .

It had to be one of the aliens.

After taking a few deep breaths, I forced myself to get it together. They were a shout away, and it was only a matter of time before my backup arrived. I followed the trail, walking on my own through the woods, focusing on the task at hand rather than the circumstances. I couldn't freak out now. I had to help Jailbreak and send him back home.

The green droplets increased in frequency and amount present as I traveled. Despite the feeling of jelly in my legs and dull throb from when I'd kicked the door, I convinced myself to move faster. This was nothing compared to what Jailbreak had to go through.

"Where are you? Give me something, anything," I muttered, sweeping my light frenetically across the ground and up in the trees.

Several feet to my left, I spotted the spatter of vivid green across a tree trunk. I stumbled over a rock in my path in my haste to move toward it, but kept my footing and steeled myself against the pain. Wading through the bushes, I stopped close to the tree when my shoes hit something solid with a slight yield to it.

Time slowed to a crawl. I kept my eyes on the tree in front of me, spotting patterns in the spray where there were none. My shoulders rose and fell rhythmically with each labored breath. My pulse roared in my ears as I lowered my gaze from the blood to the mass at my feet.

Already, I could see it in my periphery. The concentration of blood, the familiar contour of muscles drawn over a chiseled body . . . .

I dropped my eyes the rest of the way before I could convince myself not to. My lungs ceased all function and I had to catch myself from sinking to my knees; there was no way I would be able to stand again if I let myself fall.

A bloodied hole gaped up at me from Jailbreak's chest, his splintered rib cage jagged with protruding bone. I was going to lose myself if in it if I wasn't careful.

His mask was gone, his mandibles spread and mouth open. A permanent roar of pain and rage. Captured by humans, strapped down and stripped of his gear and dignity. Humiliated, abandoned by his peers and left on a planet in the hands of the enemy. His only hope had been a single, hopeless human girl.

All of it ended in a death devoid of any honor.

And I'd been helpless to do anything about it.

There was no way he had stood any chance. The xenos would have shaken the sedative faster, regained their strength quicker. The crew would have taken his mask, replaced it with a hospital-grade plastic respirator by then. The drones that survived the crash would have freed any facehuggers aboard. They can carry them like the scientists had said. I didn't know how many they'd taken or how many survived the crash.

Inside my chest, my heart constricted and I clutched the front of my jacket, teeth grinding—a barrier to prevent the lament I wished to release. I took an unsteady step back and hauled in deep breaths to keep the angry tears at bay.

My fault.

I'd waffled too much. Spent too much time hemming and hawing. I'd wasted a whole day reading about the predators. Maybe I'd learned a bunch about them, but what good had it done Jailbreak?

He was dead. Nothing I learned would change that.

I couldn't hold it all together. I snarled through my teeth and turned, reaching out to grab the branches of a nearby pine, shaking the limb until it pulled free of the trunk, my bag thumping against my back. I tossed the branch as far as I could throw it, stumbling when my knees threatened to buckle.

It was the only tantrum I would allow myself. I inhaled as many times as it took to calm down, and then whirled toward the body, senses suddenly on high alert.

I heard it, I know I did.

As if standing still would make me hear better, I didn't dare move a muscle. My ears strained, taking in any sound in the area. Was it Devon and Ray? The sound of their footsteps or idle conversation drawn by the wind? Something told me that it wasn't. A niggling feeling that tingled on the back of my neck.

Then it came again, low and quiet. A sound that plucked at my heartstrings and made my spirit soar. It was familiar and comforting in a way I never thought possible.

The rattle of a curious predator.

My feet carried me back to the corpse, hope swelling in my chest—was Jailbreak really alive? Could he have somehow survived the birth of a xenomorph? I hadn't thought it possible that anything could endure such physical trauma, but if anyone could, it was this species.

But when I reached him—I hadn't gone that far away to begin with—he was unmoving and quiet. I lowered myself into a crouch and pressed my fingers onto his arm.

Cold.

So then what. . . ?

Electricity crackled through the air, standing my hairs on end and tingling my skin. I scrambled back onto my feet and took a step back, mouth open in unabashed surprise.

His tall, thick form melted into visibility and my heart skipped a beat. He tilted his head to the side, crackling a question. I chewed on the inside of my lip and pulled on one of the straps of my backpack until the computer in it poked into my hip bone.

He looked at his wrist, reading a display. I let the saliva pool in my mouth then swallowed it, coating my throat so that I could speak.

"Wolf?" I asked tentatively.

The word had him lifting his head. It had to be him. The mask, the color of his skin against the dark night . . . . My heart exploded into life, pounding against my rib cage as if trying to free itself.

A dead person's voice echoed in the distance between us, choking me anew with emotions.

"Nichole."

Chapter Text

He was just as I remembered him.

Darkness obscured his intimidating form as he stood, oozing confidence, scant feet away from me. His squared shoulders, the way he held his weight and the small movements he made—it was enough to send a shiver of remembrance up my spine. It quickened my heart and stole my breath.

Dried leaves rustled at his feet as he shifted his weight, considering something. He made idle clicking sounds, as he was prone to, and seemed to examine me. All the while, he flexed his fingers idly at his side.

I stared at him in unabashed disbelief, my lips parted and my eyes unblinking; if I did, maybe he would disappear. Wolf stared back, then cocked his head to the side. Though I was most definitely the one who had called him, I couldn't believe he was there. Even after rehearsing the reunion for months—years even—I couldn't remember anything I wanted to say to him.

"You came," I finally managed. My voice was a shade above a whisper.

He inclined his head and my arms ached, my fingers itched. They rose partially and my legs tensed to carry me to him, but I held myself still. I wanted to touch him, to feel the texture of his skin and ensure he was there—actually there.

Not another hallucination. Not just me reliving the past, stuck in my own personal Hell.

After a moment, a low rumble started in his chest. He waited for another brief second, then approached me. I went rigid, suddenly unsure of how I should act around him. What to ask him, what to talk about. Small talk didn't seem right, and I still wasn't any closer to understanding his language than when I first met him.

When he was within arm's reach, he put his hand on my shoulder and gave me a shake. My brain rattled in my skull, but I still managed to return the gesture, albeit with less vigor. It was like trying to shake a tree trunk.

Dipping his head, Wolf growled a greeting, distorted by his mask. I was too caught up in the moment to try and decipher the syllables.

"Nice to see you, too," I muttered, unable to keep a smile from tugging at the corner of my lips. I wiped it away and turned to the body, wondering if he'd seen it yet. I imagined that the body might be the same temperature as everything else around us, but he'd also had to step over Jailbreak to get to me.

"I wish it was on better terms, though." I made a sweeping gesture toward the body.

His attention diverted to Jailbreak and he harrumphed, pointed at the body. I couldn't tell if he was upset or angry by body language or that noise he'd made. Surely, though, he had to be feeling some sort of way about it.

Guilt was gnawing at my insides and I averted my gaze before explaining. "He was captured during his hunt."

For a moment Wolf was silent, then he snorted an admonition and approached the body himself with his shoulders squared. A strange sense of unsurprised pity dampened my mood at his reaction. There was no doubt in my mind now that Jailbreak's failure, his capture, was something to be shamed over.

Seems so cruel.

Maybe if I'd been successful in his rescue, if Dixon hadn't usurped my attempts, Jailbreak would have been fine. He could have helped me kill the xenos and the queen. That could have been enough to salvage some of his honor and begin his journey of redemption. The world would never know, now.

"I was going to help him, I was trying to, but there was a lot of opposition," I explained, hoping that being succinct wouldn't translate to me being a complete and utter failure.

There wasn't going to be an easy way to explain my involvement with the whole thing. He seemed to understand me just fine most of the time, but I wasn't sure if he'd comprehend the finer points of human business structure.

When Wolf kneeled by the body, I almost had hope that this was some sort of mourning ritual. I was close to joining him in respect for the dead, but he reached out uninhibited and examined the gaping, glowing hole in Jailbreak's chest instead. A grimace contorted my face as he stared into the wound, poking and prodding. Wolf snorted, nodding once, then turned toward me.

"That's why I called you," I said, my tone grave. I didn't need to know his language to understand what he was seeking to confirm. "Those things are out here, they're loose. They're from the same nest you and I met in."

He considered that with a strange sound and watched me closely. When I did or said nothing else, he prompted me with an irritated question.

Shrugging, I elaborated. "They were being experimented on, studied. We didn't kill them all back then, so some were captured. They've been under heavy surveillance, and today they attempted to move them to a different facility along with this guy. Well . . . you can see how that worked out."

Wolf grumbled deep in his chest and motioned toward his mask, then the predator's face. He did the same thing for the rest of his armor and his weapons.

"His stuff? Probably with the rest of the equipment on the plane. It crashed not far away. I'll show you. What should we do with him, though?" I asked.

His answer was another dismissive snort and he pantomimed for me to lead him into the woods. To the crash, no doubt. He would want to get back all of the predator's gear. Technology we'd stolen. I wasn't sure if I wanted to, though, not until I knew where Devon and Ray were.

I rubbed my arm and gave Jailbreak a sidelong look. "So, we're just going to leave him here?" I asked.

His response was a decisive click.

Though I started to lead him away, I hesitated and said, "It's possible there are two other vics out here—victims. They could be infected. Can you find them?" I was hoping to stall.

He turned to the dark trees and scanned it, then shook his head, growled, and squared up, taking a step toward me.

He wants that tech back now.

"Alright, alright. This way," I muttered, ignoring the cajoling ticking sound he was making. I just hoped Devon and the deputy were still looking for Buddy and Sam.

Though I knew I could get away with keeping information from Devon, withholding Devon's existence from Wolf was going to be out of the question. He'd find out eventually, and I wanted him to hear it from me, first. Especially if I didn't want him killing my partner or Ray in a fit of surprise, thinking them a threat.

But I wasn't sure how to tell him. The direct approach seemed best, so all I had to do was work up the nerve.

The crash was coming up and Wolf had yet to hide in his cloak. If either of the two men were around, they would be able to spot him without issue. Devon wasn't normally the shoot-first-ask-later type, but wouldn't show such restraint if he thought I—or anyone else—was in danger.

On the other hand, if he wasn't concerned about not being seen, that meant that Wolf didn't think anyone was nearby.

Comforting.

Though intimidating, I didn't think Wolf would do anything that could be misconstrued as dangerous to my health, but Devon knew what he was.

What his kind did.

I should have told him, I should have told him, I berated myself, trying to keep my mind on maneuvering through the bushes and around rocks. Should have just told him, "hey I've got this really big scary guy coming from outer space to help out, so don't shoot him, okay?"

Stupid, stupid.

Wolf had to know. I had to tell him.

"Hey," I started, stopping next to a fallen tree to face him. The crash was on the other side, a wing buried in the ground by our feet. "Listen, there's—"

He lifted his fist to silence me and strafed around the tree, following the wing to the body.

"No, Wolf! Listen," I insisted, glowering at his back. "I need to tell you that I'm here with some other people."

His sharp snarl took me aback and I pressed my lips together, huffing. He took my shoulder and steered me toward the crashed plane. I'd forgotten how fond he was of manhandling me. He chattered a demanding question, his head cocked to the side. The piercing gaze of his mask cut through me.

"Yes, fine, we'll get your damn stuff. I just didn't want you to be surprised if someone came looking for me soon." I shrugged free of his grasp and moved ahead to motion inside the cargo door and into the waiting darkness. "After you, your majesty."

Snorting, he swaggered up the ramp and into the darkness, making me roll my eyes. He still had those jokes. I followed him all the same, shutting the door behind us to avoid unwanted visitors; human, alien, and animal alike. It was the last thing we needed.

I stood by as he rooted around, still amazed that he could see in the dark. I had my flashlight, but I was barely using it except to chase away the shadows and relieve some of my fear. After a moment, though, I remembered myself and joined him in his search. I was no longer a teenager, lost and going along for the ride. It was all too easy to fall back into our old roles.

This time, though, I was going to prove that I was on a more equal footing. This time, I was going to help, not just react.

"The xenos were kept here," I explained, my footsteps echoing in the steel fuselage as I pointed out the containers I was talking about. "I mean, the black things, the bugs. Then the small ones, the facehuggers, were held in here."

Wolf followed me to the clear glass tubes and the half-melted crates, crackling and grumbling to himself. He gathered samples of some liquids pooled by the facehugger canisters and then lifted the heavy crate off the crushed xenomorph with little effort. It crashed to the side and I winced at the noise.

"God you're such a show-off," I muttered under my breath, exhaling sharply.

If he heard me, he ignored the taunt and kneeled by the crushed corpse, which was sunk part way through the hull. He pulled out his medical box and an empty vial, filling it with acidic blood, its potency diluted with time. He set it down, then pulled out the samples of liquid.

There were better things for me to do than watch him work, even though it was easy to be mesmerized by his process. I left him to his task and tried to find the missing technology we were after. There were many other crates to sift through, most of which had piles of papers or hard drives: copies of all the information the labs had on the xenos and the predators. Or maybe they were the originals and not copies. I couldn't tell.

Still, I doubted they left the tech at the Bureau, not when Weyland was all about that nerd kind of shit. They would have wanted it, to study it and replicate it. Reverse engineer it and make our weapons better.

Jailbreak's gear had to be around the fuselage somewhere.

Eventually, Wolf rejoined me in the quest, prying bolted lids from crates I couldn't touch and dumping the contents in a clatter of noise. I shot him a glare each time but had to remind myself that he had no reason to keep quiet. The only reason why it upset me was that it could draw Devon and Ray back to us.

If the noises were even audible outside the plane. There was a good chance it only seemed loud because of the tight quarters and my piqued senses.

"Here, this one," I called, standing near the cockpit by a big metal crate locked down tight. I stepped aside when he approached and went straight to work, ripping the lid off with his bare hands. Stray bolts rattled to the ground.

Shaking my head, I marveled, "How do you even do shit like that?"

His shoulders shook in amusement and he kicked the crate over, spilling the packing peanuts in a cascade of foam. Something heavy and shiny clunked out, covered in the stuff.

After sharing a look, both of us crouched and sifted through the peanuts. Wolf picked up the fallen item, and I pulled out a small disk the size of my palm, embossed with deep, intricate seams. I held it up to him and cracked a grin.

"Bingo. We hit the mother lode."

He took the disk from me and examined it, holding a thing I didn't recognize in his other hand.

"What is it?"

Blades the length of my forearm extended from the disk with a vicious sound, starling me. I twitched and my hand went to the gun at my hip, but I relaxed and glared at him. "A little warning next time, maybe?" I scoffed.

Still, I was amazed that such a small thing held such large, wicked blades. They fanned from the center of the disk, curved and serrated like some sort of bladed Frisbee.

Again, he did his version of a chuckle and retracted the blades, tucking the weapons away before digging through the rest of the gear. I eyed each piece curiously—one more disk, a computer, what I thought looked like armor, and some other things I couldn't even begin to describe.

"Am I going to have to beg and plead for a weapon this time around?" I asked, feeling unusually cheeky.

It felt—right—being by his side again. So much so that I could forget about my worries and fears for a time. With him around, I didn't have anything to be scared of.

To my surprise, he stood and handed over a bladed weapon without a fuss. I blinked at him and reached out to take it, easily compensating for the minimal weight. To my surprise, it was familiar. The blade was curved just so, balanced to perfection and sharp enough to split a hair. My fingers tightened around the like-leather hilt, nostalgia tightening my throat.

"Is it the same one?" I whispered.

Wolf nodded, the movement caught from the corner of my eyes. I ran my hand along the flat of the sharp edge and a tremor chased down my spine. It was so familiar, so comforting, and it eased some of my uncertainty about the situation.

About where I stood with him. I'd been most afraid that he wouldn't want me anymore. That I'd waited too long and he'd forgotten or stopped caring.

After all this time, though, he had kept it. Waiting to give it to me again.

The scar on my back throbbed as I remembered the first time I'd driven the blade into a xenomorph, opening up a wound that spilled acid all over me.

Using it to fight for my very survival.

Swallowing hard, I pushed back latent fear and suppressed the bile threatening to bubble to the surface. I'd done it, I'd killed it and survived. I'd made my first kill and Wolf had spent all that time teaching me how to use it the right way, accepting me as one of him.

Now it was time to prove I was worth the wait.

The corner of my lips twitched into a morose smile. It had served me well back then, traumatizing situation or not.

When I was done reminiscing, Wolf handed me the strap that belonged to it and showed me how it fit on my body, but my backpack was in the way. When I'd made it clear that I was not going to ditch it, he gave up and retrofitting the strap to my back. Then, he taught me how to draw the weapon and put it away against my back. Its function was pleasantly simple: the thickest part of the strap, that was supposed to go on my back, was magnetized enough to hold the sword in place, forcing me to use a good portion of my strength to pull it free.

I'll get used to it, I thought, making a few final adjustments to my backpack straps before heading out. It needed to be tighter so it wouldn't move so much when I tried to draw the sword.

Wolf decked himself out with the rest of the tech, including the predator's shoulder-mounted cannon, giving himself one for each shoulder. He offered me the spear, but I hadn't the slightest idea how to use it so he left it behind.

When I realized he was making a pile of discarded gear, I did a double take and then asked, "Wait, you're not taking them with us? What are you going to do with it all?"

He motioned to my bag, said something incomprehensible, and showed me the predator's confiscated wrist computer. He popped it open and punched in an intricate command. More of the hash-mark-shaped runes appeared, flashed a couple times, then the machine started to beep.

The marks changed rapidly as the hoarse countdown droned on in an alarming rhythm.

"Is that . . . ?"

Before I could finish the question, he was urging me toward the cargo door with a firmness that stopped me from arguing. I tried to rush ahead of him to pull open the latch and free us, but Wolf didn't slow his roll; he bull-rushed right through the door and slammed it off its hinges.

I stopped just outside, standing atop the bashed-out door, and gestured wildly at it. "Oh come on! Are you fucking serious?"

Patience was not one of his strong suits. He doubled back while I fumed over how easy it was for him to throw around his weight, then heaved me off my feet with a sharp sound. I squawked indignantly and he set me back down at the bottom of the ramp before running off into the woods. I knew then it was something serious, so I hoofed it after him.

Every time I thought he would stop, he just kept going and I'd have to force myself to move after him. We made it a little more than football field's length away when I heard the first concussion. I stopped, surprised, and turned around in time to see the forest sink inward toward the crash.

"What the fuck?"

Wolf growled and yanked me back several more feet, but I was stuck watching the implosion, my eyes wide and mouth agape.

In seconds it was over. There was a gap in the trees and the crash was gone, swallowed by an electrical light and punctuated by a sizzle and a pop. There was little sound beside the settle of the trees just outside the radius, and a raucous call of angry birds disturbed by the noise.

My heart thudded against my ribcage and I freed myself from Wolf's grip, staggering toward the site. Stomach twisting, I stood at the edge of the disaster. Everything was gone. The new clearing in the woods was almost a perfect circle, its diameter an Olympic swimming pool and deeper than a lake. There was no charring of wood, no sign of what might have happened.

The tree I stood next to was missing its front-facing half. Leaves fluttered before my face—some halves, and some wholes. Feet away from me, a rock tumbled through the dirt and stopped at the bottom.

Devon.

"What—how? Was—Wolf was anyone around?" I demanded, turning on him.

When I looked back to gauge his answer, he merely stood there. However, he was chittering what I understood to be the equivalent of "I don't know."

Though it made sense that he didn't know, considering where we'd been when he'd set the bomb and how we hadn't any time to do much else than run for our lives. All that did, though, was choke me with a new kind fear.

Eyes burning, I tried to swallow the lump in my throat but it stuck in my chest, knotting there painfully. I tried to convince myself that they were out in the woods, still searching for dead bodies. They wouldn't have had a reason to return to the crash until they found them.

They weren't there. They weren't caught in the bomb.

Devon wouldn't die in such a stupid way.

He's fine. Out making alien jokes with Ray somewhere. Being obnoxious as always.

I was finding it harder and harder to convince myself of it.

Wolf wrapped his fingers around my upper arm and growled, a non-threatening sound. I nodded and chewed on my bottom lip before asking, "What was the point of that?"

An unfamiliar voice played from his mask; "Hide!" I couldn't imagine under what circumstances he would have witnessed someone shout that, but I had to imagine it was toward a civilian caught up in one of his hunts or something.

For human trophies.

That solemn fact struck my mind and I pushed it down. He hadn't killed anyone I knew, right? Not on purpose, anyway. That was who he was. He'd been that same alien when we'd first met and he would always be that alien.

I was either okay with it or I wasn't.

And I was going to be okay with it. So long as he never made me hunt and kill my own kind.

Forcing myself back to the present, I tried to decipher what he meant by "hide". It wasn't hard to figure out the implication, though—he didn't want humans to have any sort of knowledge about his kind or the xenomorphs. Above all, I couldn't imagine he wanted to carry all of Jailbreak's gear with us and had opted to just destroy it so it wouldn't fall into the wrong hands.

Too bad it was too late to hide the existence of him and the xenos. Would he try to track down my bureau and blow that up, too? I wasn't going to remind him: less work for the both of us. They were already doing their best to keep the knowledge from the public, anyway.

"I guess we better go find those bodies," I sighed. The night wasn't getting any younger.

Chapter Text

Though we had to detour around the spanning valley Wolf's explosion had created, we eventually made it back to where we'd left Jailbreak. I'd half expected that he was just going to leave him there to rot, but I was glad I was wrong. My legs were killing me after the run, making limping through the woods a task, but I managed without complaint.

I tried hard to hide it from Wolf, but he was all seeing. He made me stop and motioned toward my legs, chittering away in his normal surly manner.

"Remember? You broke my legs, jackass. I'm fine, just keep walking," I grumbled.

He snorted a protest and walked after me.

"You broke my legs, they broke when I jumped, same difference," I huffed. It was at least a little easier to understand the flow of our conversations, now.

It was almost like old times.

Wolf gave me a good-natured shove, but it was still strong enough to make me stumble.

"Ow! I was just kidding, god. I don't actually think you broke my legs. But you're gonna break my something if you push me like that again," I sniffed.

Though I wasn't sure exactly what it was he muttered in response, I pretended it was an apology.

Once we reached the corpse, Wolf removed a large vial of blue liquid from one of his pouches. It kind of reminded me of the syrup containers from iHop. In space.

"What's that?" I asked.

I did not receive a verbal response.

He drizzled some of the strange substance over the length of Jailbreak's body and stepped back. I was already standing a small distance away, but I still removed myself further when the corpse dissolved away like wet cotton candy. Wolf put away the vial and turned to me.

"You . . . that's all?" I asked, staring in disbelief at where Jailbreak had been mere seconds ago. "Just . . . melt him away. Like he was never here?"

Wolf nodded.

"That's . . . there's no . . . ritual? No eulogy or, or, anything to give him a proper send-off?"

Wolf shook his head.

"That's—that's awful."

All Wolf did was roll his shoulders and make a derisive sound. I wasn't expecting much else, so it came as a surprise to me when he growled out a couple of English words; "No honor."

My chest tightened with sympathy and I dropped my gaze. "Because he was captured."

Though Wolf answered in the affirmative, he gesticulated with his hand, making me think that there was more to it. I gave it a moment's thought, but when I couldn't come up with anything, Wolf thumped his fist against his chest and made an outward motion with his fingers.

"Being captured and . . . his chest. Um, the chestburster thing. Dying to that?"

He answered "yes" in his language.

"Oh," was all I could manage to say. Any more protests I had died on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to try to paint Jailbreak in a better light, tell Wolf that it wasn't his fault, but it was too late for that. Wolf had already made his decision and destroyed the guy's body.

Jailbreak wasn't going to have a warrior's send off.

And part of that was my fault. Wolf probably wouldn't see that way, though. It was sink or swim, bitch. Jailbreak, in Wolf's eyes, should have helped himself or died trying.

This race is harsh.

Once again I found myself wondering what could have been. What might have happened had I succeeded in freeing him and returning him to his kind. Whether or not they might have given him a chance to redeem himself or if they would have cast him aside like yesterday's news all the same. Bringing home a new slew of xeno trophies might have helped, and the guilt gnawed at my insides.

Maybe I should have called Wolf earlier. What has the FBI ever done for me?

For now, I tried to push the thought aside. Hindsight wasn't going to change the present. Wondering what could have been would just make me lose my focus. I'd make my choices, I had to deal with the guilt that came with them.

Later, when I was able to better communicate with Wolf, maybe I'd ask him. Ask him what would have happened to Jailbreak if he'd still been alive.

Another, small part in a corner of my brain simmered. A tiny bit of insecurity, wondering if this was any place for me. If I had a place by Wolf's side if this was what I had to look forward to. Sink or swim, win or lose. It was a wonder that Wolf had ever helped me out in the first place.

That was all I'd allow myself to think on the matter. I was ready to swim. For now, though, there was still the issue of Buddy and Sam, of the xenomorphs that were likely roaming around—even if it was just the one Jailbreak died to during the birthing process.

"There were two civilians caught up in all of this, a boy and a man. I don't know where they are, and there is also the crew of the ship to worry about. I don't know if they survived the crash or were dragged off by the xenomorphs," I reported, taking out the picture of Sam and Buddy to hand it to him.

Wolf took it out of reflex and looked down at it, then turned his head back to me and cocked it to the side, chiding me with a grating sound.

Grimacing, I snatched the paper back and dropped my gaze. "Right, sorry, I forgot. You don't see the same way I do."

When I opened my mouth to continue with the briefing, a sound pierced the otherwise quiet night. I recognized it immediately as the static-filled sound of a radio crackling to life. My spirit soared at the same time that my heart plummeted.

Devon's alive!

Oh shit, Devon's here.

My companion snarled and disappeared into thin air. I heard him take off toward the noise and my legs moved before my body was ready, wrenching my legs into a weird angle.

"Wolf no!" The last end of my shout turned into a strained grunt as my knees buckled, unable to handle the sudden jerking motion. The pain it elicited sent me to the ground; I braced my fall with my hands, jarring my wrists.

The pain could wait. Devon and Ray couldn't.

"Don't shoot!" I managed to demand, my voice heavy from the agony throbbing throughout my body. It was a command meant for everyone who could hear it—Wolf, Ray, Devon. I could only hope they actually listened.

Footsteps created a cacophony of crunching dry leaves and snagging branches. Wolf was in pursuit of someone, but I didn't know who. No one else called back to me, no one acknowledged my order. I pushed up, but my wrists gave out as panic welled within me: someone was going to get hurt.

Or worse.

A single, loud thought gave me the strength to stand and I limped in the direction Wolf had taken off, my teeth grinding against the discomfort. Find Devon. I didn't make it far before someone intercepted me. A familiar pair of hands held me at the shoulders.

"Woah there, Nichole. You don't look so good."

My knees nearly gave out again from relief and I sagged against Devon, wrapping my arms around him. He stood there, stunned, as I squeezed him tight, and he patted me on the back. After a second, he gathered himself and pulled me upright so he could look me in the face.

"Everything okay?" he asked me. "Was that one of the predators with you? Did he hurt you?"

I ignored all of his questions and gave him a quick examination, turning, twisting, and frisking him for injury. "You're okay! You're alive!"

"Don't you remember? I'm immortal. But for argument's sake, why would I be dead?"

Did he really not notice the big explosion?

"Never mind," I deflected, looking over his shoulder and ignoring the heat radiating from my face. "Where's Ray?"

Devon motioned behind him and shook his head. "Son of a bitch took off running. I told him not to, but you know I'm sure it's pretty terrifying having a big alien turn invisible while he's chasing you. Poor sap. I almost went after him, but you fell, so I came to help you instead."

"So you left him for dead," I said.

Devon pursed his lips and looked over his shoulder with a worried expression. "What? I . . . no! I mean, I hadn't thought about it like that. Maybe I didn't! He might be okay, right? Unless he tries to shoot him, or—"

Shaking my head, I punched him in the shoulder. He jumped and rubbed the spot, saying, "Ow! What the hell? What did I do?"

"I told you to send him back to town!"

He glowered and readjusted his jacket. "I didn't think a predator would show up! I thought it was just the xenomorphs, and we're all even footing with those things."

I shook my head. "You should have trusted me and sent him back. I had a good reason!"

"I—" Devon stopped abruptly and stared at me for a moment before his eyes widened in realization. "Wait. You . . . did you know that a predator was going to . . . ?"

"Let's go," I said before he could finish, pulling him after me. I had to catch up with Wolf as fast as I could. Like Devon had said, we could still save Ray. There was no gunfire. No sign that Ray was firing at Wolf at all.

There was a chance.

"Wait, wait, wait. First of all, we shouldn't be going toward the big murder alien," Devon pointed out, grabbing a hold of me and yanking me back to face him. "Second of all, now that I think about it, you didn't look like you were in any sort of distress at all, even with the alien standing so close."

I opened my mouth to refute his claim, but the words wouldn't come. He jumped on the opportunity left by my silence and asked, "Are . . . are you two on friendly terms?"

The cat was out of the bag, now. I nodded and averted my gaze. "Yes, we are. And yes, I knew he was coming. I called him."

Devon reeled as if I'd hit him and he grabbed me by the shoulders. "You what? Wh—how? And are you crazy? Don't you know what those things—"

Suddenly, Devon was wrenched from the ground, the tail end of his sentence cut off with a harsh choking sound. An angry snarl punctuated Wolf's reappearance; he was holding my partner by his throat high enough that Devon's toes couldn't even so much as brush the sparse grass beneath him.

I threw my weight onto Wolf's arm before I could think better of it, holding one hand out to make Wolf think twice about impaling Devon with his wristblades. All the while, I shouted, "Wolf! Wolf put him down! Put him down now!"

Devon clawed at the fingers around him, his mouth gaping as he desperately tried to pull air into his lungs.

"Wolf!" I screeched. "Put him down! He's with me!"

The two of us had a stare down, but when he couldn't make me budge even an inch, Wolf gave in and let Devon crash to the ground. My partner sucked in a deep breath and coughed several times, rubbing his neck. I kneeled by his side, one hand at his back as I murmured encouragement to him.

When I was certain that Devon wasn't going to keel over, I stood to face Wolf. I made sure to keep between him and Devon while my partner recovered.

"What did you do with the other guy?" I demanded.

Wolf chuffed and raised his wristblades toward the moonlight, twisting his wrist until the light glistened off dark blood dripping down the metal.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Nichole?" Devon rasped.

Ignoring him, I asked Wolf, "Why? He was running. I didn't hear him fire his weapon, so—"

He uttered something in his language, then made a gesture toward the eyes of his mask with his fingers. I didn't need to be a linguist to understand that.

"What's he saying?" Devon rasped, standing up.

"Ray saw too much. He couldn't let him live."

Devon snorted, "That's comforting," and put a hand on my shoulder to steady himself.

Immediately, Wolf growled and took a couple heavy steps toward us. I backed up, pushing Devon along with me, and put my hand up to stop Wolf's approach.

"Hey! Back up. Devon's on our side," I said.

Though he stopped moving, Wolf didn't stop posturing as he looked between the two of us. Finally, he stared at Devon for a long time before letting out an irritated huff. He rambled for a few seconds, all snarls and angry growls. I swallowed hard and took his abuse—I had expected this.

It still hurt.

"I know, you're mad at me, but he stays. He with me. I'm vouching for him—as your warrior," I insisted, patting the spot where Wolf had left his mark.

The appeal to his honorable nature had been a gamble on my part. Especially since he'd all but murdered Ray in cold blood. This wasn't a hunt, it was an entirely different situation, just like when he'd crashed in my backyard.

He hadn't killed me then, though. Not when I'd been a witness, just like Ray.

What had made me so special, I still wasn't sure.

"You took a chance on me back then and it paid off, right?" I added when Wolf still hadn't relaxed. "Take a chance on him, now. Please."

After another excruciating eternity of Wolf staring us down through that apathetic mask, his blades retracted with a metallic hiss and he lowered his guard. I released the breath I'd been holding and finally let myself relax, as well. Devon, however, practically pushed up against me, was still tense and rigid. I could almost feel his heartbeat hammering against my back.

"So," my partner muttered, "are you going to introduce me to your . . . friend?"

I trusted Wolf not to go back on his unspoken word, so I stepped out of the way so the two could face one another without me between them. Devon would have to start proving himself, so I had to stop hiding him behind me.

"Devon, this is Wolf. At least that's what I call him. His real name's hard to pronounce," I said, my voice still somewhat shaky from adrenaline. "Wolf, this is Devon."

Wolf, though no longer hostile, was still fronting with shoulders squared and chest puffed out. Devon didn't move, either, still poised to make a move if Wolf did. I looked between the two, crushed by the tension, but I did my best to ignore the animosity sparking in the air.

Both I trusted with my life, but I wasn't sure I could trust their lives to one another. I had to, though. Devon would know he couldn't take Wolf, and I had to believe that Wolf wouldn't do anything to go back on his word. Even if he hadn't said anything.

"So he's the one who was on that ship with you."

"Yes. He left this scar on my chest."

It took a moment for him to digest that, his eyes never leaving Wolf for a moment. At last, he asked, "How did you manage to call him here?"

My first reflex was to take out the computer and show him, but I thought better of it; it would be one less reason for Wolf to want to kill him. Instead, I told him, "Wolf gave me something that would call him if I needed him to come."

"And you kept such a thing all these years?" he marveled, somehow sounding hurt enough that I turned my attention away from Wolf.

His stung expression took me by surprise and I opened my mouth to say something but could think of nothing. What did he have to feel betrayed about? I shook my head and found my voice. "I mean, yeah. I thought I might . . . need his help with the xenomorphs at some point."

Or that I might be ready to go with him.

That was something that I absolutely had to keep from Devon. If he knew my intentions, Wolf's intentions, then he would create a giant scene. Maybe even try to stop me or convince me not to go.

Worse, he might be successful in keeping me from going.

He could never know. Not until it was too late. I'd made up my mind and Devon would only ruin it.

Wolf growled impatiently and I took a deep breath, cutting off whatever Devon was about to say next. "Well, you two have now officially met, so we better get going and nip this problem in the bud. Did you find Buddy and Sam, Devon?"

Devon said nothing for a hot minute, his gaze boring into me like daggers, then he pointed south and said, "Yeah. Ray and I were coming to find you to let you know. The crew is missing completely. Probably buried in the rubble or something. Sam and Buddy are dead, but they ran pretty far from the crash."

If the crew was buried, they were all gone now thanks to Wolf. I asked, "Cause of death?"

"They were impregnated. Gave birth."

Grimacing, I asked, "Do you think you could find them again in the dark?"

"Probably," came his careful response.

I motioned for him to move. "Okay, lead the way."

"Why?" Devon asked, narrowing his eyes.

It was Wolf who answered, and his patience spent. He snarled and reached around me to shove Devon in the direction he'd indicated, making him stumble.

"Wolf," I warned.

"What's his problem?" Devon grumbled, rubbing his shoulder.

He pointed a claw at Devon and chittered quickly. When I didn't understand, he gestured to himself, then to me, and finally pointed at Devon who earned a disdainful chuff. I frowned while attempting to extrapolate what he was telling me. Wolf indicated in the same order again, and realization dawned on me with the third run-through.

"Oh. Um, he just explained the hierarchy. He's in charge and you're below me, so he won't tolerate any insubordination from you."

Devon scoffed. "Is that all?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

I pulled him aside, though I knew it was pointless: Wolf would be able to hear us anyway. It still made me feel better, somehow.

"I know this is weird for you, but please try not to make him angry," I pleaded. "I can't guarantee he won't kill you, but I'll try my best to keep him from doing that. I mean, he helped me a lot back then so I know he's a reasonable guy, okay?"

"Nichole," Devon intoned, looking over my shoulder at Wolf. I followed his gaze; the big guy was flexing his fists and I knew we were pushing the limits of how long he'd wait. "Why did you call him? We can handle this on our own."

"No, no I don't think so."

"Nichole, it's just a few—"

"Do you know how to track the xenomorphs in the dark? Could you find their trail and hunt them down?" I blurted out. I'd expected some resistance from Devon, but I hadn't expected it to make me feel so . . . irritated.

My questions were met with morose silence.

"Yeah, so, please. Please, can you try to make this work? Just for a little bit, please? For me?"

We locked eyes for a brief spell until he exhaled and looked down in annoyance. "Fine. I'll try. Just keep him from murdering me, okay?"

"I'll do my best."

Wolf grabbed my shoulder and I jumped, having not realized he'd come upon us like that. He kept the pressure hard enough to let me know that our leeway had run out. I nodded and motioned at Devon, saying, "Alright, lead us to the bodies."

Devon rolled his eyes and muttered incoherently to himself, but headed out anyway.

When Devon was a few feet ahead of us, I touched Wolf's arm and waited until he turned his head enough to see me. "Can you at least try to be kind of nice to him?"

He grunted and said, in careful English, "No."

Chapter Text

Before we left, Wolf grabbed Ray's body and dragged it after us. When I asked, he answered in the only way he could. I didn't understand a word of it so I dropped the subject.

Devon walked ahead of us, foiling all of my attempts to travel astride him. After the third or fourth time he sped up to avoid me—an easy feat when my legs refused to work as intended—I picked up the hint and stopped trying.

Let him be salty. He'll get over it.

Wolf grabbed my attention with a low trill and indicated at my legs, one in particular. I shrugged at him and said, "We've been over this. They never healed right." I was going to leave it at that, but he stopped me, tracing his claw across my knee horizontally, then across the same area the surgery scar was. At first, I didn't understand, then I remembered all the things that his mask was capable of seeing.

Devon had noticed us halt and had stopped walking, as well, grimacing at the limp body Wolf was dragging by one leg. "Does he really have to do that?" he asked.

Both of us ignored him.

"It's a plate and some pins," I explained, imagining that it was that thing he was curious about. "It helps keep my leg from being totally useless."

He shook himself and chattered nonsense at me, likely something about how stupid it is to put metal inside your body. I rolled my eyes at him and turned to find Devon still staring at us, his face expressionless in the dark. We watched each other for a moment, and just as I opened my mouth to say something, he spun on his heel and led us onward.

Frowning, I struggled to catch up to him, this time grabbing the back of his shirt before he could power-walk too far beyond my reach.

"What?" he snapped.

Taken aback, I stared at him with my mouth open. I'd seen Devon angry before, but never at me. Never because of something I did. I hadn't thought it possible.

His expression didn't soften, but when he repeated his question it had less bite to it. "What?"

Wolf growled and I set us back to walking. "Talk to me, Devon. You're sulking like a little kid," I pointed out. Sure I knew what was upsetting him, but I wanted him to say it before I tried to make things right. After all, I could have been wrong.

But, I wasn't.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"About Wolf?"

"No, that the Easter Bunny wasn't real. Yes, about the god damn alien!"

The sarcasm was a step in the right direction and I took a bit of comfort in his familiar snark. I said, "Um, because I work for a government agency actively attempting to capture and dissect his kind?"

If Wolf heard that remark, he didn't make it immediately apparent.

"You could have told me. I wouldn't have breathed a word of it," Devon said, unsuccessful in his attempts to keep the hurt from his voice. He still wouldn't look at me, and as close as I was, I could see the tension in his jaw.

Sighing, I put a hand on his shoulder. He let it sit there. "I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want you to know that—"

He interrupted. "That you were a double agent?"

"You have to be giving someone information to be a double agent."

"So you were a sleeper cell, same thing."

I hummed and bobbed my head from side to side. "I mean, I guess you could say that. Anyway, all I wanted was to wipe all of our captured xenomorphs off the face of the planet."

That was enough to turn his head, an eyebrow raised. "Really? So then that thing with you burning the queen to a crisp?"

"That was spur of the moment and bad timing on that Mindy person's part. It would have happened sooner or later, though. I just wish I'd done it sooner. Maybe we wouldn't be in this mess," I muttered.

A heavy hand grabbed my shoulder and Wolf was at my side, chittering and growling a question all while forcing himself between me and Devon, who made an affronted sound and fumbled out of the way. Wolf pulled up a hologram of a xenomorph queen on his personal wrist computer, then asked another question of the same variety.

"That's right. We had a queen and an entire nest. They tried to move them to a different part of the country and then this whole clusterfuck happened," I said.

Wolf growled a word I could barely make out. I took a wild guess at what he was asking.

"Um, I killed the queen. It's just whatever xenos—"

He cut me off with a chuff and corrected my vocabulary. "Kiande amedha."

"Okay, fine . . . it's just whatever key-andy a-med-ha survived the crash or were recently born," I repeated with a grimace. I supposed I'd have to learn the words eventually, so I stressed the syllables in a real attempt. Wolf grumbled at my pronunciation but otherwise seemed satisfied.

Again, he presented the green, holographic queen.

"I told you, I killed it. I don't have any proof, though. It's all back at the facility and is burned to a crisp. Sorry," I added in afterthought.

The predator fell back again, making contemplative clicking noises. He was regarding me with a whole new posture, as if he was looking at me in a new light. I just wished that I could actually feel any pride from him being impressed—all I'd done was push a button. It hadn't exactly been a harrowing fight.

"How can he understand us?" Devon asked, glancing back at Wolf as he returned to grab Ray. We continued our journey through the dark forest in search of Buddy and Sam's remains.

"The mask," I said, waving my hand in my face. "I assume it has a translator. Either that or he just knows English."

Devon made a similar grumbling noise to Wolf and I let him move ahead of me, my arm dropping to my side. He didn't bring up anything more about my traitorous ways, and Wolf didn't question me any further about the queen or my involvement with the government. I was stuck between the two of them, frustrated and tired.

After several minutes of walking in silence, Devon inclined his head toward me. "You should have told me sooner. Tonight, at least. We could have saved Ray."

"I know," I whispered.

He studied me for a moment, then looked back at Wolf who was still lugging around Ray's dead body. Devon scowled, then put his hands in the air. "Well, those two are around here somewhere. It's dark so I'm not entirely sure where."

I turned expectantly to Wolf and he let go of Ray's leg. He scanned the area, kneeled and examined some dirt, then headed past me and slammed into Devon as he walked by, passing through the small space between us. My partner stumbled and sent off a slew of choice profanities in Wolf's direction, but followed after him. I matched his pace the best I could.

"Sorry about him," I said, chagrined.

However, he ignored my apology and said, "He's just gonna leave Ray there? What's he doing with the body, anyway?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," I shrugged.

"I doubt that," Devon grunted.

Glancing back where Wolf had left the corpse, I said, "He might want to harvest him as a trophy? Though I don't think that's it since he wasn't exactly fighting back. What else did the packets say about them? They um . . . they skin their kills? Maybe he's gonna do that. I don't know I've only met the guy once."

Devon glowered. "Seems like you guys are long-time friends to me. I guess going on a life-alternating journey of self-discovery and survival will do that to you, though."

"Don't be jealous, it doesn't look good on you," I tried teasing, elbowing him in the arm.

His response was a non-committal grunt. I pursed my lips into a thin line and looked down at my feet. Devon was usually the one who lightened the mood, normally the one trying to make me feel better. I hadn't the first clue on how to do it for him.

Wolf caught our attention with a sharp sound. I limped over to him as fast as my legs would allow, then stopped short and put a hand to my mouth.

I'd seen a lot of shit. A lot of open chests, a lot of tormented faces, a lot of blood. I'd seen my classmates shot and had my best friend die in my arms, but the sight of little Sam, no older than eleven or twelve, laying there with most of his chest missing, eyes staring without seeing into the endless sky . . . it hit me harder than I thought it would have.

The boy was small in his picture—he looked even smaller as he lied there, broken and torn asunder.

I cleared my throat and fought to keep my emotions in check. I wasn't even sure where it came from. With how much I'd been through I should have been okay. All I could think about, though, was my brother Alan. When I looked at Sam, it was my baby brother I saw on the ground. He wasn't even that young anymore, practically an adult in his own right.

The mere thought of him with his face covered by one of those spider parasites . . . .

It could have happened. It would have happened.

If Wolf, Brutus, and I hadn't—

While I was caught up with my own thoughts, Wolf dumped more of that blue liquid on the father and son. Soon after, they melted away into nothing. He turned without further concern and headed back the way we had come.

Right. Emotionless and hard. That's what it took to be him. Honor and glory above all. Though, I didn't know how much honor or glory was to be had in chasing down Ray while he was running. How much glory there was in dealing with dead children and tattered homes.

"You alright?" Devon asked, dropping his sour façade for the moment.

"Fine," I lied, heading after Wolf. My eyes were hot with unshed tears and I wanted more than anything to sit down for the rest of the night. "Just didn't really . . . expect to see a dead kid when we set out on this mission."

He sighed. "I know what you mean. Kinda cold of him to just . . . dissolve the bodies like that. Your friend seems like a real winner, Nichole."

"Different culture," came my tart reply. "He just doesn't want to leave evidence."

"I guess. Someone's gotta cover this shit up. Less work for us. Still . . . what are we going to tell the wife? We don't have any bodies to identify and your friend destroyed them before we could pick up any jewelry or identification."

Shrugging, I said, "I guess we'll just tell her and everyone else that we couldn't find anything."

"What are we going to tell them about Ray?"

That I had no answer for. If we showed up back in town without him, there would be so many questions. As I stared at Wolf's back, though, a thought occurred to me and I kicked myself for my own stupidity.

"Oh, duh. That doesn't matter. We won't have to tell anyone anything!"

"What do you mean?"

I waved my hand in Wolf's direction. "We're gonna be with him, slinking around the shadows and tracking down xenos. We'll disappear right alongside Ray. They'll never know what happened unless they catch us with Wolf."

Devon studied Wolf's muscular form for a moment, his mouth twisted into an incredulous frown. "What about the citizens, though? Shouldn't we tell them what's going on and evacuate them?"

Wolf growled as if he thought it was a bad idea, but he didn't turn to face us.

"We can take care of it," I said. "We'll find where those things are nesting and kill them there, then Wolf can find those that are infected and deal with it."

"By killing them."

"Well—"

He shook his head and said, "No, that's exactly what's going to happen. We can help these people. Gestation is how long? A few hours? That's plenty of time to get them somewhere via helicopter and try to extract the parasite."

"Like, through surgery? You heard the doctor, they attach to an artery in your chest," I reminded him. "How could you remove something like that?"

"People do delicate surgeries on brains and remove tumors from spines and shit. It couldn't be that hard. I'm sure any heart surgeon worth their scrubs would be able to find a way to get it out and then stitch up the artery," he scoffed.

"Devon," I said, trying to keep my voice level, "you can't just cut it out like a tumor. You gotta remember, this is a special tumor with teeth and acid blood."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why are you set on condemning these people to death?"

"I'm not! I'm just being realistic here. I want to keep these people safe, but to do that we have to kill the xenomorphs before they can get established and start hunting en masse. We're not going to be able to save everyone."

Though Devon opened his mouth to say more, Wolf interrupted. "Nichole," one of his recordings bade, bringing my gaze to him. He was facing me with his head cocked to the side.

"Whose voice is that?" Devon asked.

"No one's," I muttered, ignoring the awful way my stomach knotted. "Stay here."

I joined Wolf's side expectantly and he leaned down to pick up Ray's ankle, then dragged it further away from where Devon was, still facing us with his hand up. When we tried to follow him, Wolf stopped us with an annoyed snarl, putting his hand up with more authority.

Sighing, I turned to Devon and said, "I guess we have to stay here for now and wait for him."

"To do what?"

When I turned to ask Wolf, he had already disappeared somewhere with Ray. I tossed my arms up in defeat and said, "I don't know. I guess whatever he's going to do with Ray."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever," Devon replied, taking an irritated seat on the ground.

For another moment I watched him, then relented and did the same. I was half afraid that if I sat down I wasn't going to be able to stand back up, but it was worth the risk. If I needed to, I'd just have Wolf or Devon pick my ass up.

"Have you checked in with Hassan yet tonight?" I asked him after we'd sat in silence for too long.

He slapped his forehead and groaned, "Shit, no, I forgot. I'll go ahead and do that now before he starts to get too worried. I last called him during the search party."

"How long ago was that?"

"Um, a few hours ago," he huffed, checking his watch.

I nodded, glad that he wasn't snapping or snarling at me anymore. "Probably a good idea to do that, then. Before he sends in backup or something."

"We probably need it," Devon muttered under his breath.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing . . . nothing. I'll be back."

He stood up and wandered off, but not far enough that I couldn't still see him. I watched him move back and forth, raising his phone up until he managed to snag some spare signal out here in the middle of nowhere.

When the call finally went through, I could barely make out his quick chatter with whoever had picked up. Devon continued to pace, repeating things over and over as the signal came and went. I was afraid that it was going to be like that until we made it back to the town—like perhaps we should have waited until we had to make the call.

Who knew how long that would take, though. I hadn't paid any attention to how long the drive up had taken on top of how long we'd been out searching for two dead people, so walking was a complete tossup. If I had to hazard a guess, I feared that we were looking at making it back by mid-morning or later.

So much walking!

Ray should have still had a car around somewhere. I was tempted to track that down and drive back into Gunnison, but I wasn't sure if Wolf would fit in it. Or want to sit in one.

Put a pin in it.

For the moment, I was satisfied with sitting and taking a short break, no matter what Wolf was doing with Ray. I only had one real idea in my head—that he was skinning the poor guy for whatever reason. I wasn't sure why he'd left me out of the process, except that maybe I wouldn't appreciate the fact that he was doing it to another human.

He'd be right. That wasn't really something I wanted to watch. I could handle cleaning a fish that I'd caught, but cleaning a fellow human being . . . I'd just have to wait until the next non-human kill to learn that particular process.

Devon ended his slipshod phone call at almost the same time Wolf finally returned. I struggled to get up, fought to put weight on my legs, then Wolf was heaving me up by my elbow, allowing me to use him as leverage until I was steady on my feet.

"Thanks," I said. "What did you do?"

"Did you eat him?" Devon asked sarcastically, coming to stand next to me.

Wolf scoffed and hissed a word that I had come to know meant "no". As if Devon had seriously been asking. Devon's brand of sarcasm was a league of its own, as it was.

I leaned toward Devon and whispered, "Pretty sure he skinned him." Wolf bristled and pulled me to his side, making me give him a weird look. Did he think Devon wasn't good enough yet to stand by side? He sure was keen on keeping us apart.

My partner made a disgusted sound. "He should have let us take Ray back so the townsfolk could give him a proper burial. Now they're just going to find him out here in that condition!"

Though I opened my mouth to say something, there wasn't anything to say.

As he continued, Devon rounded on Wolf. "We have our own customs here, too, pal. We don't just make bodies disappear. We have rituals! We mourn our dead and grieve. Did you? Did you skin and string Ray up?"

Wolf's silence spoke volumes. The only sound he made was a low, irritated growl. Something told me he was only enduring Devon's abuse because I was there.

"What even for?" Devon demanded. "He didn't do anything. I didn't hear him discharge his gun. He was running. Ray didn't deserve your bullshit."

I had to jump between him and Wolf when the big guy was an instant away from charging my partner. With my hands against Wolf's chest, he came to a halt, chittering and clicking in rapid succession, pointing at Devon in accusation.

"I know you're not used to being around humans like this, Wolf," I said, my heart thumping against my chest. I thought for sure he was going to toss me aside and rip Devon apart, but he hadn't. Yet. "You gotta understand how hard this is for us. How would you feel if someone got in the way of your rituals on your planet?"

It occurred to me that he and his kind might not feel empathy the same way humans did, but I had to try. There had to be something similar to empathy in him—I was living proof.

Whether it was what I'd said or just the fact that I was going to keep stopping him from murdering Devon, he eased up and retracted his wrist blades. I hadn't even noticed that he'd drawn them in the first place.

"So, what did you skin him for?" I asked in a gentle, curious tone, keeping my hand planted on his chest. It was freezing out and he radiated heat, making staying close to him irresistible.

It wasn't a yes or no question, so I knew I might not get an answer. With Devon there, that made it all the more unlikely. I wanted to know, though, probably for different reasons than Devon, and I had to try. It would make me feel better, knowing that there was a method to the madness.

For one bitter moment of silence, I thought he was going to ignore me altogether. I couldn't be sure, but I thought he was still looking at Devon.

I'm never going to learn anything until Devon leaves, am I?

However, to my surprise, he did answer. He didn't relax, and he didn't look at me, but he grumbled out a few English words. They were deep, gravelly, and accented, but he spoke clearly enough to understand.

"Sacrifice. Offering. Good hunt." Then he said it again in his own tongue.

His answer baffled me and I stood there trying to process it as he finally tore his gaze away from my partner and looked down at me.

Devon let out a snort of surprise and asked, "A sacrificial offering? Do these things have a religion? Gods they follow?"

"I don't see why they couldn't," I mused, trying to imagine Wolf down on his knees praying to some bloody god. "If not gods, it could just be a superstition, like a game day tradition or something."

"That all sounds very Aztec," Devon huffed. "Sacrifices in exchange for good luck."

Wolf took my hand off his chest and babbled at me in his language, jerking his head in what I thought was the direction of town. We stood like that for a minute, then I suddenly remembered myself and pulled my hand free, turning away quickly to hide the heat creeping up my neck and face.

"We gotta get going. We're burning daylight," I said.

"It's the middle of the night," Devon pointed out.

"Shut up, you know what I meant," I huffed, shouldering past him with a rough shove.

He smirked and followed after me, but I didn't miss how he turned to look over his shoulder at Wolf. I hoped he wasn't glaring at him or making weird faces.

Devon would do exactly that.

"Any sign of which way the xenos went?" I asked Wolf, checking to make sure he was following after us. He was, and he growled a warning to me. I sighed and said, "Sorry, the kandy amd-ha."

Wolf came up and cuffed the side of my head, repeating the phrase with the correct inflections, his shoulders squared and chest expanded. I let out a surprised grunt, rubbing the spot where he'd smacked me. The message was clear: he wanted me to take this seriously. I knew I should be as well, so I tried again.

"Kiande amedha."

Satisfied, Wolf nodded and shake my shoulder in an encouraging manner before he set out again, making us follow after him into the waning night.

"He sure is rough with you," Devon observed, shooting a look at Wolf.

I shrugged and said, "It's tough love."

Devon snorted. "Love?"

"You know what I meant," I said, giving him my best withering expression.

My partner's face twisted and he muttered, "Do I, though?" under his breath. I ignored him, but it needled at me a little bit. That had definitely sounded like jealousy.

It hit me—were the two of them jealous of each other? Wolf hadn't been as cruel to me or even my friends when we'd all been together. He was being awful to Devon, though, pushing him away every chance he was given. It made absolutely no sense to me. Devon not understanding our relationship made sense, but I'd never thought Wolf would protest so much about having Devon there with us.

What does he have to be jealous about? I wondered, sneaking a look over at the big guy as he crouched down to examine some foliage, deep in thought as we waited.

Chapter Text

The short break had returned some strength to my pace, but I would need a full rest before the limp went away entirely. It never did quite disappear, but I was a real professional when it came to hiding it while I walked. If I hadn't taken my physical therapy seriously, I would have had to use a cane for the rest of my life.

That was something I could never agree to. The last thing I wanted was to be using a cane when I barely into my twenties.

Devon wasn't faring much better, either. Between the hike through the woods during the search party, splitting up to look for Sam and Buddy, and then the run in the Wolf, we were both exhausted and falling behind.

"We should have gone and found Ray's car," Devon huffed, echoing the same thoughts I'd had earlier.

"Too late now," I muttered. "I wouldn't have even known where to begin looking for it. I'm all turned around after all this bullshit and running and searching."

He nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"Wolf, which way's the town?" I called.

Up ahead, Wolf had stopped to inspect something we couldn't see. It never took him long to pick up the trail if we lost it. He looked back at my beckon, then pointed in the direction we'd been walking for the past how many hours. The sun had already started to rise, lighting the sky up in a dull gray color, a bit of pink bleeding into the horizon.

"And the xe—kiande amedha?"

Again, he indicated in the same bearing.

"That's perfect," Devon snorted.

Standing, Wolf turned away with an idle growl and continued down the unbeaten path. Devon and I shared a significant look, then trudged after him, our feet dragging.

Wish one of us had thought to stock up on some water.

In order to take our minds off the long hike, I asked Devon, "What did Hassan have to say when you talked to him?"

With a shrug, Devon replied, "Service out here is pretty shitty, so it wasn't much of a conversation at all. Kept losing him, but I tried to tell him we found the crash."

"We're in the mountains out in the woods. Of course the signal is going to be bad," I said.

"Yeah, well, I hope he got the message."

"Did he say anything you could make out?"

"Kinda." he started. "After I told him we found the crash, I think he asked if we found the aliens. I tried to tell him just the one dead one. Told him that the other predator, Jailbreak, was it? Is still MIA."

Swallowing, I dipped my head and said, "Actually, he was KIA. I found him just before Wolf found me."

"Really?"

I nodded.

In the growing light, I could tell Devon was looking at me with sympathy. "I'm sorry. You were trying to help him, right?"

"Yeah."

"What did Grumpy over there do about it?"

"Same thing he did with Buddy and Sam."

That silenced Devon and he stared first at me, then at Wolf in disbelief. It took him a minute to find his voice again. "Really? He didn't have any sort of like, I don't know, something? A burial or anything?"

"Nope."

"Man . . . ."

Sighing, I explained, "He said that Jailbreak didn't have any honor after what happened. Being captured is probably one of the worst things, and then he was infected and died to those stupid bugs in such a terrible way. Didn't get a chance to fight."

"Right, they usually blow themselves up if cornered, right? Better that than dying a dishonorable death or being captured?" Devon mused.

"Seems that way," I said, watching Wolf for any signs of confirmation. He turned his head slightly to look back at us, but said nothing and shifted his attention back to the path ahead of us, the trail he was busy following.

When the sun was a bit higher in the sky, Devon grabbed me by the shoulder and brought me to a halt. When I faced him, I realized he looked as tired as I felt, with dark circles under his eyes and a pale complexion. We'd both need to eat and drink some water soon if we were to keep going.

"What is it?" I asked, not unkindly. I tried not to yawn.

"I just noticed this thing here, now that it's not so dark outside." He motioned to the blade on my back and the accompanying vest that held it in place rigged to my backpack.

Lot of good that thing was doing me without any water in it. I should have known better.

"Oh. Wolf gave it to me."

"He just gave you a weapon?"

I opened my mouth to confirm, but then I thought better of it and said, "No, he didn't just give it to me. I earned this weapon. It was mine when I was seventeen and it's still mine now."

He blinked at me, then frowned. "So he held on to it for you even after all this time?"

"It would seem that way. I was surprised, too."

"Thing doesn't melt when you cut them with it?"

Shaking my head, I said, "Nope. It's made of some sort of tempered metal that isn't affected by their blood."

"Suppose that makes more sense than one that is."

I grinned and gave his shoulder a teasing push. "I'm sure you could earn one of these bad boys if you wanted to, too. Took me a bit, though. Don't think he trusted me with one at first."

"Oh yeah," Devon snorted. "Totally want one. How would I go about earning it?"

"Just kill a kiande amedha. I mean he gave this to me first because I wasn't armed at all, but he definitely wouldn't hate you so much if you killed one," I pointed out even though I knew he was being sarcastic. "Maybe not give you a weapon . . . but at least he wouldn't hate you."

Brows raised, he pointed to the spot where my scar was. "And how do I get me one of those weird scars you have?"

Lips pursed, I brushed my fingertips against the spot and said, "I'm not sure. He gave it to me after we'd killed the queen and escaped the ship when it fell. It makes me one of his clan, I think. Right, Wolf?"

Wolf stopped to look over at us, then rolled his shoulders and backtracked to where we were standing.

"I think that's a yes," I interpreted.

"Right, and I'm just a normal human."

"You sure are."

He pursed his lips into a thin line and said, "Oh, the humanity of it all."

I touched Devon's shoulder and said, "Hang in there."

Before I could say much else to him, Wolf was pulling me away from Devon and gesticulated that we needed to keep walking. I sighed and relented. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Sorry, we're just tired. We're coming."

Nodding, Wolf chittered to himself and was on his way. I gave Devon a significant look, then said, "I'm gonna go talk to him about something. Hang back a bit."

"Yup, I'll be back here, doing my best," he harrumphed. I barely heard him mutter, "Slowly dying of exhaustion," before I hobbled to catch up with Wolf. The big guy was like some sort of tireless machine, just marching on through without a care.

Wolf's head barely moved to acknowledge my arrival and he even slowed to match my pace some, but I was still pushing myself to go as fast as I could. He hadn't been going much faster than us, but there had been times when we had to hasten to not lose sight of him.

"Speaking of the crash," I said, trying to look up at him while simultaneously watching my footing in the treacherous woods. "Did you and Brutus ever find any more survivors?"

"Sei-i," he hissed. That was one of the first words I'd learned when we'd met—it meant yes.

"I'm glad to hear that. Does that mean the clan's making a comeback?" There had only been one other survivor helping us with the queen, but the ship had fallen off the cliff it had been perched on because a different survivor had tried to get it flying again. It was good to hear that at least a few others made it.

However, Wolf answered, "M'di," to my question—the other word I had to pick up quickly.

"No?" I repeated. "Were there not enough members?"

He nodded, but I couldn't tell if he was upset by it.

"Do you know what Brutus is up to? You didn't bring him, did you?"

Wolf rumbled out a short laugh and shook his head.

"That's a relief. He'd definitely kill Devon, wouldn't he?"

Another yes for an answer.

I glanced over my shoulder at Devon and sighed. Both of us were waiting on our second winds. The adrenaline from before had exhausted us even more. Once we were out of the woods, I'd try to find some times for us to take a break, even if only for a few minutes.

After another bout of silent walking during which I'd fallen away from Wolf and his undying pace, the path became a steep decline into a valley. Wolf dove right into it, but Devon and I had to adjust our centers of gravity by turning sideways—shuffling down the treacherous hillside. If it had just been a grassy knoll, it wouldn't have been an issue, but it was steep and littered with runoff from rains: rocks, branches, debris.

"Here, hold on," Devon offered, sliding on his ass to move in front of me so he could give me his hand.

Before I was able to take it, Wolf had already marched back up the hill, skirted around Devon, and proceeded to scoop me up and sling me over his shoulder.

"What the—"

The tail end of my declaration turned into a breathless grunt as I slumped over. By the time I was able to regain my bearings, Wolf was setting me up on my feet at the bottom of the hill, letting go only when it was clear that I wasn't going to fall.

Shortly after, Devon joined us. "That's one way to do it, I guess," he muttered incredulously, giving Wolf a disgruntled frown.

"I could have done it myself," I muttered.

Wolf snorted and put his hand on the top of my head, using his other to point at a formation of rocks. He was saying something, but I couldn't make it out.

"Go sit down," Devon provided.

I looked at him in incredulity and said, "You speak Wolf now or something?"

His expression was serious when he responded, "I don't need to be an expert linguist to know what he wants you to do. Your legs are shaking. Go sit down."

A protest died at the tip of my tongue. It was taking every ounce of strength in me to stay upright as it was. I pursed my lips and ducked my head, then did as I was told and walked over to where Wolf had indicated and sat down.

Devon also joined me, taking a seat on the second most comfortable rock next to mine. Wolf harrumphed, his shoulders squared, then turned to leave.

"Wait," I called a little too quickly, standing up too fast. My head swam, but I wasn't going to let him leave me behind. "Where are you going?"

Wolf relaxed a margin and lifted one hand over his head, rotating his index finger in the air.

Reconnaissance.

Relieved, I sat back down and closed my eyes, fighting the wave of dizziness threatening to consume me.

"You alright?" Devon asked.

"Yeah," I replied. "I just stood too fast."

When I opened my eyes again, Wolf was still standing there, watching me. I waved him off and said, "I'm fine. Go ahead. We'll be here."

He nodded, then used his gear to disappear. A set of leaves rustled on the trees nearby, but otherwise, there was no sign of where he went or where he was going to go. I had to assume he was just checking the perimeter.

"That guy doesn't stop," Devon huffed, leaning back as far as he could.

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

With the sun arching overhead, the mountainside warmed up by a few precious degrees. Taking the weight off my legs was a welcome feeling. The two of us sat in silence for the most part, trying to milk all we could out of the reprieve.

I wasn't sure how long Wolf was gone, but it felt like ages before he showed back up. His chittered greeting made me open my eyes, and I wondered briefly if I'd dozed off.

"Time to go?" I asked.

Wolf nodded.

Next to me, Devon seemed like he was passed out. Sitting up. I slapped his shoulder with the back of my hand and he jerked awake, looking around.

"Time to go," I said.

Groaning, Devon stood and I did the same. We both took another few seconds to stretch, and then Wolf was ushering us onward, taking the lead yet again.

"You okay to keep going?" Devon asked me.

Nodding, I said, "Yeah, my legs feel a little better. Good enough to walk for a bit longer, anyway."

"Need a walking stick?"

I gave him a deadpan look.

"Just asking."

"Thanks, but I'll be okay."

Walking stick, cane . . . no fucking thanks.

He shrugged and we fell back into silence. It was much easier to navigate our way with the sun up and with it, a lot of my ambient anxiety disappeared. Having Wolf around had helped, but there was always that tight feeling in my gut, the heat in my chest that made everything worse.

Eventually, after what seemed like an age and a half, the woods gave way a path of concrete and the ground opened up in front of us. The man-made tunnel reeked of waste and we paused at its mouth, grimacing into its gaping hole.

"We have to go inside that, don't we." It wasn't a question, more like a resigned statement.

Wolf grunted his response and forged onward.

Devon and I looked at each other and he said, "Guy has a better sense of smell than us, doesn't he?"

"I don't have any fucking idea, the mask does everything for him as far as I know," I said, waving my hand in exasperation. "I am not an expert on them, I just have experience."

"Alright, alright, sorry."

Though we both hesitated for another second or two, we both finally followed Wolf inside. The smell wasn't as bad as I'd expected. We were barely inside the beginning of the sewer when we came across a camp of tattered furniture and meager belongings. Whoever lived there seemed to be absent, though, so we saw no harm in investigating a bit.

"Would a small town like Gunnison have a homeless problem?" Devon asked, toeing a few empty cans around the ground.

I clicked my tongue in thought. "Everywhere does."

"I guess. What do you think?"

I looked around without moving and tried to take everything in. Everything had a thin layer of dirt and grime—blankets, the moth-eaten couch, a dog bed off to the side—but there didn't seem to be a sign of foul play so far.

"They might just not be home," I guessed. I thought better of touching anything and kept my hands at my sides. Who knew what kind of bugs were crawling all over the stuff there. Maybe if I'd brought my gloves, but I hadn't thought I'd be doing any real investigating. "The xenos like it humid and hot, but the sewer would be a bit too wet and . . . gross."

Wolf growled at me from where he was standing across the landing. I glanced at him and raised my hands in surrender, but didn't bother correcting myself.

"They could have started here, though," Devon pointed out. "There were people living here."

Nodding, I moved to the edge of the walkway where the water started to pool. Wolf was calling to us, so Devon left his chock-full grocery cart to join us. He went rigid next to me and I shook my head in sympathy.

A homeless man was pinned to a support pillar on the other side, encased in the resin that the kiande amedha secreted. He was already missing a chunk of his chest, his blood already dry and caked on the ground.

"Well shit," Devon muttered.

"They were definitely here," I agreed.

With a curious rattle, Wolf indicated farther down the landing to where the tunnel went deeper into the sewers. Another body was slumped over in that area—curious, indeed, as it wasn't in a cocoon.

"I'll go look," I told him, leaving his side momentarily to approach the corpse. When I was close enough to see it I let out a surprised, "What the fuck!" and scrambled back in shock. Gore didn't usually bother me—when I was expecting it.

I wasn't expecting what I saw.

Wolf was behind me in an instant; I bumped into him as I fled backward. He gently moved me aside and took up a position to inspect the source of my distress.

Devon put a hand on my shoulder and asked, "What? What happened?"

I indicated wildly at the body and declared, "This isn't how it works. Her wound—it's all wrong. An embryo didn't come out of her chest, it—there's something wrong here. She's not cocooned, nothing."

He held me steady at the elbow and craned his neck to look around Wolf at the body.

"Wow, shit," he breathed, his grip tightening around me.

Even Wolf was grumbling to himself, gently probing the edges of the woman's devastated abdomen. The wound was too low, leaving her chest mostly intact but her stomach and hips were ripped open, leaving little to the imagination. Blood was splattered all over, almost as if she'd exploded from the inside.

"Have you two ever seen anything like this?" Devon asked, making no move to stand any closer to the corpse. Wolf was the only one bothering to poke around inside her, but he eventually gave up and stood.

Shaking my head, I said, "It's always the chest. That's why I like to call them chestbursters. Wolf, is this something you've experienced before?"

Wolf grunted in the negative.

Devon, looking a little green, asked me, "Well, what do you think it means?"

"I don't have any idea. I'd say maybe they just tore into her, but looking at the wound . . . ."

"It's outward, not inward," Devon finished.

"Yeah."

In the meantime, Wolf had pulled out his evidence-destroying syrup bottle and Devon jumped toward him, extending his hand but never quite gathering enough courage to actually touch the big guy.

"Wait, wait! What the fuck are you doing?"

To my surprise, Wolf stopped just before pouring the liquid and ducked his head to glare at Devon, growling out a warning. I grabbed Devon's wrist to stop him from doing something stupid enough to make Wolf hurt him.

"We can take her to the hospital, we can give her an autopsy and figure out what happened!" Devon snapped. "We'll never know what happened to her if you destroy the body."

With a scoff, Wolf lifted his free hand and tapped the side of his mask with his finger. Devon shook his head, then looked at me for help.

"I think he means he's got it all recorded and saved on his mask," I provided. Wolf confirmed with a hiss and I repeated it with more confidence. "Yeah, he's got all the information he needs, so the body is just a liability."

Devon glowered and said, "Sure, he's got all he needs, but what about we need? We'll need to be able to report this if something strange is going on."

I shot him a withering look and asked, "What would you have us do with her, Devon? Are you going to carry her all the way to the hospital?"

The color drained from his face and he grimaced at the woman. "I can make a call, have someone come down here . . . ."

"And tell them what?"

He stared at me, his mouth bobbing up and down as he tried to think of something. I put my fingers up to my ears as a fake phone and made up my own conversation while he came up with something brilliant.

"'Oh yes, hello Gunnison General, this is the FBI. Can you come down to the sewers and pick up a dead body? Yeah, some aliens ate her stomach or something. Yes, come quickly, thank you,'" I said in a mocking version of his voice.

Wolf snorted in amusement and I smiled in return.

"That's not how I sound," Devon harrumphed. "And the hospital isn't called 'Gunnison General' so, fuck you."

It seemed that, for a moment, Wolf was going to enact swift punishment upon Devon for swearing at me, but I assured him with a calming gesture that I didn't take offense.

To Devon, I said, "Well I don't fucking know what it's called. Point is, we can't tell anyone."

While I had him distracted—though that hadn't been my intention at all—Wolf had already disposed of the woman's body and had moved across the landing to do the same with the man and his cocoon. Devon caught on as the homeless guy was halfway through dissolving.

"Hey! Hey . . . god dammit," Devon whined, rubbing his face and taking a deep, loud breath.

My heart went out to him and I put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance. "I'm sorry, Devon. We don't have time to try to come up with excuses and cover stories. If Wolf wasn't here, we'd just leave her and hope no one realized it was aliens. This saves us that headache."

"Just gives me an entirely new one," he huffed.

Wolf chose that moment to walk between us again, chattering away in his language and motioning toward the back of the chamber, where the tunnel narrowed into the sewers proper. Without checking to see if we were following, he hopped down into the stagnant toilet water and marched onward.

Groaning, Devon said, "He's like the god damn energizer bunny, isn't he? We can't keep going at this pace without getting some food or a nap."

"We're gonna have to tough it out for a while longer. There are, what? At least five of those things out there? More? One of them is going to turn into a queen at some point and then shit is going to get real. If they're still confined to the sewers, they'll be easy to track down and kill. Then we'll be good to go and the whole thing will be over," I said, heading into the tunnels.

And I'll have to figure out how to tell you good-bye, I added in my head, suddenly full of dread for that moment yet to come.

Whereas Wolf was perfectly happy to trudge through the gross, fetid liquid, I saw nothing wrong with sticking to the walkway. It seemed to continue on for a while, but if I needed to cross the tunnel that would be a problem. The sludge went all the way up to the top of Wolf's shins.

"I guess," Devon said, following after me, his quick footsteps echoing through the tight quarters.

"You'll be able to take the longest nap in the world once we wipe the rest of these fuckers off the face of the planet," I assured him.

He grunted in response, keeping his hand on the wall as we went deeper into the sewers beneath Gunnison, growing darker and darker. "Gonna eat a whole buffet, too," he said, trailing off with a longing sigh, making me roll my eyes.

"Sure thing, Devon."

"I'm serious. A whole buffet."

"I know you are."

Up ahead, Wolf stopped to face us, squaring his shoulders and swelling his chest. He chittered out what sounded like a reprimand and I deflated.

"What? We can't have a conversation?" I scoffed.

When he hissed a commanding no, I relented and fell quiet. Devon mumbled something sarcastic under his breath, but I didn't quite make it out. Soon, the only sound was that of the water sloshing around Wolf's legs. I could guess why he'd silenced our chatter, and I had to admit he was right.

Idle chatter was a distraction, and it would only draw trouble to us. We needed any amount of surprise we could get when it came to these bugs.

Chapter Text

Each steady drip of the damp tunnels hit me like a slap to the face. My fingers flexed in and out of a fist, ready at a moment's notice to draw my weapon against unforeseen enemies. I focused on Wolf's back and Devon's heavy footsteps but kept my eyes peeled for an ambush. Every breath I took echoed in my ears, but it wasn't enough to drown out that awful dripping.

An ambush didn't come. No matter how long I waited or anticipated the onslaught of screeches, they never happened. Wherever those monsters were hiding, it was somewhere deeper within the sewers.

Cold water sloshed at my knees—we'd run out of maintenance platforms—and the darkness in the tunnels closed in. I tried to prevent my heartbeat from skyrocketing and managed to keep it barely above resting rate with help from my breathing exercises. I wasn't going to fall apart here. I could keep it together as long as I needed to.

So long as I had Wolf walking in front of me and Devon at my side.

After all, it was just the sewers. It was muggy like the nest I'd had to navigate, but there was no immediate danger. The threat hung over us, for sure, but so long as Wolf didn't seem bothered, then I had nothing to worry about.

All I was doing was worrying myself sick.

It was hard to tell without any source of sunlight how long we were in those tunnels for. It could have been hours or minutes. My bet was on hours if the aching in my legs was any indication. Every few minutes, I had to rub my eyes to force them to focus; my vision kept blurring due to the fatigue weighing me down.

At various intervals, Wolf would pause to pull flat, angular devices from his person. After arming them, he'd toss them out with a flick of his wrist, attaching one to a wall of the sewer.

"Something coming?" I had asked the first time he threw one out.

Though he had told me—in his own way—that it wasn't the case, he also didn't offer up any sort of explanation for his actions. Completely typical of him, but at least we weren't in immediate danger.

Just a matter of time.

Devon tapped me on the shoulder after the third or fourth one. When I gave him my attention, he asked, "What's he doing?"

"I dunno. He didn't tell me."

"He hasn't done anything like this before?"

I shook my head. "No. He didn't have much of his gear at the time because of the crash."

"Ah . . . right."

We had taken up whispering to each other, as Wolf didn't seem to mind that so much. He still minded, clearly, because he'd stop sometimes and just stare at us until we quieted. In short bursts, though, he tolerated our idle chatter. It seemed strange considering how much I ran my mouth back in the day, but maybe I hadn't been as bad I remembered.

Since Devon had nothing else to say and Wolf wasn't objecting to our conversation yet, I added, "Though if I have any new info that I feel I can share without making Wolf mad, I'll let you know. Okay?"

"Works for me," he shrugged.

My attention returned to watching Wolf, to see if he had any objections. However, he was pretending not to pay us any heed. Instead, he was casting the small wall-disk-things onto every new tunnel opening we passed.

"You think it's so we don't get lost?" Devon guessed.

"Could be. Who knows. Probably gonna explode," I guessed, half-joking. "Their shit always seems to explode. Wouldn't be the first time today, either."

"Wait," Devon said after thinking about that for a few minutes, "is that what that sound was? Before . . . we came here? Before I found you guys?"

I pursed my lips. "What do you mean?"

"Ray and I heard, or felt, something before we happened upon you guys. Like a rumbling. Afterward, we had the hardest time finding the plane again, and there was this big crater . . . did he . . . ?"

Errantly, I waved a hand in Wolf's direction. "Well, y'know, I guess he had to get rid of the evidence and stuff. So he kind of blew it all up."

"Oh man . . . if we'd . . . ."

He groaned and tilted his head back in exasperation. I grimaced and put a hand on his shoulder, saying, "I know. I was so worried you were caught up in the explosion."

"That explains why you were so happy to see me," he remarked with a smirk.

Wolf cut off any further conversation with a sharp sound that made me wince. Devon and I shared a short glance, then returned to a quiet stroll through the storm drain. My gait was becoming less even, but I forced myself to keep going. Forced myself to ignore my exhaustion and hunger. If Devon's small noises of distress and heavy breathing was any indication, he wasn't feeling so hot anymore, either.

"Nichole," he whined after several more minutes.

"What?" I huffed.

"Tell the Terminator over there to stop, just for a little bit. Would ya? I've been awake longer than I have since high school," he muttered.

Glancing at Wolf, I caught him with his head tilted in our direction. I scratched my eyebrow and hesitated. A break would be nice, but we had important work. "I'd like to, but we gotta find these assholes before the whole city does."

"The town's not going to combust in the time it takes us to catch our breath," he retorted.

Rolling my eyes, I whirled on him and kept walking backward. "You're acting like a grumpy six-year-old, Devon. Rub some dirt in it and keep going."

"Are we there yet?" he whimpered with a cheeky grin.

"Ugh," I grunted, turning back around. My tired and sore legs tripped over one another in the process. I flailed around to brace my fall into the disgusting water, but strong arms propped me back up before I could go down.

Wolf set me on my feet and snorted an admonishment.

"Oh yeah, it's my fault my legs never healed right," I muttered, rubbing my thigh.

He gestured toward a thin ledge following the wall and grumbled in his way before disappearing with his cloaking device. I glowered but seated myself all the same. Devon hovered behind me a moment, then went ahead and sat down next to me.

"Guy sure is attentive when it comes to you."

"He is not, Devon."

Devon rolled his eyes. "Don't sit there and pretend like he's not. He carried you down that hill, he's always looking back here, and just now—"

"You're just imagining it, Devon," I huffed, looking away from him.

"I'm just saying," he mumbled. "Where'd he run off to, anyway?"

I leaned until I was resting my head against the wall and I closed my eyes. "He does that. He'll be back, I'm sure. Probably scouting ahead or something."

"Left us in here alone . . . probably gonna detonate those weird things he's been planting around. Bury us in here."

"And why would he do that?" I asked.

Devon shuffled next to me. "I dunno, crush us under the debris."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"You said it yourself, you don't know the guy."

Groaning, I covered my face with my hands. "He's not going to bury us alive in the sewers, Devon. Not while I'm here. He might try that shit with you, but not me."

"Thanks, Nichole. Real reassuring. I thought you said he doesn't pay you any attention."

Ignoring him, I tried to make the most of our reprieve. Somewhere in the back of my head, a voice reminded me to be wary, that I shouldn't become too comfortable. Not when the kiande amedha were still missing. They could come screaming around the corner at any minute and attack us.

But, I couldn't spend the entire time thinking about such things. I needed to rest my mind, too, so it would be sharp and ready. As soon as Wolf returned from whatever he was doing, it would be right back to the grind. A quick catnap wouldn't be out of place, and it was nice to get off my legs for a few minutes. Devon didn't move next to me, content to sit.

The sword and backpack against my back weren't very comfortable, but I didn't need it to be. I didn't need to fall asleep, just close my eyes for a little bit and recharge some energy. Devon was flicking pebbles into the murky waters—each one made a small plip as they broke the surface.

It seemed like only seconds later I was opening my eyes, startled. I'd dozed off a bit, but wasn't sure for how long. Devon had fallen still next to me, and when I looked at him he was leaning against the wall as well, his eyes closed. I sighed, sat up, and tried to do some stretches while we waited. There wasn't much room on that ledge, though. It barely fit my ass. Devon stirred next to me and caught my attention; he was looking at me as if he wanted to say something.

"What's wrong?" I asked, standing up to stretch that way.

"Nothing."

"Something's wrong." I worked through all the stretches I knew by heart that didn't require touching the awful water with my hands.

He shook his head and drew his handgun to check how much ammo he had. Though I wasn't sure what good it would do, at least he wasn't without some kind of protection. "Nothing. I'm just thinking about how crazy all this is."

I smirked. "What do you mean? This is literally our job."

"Yeah but we've never worked with the job before."

"He's not so bad," I insisted, sitting back down to rub my legs. "A little rough around the edges, but he pulls through where he's needed."

"So you say."

After another bout of silence that spanned a few minutes, I stood once more, bracing myself against the wall to do more exercises. Already they had helped loosen the muscles and relieved some pressure around the metal pins.

Both of us were standing now, as rested as we were going to be. There were two tunnels Wolf could have gone down, and I hadn't the slightest idea which one it was. Devon huffed and put his hands on his hips. "Alright, it's been forever. Where'd your boyfriend go?"

He flinched when I punched his arm and I said, "I don't know. Guy's real good at disappearing."

"I'd say let's split up, but that's a terrible idea. You're the one with a sword, and he hates me."

"So you are somewhat intelligent," I sneered, jabbing him in the ribs. "We'll head this way. I can see the light from one of his exploding wall decorations."

We followed Wolf's high-tech breadcrumbs. I was miffed he'd left us and not returned, but for all I knew he was on his way back and we'd meet up with him halfway. The thought that he might be injured perished as soon as it came; Wolf was never injured. He'd always seemed like the lone ranger type, so traveling with some shadows was probably just a new thing for him. It seemed to me he was treating Devon worse than he had me when I was on that ship, though.

Maybe some sort of alpha male thing.

However, I was convinced that it would be better for Devon if he could just prove himself as I had. If he could kill an adult drone, he'd have at least an ounce of Wolf's respect. He wasn't going to do that with a handgun, but Wolf would never give him a weapon like mine.

I'd have to find a creative way to help Devon earn his place. It was a nice thought, having a human friend with me. He'd come, of course, if I asked him to. I think.

I watched him, trying to decide if I was lying to myself.

"Damn, he sure went far," Devon observed several minutes later, pulling me from my thoughts.

"He does move fast."

"So crazy." He shook his head. "He's so big. How does he move like that?"

"Probably decades of training and hard work."

Again he started grumbling, and I tuned him out. Without Wolf nearby I was nervous; the drones could be hiding anywhere in the darkness and our human eyes would never know until it was too late. Our only hope was hearing them before that, but Devon was set on talking throughout the whole trip to find Wolf.

"Shh, quiet," I hissed after he'd complained for the tenth time about something inane. I wasn't paying attention, but I think it was about a blister on his foot.

"What?" he said.

"Shh!"

He crossed his arms and pouted, but kept his mouth shut while I channeled all my attention into the tunnels. I knew I'd heard it. I would recognize the sound on any planet, in any lifetime. It sent chills chasing up and down my spine and stuck my breath in my throat.

Wolf's words reverberated in my mind. Kiande amedha.

Xenomorphs.

"C'mon let's go," I quipped, grabbing Devon by the lapels and dragging him after me toward the sound of their horrendous screeches.

Their cries were faint. They were on the hunt. I sprinted down the length of the tunnel with Devon in tow. He pulled himself free of my grip and ran alongside me, keeping stride with my limping pace. Something buzzed to life behind us and I glanced back just long enough to see a grid of red laser death fill the tunnel. We had passed the latest wall device Wolf had placed, but it seemed my prediction had been off. Clearly, not all of their shit exploded.

"We gotta hurry up," I yelled, taking up the sprint again, glad that I'd done those stretches.

"Then let's go, gimpy!" Devon said, grabbing and pulling me at a faster speed. I had to adjust my paces to keep from being yanked off my feet.

Plasma cannon fire echoed toward us and we spun around a corner, skidding through the water. My weapon was in my hands, itching to taste xeno blood again. Devon slid into position next to me, his own handgun sighted.

Drainage tunnels were set in various positions around the chamber, allowing dim light from outside to filter through, likely from streetlamps above. The hike down the mountain had taken ages without a car, agonizing hours. We'd arrived at the sewers with some daylight left to spare, but the sun would have set by now, casting the city in darkness.

Wolf was locked in battle with a few drones, and a handful yet scaled the walls, already having slipped in before Wolf had activated his tech. We were outnumbered, but only by a few.

This is doable! We'll be fine. Wolf and I can kill these no problem.

"Stay close, Devon!" I shouted, chopping at a drone that dared move too close. It squealed and retreated, now missing a chunk from one of the pillars on its back.

His answer was the piercing sound of his gun firing into the claustrophobic chamber. I flinched but didn't let down my guard. Wolf was shooting off his own projectile weapons, and the majority of the drones were going after him, leaving me and Devon—or really just me—to pick off curious stragglers.

I couldn't lock on. My swings were wide and they dodged any lethal blow, but at least I was staving them off. Keeping them at bay. I almost had to relearn how to swing the damn thing right, and my footing was off thanks to the water and ache in my legs.

Despite all of that, I was thrilled.

Adrenaline blazed through my veins, and with it came an exhilaration I hadn't felt in years. I was alive, every nerve alight with electricity. Falling back into the posture he'd taught me was foreign and cumbersome, but it started to feel right. Another drone tried to slip past us, more interested in Wolf, but it was distracted by Devon's attack and turned on him.

"Why! Why do bullets do nothing!" Devon hissed, backing into me when the snarling creature advanced. Though the drone had plenty of bullet holes, each dribbling acid blood, it was unperturbed—angrier, even.

I shouldered Devon out of the way and swung my weapon in a vicious arc, driving it back.

"Don't worry, I got it," I grunted, squaring off with the drone. It looked around me, and I used the momentary lapse in attention to cleave a deep gouge in its chest. Staggered, it fell back, and I pounced on the weakness. Three rapid slashes were enough to end its miserable existence once and for all. Panting, I stepped back. My hands were shaking and I forced them to go still.

Got one. I got one!

"God damn you're good with that thing," Devon commented while reloading. It would be his last clip, but I still had mine. I would give it to him later if I remembered.

Then, a new sound interrupted my thoughts. I swung blindly at a drone that flitted into my field of view, but it dodged around and leaped at Wolf, who grabbed it by the throat. He already had one in his other hand and aimed the two shoulder-mounted cannons at each enemy.

However, another drone landed with a heavy sound behind him, splashing up a halo of dirty water around it. Before I could call out a warning or react, it slammed into Wolf with a powerful shunt, throwing him against the farthest wall. The drones he'd been holding were sent sprawling and the cannon charges fired off course, one blasting the wall harmlessly and the other sent the ceiling above tumbling over Wolf, burying him beneath debris.

Chapter Text

"Wolf!" I cried.

"Nichole, focus!"

At Devon's prompting, I turned my attention back to the newest drone to arrive as it turned its attention on us. Behind it, others piled past bent bars, crawling through the small tunnels to the surface. My fingers tightened around my sword and I widened my stance. Determined to keep Devon behind me, I stumbled back into him with my free arm up as a protective shield.

Though I'd been ready to slay any and all enemies in my path, shock stayed my hand. The beast was no xenomorph I had ever seen.

The monstrosity before us was a massive creature of muscle and rage. It stood erect like the human-xenos, but it wasn't the emaciated bio-mechanical skeleton I had grown accustomed to—this one had some mass. Instead of the smooth, black carapace skulls, it had a stunted forehead with slicked-back, dread like appendages—familiar and foreign at the same time.

It hissed and pulled back a set of webbed, slime-covered mandibles. I took another step back, pushing Devon along despite his protests.

An image of Jailbreak flashed across my mind. We'd found him in the woods, killed when the chestburster had been born.

This was that chestburster, all grown up.

Our staredown ended when Devon unleashed a barrage of semi-automatic fire upon it. The bullets pelted the beast like paintball pellets: painful but hardly lethal. The hybrid launched itself at us, roaring a war cry that rattled my insides. I tripped over Devon in my haste to counter and shoved him aside. There was just enough time to raise my weapon and block—then it was on me, forcing me back against a guard railing. I pressed my free hand to the flat of the blade, battling to keep the thing off me.

Raw power fueled the monster; it was like trying to stop a car with my bare hands. It kept pressing its forehead against my sword, growling and clawing for purchase. The bars of the railing cut into my back and the hybrid was a few seconds from shoving me through a small opening between the metal rods. Or breaking my spine, whatever came first.

Grunting through clenched teeth, I put all my strength into shoving the thing off of me, pushing forward with any leverage I could exploit. I planted my feet against the wall and put my legs into it, using that to force it back enough to move my back off the railing. We weren't quite in a deadlock, as my strength would fade long before it did—and my legs were giving out fast.

Gunfire shattered my concentration. The creature's body jerked with each bullet pummeling its back and it withdrew to engage its aggressor.

With my feet on the wall and nothing keeping me up, I fell forward face-first. I dropped my blade in order to brace for impact. Water splashed up, covering me head to toe in nastiness. Ignoring the way my skin crawled as water sluiced over me, I groped through the murk to find my dropped weapon. My fingers wrapped around it seconds later and I scrambled to my feet so I could come to Devon's aid.

He was backed up against a wall, emptying his clip into the creature's chest, but still, it advanced on him. Behind it, its sharp tail lashed like an angry cat's. Grip white-knuckled on my sword, I waded toward the creature and stomped down on its tail, immobilizing the appendage beneath the waters.

Snarling, it whirled toward me, wrenching its tail free and compromising my balance. I stumbled to keep upright, swinging my weapon in wild arcs, anything to keep the hybrid at bay.

However, it dipped and dodged around my sloppy blows before slamming into me and taking me down, pinning me against a wall waist-deep in water. I dropped my weapon from the force of the impact and it skittered across the platform behind me, well out of reach.

The Hybrid hissed and peeled back its mandibles, membranes slick with mucus. I froze, terror icing the back of my head and filling my limbs with lead. The hybrid moved within range of the second set of jaws, coming in for the kill. I struggled against it, wiggling and kicking to free myself.

It became more apparent that my attempts were useless. The thing was strong and I had nothing left to fight with. Already my muscles were quivering, running on fumes and adrenaline. Defiance overcame my fear and I glared at it, my jaw set.

If this was I how I went, I was going to stare death in the face, not cower from it.

To my surprise, the beast didn't go for the kill and instead examined me, close enough that its forehead and closed jaws brushed my cheek. My boldness faltered and my heart plummeted. The hybrid nudged my head to one side and then the other. I inhaled once and held it, watching from the corner of my eyes as it moved away, waiting for my opportunity to break free.

For one brief second, I thought it was going to leave me alone. I couldn't imagine why or for what, but for one glorious second I thought it was going to walk away. My heart thundered in my chest and my blood roared in my ears as I waited.

That wasn't the case, though, and it reared back, spreading those mandibles wide. It could have killed me at any time, so why had it waited?

Does this one play with its food?

Panic set in and I couldn't breathe. My vision blurred and I tried to move away, but I was stuck against the wall. The back of my head hit the bricks and mortar and I clenched my teeth shut against a whimper, loathe to show that kind of weakness. Before the thing could make its move, though, it was wrested off me. I was almost pulled along with it, but it let go and I tumbled to my knees, once again doused in drainage water.

My hair clung wetly to my face and neck. The walls were closing in, bearing down and smothering me. The crash of destruction seemed far off and insignificant while I tried to catch my breath, tried to suppress the bile rising in my throat.

Keep it together, Nichole.

Somehow I was able to stand and I held my arms out from my side. I took a deep breath and forced myself to look up. Forced myself to stand tall, but I couldn't stop the tremors wracking me. My fingernails bit into the skin of my palm and I ground my teeth together.

I had to find my weapon. I looked around wildly, ignoring the panic and pushing it as far down as I could. The sword was no longer on the platform, or at least not where I could see it.

But I had to fight somehow. I balled my hands into fists and kept whirling, looking for enemies, but the hybrid was gone and Wolf was watching the hole it had disappeared into; the wall was cracked and crumbled, as if it had forced itself to fit with great strength.

"Nichole."

I jumped and spun around, my hands up to defend myself, but it was only Devon. I sighed with relief and relaxed somewhat.

"Here, you dropped this." In his hand was my blade and he held it up to me. I took it and slapped it onto the magnet at my back. If there were no enemies, I didn't need it right then.

We took a moment to catch our breaths. As the adrenaline ebbed, both of us started shaking. It didn't help that it was freezing cold down in the sewers, the water soaking us only compounding that.

However, we had to keep going.

"What do we do now, Wolf?" I asked, turning to face him. He was sporting new wounds, but none of them seemed to be bothering him at all.

Wolf growled in answer and slipped something over his fist. It whirred to life and he climbed onto the catwalk behind us. I started to follow but leaped back when he punched right through the concrete ceiling to the street above.

"This guy," I muttered, climbing up onto the walkway once rocks stopped falling. Tires squealed up top, making me wince. Maybe they'd just keep driving.

"Well this is going to be a PR nightmare," Devon muttered. "Does he think before doing, ever?"

"Not really," I sighed.

With practiced ease, Wolf jumped straight up and onto the street above. I shook my head at him, though was certain he wouldn't be able to see. I motioned for Devon to give me a boost up, but he put his hand on my shoulder to stop me and gave me a searching look.

"What? Help me up," I requested.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. Are you alright?"

He shook his head and held me still when I tried to escape. "No! That thing was fucking terrifying. I couldn't shoot it! I can usually shoot anything thrown at me."

I rolled my eyes and stepped back. "I'm fine. All of this is going straight into the vault and I'll deal with it later."

"Yeah, that's healthy."

"Just help me up and stop playing shrink," I demanded. Wolf growled from above, also eager to start the hunt.

Grumbling, Devon locked his fingers together and I stepped up, using his boost to reach for the edge of the street. However, when I put all my weight on his hands, Devon grunted and dropped me. My legs buckled when I hit the platform and I fell on top of Devon, knocking him down, too.

"What the hell, Devon?"

We untangled and I glared at him. He raised his hands above his head and said, "Look here, lady, I'm tired, okay? I didn't . . . brace myself right. Let's try again."

"Don't drop me this time," I growled, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"Lose some weight, then," he muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

Devon boosted me up again, this time with success. I grabbed the edge of the street and started to hoist myself up with Devon pushing on my feet, but my upper body strength was failing me. I struggled for a moment to pull myself up, hooking my arm over the asphalt.

"Hurry up! I can't hold you forever!"

"I'm trying," I hissed through clenched teeth. My muscles refused to work, shuddering from the exertion and fatigue.

Wolf's coarse hand startled me at first, but he lifted me up the rest of the way with minimal effort. He set me up on my feet and cocked his head to the side, crackling a question that I brushed off, instead leaning down over the hole.

"Alright Devon, jump!"

He snorted. "Yeah, right."

It took a couple tries of him climbing up on the railing and jumping, but eventually, I was able to grab his hand and keep my grip on it. Wolf offered no help until it became apparent that I wasn't in any condition to pull him up with my own strength. I didn't ask for his help, though, content with my futile struggle to heave Devon up.

Still and all, Wolf reached past me and yanked Devon out of the hole and onto the street, sprawling him out on the ground. When it was all said and done, Wolf wiped his hand on my shoulder as if Devon had left a disgusting residue on him.

"Don't be a child," I shot at the alien.

His response was a derisive churring sound.

In an attempt to be the bigger man, Devon mumbled his thanks to Wolf and turned to face the hole we'd crawled out of, his face twisting in disdain. "How are we going to explain this?"

"Gas leak?" I offered, wringing water from my shirt. I hoped there were showers in space but seriously doubted it. I was going to have to deal with cold, wet clothes and the smell of stale water for a while, I was sure. At least until all of this was over.

Devon's disapproving expression was piercing. "Really? Gas leak? We can't use that for every single thing we have to try to cover up."

I motioned toward the eyesore in the street. "You got anything else? That's the go-to for explosions."

"I guess, but it wasn't really an explosion. He punched a hole in the street," Devon said, his hands on his hips. "Through concrete. This is mad."

Sighing in exasperation, I waved my arms. "I don't know then, Devon! We just won't explain it. They'll come up with their own conclusions and then we can leave covering shit up to Hassan. Right now, we need to worry about the fact that these things are loose in the city!"

"They don't have any way to multiply right now, no queen," he reassured me. "They're just running around looking for a place to nest."

"That doesn't mean they aren't still dangerous to the citizens," I retorted.

When Devon opened his mouth for his own rebuttal, Wolf cut him off with a snort. Devon glanced at Wolf and harrumphed. "Right, not allowed to argue with the second in command."

"Damn right. Wolf, do you know which way they went?"

"He should really cloak. Sure it's dark and shit, but people will still see him," suggested Devon.

Ignoring him, I waited for Wolf to do his thing and locate the trail. It only took a few seconds, and then he was pushing me across the street. As if in afterthought, or perhaps he'd thought enough time had gone that it seemed like his idea and not Devon's, he cloaked himself.

"Really? We're not going to stop? For just a little bit?" Devon complained.

"Toughen up, it'll be alright," I shot over my shoulder.

I would never admit that I sorely needed something longer than a few minutes to recuperate.

However, after a few minutes of tracking Wolf through the allies and backstreets, I realized Devon wasn't quite next to me. I looked around and found him straggling, half bent over and shuffling his feet as he tried to follow.

"Hurry up, Devon!" I called.

He shook his head and looked up at me. "Nichole . . . I can't. I can't anymore."

"What do you mean?"

Devon stretched his back and staggered toward me. "Listen, I gotta stop. I'm fucking tired and starving. I can't go on anymore. You can go ahead and leave me if you want, but I can't follow that alien anymore. He's a god damn machine," he panted.

I opened my mouth but couldn't find the words. Instead, I turned helplessly toward Wolf, trying to spot the ripple of light that indicated where he stood, but couldn't spot it. "Wolf?"

Seconds later, he appeared—yards ahead. I faltered, unsure if he'd continued after I'd stopped for Devon or if he'd been that far ahead without me realizing. I couldn't deny that I was running on fumes, but we didn't have the luxury of breaks, and Wolf wanted to keep going. Could keep going. I needed to match his pace, had to match his pace.

The alley was safe for now, and Devon had to prop himself up on the wall of the building next to us. Now that I wasn't moving anymore, my legs were shaking and it was nothing short of my own willpower that was keeping me standing.

"I gotta stop, Nichole. We've been awake for . . . ," he checked his watch and closed his eyes in disapproval. "Thirty hours. If I'm going to keep going, I need coffee and food. Ten minutes to sit down."

There wasn't much conviction in my voice when I said, "We don't have time to stop."

He looked behind me and I followed his gaze to Wolf. He hadn't moved since he'd turned off his cloak and was watching us with his head tilted. I couldn't hear the noise he was making, so I couldn't even hazard a guess as to what he was thinking.

"Then I guess if you really need to, you can go without me. I wish you wouldn't, though. He'll run you ragged if you're not careful, Nichole," Devon said, nodding his head toward Wolf.

My eyes were burning and I rubbed them. I'd been hiding yawns for a while, ever since my latest dose of adrenaline had run out. Standing was becoming more and more of a chore, but I forced myself to stay upright. I couldn't be tired. If Wolf wasn't tired, I couldn't be.

I moved closer to Devon and lowered my voice. "Devon, I know, I know it's hard. I'm hungry, too, and I'm exhausted, but I have to keep going. I can't . . . be left behind. I have to be better."

"Nichole," he sighed, rubbing his face. This close I could see the bags under his eyes, like growing bruises. "You do not have to prove yourself. To anyone, least of all that alien. He's already given you that . . . hall pass on your shoulder. He's accepted at least part of you."

He reached out and pulled my collar away from the scar tissue on my shoulder and continued. "You're human, Nichole. If he can't accept you as that, then you're better off without him."

Before I could say anything, Wolf was at my side, pulling me away from Devon and growling at my partner. I stumbled when my legs refused to work right, but Wolf kept his grip on my arm and helped me stay on my feet.

Devon tried to look taller than he was and squared off with Wolf. "What? Did I strike a nerve or something big guy? Maybe you shouldn't be eavesdropping."

"Devon, try not to taunt the alien that can rip your spine out with his bare hands," I muttered.

Wolf let the comment slide and released my arm. He addressed me, babbling in his increasingly familiar language. When I didn't quite understand, he pushed me toward Devon with a gentle nudge. As gentle as one as strong as he could be, anyway.

Shaking my head I said, "No, we can . . . ," but he stopped me mid-sentence with a sharp growl and pointed at my partner. I pursed my lips together and looked over my shoulder at him. Devon already said he couldn't keep going, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I collapsed.

If I was being honest with myself, I didn't want to leave Devon alone, anyway. He was my partner, and we'd always seen our missions through together. Not only that but if I wasn't with him, I was afraid I'd never see him again.

Afraid I'd lose him the same way I'd lost all of my friends.

No way I was abandoning him, not like I'd abandoned them. Not this time. Not ever again.

"You sure you're okay without m—with us splitting up like this?" I caught myself and lowered my head to hide my embarrassment. Of course he'd be okay without me.

He dipped his head in agreement, chittering idly. I sighed and gave him a determined look. "We'll catch up as soon as we can, okay? We know which direction they went, so we'll find you, and we'll try to see what's going on in town at the same time, okay? We'll have something to report."

Again he nodded and then disappeared into thin air. I watched the spot where he'd been for a second, my lips thinned into a line. He didn't seem disappointed, but I couldn't tell.

"Well," Devon grunted, managing to stand on his own. "Now that we have Big Daddy's blessing, I saw a couple different places we could catch some food and coffee on the ride through town. They should be nearby. If it's not too late, hopefully we can get in before somewhere closes."

I hummed to let him know I heard him, motioning for him to lead the way. He shrugged and headed out of the alleyway and back onto the street. We had only seen a car or two so far. After a moment, I followed after him, casting one last glance in the direction Wolf had gone. I felt like I was taking a walk of shame, admitting that I couldn't follow Wolf forever.

But, Devon was right. I was only human.

I would only ever be human.

Chapter Text

The last few steps into the diner we found were murder. The overhead bell rang as we opened the door and we were greeted by the pregnant waitress. She was harried and disgruntled, struggling to put up a pleasant front. She looked between us, a menu in her hand. Though she wore a smile on her face, it was forced and insincere. The look of a tired person ready to leave.

"Hi there, welcome," she greeted us all the same. "I'm afraid we're closing soon so a lot of the menu won't be—"

Devon cut her off with a small gesture and flashed her his disarming grin. "Hey don't worry your pretty little head about it. I'm Agent Hart and this is my partner, Agent Shain, of the FBI. You are?"

"Ah, sorry. I'm Carrie." her smile faltered as she glanced at Devon's badge. I rolled my eyes at him. The waitress continued, "Is this about Buddy and Sam?"

"Kind of," Devon said. "We haven't had anything to eat in the past like, 80 hours so we'll just buy whatever you happen to have already made. We're in a bit of a hurry."

Nodding, Carrie turned part toward the kitchen and said, "Sheriff did say Ray was out all night with two feds. I'll go see what we have. Feel free to sit wherever you like." She gave us another false, and now nervous, smile before she disappeared behind the old western-style, swinging saloon doors that led to the kitchen and employee areas.

"I'm gonna go find the bathrooms," I announced, leaving Devon and heading toward the back. He must have thought it was a good idea, too, and disappeared into the men's room.

After doing what I needed to, I stood in front of the mirror and tried not to look too hard at my reflection. It now made more sense why Carrie was so unhappy to see us—I was filthy, so I could only imagine Devon was, as well.

The bruises and swelling on my face had gone down some, at least. I stripped off my clothes and did my best to wring out the icy water from the storm drain, then rinsed everything under the faucet. The air drier in the bathroom didn't quite dry everything completely, but it was good enough. Damp was better than soaking, and the restaurant was warm enough.

It was better than nothing. My hair was a mess, but I'd thrown it up into a ponytail, anyway, so that was as good as it was gonna get.

Devon was already in the closest booth to the kitchen so I joined him and sank into the cushioned seats—after I removed my bag and set it next to me, propping it and the sword against the wall. I glanced around at the plethora of homey decorations on the wall and gave the wooden cow sitting on a shelf a critical scowl. The TV mounted on the wall in the back wasn't on anymore, only showing static, and for the most part, the lights had started to turn off.

"She's pregnant, Nichole."

His voice startled me and I let out a shaky breath. "Really? I hadn't noticed," I replied sarcastically. "What of it?"

"We gotta send her and whoever else is back there home."

"If you want to say something so bad, why haven't you? You're a grown man who can make his own decisions," I huffed, leaning back and closing my eyes. Sitting—in a real chair and not on the pavement—was like my own slice of heaven.

Groaning, Devon sprawled out over the tablecloth covered in words and pictures. "This is your dog and pony show. I'm just along for the ride."

"Then hush and give me a few minutes of peace," I muttered, pillowing my head on my arms. "We'll tell her after we get some food. How does that sound? If we tell her and the chef to go home, we'll never eat."

He sighed but fell silent with his face down on the table.

A tentative hand on my shoulder had me jerking upright seemingly seconds later. It appeared that I had dozed off before the waitress—Carrie—could bring us the food. She took a few surprised steps back and I set down the fork I had gripped in my hand.

"Sorry. Long day."

"That's . . . fine," she mumbled, her eyes wandering to the blade sitting next to me on the booth. I grimaced and shifted my bag to hide it from her. "I hope this food's okay."

Devon snorted awake and peered around through narrowed eyes. "Wuh?"

"Graceful," I huffed, A headache was starting in the back of my eyes, brought on from exhaustion. I spoke louder to the waitress. "Whatever food you have is going to be more than fine."

She nodded and set the plates down in front of us. Devon leaned back and stared at what she served as if he couldn't believe the two half-cobs of corn, macaroni and cheese, and ham sandwiches were real. I shook my head at him and smiled at Carrie. "It's perfect. We're starving."

"Great. Let me know if I can get you anything else."

"Have any coffee left over?" Devon asked.

Carrie shrugged. "I can make a pot, it doesn't take too long. How do you like it?"

"I need it the blackest you can give me," he yawned.

Meanwhile, I scarfed down forkfuls of macaroni. At the mention of coffee, I perked up and raised my hand. It took a second for me to finish chewing and swallowing before I could say, "Get me a cup, too. I need a thing of cream and two spoonful's of sugar, please."

"Sure thing. I'll be right back."

"Take your time," Devon said, waving his hand.

I glared at him but didn't want to rush Carrie, especially since we were there after normal hours and she'd probably be hurrying to get us out as it was. I would have to give her a decent tip. She turned to leave and Devon joined me in horking down our food. We said nothing, the only sound that of our silverware clinking against plates. Carrie brought us our coffee after a few minutes and I chased my food with it even though it near burned my tongue off.

"Any water or anything?" she asked.

"Yes, please," I muttered around a mouthful of corn. Devon only managed a non-committal sound, so Carrie scurried off to fetch us our drinks before returning to her cleaning or other closing duties.

I should have asked for more sugar in my coffee, but I wasn't about to make her fix it. I nursed the hot cup of bitter swill until my food was gone, and Devon followed suit, finishing his meal a little faster than I. We downed half our glasses of water, quenching our thirst. The coffee was only there to keep us awake longer.

We stacked our dishes and Carrie came around immediately to pick them up. I had to give her credit, she was wearing the perfect customer service face despite our inconveniencing her.

"Separate checks?"

"Just one check. I'll pay in cash," I said, cutting off whatever Devon was about to say.

"You sure?" he asked.

Nodding, I stood and pulled my wallet from my bag and gathered all I had—about forty bucks in various bills. I slapped them down on the tabletop and gave the waitress a smile. "Keep the change."

She stared at me as if I'd suddenly sprouted a second head. "That's—this is way too much."

"I know what's there. Share it with the chef, if you please. Agent Hart, don't you have something to tell the lady?" I prompted, tapping my fingers on the table.

Devon stopped staring at the cash and turned to Carrie. "We believe there might be a dangerous criminal lurking around town. Head home as soon as you can and lock up tight, okay? Tell your chef, too."

All she could do was nod in silence until she found her words. "Yes—yes of course. And thank you, I'll make sure my chef gets his share."

I beckoned to my partner and he removed himself from his seat and followed me out of the diner. He shot Carrie his own gratitude before the door closed and he stopped me at the end of the sidewalk. The door locked with a heavy sound behind us.

"That was awful nice of you," he said.

"They deserve it for staying late for us and feeding us. Are you feeling better, now?" I asked him, bundling up against the cold. My clothes still hadn't quite dried off, but it was an improvement. "We have to go and find Wolf."

That short nap plus how long we'd been sitting had put some pep back in my step. My legs were still a bit sore, but they weren't aching anymore and my limp wasn't as pronounced. I wanted to keep going while I had this second wind.

Should have asked her for some Aspirin.

"Yeah, about that," Devon sighed, looking away from me. "I've been meaning to talk to you about him."

"There's nothing to talk about. Every minute we wait is more time put between us. We're safest around him so let's hurry up," I insisted.

Devon shuffled in front of me and made me look at him by grabbing my shoulders, forcing me to make eye contact with him. "I need to know what you were doing with that computer, why he gave it to you in the first place."

I met his gaze but said nothing.

"Obviously it was so you could call him, but why? Why would you need to call him for any reason—"

The puzzle pieces seemed to fall into place for him. I looked away as the look on his face morphed into something unrecognizable and he said, "That monster was coming to get you, wasn't he?"

"He's not a monster!" I protested.

"You're planning to leave with him. Why? What's possibly out there for you? You're human, Nichole! How long have you been planning this? When did you decide you were going to go on some space adventure with a fucking alien?"

Teeth grinding, I shoved him away from me. "Don't talk about him like that."

"Christ, Nichole. Are you like, in love with him or something? Cuz I mean—"

"What?" I almost shrieked. I managed to keep my voice down and hissed, "What the fuck kind of question is that, Devon? What the actual fuck is that?"

He waved his hand in the general direction Wolf had gone. "I'm seriously asking!"

"No, Devon! I am not."

"Then what is it?"

Groaning, I tried again to head out and he stopped me before I made it even three steps.

"Devon! Let's go! The longer we sit here talking about this bullshit, trying to make you feel better, the higher the chances are that these things get situated and start spawning a queen!"

"Please, Nichole," he begging, causing me to pause. "I thought I knew you but obviously I don't, so tell me. Tell me why you would consider something like running off with a human-killing alien."

"Can we talk about this another time, Devon?"

"When? You're planning to leave for space after we're done here. There won't be another time!" he pointed out.

I shook my head and chewed on my lip for a moment, unable to meet his gaze. After taking a deep breath, I locked eyes with him again and said, "I never would have gotten off that ship without him. But he didn't coddle me, he didn't carry me all the way home. He gave me a way to help myself. He showed me I was better than I thought I was."

Devon searched my face but remained silent when I paused.

"I died on that ship, Devon. It destroyed everything I was going to be, everything that might have been," I continued, holding back tears. I rubbed my face. "My hopes for a normal life. College, a family . . . all my friends, dead. We weren't sure if I'd ever be able to walk again, and even if I could I wasn't going to play soccer anymore."

He glanced down, pursing his lips into a thin line. For a moment I thought he was trying to find something to say, but still, he was quiet.

"No one at school would talk to me. The teachers treated me like a porcelain doll, ready to break apart at the drop of a dime. My sister hated me—still hates me, probably—because she knew it wasn't terrorists, but I couldn't tell anyone the truth. I'd wake up to my mom crying next to my bed, telling me I was screaming in my sleep and she didn't know how to help.

"And yet, despite all of that, despite the fact that I was broken and no one dared touch me, dared to be the thing that finally made me snap, he came back. I was crippled, in every way imaginable, but he still came for me. He offered me—a place."

"So why didn't go with him then?" he asked, voice low.

Somehow I'd managed to keep my composure, though red-faced and bleary-eyed. I wiped my tears on the back of my hand and shrugged. "I was scared, terrified. Leave home? Yeah, I was miserable but I was safe. And god, I needed to be safe for a while. Just for a while."

"So you told him you'd think about it." I nodded and he asked, "Why are we here now, then?"

"The agents assigned to my case told me they found stragglers, xenomorphs, in those woods and they captured them. Even back then I could figure out that was a stupid idea."

He inferred, "You wanted to see them destroyed."

"Yeah, but it took a lot fucking longer than I thought it would to get a chance to do anything."

"But why?" he asked, hunching his shoulders.

I huffed and drew my fingers over the mark Wolf had given me. "I guess I felt like I had to. It would have eaten at me, knowing that the things responsible for the death of my friends and countless others were out there somewhere, waiting for their chance to get out, to start it all again. This mark he gave me, it means something in his culture. I didn't want . . . didn't want to sit on it, wondering if I'd really earned it or just got lucky."

His expression was unreadable as he studied me.

"Wondering," I added, "if he'd still think I was worthy of it. I wanted to be that person this . . . this warrior thought I was. The person he wanted on his team despite any disability I might have. I wasn't going to waste away sitting on my ass for the rest of my life, and I'll never be truly been free until they're all killed."

Again we stood locked in eye contact for a moment. I thought for a while that Devon was looking at me with sympathy, but it was gone so fast I figured I imagined it.

"Well, then I guess we better get to killing these things," he said at last.

It was almost enough to break my well-constructed poise, but before I could respond, a scream split the night behind us. We both whirled, staring at the diner we'd just left. All was dark inside, but after watching the windows, I was certain I saw movement within—a flicker of a shadow.

"Do you think it was Carrie?" Devon asked.

My answer was a quick dash to the door. The majority of my stamina had returned, energy renewed and legs rested enough to carry my weight again. However, Carrie had already locked the door behind us and I couldn't force it open.

I stepped back and braced myself, but Devon grabbed me and yanked me away. "Didn't you learn not to kick doors already?" he chided me.

"I wasn't going to—!"

"Doesn't matter what you were going to do, the door opens outward, not inward. Give me your sidearm, mine's empty," he demanded. Once my weapon was in his hands, he shot the hinges until he was able to swing the door open and I rushed inside, my blade in hand.

"Where's Carrie?" Devon demanded.

"Check the back!" I snapped.

My partner pulled ahead of me and I followed after him. He burst through the swinging doors and I pulled them out of my way, almost crashing into him when he stopped short.

"Devon—move!"

"Nichole . . . what is . . . ?"

I froze in place, eyes wide.

The Hybrid was there, pinning a helpless Carrie against the dishwasher. I'd come in expecting nothing short of a bloodbath. Instead, I found it holding her in a demonic embrace, its face latched to hers in a hellish rendering of a facehugger attack—thin, membranous mandibles flared against her cheeks. Her throat bulged as several large intrusions made their way down.

It was as if the very blood in my veins had frozen. I could do nothing but stand there, unable to look away and unable to move. Devon was as shocked into inaction as I was, neither of us certain about what we were looking at.

Uncertain that it was even real.

Everything was over in a few seconds. The Hybrid withdrew from Carrie, leaving her unconscious and covered in mucus. It turned its flat, oblong head toward us and snarled, standing at full height.

Devon recovered before I could and opened fire. A hail of bullets pummeled the creature's torso and it retreated out the back. In its wake, it left behind the echoes of gunfire fading into a stunned silence shared between Devon and me.

He exhaled sharply and I flinched at the sudden noise, my arms going limp at my sides. I held my blade loosely, the tip scraping the ground by my feet.

"It . . . it. . . ." Words failed me as I tried to digest what I'd just witnessed.

Then Devon was at Carrie's side, his finger against her neck to check for a pulse. "She's alive and breathing. But what was it . . . did that thing just . . . ?"

I shuffled over to his side, standing at his shoulder. "Yeah. I, I think it might have."

Neither of us wanted to say the word.

Impregnated.

"There were so many," Devon marveled, his covering his mouth in shock and disgust.

We were silent for a time, then I slowly lifted my sword, adjusting my grip. Devon stood and pushed my arm back down, his expression stern. "What are you doing?"

"You know what I'm doing, or else you wouldn't have stopped me."

"Nichole—" he glanced from me to Carrie, still out like a light. Who knew how long she'd be like that. "There's gotta be something, I mean . . . this early in, we could—"

"Could do what?"

"I don't know, but—"

There was no emotion behind my words, I couldn't summon the right ones. I tore my eyes away from Carrie and set my free hand on Devon's shoulder. "We can't take her to the hospital. They wouldn't know what to look for and even if we told them, there's nothing they could do."

"Then we can call Hassan, have him come and do something. Bring our own medical team, have her airlifted," he said, reaching for anything.

"That would take hours. Remember how long it took us to get here? She doesn't have that time."

"We can't just—Nichole you can't possibly—"

I grimaced and squeezed his shoulder. When I spoke, my voice was low. "We're not going to be able to save everyone this time, Devon."

He chewed on my words, then wiped his mouth and nodded, pacing in a small circle with one hand on his hip. I let him, watching him with a detached, forced apathy. Finally, I said, "You can go outside. I'll . . . I'll deal with Carrie."

Devon stopped short and rushed me, grabbing my shoulders. "No, no, no."

"What?" There was nothing in my voice. I couldn't summon any sort of emotion. Not when this scene was so familiar to me. My friends' voices echoed in the back of my head, faint but present. Michelle and her boyfriend, begging. The cop deciding that it had to be done.

The muffled sound of gunfire as he took their lives, and then his own. My free hand balled into a fist. It was my turn. I knew what had to be done, even if Devon didn't want to admit it.

"We do things together," he said, shaking me once. "I don't care what it is, you're not 'dealing with' any of this alone."

"Devon I can—"

"I know you can," he interjected. "But you shouldn't."

Turning to him, I said, "So you'll just stand there and watch me do it?"

"I've got the gun, I'll do it."

"Are you ready to shoot an innocent, pregnant woman in the head, Devon?" I asked.

Am I?

Echoing my thoughts, Devon snapped back with. "Are ready to stab an innocent pregnant woman?"

` My expression faltered and I shifted my gaze toward Carrie. "If we don't, Devon, she's going to wake up wondering what the hell had happened. She's not going to have any answers, and she probably won't even know she's carrying alien spawn. Then the pain's going to start, and then the coughing, and then she's going to die terrified. We have to put her down, Devon."

"Don't . . . . Don't say it like that," he growled through clenched teeth.

I closed my eyes. When I did, I saw Michelle and Jake clutching at each other. It had been too late for Jess; I'd dragged her death out needlessly.

Not this time.

Not ever again.

Every moment we wasted arguing—every moment he wasted arguing, the more likely she'd wake up. Then it would be even harder to do what was needed. I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath. Wolf would have already done it. Wolf would have already moved on.

Wolf kills humans all the time, I reminded myself. It wasn't supposed to be easy. Not for me, not for Devon. But I had to somehow make it easy.

How simple had it been for that police officer to shoot my friends and himself?

I opened my eyes, exhaled, and stole back my gun from Devon. He barked a protest, but I turned the barrel toward Carrie and fired once, twice. My jaw was so tight it hurt, and a shudder wracked my ribcage with each blow.

Devon stared at me, flabbergasted, and I set the gun on the counter. I struggled to free the extra clip I carried and set it down, as well.

"There. It's done," I remarked, giving him one last look before leaving out the back.

A body lay by the exit, wearing a chef's apron. Cold air blasted me in the face as I shoved open the door; a bulb from above bathed me in some light.

Vision blurry, I staggered into the night air and attached my blade to its strap. My head throbbed once and I bent over, my hands on my knees. Counting to ten didn't work. Taking deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth didn't work. Heat spread throughout my body despite the cold and eyes refused to focus on anything.

My legs wouldn't support my weight anymore. I lowered myself down to the pavement and clenched my eyes shut, holding back tears and gagging myself with repressed sobs.

The memory of gunfire whispered in my head, reverberating in my skull. Voices I thought I'd forgotten haunted me. The familiar taste of panic and fear soiled my tongue, bringing bile to rise in the back of my throat.

" You didn't let me say goodbye!"

" I'm sorry. It'll be quick."

Two shots, Michelle and Jake piled together on the floor. A third and the cop fell soon after, then I was left alone in the darkness.

I pressed my hands against the side of my head and took in noisy breath after noisy breath through clenched teeth. When I opened my eyes, the monsters of my past weren't there. Somehow I managed to stand and straighten my spine. I gulped down air and looked around, distracting myself with angry thoughts.

Should have checked for danger.

Should have told her to go home.

Shouldn't have kept her late.

It should have been easier. It has to be easier.

Of all the things, I thought back to the scientist, Mindy. I pictured her immolated corpse in the lab and closed my eyes again, trying to drive the images away—the long list of things I'd done so far to mark me for what I was becoming in Devon's eyes.

Just like Wolf. Just like their kind.

A monster.

Chapter Text

Something touched my shoulder and I whirled around in surprise, nearly falling over. Devon gathered me in his hands, murmuring quietly, and held me until the tension drained from my limbs and I calmed down. He was looking at me with a grim expression, his lips pursed into a thin line.

My face was wet with tears I hadn't noticed. I brushed them away on my shoulder and opened my mouth to say something, but Devon pinned me against his chest, his arms wrapped around me.

I stayed there, shocked but comforted by his warmth.

"I'm sorry I made you do that," he whispered.

All I could do was shake my head, not trusting my voice. I was rigid against him, then allowed myself to relax and I slipped my arms around him. I'd forgotten how it felt to be comforted, how healing a simple hug could be.

Devon held me as long as I let him, but I couldn't waste any more time. If there was anything I was good at, it was self-soothing, and the best way for me to do that was to be active.

"There's a Dairy Queen over there," Devon said suddenly.

As his non-sequitur registered in my brain, I furrowed my brow and stared at him.

"What?" I asked, feeling dumb.

"Yeah, a Dairy Queen. Want to see if it's still open?"

He couldn't be serious. The thought alone that someone could be inside a fucking Dairy Queen buying a three dollar ice cream cone while I was outside chopping up aliens and killing a pregnant woman was ludicrous to me.

"What? No—no! We have to tell Wolf about this. He has to know they can breed."

"Right, gotta go find your boyfriend," he sniffed.

I smacked him for good measure and he rubbed the spot before saying, "Afterwards, then."

"Devon . . . ."

"Afterwards," he stressed.

Sighing, I dropped the subject and we gathered our bearings. Though we were a bit turned around, after finding the street, we were able to figure out where we were. It took another few minutes to return to where we'd parted from Wolf and could head off in the direction we remembered him going.

After I'd sorted through my feelings and shoved this whole thing deep within the vault for compartmentalizing, I looked up at Devon who was a pace or two ahead of me.

"Thanks, Devon," I murmured. He looked at me from the corner of his eyes, then smiled.

"How're we gonna find your boy?"

I elected to ignore Devon's bait and said, "He went this way," indicating in the direction we were already walking.

"Okay great," he huffed, trudging along the sidewalk. "But we're gonna need a little bit more to go on than a direction. The guy's invisible. Can't just spot him in a crowd, though lord knows he'd stick out like a sore thumb."

Rolling my eyes, I jogged to catch up and walk next to him. It was the only lead we had, and we weren't going to get anywhere speculating. Being parted from Wolf, with xenos lurking about, left me anxious and feeling vulnerable.

"We need a plan, Nichole," Devon whined.

"Got one," I chirped. "Find Wolf."

"Brilliant. Wish I'd thought of it."

"Shut up, Devon."

Gunnison wasn't a huge town, but it would still take some time to find Wolf. We didn't make it far, though, until Devon dug in his heels and brought us to a halt. I rounded on him, ready to tear him a new asshole, but he pointed to a group of boys, teenagers, loitering in a store parking lot across the street. "What could they be up to this time of the night?" he said.

I shook my head, jaw tightening. "I don't know but they're not going to be out here for long."

Devon made a motion with his arms, but I was already marching toward the boys. A lecture was forming in my mind; teenage boys were hard-headed and combative, but I would convince them to go home, to go lock themselves in their house where they'd be safe.

It was what they needed.

It was what we had needed, all those years ago. When we'd decided to run off into the woods after mystery and adventure. Just one person telling us how stupid we were and it all would have been so different. One person to catch us in the act.

Maybe the police barrier and school assembly hadn't been enough, but if those cops had spotted us before we made it past them . . . . Just like my sister, we would have been okay.

Well, no use dwelling on the past.

"Hey! Boys!" I shouted once I was in earshot.

They turned at my voice and immediately squared their shoulders, their faces plastered with cocky grins—ripe for slapping off.

"Who're you?" one demanded, more muscle than brain. He was clearly the one in charge, and his two friends stood at his flanks. Only one was wearing a jacket, and I would never understand why most men refused to wear something warm when it was cold out. Devon was bundled up, but he was a special case.

Both of us presented our credentials and gave the three a few seconds to drink it in. "Agent Shain and Hart, FBI. You kids have any idea what time it is?" I said, tucking my badge back into my coat pocket and making eye contact with all of them.

"Why? There's no curfew," the ringleader pointed out.

"There is now. Go home and stay there," I commanded, forcing any last ounce of authority into my tone. "It's dangerous here right now."

All three shared glances and laughed. "Dangerous? Dangerous how?"

It was Devon who answered the short one's question. "We're not at liberty to discuss the specifics, but we have belief, beyond a reasonable doubt, that there's something out here. We've found almost five bodies so far, so please go home."

That seemed to be enough to diffuse some of their bravadoes. The leader uncrossed his arms and said, "Woah, what? Really? Five bodies?"

"Who?" his jacketed friend asked.

I met Devon's eyes and shrugged. He took that as the go ahead and answered. "A couple homeless people by the sewers. The waitress and cook from that diner a few blocks away, too."

They stiffened and one asked, "Which waitress?"

Again Devon deferred to my judgment. I clenched my fists and dropped my gaze. I didn't speak, but her name seared my tongue.

Carrie.

After a moment, Devon picked up my slack. "She uh, well, it was the one . . . ."

The boys sensed our unease and correctly surmised the reason. They shared significant glances with each other and groaned. "It was Carrie, wasn't it? She was pregnant?"

Our silence spoke volumes.

"Holy shit, no way."

"Who would kill a pregnant woman?"

My face burned and my nails dug into my palms. The shots I'd fired replayed in the back of my head. I could see her body jerk with each bullet.

Me.

I would.

"You have to tell us more!" one of the boys demanded.

Their leader concurred. "Yeah, we can help hunt the guy down. They can't be anyone from town, right? A visitor?"

"We can't talk about it, and no way in hell are we going to contract teenagers to work with us," Devon scoffed. "We'd get kicked out for sure."

"Just go home," I ordered; there was no fight in my tone.

But they were adamant. They insisted, almost to the point of shaking Devon until he allowed them to come along. They wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise.

"Just give us a clue! We can't let this baby killer get away!" the leader demanded.

Just when I thought I was going to lose it, Devon grabbed my elbow in a gentle grip and snapped at the three teens. "Go home, boys! Now!"

Though they hesitated at his severity, they kicked up the complaints tenfold.

Patience worn out, Devon raised his voice more. "If you don't get in your cars and drive home right now, I'll put all of you under arrest!"

When the two smaller ones were about to protest, The ringleader put his hands up in surrender.

They glanced at him but backed down like the good lackeys they were. He said, "Alright dude, whatever. We'll leave."

I glowered as they climbed into their cars and drove off. The ringleader, as I could have guessed, hopped into the truck while the other two shared a smaller sedan. Their tires squealed as they peeled out, and we watched them head out into the night and turn a corner.

Once they were gone, Devon leaned in to speak to me. "Relax. You're fine. They're just a bunch of idiot kids who found out someone they knew was dead."

Lips pressed into a thin line, I brought my eyes up to meet his. They were burning, but I was better at keeping my emotions in check. Most of the time. I shrugged and folded my arms over my chest and said, "They're right, though. Only awful people kill pregnant women."

"You're not awful. That was a mercy killing, you said so yourself. She was as good as dead in a few hours, and it wouldn't have been pleasant," he crooned, hand on my shoulder.

"Yeah."

Funny. That's not what you were saying earlier.

"So, don't sweat it. If they knew the truth, they would understand."

Unconvinced, I said, "Maybe."

"Didn't you?" he retorted.

I looked up at him sharply, brow furrowed in confusion. He gave me a reassuring smile. "You told me once before, about your friends."

"Oh . . . ."

Jess, coughing and wheezing. Clawing at her chest, crying about the pain. The blood—so much blood—

"Yes, I understood," I murmured.

"It was very unfortunate that she was . . . with child, but you did what you had to."

"Sure. Can we go? And don't say 'with child' ever again."

He pursed his lips and glanced over his shoulder, chuckling dryly. "Yeah okay. But you know that they're not going to go home, right?"

Of course I knew, but I had to try and believe.

He gave my shoulder a reassuring pat, but it didn't help. We'd given it our best. The only hope they had now was the seed we'd planted. Maybe, just maybe, if they kept the thought of danger in the back of their minds, they'd be somewhat prepared.

You weren't.

I had to tell myself something. Anything to keep the worry and guilt from gnawing at me. I had to focus—those teens were on their own.

"So . . . what do you want to do?" he asked, trying to be nonchalant.

"We gotta find Wolf," I muttered. As if he'd needed to ask.

He must have noticed the uncertainty in my expression because he gave me a reassuring smile and said, "We can go after them, too. I mean, they were in a car but we're the FBI. We can just get one and go find out where they went. Should be easy to spot their cars."

Anything to keep me away from Wolf, right Devon?

It sounded all well and good, but Wolf was still out there somewhere, and we didn't know for sure where the teenagers had wandered off to or if they hadn't actually gone home. That was an awful large body count we'd heaped on them.

Wolf was on his own, fighting a growing hoard of those awful creatures by himself and I wanted nothing more than to find him and help him clean up the mess I'd been part of.

Especially since he didn't know they could breed.

"C'mon," Devon said, trying to lead me across the street to a sitting car. "I'm sure we can figure out this hotwiring nonsense. How hard can it be? Pop out a panel, cross some wires, bam. We got ourselves a car."

Yup, anything to keep me from finding my alien. Though, that wasn't a bad idea anyway. We would cover more ground in a vehicle than on foot. Ignoring the bitterness seeping into my mind, I pulled away from his grip and said, "That sounds like a terrible idea."

"Which part?"

"The whole letting-you-near-electrical-components-in-a-car part."

He snorted. "Well, fine. I'm sure we can find someone driving around and just take theirs."

All around us, the city went black as pitch and anything I was about to say died in my throat. Streetlights, buildings, intersections, housing—all dark within the blink of an eye.

I was plunged into a darkness so absolute, my eyes didn't have time to adjust. I went rigid next to Devon, my breath hitching in my chest, and I grabbed his arm to make sure he didn't go anywhere. My heart stuttered and any coherent thoughts fled from the encroaching void. I was frozen until Devon's voice cut through my fear and pulled me back.

"Well, what the hell did that?" he scoffed, squeezing my hand to assure me.

Though my knees shook and hands trembled, I pushed it all away into the recesses of my mind and worked through it with a few deep breaths. "I'll give you one guess," I said.

Devon groaned audibly. "The whole city, though?"

"There has to be a power plant somewhere nearby, I'll bet he's there."

I grabbed Devon's arm and dragged him along for two blocks until I found what I was looking for—a group of people on the street stopped to talk about what had happened.

"Nichole, what are you gonna do?"

"Don't you know?" I said. "It was your idea."

Before he could respond, I let go of his arm and engaged the closest person: a woman standing next to her bronze hatchback. I whipped out my badge and held it up as I shouted, "Ma'am, FBI. I'm commandeering your vehicle for official business."

Her stare was wide-eyed and her jaw bobbed in surprise.

My partner hissed in my ear. "Nichole, we can't actually do this."

"These badges say otherwise," I muttered in response. Louder, I addressed the woman. "Is your car functioning and does it have gas?"

Finally, she managed to condense a response. "What? Yes. I mean . . . half a tank?"

"Perfect. We'll return it to you later, you have my word," I said, gently moving her aside and hopping in the driver seat. "Can you tell me where the power plant is?"

Devon pointed above the buildings to the distance. "I'll bet it's that way."

I followed his gaze to a glow on the horizon outlining the trees and hillside with an orange halo.

"Ma'am," I snapped. "Which road do I take?"

She gave me brief directions to the outskirts of town. I circled around to the front but Devon grabbed me and held me in place, saying, "Nichole, you don't drive. What are you doing?"

Shrugging out of his grasp, I pushed Devon out of my way and explained, "I don't drive but I can drive. They taught me in Quantico. They taught all of us in Quantico. So just get in and buckle up."

He studied me for a second, then gave up and climbed into the passenger side seat. I had the gist of where to go, so once Devon was seated, I backed out of the circle of civilians and tore off toward the fire. Devon barely had enough time to close the door before it was taken off by a mailbox.

"Woah, Nichole, relax!"

"I am relaxed," I said, my jaw tight and teeth grinding.

He buckled his seatbelt and shot me a glare. "You have no intention of returning this woman's car, do you?"

"Does it matter?"

With a huff, Devon crossed his arms and slouched in his seat to pout. "You may not have to worry about living on Earth after all this, but someone's gonna have to pay for this lady's car when you wreck it or something mowing down aliens."

I rolled my eyes. "I wouldn't do that, their innards are acidic and would eat this car alive."

"This isn't very practical. And she lied. This car only has a quarter of a tank."

"Now you're the one that needs to relax, Devon," I said.

Though my thoughts briefly settled on the three teenagers, I quickly forgot about them. Wolf could be in danger. Somehow I doubted it, but the idea was still there. If it came down to Wolf or a stranger, I'd always pick Wolf. My future was with him, not with the town or those living within it. It wasn't even with the FBI after all this.

What about with Devon?

My fingers tightened on the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. I wasn't sure where the thought came from. Yes, I'd been considering trying to convince Devon to come with me. The thought of having at least one other human to commiserate with while out in the cosmos was appealing. Besides, Devon was my only friend, the only person I trusted. He'd helped me through so much and was an asset in any situation. I wanted to keep the dream team together.

However, the stray thought wasn't about that. It had more implications behind it, implications I didn't want to consider or think about. It didn't seem to matter, anyway. He'd already been abundantly clear that he held nothing but disdain for this choice I'd made.

The angry silence spanned between us but grew increasingly more awkward. Neither of us could stay irritated at the other long, nor did we want to be the first to break it. So we sat quietly, pretending to stew and brood.

I decided to be the bigger person and spoke first.

"I'm sorry, Devon," I started with a sigh. "I just need to get to Wolf. The best chance this city has is if we can help Wolf clear the infestation."

"Sure," he replied, trying to sound blasé. Instead, he came off as mopey. A moment later he said, "You don't have to lie, Nichole." There was no accusation in his tone, no anger. He was trying to open a dialogue. I appreciated it but still played dumb.

"Lie about what?"

"About why you want to go after him," he said.

"And what do you think is my reason?"

Devon sighed, "You're worried about him."

Rolling my eyes I shot back, "I'm worried about a lot of stuff. You know that's my thing."

"Is it, though?" came his retort. "I mean you can be kind of squirrely sometimes, but I've never seen you this worried before. Scared, maybe."

"I don't get scared!"

Even without looking I could feel his incredulous stare burning into the side of my face. When I made it clear I wasn't going to look at him, he finally spoke. "You hide it well, Nichole, but I've been hanging out with you long enough to know what you look like when you're scared."

"Is there a point to this, Devon? Because I would love to know where you're going with it."

He was silent for a long time, then turned away to look out of his window. "Nowhere, I guess. I just . . . you had this whole thing going. Been . . . keeping this huge secret from me. All this time. I'm a little, uh, a little hurt, I guess."

I loosened my grip on the steering wheel and exhaled all my leftover frustration before speaking. "I'm sorry about that, I really am. But it's not like I could tell you I was an alien sympathizer, you know."

"Yeah, I guess not." There was some doubt there, wavering within his voice.

"I'm sorry I kept it from you, up until he was trying to choke you to death," I said with some reluctance, glancing at him. "I should have known I could trust you."

Though he said nothing, he shifted a little taller in his seat, some of his pride returning. Devon said nothing for another few minutes, just bathing in my apology. It was starting to grind on my nerves.

Chapter Text

"It's just the one alien, right?" Devon asked after a few minutes of driving.

I glanced at him and turned onto the road that the lady had told me about. "What?"

"That you sympathize with."

Smiling, I managed to force out a terse snicker. "Yes, Devon. It's just the one alien. And Jailbreak. So, I guess two aliens. I'm not fond of any of the other species I've run into."

He smirked. "Yeah, I'm finding myself not very fond of them, either."

A flicker of movement caught my attention from the corner of my eye and I slammed on the breaks just in time as a lithe form landed on the hood. The car jerked and skittered, and the engine sputtered from the weight of the alien. The front of the vehicle dipped forward—between that and the breaks, our tiny hatchback nearly flipped end over end before its back tires fell back to the earth.

The ink-black alien perched on the hood turned its head toward us and bared its fangs, but otherwise left us alone and hopped off the car. Silently, it disappeared into the woods in the direction of town; the car rocked as it did, tossing us around the cab like dolls. I hadn't put on my belt, but the airbag had deployed and softened some of the blow. My arms hurt like hell from bracing myself and being pummeled by the airbag, though. That was definitely something I was going to feel later.

Hell, it was something I was feeling right then.

However, Devon wasn't so lucky. He had his seatbelt on, but no passenger airbag had deployed. Either the car didn't have one or it had malfunctioned.

"What we hit?" he moaned. He was leaning back in his seat, his eyes closed and a hand to his head. I could barely hear him over the blaring horn, and I cut the engine to stop it. The small amount of light from the car's headlights shone in the blood trickling down his face.

"One of the xenomorphs, I think. Are you okay?" I coughed. For some reason, I couldn't quite catch my breath. I must have inhaled the dust from the bags.

His brow was bleeding, and it seemed like he was having trouble focusing; he kept blinking and squinting. I took a sharp breath and looked through the dashboard but remembered that the alien had gone. Devon said, "I . . . I think I'm okay, yeah. Just a little . . . groggy . . . ."

Glaring into the forest, I left Devon where he sat, saying, "Hang tight, I'll be right back," and climbed out, my hand on the hilt of my blade. I was going to be ready if that thing came back.

Something did come out from between the trees—but I recognized Wolf immediately and sighed in relief. He stopped short and trilled in greeting, his head cocked to the side. Behind him, the glow from the burning power plant stood out against the night sky. Contrasting the dark storm clouds, black and gray smoke billowed from the raging fires in the distance.

"I leave you alone for fifteen minutes and you blow up a power plant?" I remarked.

Wolf harrumphed and motioned toward the vehicle and my chest, babbling something in return. I pulled a face and gingerly touched where he'd pointed, wincing. I hated and appreciated the fact that he could see every injury—not that I could easily hide wounds or the wheeze in my voice, anyway.

Still, I huffed at his retort. "This was those stupid parasites' fault, not mine."

Growling, he waved his hand at the distant fire and played back the recording of my voice; "This was those stupid parasites' fault, not mine."

"Alright, touché," I muttered.

"Hey," Devon slurred from inside the car. "I think I'm stuck in here. My door won't open."

"Devon!" I gasped, turning and jogging back to the totaled hatchback. I'd left my door open and I flung myself back inside. "How's your head? I'm sorry, the xeno must have been running from Wolf."

"Well, he's a scary guy," Devon said.

"You're bleeding," I pointed out.

He hummed and grimaced. "Head hurts. Smacked it against the window."

Still inside, I turned to ask Wolf for help only to find him missing. A couple of seconds into looking for him, the car door on Devon's side was wrenched from its moorings and then tossed aside like scrap. Wolf yanked Devon's belt out of the panel and my partner nearly tumbled out. However, Wolf grabbed him and stood him upright.

"Careful!" I said, hurrying around to the other side of the car, using it to keep myself upright.

Wolf passed him to me with a dismissive rattle.

"He'll be okay?" I asked. His response was the same rattle, repeated with more emphasis, and I sighed with relief. "Hear that, Devon? You're gonna live."

My partner rubbed the side of his head and glanced at his bloodied fingers. "Woo-hoo."

I smiled and pat his back reassuringly, ignoring Wolf as he wiped his hand on my shoulder again. Then, without warning, he turned and headed back into the forest in pursuit of the xenomorph. He stopped just long enough to look back at us, making it clear that he expected us to follow.

Once more, I found myself dreading the coming hike. It hadn't been that long of a drive, but that was still going to translate into one hell of a walk back into town.

It'll toughen you up, I told myself.

"Let's go, Devon," I bade, gently leading my partner on. "He's on the trail."

"That lady's gonna be so disappointed," Devon lamented, his gaze cast toward the car. "And we're gonna have to pay for that later."

I took his hand and tugged him onward. "It'll be fine."

"For you, maybe," he muttered. "You're skipping town."

"Yeah, yeah."

We hadn't driven far from Gunnison when the alien had totaled our vehicle and the subsequent adrenaline of that carried us after Wolf. It amazed me when I stopped to think about it. Even after being out as long as we had been—maybe a little shorter, since his travel was likely uneventful—he pushed on with seemingly limitless energy. No breaks or food, on the hunt for hours and hours on end. We'd been running on fumes after half a day of constant moving.

Devon was right, he was practically a machine—but he could apparently still bleed!

The dark made it easy to notice the bright, almost fluorescent green blood trailing from Wolf's hip down his leg. It drew my eye, nearly making me lose my footing on the uneven ground. I'd been so concerned about Devon that I hadn't stopped to consider that Wolf might also be hurt.

"Wolf—Wolf!"

He chittered an acknowledgment at me but didn't stop his relentless march toward town.

Growling, I put on a burst of speed to catch up with him, though it meant leaving Devon behind by a few paces. He was starting to find his second wind, though, and his gait had evened out some, which was more than I could say about myself. I pulled out in front of Wolf to take a better look at his wound.

"Oh my god. Wolf, you gotta treat that."

It looked like his side had been pierced by something wide, all the way through to the back. The puncture bled from both ends and showed no sign of stopping. I reached out as if to touch it, but thought better of it and withdrew my hand.

Wolf didn't slow, but he did glance down at the wound. He chattered away my concerns.

"Are you sure? You're not even a little bit worried?"

He shook his head once and waved me off.

Though I didn't quite believe he was going to be okay, I fell back to check on Devon all the same. My partner was still plodding along and gave me the thumbs up when he caught me looking. We weren't quite sprinting, the woods wouldn't allow it, but we were still making good time.

He's not even limping or anything, I thought to myself as I watched Wolf's back. How was I supposed to keep up with that? Does he even feel pain?

At the edge of the woods, we heard screams echoing through the trees and we stopped. They were faint, as if deep in the woods. We waited to see if they moved closer, but instead, the shouting receded, heading toward the power plant for some reason. When I listened closer, the sound of sirens wafted over on the wind. Responding, likely, to the fire.

Those were the shouts of someone who was being pursued. The fading cries took a sudden shift, replaced by the voices of my friends as we sprinted through the National Park, praying and hoping we made it to the police before we were caught.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I inhaled my way into a coughing fit, my lungs already strained from the jog and the crash. It had definitely been that airbag.

I reached for Devon as Wolf resumed his own hunt, deciding not to investigate.

"Keep up, please," I said.

This time, I wasn't leaving anyone behind. I wasn't abandoning anyone.

Jess' betrayed look pierced me through the heart and I had to suppress the desire to take Devon's hand. I wasn't going to let it go like I'd let her go.

Not long after that, the trail brought us to a high school offshoot building. Wolf melted into thin air and we slowed to a walk, favoring stealth over speed. As we came around a corner to the front of the building, something was waiting for us there: there were cars parked in the front of the pool house, their headlights shining into the building.

Devon and I had a pretty good idea to whom they belonged. We said nothing, sharing a significant look, then elected to sneak along the side of the building.

"Fuck," Devon muttered as we passed by the giant truck. "We told them—we told them!"

"Shh," I hissed without looking at him.

The headlights didn't quite pierce all the way into the building, but I could still see something shifting around inside. I edged over to pull the door open for Wolf, even though I was sure he'd know how to work it. I just didn't want to risk him jumping through the glass or something equally dumb.

Stupid macho alien.

The air shimmered as he passed through the threshold, then I lost him to the dark building.

Once my eyes adjusted, I stopped cold only a few feet into the building. Devon bumped into me but had the presence of mind not to say anything while a xenomorph was crouched nearby, hunched over a bloodied and limp body. It kept striking with its second jaw, unaware of the three of us. That was something I hadn't seen before—a xenomorph mutilating one of its kills.

I caught Devon's eyes and he mouthed the words "What the fuck is it doing?" to me with exaggerated enunciation. All I could do was shrug: these things were still mostly a mystery to me. All I knew was that they killed stuff and ruined lives.

Movement drew my eye to the pool where another body bobbed and floated. A dark patch of pool water spread from the corpse—blood from a fatal wound. It was a clean enough kill that I could still recognize the jacket that the short teenager had been wearing. One of the three boys that we'd sent home less than an hour ago. One of the three boys we'd worried about not going home.

Not my fault. Not our fault, I reminded myself. We told them. We warned them. They did it anyway.

Words that I'd said to Devon not long before surfaced amidst the rest of my self-loathing—"We're not going to be able to save everyone this time, Devon."

Devon had gone pale next to me and I sympathized with his aghast expression, but there wasn't much time for me to feel much of anything since Wolf was largely unaffected. I stumbled slightly when he suddenly nudged me, fear striking me when I realized that he was urging me toward the alien. However, I figured out pretty quickly what he wanted.

He wanted me to kill the thing.

Taking a deep breath, I drew my weapon and skirted toward the unsuspecting alien so it didn't see me approach. We'd been staying largely at its flank, hugging the wall behind it. It didn't notice me sidle up behind it and it didn't know what hit it when I drove my blade deep into its head. It froze, then slumped over when I pulled the weapon free.

More than anything, that simple act of stealing away the awful creature's miserable and unnatural life was the most cathartic feeling. I drew a decent amount of satisfaction from the wet slap of its body against the damp tile. It was a small sentiment. A tiny, cold revenge that gave me some breathing room. I couldn't even stop the triumphant and proud smile that I wore, glancing over at Wolf for validation.

Wolf removed his cloak and chittered his praise, patting my head as he walked over. I backed away from the acid pooling under the dead alien and Wolf grabbed its tail, yanking it into the water with the other boy.

The other casualty. Suddenly, my triumph felt hollow and weak, especially when I remembered that it had been an unsuspecting target. Part of me wondered where the honor was in that, but I had to remind myself that this wasn't a hunt for honor or glory. We were cleaning up a mess and that was it.

A mess that just kept getting messier.

He returned to grab the half-eaten kid by the back of his shirt and tossed him in the chlorinated water, as well; only the xenomorph sank.

Something inside me pulled taut as I watched those kids float—a hair-thin thread. If it pulled any tighter, it would snap. I clenched my fists and took a deep breath, counting to ten, while Wolf poured more of that devouring blue liquid into the bloody water. He was so nonchalant about it. Business as usual. Death was a part of our life now. I couldn't let myself be bogged down by every loss, by every kill.

So why was my chest so tight? Why were tears burning in the back of my eyes as I watched those two teenagers boil out of existence at the bottom of a high school pool? Why did Devon's despondent, glazed expression threaten to push me over the edge with guilt?

Closing my eyes, I took one last deep breath. Wolf thought I was doing well. He'd even, I'm pretty sure, praised me back there. That was what mattered.

Be like Wolf. Unfettered and strong. You can do it.

Opening my eyes, I walked toward Wolf and asked, "What's next?"

Wolf glanced at me, then took stock of the immediate area. The pool had turned into a volatile cauldron, the water bubbling violently and creating a noxious mist of vapor that swirled at our feet. Whatever the chemical was that Wolf used to dissolve evidence into nothing, it didn't seem to mix well with the shit they used to keep the pool clean. In a matter of seconds, Devon and I were coughing. The mist made my eyes water, but I didn't dare rub at them. Wolf grumbled to himself and took me by the arm and pulled me down a hallway. He stopped long enough to make sure Devon was following, then let go of me.

"Thanks," I murmured between mild wheezes. If I'd been having trouble breathing before, now it was ten times worse.

The big guy huffed in response—not unkindly.

Devon sulked behind me, and I didn't blame him. In the few years we'd been together, we'd never suffered casualties like this. Some idiot every now and again wound up dead from their own stupidity, but nothing like what the xenos did to people when they weren't capturing them for a hive. Not even I'd seen that until I stepped into the cockpit of that cargo plane. The only thing I'd borne witness to had been the aftermath of a chestburster. Not much of a buffer against a full-on massacre.

Wolf, however, was unencumbered by it all and I tried to mimic his stoic strength. Devon would move past it all eventually when he realized there was nothing we could have done short of going out of our way to follow and arrest those boys. As for my case . . . it was just another thing to stick in the vault.

Perhaps, if our timing had been right, we could have killed the drone before it managed to sink its claws into them. Maybe not. Maybe—

The maybes were endless. In the end, if I had to, I would go after Wolf again. I would have done the same thing for Devon, I was pretty sure. The two most important people in my life.

I had no one else.

We were following a trail of muddy blood that led us through the halls of the pool and into the locker room. I stopped short and Devon gasped behind me, taken surprise by yet another scene highlighting the xenomorph's brutal nature. The lockers were painted with the kid's blood, the bench before us slick with gore. A large splatter decorated the window above the lockers, which was cracked open.

He'd tried to escape through the window, that much I could surmise. The other one clearly had never made it out of the pool area. I briefly wondered if the screams we'd heard on the way down from the power plant were somehow related, but I couldn't dwell on that.

Devon had fallen silent and stood in the doorway, unmoving. Wolf was already inside, examining everything. Devon had his arm up over his face but was slowly lowering it. The color had drained from him. I wished I could share in his shock, but this was all becoming far too familiar for me. The look on his face was familiar, too. It was one I'd stared at in the mirror, seen reflected back many times. Grief, anger, and a malaise that had him turning green.

When he noticed me looking, contempt flashed across his features and took me by surprise.

Wolf checked for anyone—or thing—else in the locker room, then turned to leave. Devon stepped aside so he could go by and I followed after the big guy, stopping to place my hand on my partner's shoulder to try and comfort him.

"Devon, I—"

"I can't talk right now, Nichole," he snapped, shrugging me off and spinning on his heel. My hand dropped to my side and my shoulders sagged as I watched him trudge after Wolf, my chest knotting painfully. I hadn't wanted any of this for Devon. Dealing with the xenomorphs wasn't something I would have wished on my worst enemy, let alone my best friend.

Chapter Text

We left the school and, after a short walk where Wolf seemed to be on the trail of something only he could see, a loud klaxon started up. My muscles went taught, but it wasn't the sound of police sirens bearing down on us. It was something else, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"Devon, is that . . . ?"

"They're evacuating," he confirmed, still sounding cross. "About time."

As if to prove his point, we soon heard distant shouts and the roar of engines as cars started. Wolf paused just long enough to consider his options. I knew that neither of us liked the idea of the infection spreading farther than the town, but I remained silent. After a moment's thought, he took a detour into a cemetery.

Brow furrowed, I followed after him and Devon reluctantly came with us as well.

Wolf staggered but continued as if nothing had happened. I was about to protest and demand he stop to treat the ugly wound in his side, but that prompting was not needed. He picked out a choice tree and jumped to a level branch about two stories up and sat down.

"Where can I learn how to do that?" Devon muttered, peering up the tree.

"Out in space, probably," I muttered under my breath, glad that he was at least making jokes again. Kind of. I knew, though, that I'd made a mistake as soon as the words were out and Devon jumped on it with an irate jab.

"So that's why you want to go," he harrumphed sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

I bit back my own retort knowing full well that I was being dealt back the same hand I always threw at Devon. He was projecting, taking all his guilt and anger out on me because I was a safe and easy target. I didn't it all the time to Devon and he deserved to have his own punching bag for a little bit.

Still, it was hard not to throw down with him over it. It didn't feel good being on the receiving end for the first time and I kind of wanted to hit him. I don't know how he's been able to put up with me all these years.

Wolf grumbled down at us, but I wasn't sure what he was saying. All I knew was that he sounded a bit smug as he pulled out his first aid kit to stop the bleeding.

Probably because we're fighting.

Though I sometimes forgot, Wolf had his limits, too. However high they were. We would have to wait and figure out what to do about the evacuation until he caught his breath and tended to himself.

"This is a bad idea," I intoned to no one in particular, looking around.

"What is?" Devon said, his tone flat.

Ignoring his attitude, I motioned toward the street and the direction the evacuation siren was coming from. "This. Getting all those people out of their homes. Drawing all of them into the open—it'll just lure those parasites from their holes in full force."

A light flickered in my mind and I stopped for a moment. There was something that I had to tell Wolf . . . what was it?

"Ah shit. You're probably right. But that's good for us, right? If those things are easy to find, we'll be able to kill them easier," Devon reasoned. "I mean, your buddy there has his big weapons, you've got your sword thing, and I—well, I guess I can pistol-whip 'em to death."

His humor was making a comeback, so that meant he was coping, at least. He was also bringing up a good point. For a moment, I even considered asking Wolf to give Devon something other than his small handgun, but I kept it to myself. It had been like pulling teeth to convince him to give me something.

He sort of kind of liked me at the time, too. He had made it clear how he felt about Devon.

We'd just have to find him something later. A place like Gunnison up in the mountains, it had to have some camping or hunting supply stores. Even Wal-Marts nowadays had a section like that in them. They had to have some knives or higher-gauge weapons lying around somewhere.

Sure, the knife would be good for only one shot, but it was better than nothing. We definitely needed more bullets, in any case.

If we could find the sheriff, he probably knew where to go or had arms back at his station . . . .

A man shouted to someone nearby and I went rigid, listening carefully. I couldn't quite make out the words, but shortly after, I thought I heard a familiar squeal. Before I could fully identify it, the noise was drowned out by the klaxon still blaring to the whole town.

"Shit, can't he fix himself up any faster?" Devon muttered, looking about as wound up as I felt.

I didn't answer, but I wanted to press on, as well. The short reprieve was welcome, but the monsters were out now and the storm was about to break; lightning flashed occasionally, bathing us in light, and thunder rumbled in the distance.

The numbers didn't quite add up in my head. How many were there running around now? There had been a handful in the sewers, one dead . . . . I had no way of knowing.

Gotta tell Wolf . . . what? About what?

Above us, Wolf muffled a howl and I shot him a disapproving look. "Rub some dirt in it, you'll be okay," I told him.

Wolf snorted and grumbled to himself. My idioms were lost on him again, but I didn't bother telling him I hadn't meant it literally. I had been concerned about the mysterious puncture, but now it seemed like it was more of an inconvenience. Even then, he'd lived through his spaceship crash-landing on Earth. The injury was probably nothing.

"How's your head?" I asked Devon.

He gingerly touched the cut above his eyebrow and winced. "Just got a headache, that's all." He shrugged. His civility in answering was a breath of fresh air.

It was then that I remembered. The stray thought hit me out of left field and I called up to Wolf, standing on one of the tree's roots to bring me just a little closer. "Wolf! Wolf that thing—the thing from the sewers."

Wolf was finishing with packing up his kit and looked down at me with his head cocked.

"Somehow it—Devon and I saw it impregnating someone," I explained, earning a surprised chuff from Wolf. "With . . . I don't know, three, maybe four, embryos. All in one shot."

Devon nodded. "That's right. Yeah, it was pretty nasty."

As if trying to digest what I'd told him, Wolf gave me a long and impassive look, holding still as a statue all the while. When he had nothing to say, I continued. "I don't know how many people it's impregnated, but we could be looking at a lot more of those . . . kiande amedha than we thought."

A few seconds after I said that, Devon started next to me and I whirled around, ready to fight off whatever had spooked him. However, he let out a noisy breath and shook his head, saying, "God damn—it's my phone."

"Jesus, Devon," I groaned.

Up in the tree, Wolf put his shoulder cannon back into resting position. My damn partner had almost gotten himself shot.

"It's Hassan," he announced.

I scoffed. "Well, don't answer it. He's probably just going to yell at you. That sheriff probably called the army or something and now Hassan's mad."

"I'm gonna answer it."

"Devon—"

"What's up, Joseph?"

Pulling a face, I huffed in indignation and left Devon to deal with my former boss and stepped away for the moment to see if I could figure out what Wolf's plan was. He was standing on his tree branch, looking out over the road. Horns were blaring as everyone made a mad dash to leave the town. I pressed my lips into a thin line and sighed.

By the tree, Devon let out an annoyed noise and said, "You can't actually be serious—"

Devon clamped his mouth shut and listened to Hassan yell at him with a taut jaw. I had tried to warn him. Every now and again, he tried to slip a word in edgewise but Hassan was on a tirade. I couldn't make out the words, but his voice carried all the way from the receiver to where I was standing.

"Sir, I don't see why that's necessary! What? No, I, well, I mean . . . but . . . ." He groaned and looked about ready to toss his phone at the ground. "We could set up a checkpoint! Get an x-ray machine or—"

Wolf jumped down from his perch and stood next to me, his head cocked.

"He's talking to our boss," I said, though I was sure he probably didn't care.

"How many?" Devon repeated. He glanced over at me and I shrugged. "Nichole, how many xenos?"

I made a wild gesture and said, "I don't know, more than a dozen. I have no idea."

Huffing, Devon turned back to the phone to continue trying to placate Hassan. Wolf's patience ran out and he ushered me to keep going. I could barely motion to Devon to follow before Wolf was tugging me after him.

"Hey! We had to wait for you, but you can't wait for us?" I growled, swatting his hand away from me.

He cuffed me around the ear and made it clear that no, he could not wait for us. I glowered and rubbed the side of my head, feeling once again like I was that teenager back on the ship.

"Sorry," I muttered to Devon, checking to make sure he was following. He was still trying to negotiate with Hassan, but it sounded like it was coming to an end. And he was losing. He was stone-faced and just listening, now, and I could only imagine what Hassan was threatening.

Abruptly, Wolf stopped moving and disappeared into thin air, but he managed to make a sharp gesture up the road before he was completely invisible. I searched for what he had been indicating too and spotted a girl and her mother slipping into a building half a block away. The sheriff's car was parked out front, the lights still flashing and we could barely make out the sign above the windows.

"I gotta go, Joseph. Good talk," Devon muttered, hanging up his phone. "Look, it's a hunting store or something. That's just what we need."

I nodded and said, "Yeah, yeah you're right. Wolf, we're going to go inside and arm ourselves a little better, alright?"

A small part of me expected him to be gone already.

However, he rattled his acknowledgment and I motioned to Devon that we should go. Neither of us noticed the xenomorphs scaling the side of the building.

The bell above the door rang out, making both of us wince. The place was claustrophobic and dark, but there was a light source coming from somewhere in the back. We checked our corners and spread out to clear the rest of the shop, but before we made it too far, a cowboy with a rifle came out of nowhere.

Devon and I immediately started berating the guy.

"Put it down!" Devon shouted, swinging his own firearm up. "FBI, lower your weapon!"

When he didn't immediately comply, I fished my badge out and waved it around. "FBI, drop it now or we'll drop you," I growled. All I had on me was my sword since I gave Devon my sidearm, but I was pretty sure it still would have looked scary if I'd drawn it. My badge would just have to do.

The guy looked between us but finally lowered his firearm and showed us his hands. "Sorry, agents. I'm no threat. There's more of us in here taking refuge. We were just looking for some weapons and a place to regroup."

The two of us relaxed and gestured for our civilians to come forward to follow him farther in.

"Agents?" came the familiar voice of Sheriff Eddie Morales. He appeared from around a display, holding his own shotgun. "Thank god! I'd thought you both were dead after we found Ray's body."

Devon's shoulders hunched and I grimaced. It was I who spoke first. "No, we uh . . . were separated during the search. had no idea he was dead, though. We thought that he'd maybe gone back to town. Jesus, I'm sorry . . . ."

I just kept quiet and avoided making eye contact.

Eddie wiped his mouth and nodded. "It, uh, it wasn't pretty. We found him—" He stopped and looked around at all those present, then swallowed. "Well, just take my word for it."

"Do you guys know what's going on? Who's attacking us?" a teenage girl asked.

One of the two associates piped up, "Which terrorist group is it?"

Together, Devon and I gave Eddie dubious looks. He grimaced and introduced us to everyone; Kelly and her daughter Molly; Dallas was the one who'd met us at the door; his brother Ricky and the girl was Jesse; I recognized the one named Dale as one of the boys we'd spoken to earlier; and the two associates were Earl and Scotty. Mrs. Benson was there, too, disheveled and tired-looking.

One of those boys made it. Small miracle.

"So," Eddie prompted, "What's going on, agents?"

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it—

"It's aliens," Devon blurted.

Fucking Devon.

Not that we had a better explanation. We hadn't even bothered coming with a cover story of any kind, and those things were running around en masse, most likely, and Dale had definitely survived being killed by one.

Everyone fell quiet and stared at the two of us. I glared at Devon, but he just shrugged and said, "What? It is. No point in hiding it anymore."

"You . . . ," Eddie pointed at him, his eyes wide. "You were saying that earlier! "

"Yeah, kinda."

"I thought it was a joke," Eddie muttered, sounding hurt.

Earl or Scotty—I couldn't remember which was which—scoffed and said, "There's no way it could be aliens."

Kelly chimed in. "I believe it. One of them killed my husband and it was all I could do to get Molly and me out of our house before that thing jumped on us."

"There was this—this awful creature at the pool earlier! That's what we were talking about when we came to you. It attacked us at the pool and there is no way that thing was from here on Earth," Ricky added.

"So, Ray—Ray was killed by those aliens? Is that what was on your crashed plane?" Eddie asked, torn somewhere between fear and irritation.

Devon made a face and said, "Well, he was killed by an alien, yes . . . ."

I shot him a look that told him not to say anything else.

Suddenly, we were bombarded from all angles with questions that neither Devon nor I wanted to answer—where did they come from? How did they get here? What did they want?—all the while, the storm outside worsened. It pummeled the roof of the building, drowning out all other sounds except that of rolling thunder. Navigating the city was going to be a nightmare.

Unable to take it, I put my hands up and yelled to gather everyone's attention on me. We were there to arm up, not explain. I needed to get back to Wolf, but I wanted to make sure these people were at least prepared for when they evacuated.

"Alright, everyone shut up. We can't answer all your questions, but if you want to get out of this alive, stop yammering and start stocking up. Prioritize high-gauge rifles and shotguns. Handguns aren't going to do much except piss 'em off. If you find any machetes or other large knives, grab those, but you should know that these things bleed acid and those blades won't last long. Always be aware of where everyone is, and do not wander off by yourself," I commanded.

Devon grunted and added his own two cents. "These things will pick off stragglers with prejudice, but they aren't afraid of attacking groups, either. Be vigilant. A little bit of paranoia might get you somewhere, too. Every noise should be considered a potential attack—do not investigate anything you hear or you might get your face bitten off."

"Thank you for that, Devon," I said, almost meaning it. He was just always so professional.

Eddie clapped his hands and nodded. "The agents are right. Everyone who can, pick up a weapon. Anyone who can't, stay behind those who will."

"Did that lady say they have acid blood . . . ?" I overheard one of the employees whisper to the other.

Though everyone separated to do their own things, they stayed at least within eyesight of each other. Kelly picked up Molly to put her on a table and made sure to let us know she was just going to grab a towel before she disappeared.

Groaning, I hailed Dallas and said, "Go with her."

He nodded, picked up his rifle, and quickly went after the wayward mother.

Satisfied, I picked out a first aid kit and made Devon sit down so I could bandage the cut over his eye. He didn't argue and remained still while I cleaned some of the blood from the side of his face with peroxide.

"Hope your buddy isn't going to be mad at us for this," Devon muttered, wincing under my ministrations.

I shrugged. "Bit late for that."

"So I get this shit is probably classified," Dale said suddenly. I looked at him from the corner of my eyes as he continued, "but this would have been really nice to know before."

There was an accusation somewhere in his tone, but I ignored it. Not even Devon had anything to say. No words would fix what had happened or bring back his dead friends. A simple apology wouldn't cut it; all we could do was let him have his say if he needed it.

"Before?" Ricky echoed. "Before what?"

Dale leaned on the table, a pile of ammunition between his hands, and thrust his chin in the direction of Devon and I. I'd finished with Devon and he was up on his feet again, picking out a weapon. Dale explained, "Before we showed up at the school to deal with your punk ass, these two came and told us to go home because it was dangerous on the streets."

"So why didn't you go home?" Eddie demanded. "You were given a direct order from federal agents. That should have been enough to make you listen."

I gave Devon a pointed look and he rolled eyes.

"We did tell you there had been deaths," Devon said through clenched teeth.

"What deaths?" Mrs. Benson said. The whole time we'd been there, she hadn't said a single word and I'd nearly forgotten she was even there. "It was those things that got my boys, wasn't it? They got them . . . ."

Devon and I shared a look. "There were quite a few," he said, picking his words carefully. "Buddy and Sam were likely one of the first victims, yes."

Succinct was not usually something Devon was. Mrs. Benson just sank into her chair, her expression vacant.

In the end, Devon had chosen a hunting rifle and was just picking through some boxes of shells. I decided not to pick anything, fine with what I had. However, I did at least grab back my sidearm and sought out more clips for it. If nothing else, I could at least keep it just in case.

It was certainly better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it.

"So all of this is your guys' fault?" Scotty said—I think he was Scotty. He looked less like an Earl than his coworker did, at least—glaring over at Devon and I. He and the other employee had been off whispering to each other and now I knew what about.

"How do you figure that?" Eddie sighed.

"Yes, enlighten us," I baited.

Earl interjected. "You guys were here looking for a plane crash, right? And then these aliens showed up. Why don't you answer Eddie's earlier question, eh?"

"Yeah, were these things on those plane?" Scotty hissed.

The thunderous sound of a shotgun firing interrupted any further conversation.

Chapter Text

It took a moment for us to recover from the sudden, loud shot, and then Molly's screams of fear spurred us into action. Everyone clamored to pick up what weapons were at the ready and scrambled toward the back of the store and the commotion. Squealing noises chased away any immediate concerns I had that someone was shooting at Wolf.

"It's a trap!" came Kelly's shout as we neared. "Go back!"

Not knowing what she could mean, we charged forward with abandon.

"What happened?" I called out.

We arrived in time to find Dallas on the floor, a length of rope coiled around his ankles and a headless xenomorph scant inches away from him, sinking slowly into the floor in a puddle of its own blood. Behind the decapitated alien was the statuesque form of my alien, staring us down. Eddie uttered a few choice expletives and Molly was whining, but I heaved a sigh of relief at his arrival.
"What the fuck is that?" Eddie shouted.

"Another alien," Devon answered. "Also dangerous."

"Go! Just go!" Dallas called, stripping the rope from his legs and scrambling to his feet.

Kelly left her daughter long enough to help pull him up and then him, Ricky, Kelly, Eddie, and Molly ran for the door. I stepped aside long enough to make sure they all passed by without incident, though the xenomorph in question was dead and Wolf hadn't yet raised a hand against them.

Except, apparently, to tie Dallas up and use him as bait.

This is why I told everyone to stick together.

Devon grabbed my shoulder to pull me after everyone else but I freed myself and made to join Wolf's side, ready to scold him for his behavior. I caught Devon's annoyed huff but ignored it.

"Freeze!"

Out of sheer habit, I froze when commanded: no one said that unless they were pointing a gun at you. I was a few feet away from Wolf, standing between him and the two employees who apparently thought they were big tough shit with a couple of shotguns in their hands. Devon had stopped moving, too, standing in the same aisle as I but on the other side.

"Hey, put those down before you shoot an eye out kid," I demanded, raising my hands in an attempt to placate them. "Go join the others!"

Earl—I thought—said, "Are you crazy, lady? Do you not see the giant alien behind you? Get down!" and raised his weapon higher. Both he and Scotty were ready to fire, their fingers on the triggers, their hands shaking and fucking up their aim. Terrified out of their minds.

Trying to play the heroes anyway. It would have been commendable in any other situation.

Devon opened his mouth to say something, but Wolf reacted to their threat and moved toward us. Earl and Scotty both shouted something incoherent and sighted their weapons. Devon moved to intercept and I tried to stop Wolf, but he snarled and pulled me out of harm's way, blasting the two employees with his dual shoulder cannons. All I could do was shout while I tried to keep my footing.

Time seemed to slow as the two bolts aimed true, obliterating the two men's heads. Devon reeled back, well within the splatter zone, and I stumbled, my breath was stolen as if Wolf had punched me in the gut himself.

One of them had fired a single round, but it hadn't hit anything of consequence.

"How . . . ." I couldn't even figure out what I wanted to say. How could you? How could you do something like that?

Something like defending me. Like, neutralize a threat to himself and others.

Wolf's following snort was derisive and aimed at the two men. He pulled me closer, holding my arm, and gave me a quick once-over before asking if I was alright with a rattle. In any other situation, at any other time, for any other reason, I might have been touched.

But all I could see was those two men's heads exploding.

"I'm—I'm fine," I gasped, pulling my arm out of his grip and staggering a couple feet away. He let go without much of a fight and cocked his head to the side, confused by my disturbed state. "You didn't have to . . . that was . . . that was too much, Wolf!"

He chittered and gestured toward the two, toward the weapons lying next to them.

They had been a direct threat to both of us. He just did what we would have done ourselves in any other situation. Shoot first, I reminded myself. It was in the handbook for any rudimentary police officer, even.

The only difference was that we wouldn't have blown their heads off. Dead was dead.

My shoulders slumped and I closed my eyes. "You're . . . you're right. You did what you had to. It's just—it's just hard. But . . . thank you." Who knew. Maybe that stray shot one of them fired would have hit me.

Wolf huffed at me, then snarled just as Devon slammed into me, knocking the wind right out of my lungs. We both hit the ground at the same time; my head slammed against the rack of camouflage jackets we were tangled in, filling my vision with stars. However, I could just barely make out the two xenomorphs that had dropped from the ceiling in a whirlwind of teeth and claws. One landed where I had been moments ago, now bearing down on us, and the other had dropped on top of Wolf. He threw it off of him and chased it toward the front of the store and out of sight.

Devon managed to free himself before I could and he swung his rifle up, firing it twice in succession. The drone was close enough that both shots were point-blank to the chest and skull, blasting through the hard, chitinous exoskeleton. It dropped dead at our feet just as I was able to pull the rack down and stand up next to Devon.

I pat his shoulder and grinned. "Hey, you got one!"

"Yeah. Am I part of the cool kids' club yet?" he snarked.

Opting to ignore his obviously rhetorical question, I checked for Wolf but he wasn't there anymore. Nor was he hiding anywhere that I could see.

"Where'd he go?"

"How should I fucking know? Do I look like an idiot's keeper?"

More shouting came from near the front of the store, interrupting my response. The two of us wound our way around the displays, shoving aside anything that wasn't nailed to the floor.

"Get this thing off me!" someone was begging.

The voice sounded like one of the teens, but I couldn't pinpoint which one. After finally navigating to the front of the store where rain hammered against the windows, I stopped short at the sight of a drone on top of one of the boys. He was on his back, and the creature was hunched over him with its tail held high—poised to strike.

"Hey!" I shouted at it while waving my arms. However, it wouldn't pay me any attention with a perfectly good victim already beneath it.

Devon dropped the muzzle of his shotgun and ran straight past me without pausing and, in a feat of grace and strength I hadn't thought possible for him, missile drop-kicked the xeno in the head. It squealed in surprise and went flying off whom I recognized as Dale. Devon landed right on him.

"What the fuck was that?" I asked as I stepped over the two of them, unable to conceal how impressed I was.

All he croaked out was, "A mistake."

The drone writhed around on the ground for a second, but I wasn't about to give it any time to recover. I was on top of it in seconds, driving my sword deep into its cranium. When it hit resistance in the linoleum floor, I twisted and wrenched the blade free.

Though the drone didn't get back up, Devon and Dale did.

"Get out of here!" Devon shouted, shoving the kid toward the door. "Meet up with the others, we'll be right behind you."

Dale didn't have to be told twice. The door chime signaled his exit and Wolf dropped down next to us, scaring the shit out of Devon and giving me a near heart attack as well.

"Don't do that!" I huffed, smacking his arm in retaliation.

All he did was huff at me as if it amused him.

Hissing drew our attention to the front of the store. A xenomorph had crawled up on the checkout counter, perched atop the register with its tail curled around it. As we turned to face it, it uncurled its tail and rose it to strike, sizing us up with its lips drawn over its teeth. Wolf growled and took aim with his cannon—he'd had two, but one was hanging uselessly from his shoulder—and Devon cocked his shotgun. I felt sorely left out with only my sword.

All I had one me, though, was my sidearm. A fat lot of good it would do me against one of those fucking things.

With its slavering fangs bared, the drone bent over, its leg muscles coiled to pounce. Devon and I tensed and Wolf chittered a warning. Not for us, but for the drone. It was outnumbered and outmatched.

It didn't give a shit.

Squealing, the beast launched at us from the counter with a powerful spring. Wolf caught it with his cannon, firing a single round just as it became airborne. The drone crashed through the front window in a spray of glass and acid, landing outside in the rain.

We waited. Water sluiced through the broken window and pooled on the floor, flooding the area in seconds. Outside, the drone didn't move or stand, and inside all was quiet. A few things clattered from their displays and we whirled around, but as silence descended again, we were finally able to relax and dropped our guards for the time being. It was just the three of us in that store—no xenos, no hybrid, no danger.

"Alright," Devon breathed, shouldering his shotgun as he made his way toward the door. "Let's get out of here."

"I'm staying with Wolf," I called.

He stopped in his tracks and turned back. "Still? Even though he literally just killed those two guys back there?"

"In defense," I argued, my words sounding only a little hollow. I echoed the same thoughts I'd had before to Devon. "You and I both know that either one of us would have shot them, too, if we had thought, even for half a second, that they were going to shoot us."

Devon dropped his gaze somewhat, unable to deny my claim.

Letting out a breath, I continued, speaking a little softer. "Besides that, the safest place we can be right now is with him than anywhere else in this city and I know you know that. So, please, I would really like it if you stayed with us, too."

Devon wiped his mouth, then marched back toward us. "So, then we'll all follow those guys. If Wolf promises not to murder anyone else."

"Devon!"

"What? His body count is up to three now, that we know of. There's a lot of missing time before we met up with him again near the power plant."

I rolled my eyes and decided to drop it. We didn't have the time to debate about Wolf's ethics—or lack thereof according to Devon. I said, "Well I can't make him promise that, especially if more people try to shoot at him. Which is probably exactly what those guys will do if they see him."

"Well, we gotta go now if we're going to catch up with them," he said, making a sweeping gesture out the door. "The guy can fucking turn invisible, remember Nichole? I'm sure he'll be fine. In the meantime, we seriously need to find a way to get these civilians out of the city before some serious shit hits the fan."

"Aren't we already knee-deep in shit?" I asked.

After a deep inhale he said, "Hassan says they're going to order an airstrike."

For a moment, what he said didn't register. When it finally hit me, I turned to face Wolf and started to walk back out the door. "Will you follow us?" I asked.

He studied me for a moment, then glanced at Devon before finally nodding and applying his cloak. Satisfied, I turned and ran outside with Devon following on my heels. We were instantly drenched after just a few seconds in the rain, but we kept running in the direction Devon had seen Dale take off.

"You decided to wait until now to mention something?" I hissed at him.

"I was trying to come up with a plan before I said anything about it so no one would panic. Then all that shit happened in there too fast," came his reply.

"Where are they?" I scoffed, deciding to move on. What was done was done. All we could do now was hurry and hope that we made it to them in time. Those civilians knew the city better than we did, so maybe they'd know a fast way out of it.

"They can't have gotten far on foot, not with that kid," Devon pointed out.

We ran a few blocks and found ourselves in the middle of an abandoned caravan of army-grade vehicles. My breath stuttered in my throat and I pushed away the gut-wrenching fear that came crashing back down on top of me.

The deserted camp—blood on the rocks—nightmarish creatures chasing us back down the mountain—we should never have been in those woods.

Not now, I berated myself, clenching my eyes shut and taking a few cleansing breaths.

Devon's voice interrupted my thoughts and pulled me back to reality. "When Hassan called me, it was because Eddie had contacted the National Guard for help. He was upset that we let it get this far without reporting back to him. They ended up having to send out a team . . . this must have been that team."

"They had to have been ambushed," I surmised. I could remember Devon arguing with Hassan while Wolf tended to his wounds. Had it been about the airstrike?

"How much time did you buy for us, talking with Hassan?" I asked.

He checked his watch and all the while we were jogging through the streets. "I didn't get us much time at all. I wanted him to set up a checkpoint and have everyone examined for infection, but, well . . . they're just gonna destroy this place."

"When, Devon?"

"I don't know! I had to end the call before I could negotiate!"

I put my hands up to ease him. "Alright, alright. Sorry. Where did those people go?"

The roar of an engine answered my question. Devon and I shared a look, then took off through the carnage until we saw a tank moving through the streets. It turned around a corner and I let out an irritated sigh, running my hand through my wet hair.

"Well, what now?" I huffed.

My partner said, "They need to know what the government has planned," with arms tightly crossed over his chest.

I sighed and shook my head. "The government probably doesn't want them to know."

"Yeah, well, fuck 'em."

Wolf landed next to us with a heavy thud, no longer in his cloak, and we jumped. I let out my breath and motioned to his shouldered weapon, which was making an awful whirring sound and clicking. I said, "Your thing's broken."

He yanked off the no-longer functioning cannon and discarded it, then detached the other one when the mechanism continued to make angry buzzing noises. He spent a short moment fiddling with it until he could use it as a handheld weapon. It charged up with a similar sound to the bomb he'd used for the airplane and then he fired a test shot into the ground.

It left a sizeable crater and I looked up at him and asked, "When am I going to get one of those puppies?"

Holding it at his side, Wolf didn't answer my question—he probably thought I meant real puppies, the big oaf—and instead indicated down the road to the only well-lit building in the whole city. It was like a beacon in the night, and if I listened closely I could hear the faint sounds of angry xenomorph screeches somewhere off in the distance. The siren had stopped, but it was still barely audible over the sound of the downpour.

"Should we go there?" I asked, consulting both of them. "What is it?"

Devon responded, "That must be the hospital. It's the only place that would have power at this time, right? The backup generators to keep people alive and shit. There's gotta be so many people stranded in there right now."

"Sitting ducks," I growled. "The xenomorphs would never pass up a fucking buffet like that. Let's go."

However, Devon didn't move from his spot. I gave him a once-over and noted the despair glistening behind his eyes. I dropped my shoulders and asked, "Devon, what's wrong? Do you have a different idea?"

He put one hand on his hip and rubbed his head with the other, his voice shaky and exasperated when he spoke. "What does it even matter at this point, Nichole? It's not like we can . . . we can't save anyone anymore. Not a single person. We don't have the time anymore. This whole city is going to go down in flames and we have to get out of it before that happens."

Brows furrowed, I shook my head at him. "You—" I stopped what I was going to say and gave him a sympathetic look. He was right, and I could already tell how much it pained him to admit it. "Alright. Then, what would you suggest?"

Wolf waited, surprising me with his patience. I could only imagine that he understood the gravity of the situation and needed to know more.

Needed us to take the helm since it was our people who were blowing shit up now.

He wiped his mouth and walked over to us, but took me by surprise and actually shifted to address Wolf. "Hey, big guy, our government is going to wipe this place off the map here soon. I don't know how much time we have, but I know it can't be a whole lot. We need to think about getting out of here or else we're gonna go down with this city."

The big brute tilted his head from one side to the other, chattering idly to himself. He still postured a bit, squaring his shoulders, but he let Devon speak his peace. Maybe he'd been just a smidge impressed by Devon's flying drop-kick as I had been.

Or maybe it was just because we all had to set aside any issues we had with each other considering the fact that we were going to be nuked.

"The bomb they use is probably going to take out the entire town and the surrounding forest—and then some—so it should destroy every last one of those bug things. So, we need to find a way out of here. Do you think you could help us?"

Wolf considered Devon for a moment, cast a sidelong glance at me, then nodded and lifted his arm to access the computer there. It looked somewhat different from the one I still had in my backpack. Newer, almost. He punched in a few commands and then a hologram of his ship appeared above it in red light. He indicated to it and muttered a question.

"You'd get out of here on your ship?" Devon inferred.

Nodding, Wolf turned off the hologram and let his arm drop.

My mind shifted to the hospital, a nagging feeling in the back of my head. I was actually quite glad that we weren't going there in the end: after spending so much time inside the one at Estes Park, I had avoided them like the plague unless absolutely necessary. I still remembered that half-conscious trip when I'd been airlifted—

The helicopter ride to the hospital.

Well, shit. Looks like I have to go, anyway.

"Can you remotely pilot your ship?" I asked Wolf, spinning around to look at him.

When he nodded, Devon asked, "You think he should bring it here to town? Is it even small enough to land in the streets?"

Wolf looked around, then answered in the negative with his own language.

Devon looked to me to translate.

"No, it's too big. But we can head to the hospital and have him bring it there to meet us," I pointed out, gesturing toward the practically glowing building. "It should have a place on the roof for a helicopter to land. Even if the helicopter is there, the roof should still be big enough for him to land his ship on. We'll never make it there if we try to run back into the mountain."

"Wait, if the helicopter is there, why couldn't we take that instead of his ship?" Devon whined.

I crossed my arms and gave him a deadpan look. "Do you know how to fly one of those things? Because I sure as fuck don't."

Even in the dark, I could see him blush. "No."

"Well, there you go. There wouldn't even be a guarantee that it would still be there. Someone else might have used it to flee already or it could be away on an unrelated delivery or something."

Sighing, Devon relented. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Fine, let's go. Now."

With a grateful smile, I took the lead and started off toward the hospital, following the big blue street signs. Wolf didn't bother making himself invisible as he jogged alongside me. Considering everything that was going on in the city, it didn't seem like it would matter much. The streets were mostly deserted after that call to evacuate, anyway. I couldn't read the big guy's emotions through that mask, but it kind of seemed like he was unbothered by the fact that someone was going to try to blow us all up.

Chapter Text

Upturned wheelchairs and abandoned cars littered the hospital's parking lot. An ambulance was parked right up against the emergency exit, blocking our entry, but there was no one inside that or the ER. Wolf had taken the lead eventually, following a trail that only he could see. With one entrance blocked, he led us around the side of the building until we came upon a set of stairs. Wolf leaped right over the railing, leaving us two humans to take those few steps. Devon muttered something salty under his breath, but I ignored it. At this point, I was used to Wolf being Wolf.

Kind of. I'd half expected him to shove the ambulance out of the way.

As Wolf examined the front doors, Devon and I finished climbing and stood behind him, waiting. It should have opened automatically at our arrival, but apparently, with the power out, the sensor wasn't working or something.

Devon, in all of his snarky glory, started to say, "It's a push door. You just gotta—"

Electing to completely ignore my partner, Wolf strode forward and kicked down the entire double glass panel with a single solid blow. Glass showered the entranceway and Wolf hurried in, scanning for danger. As we stepped in after him, the shards of glass crunched beneath our feet.

"'Look at me, I'm so big and I kick doors down for fun,'" Devon mocked, complete with sassy head wobble and deep voice.

"And what about you?" I shot back. "You drop kicked an alien."

He shrugged, but I could see his smug grin. "Someone had to save that kid."

"Yeah okay, Rambo."

The hospital was just as quiet and deserted as its parking lot. It was almost as if everyone had evacuated already—or were all dead. Lights we passed under flickered on and off overhead, droning with an electronic hum rivaled only by the rumble of the generators. The fact that was I inside a hospital was enough to make my skin break out in gooseflesh, but walking through an abandoned emergency room straight up sent shivers down my spine.

It wasn't too long before we started finding the bodies. They were scattered here and there; Wolf stopped to examine a few but ignored most of them. Their wounds varied, but most were mauled by something save. I only had one guess as to what it could have been.

There weren't enough of them, as awful as it was to think that. It was a fucking hospital, so it had to have had patience and staff alike before everything went to shit. We had already spent several minutes walking through the emergency room, then out into the main halls, and there were less than a handful of bodies. No one in the beds. The nurses' station had been empty.

"There must be a nest somewhere," I muttered under my breath.

Devon said, "That, or everyone managed to evacuate."

"Your optimism never ceases to amaze me."

Wolf shut down our idle chatter with an admonishment, not once pausing in his advance. He moved with swift assurance, but it didn't seem to be out of any sort of urgency due to the situation. Devon and I remained ever vigilant for any flanking xenomorph drones, but there wasn't a single living soul within the hospital grounds, it seemed. At least, not on the floor we were on.

As much as I wanted to join Devon in believing that everyone had evacuated, I knew it didn't matter in the end whether or not they were alive or dead. There was no evacuation. The government wasn't even a little worried about that. They were only concerned with eradication and containment.

We remained quiet the entire time we navigated the cluttered halls before ascending a set of stairs; we had tried an elevator, but it wouldn't even open its doors for us. We opened the different doors to the floors searching for signs of—whatever it was Wolf was searching for: probably xenomorph tracks. It wasn't until the fourth floor that the hospital showed definite signs of change.

The sudden humidity hit me like a truck and stifled my breathing until I was able to adjust. We followed Wolf into one of the operating rooms; the floor was sticky with half-dried slime and great splatters of blood. Outside the observation window, I could see that the xenomorphs had indeed started to make a nest in that hallway. Already, the walls were hardened with resin and we could see the end of the construction by the elevators.

As far as I could tell, though, there were no cocoons. I wasn't sure where exactly everyone had gone, then.

Maybe they really did all evacuate.

"I don't like this," Devon muttered, standing at the door Wolf had already passed through.

I looked back at him and pressed my lips together. We shared a silent conversation, then I leaned into the doorway to call to Wolf. "There should be more stairs this way. We have to get to the roof before it's too late."

Wolf rattled his understanding but took another couple of seconds to examine the body on the operating table. The high-grade lights were still on but were smeared with blood, casting us an eerie red glow. In the half-light, I could barely make out that the body had a gaping hole in the stomach, but I wasn't sure if it was from the half-finished operation or because of the hybrid.

Though I didn't enter the room properly, I stood at the threshold with Devon shuffling behind me impatiently. Again I addressed Wolf. "Was it the hybrid? It's been . . . using people to mass-produce soldiers like some sort of pseudo-queen. I don't understand how she could—"

Before he could turn back, an alien popped out from where it had been hiding between some machinery and slammed into Wolf, sending him through the window and out into the hallway. Devon immediately joined my side as I started rushing to Wolf's aid, only to stop when the xeno turned to face us, standing on its hind legs and spreading its arms out. With a hiss, it opened its slimy mandibles and roared.

The Hybrid!

She regarded me for a moment and then stepped back so drones could move in on Wolf, marching toward me with intense determination.

"Devon, help Wolf!" I requested, wielding my sword.

"He's not the one who needs help," Devon argued, shoving me aside and opening fire on the Hybrid with his semi-automatic rifle. She squealed and fell back with a few new wounds, saved from death when a nearby drone leaped in to shield it. The heavy-duty bullets pierced its hard exoskeleton and it fell dead but the hybrid successfully retreated out the hall and away.

I rounded on Devon, but before I could say anything he spoke first. "We don't have time for you to slash shit up. Grab your boyfriend and let's go."

As if on cue, a xenomorph flew into the OR through that open window in a spray of acid, blown apart by Wolf's now-handheld cannon. My irritation at Devon forgotten, we shared a glance and then stepped over the dead alien, dodging puddles of acid blood, and headed for the shattered window.

More acid sprayed through the opening, making us stop short. We waited a couple seconds for the hissing and smoking to slow down before parting around it to peer out of the window. Wolf was standing over a drone, punching it in the face with his bare fists. Devon and I weren't able to join in, so we could only watch as he removed another blue vial from his person and shoved it down the thing's throat.

The body bucked and bubbled like boiling water for a moment before it became motionless. The liquid went to work dissolving it from the head down into straight nothingness.

"Not immune to that acid, are you?" Devon spat.

Down the hall, more screeches echoed toward us. Two more alien bugs appeared through the adjacent corridors, crawling on the resin-coated walls. The section we were in was completely metamorphosed into the perfect xenomorph nest, leaving the elevators down the opposite end the only things still untouched. I wondered how long they'd been in the hospital already to have made such little progress.

Wolf reacted in kind to their appearance, drawing out two of the bladed disks that he had demonstrated for me all the way back in that crashed airplane. With a few flicks, he extended the sharp blades and hurled the weapons down the hall.

At about that time, we heard a set of human shouts from down another hallway.

Devon removed his jacket and draped it over the edge of the window, covering the jagged remains of glass and frame that was slowly melting due to the xenomorph blood. He looked up as he heard the shouting as well and said, "There are people still here in the hospital?"

I started to crawl over the window, peering as far down the hospital hallway as I could while Devon helped me up. Wolf's blade was ricocheting down the hallway, slicing through the two drones, and I saw movement at the very end—the sound of metal into flesh, a small child screaming. There was a body pinned against the wall.

"It hit someone!" I declared, almost falling over when I made it on the other side of the window.

"Who?" Devon demanded, leaning over the window sill. He pulled back with a sharp sound when the acid started to eat away through his jacket, but still managed to quip. "See? What did I say? I told him no murdering people!"

"Pretty sure it was an accident," I spat back, motioning for him to hurry up and climb out.

Another drone showed up behind Wolf and he turned to deal with it. Devon was halfway over the window and I grabbed his arms to help him over it, as well, though I was itching to get back to Wolf and help him. He was dealing with the xenomorph just fine, at least.

A hail of gunfire interrupted my train of thought and I froze for just a second. Devon grabbed and yanked me off to the side, throwing himself on top of me. I let out a surprised cry as bullets battered the wall above our heads, ricocheting off Wolf's armor and creating brief instances of bright sparks. The fact that he hadn't yet blown apart the one shooting told me that he was no longer armed. I shoved at Devon's shoulders and writhed underneath him, trying to free myself.

"Ricky! Ricky stop!" people were shouting.

The group from the hunting store!

"Devon, get off me!" I hissed. Louder, I said, "Cease fire, cease fire!"

My words went unheeded and the automatic fire continued, underlined by constant and angry screaming. I finally shoved Devon off of me and scrambled up, cutting off the group of people trailing after the shooter. They called out to me, but I ignored them.

Wolf was unmoved by the kid before him but distracted as he was by Ricky, he didn't see the drone that blind-sided him. It hit him like a truck and they both slammed through the elevator door Wolf was standing in front of, but there was no car to catch them. The empty shaft swallowed them up and my stomach plummeted with them.

"No!" I screamed.

Someone caught my hand when I tried to sprint over and yanked me back. I rounded on who turned out to be Dallas, my blade flat against his chest. "Get off me or so help me I'll—"

"Your partner!" he sputtered out, hands up and off his firearm.

Confused, I glanced over in Devon's direction and then did a double-take. He hadn't gotten up off the floor. He was still lying there, slumped on his side in the same position I'd left him after pushing him from atop me.

He'd pulled me out of the way, fallen on top of me. He hadn't moved when I'd tried to get him off . . . hadn't said anything . . . I hadn't even noticed that . . . .

I left Dallas against the wall and ran to Devon, hitting the ground next to him hard enough to jar my knees, but I hardly felt it. Carefully, I rolled him onto his back and set his head on my lap. All the protocols and training for this situation went completely abandoned as I desperately tried to ascertain whether or not he was still alive.

"Devon? Devon c'mon," I said, patting him roughly on the cheek at first.

He remained unmoving, limp and pale. My heart hammered in my chest as my hands roamed over his torso, looking for the gunshot wound and blood. There were no new injuries on his head so I was sure that he hadn't hit it when he'd fallen.

Move! Move, just a little. Just a little! I silently pleaded.

When I pulled my hand away from his side, it came back soaked with blood. My hand started to shake and my chest tightened around. All I could hear was the steady, rapid thundering of my pulse and the thready breaths I drew in.

Dallas' voice reached me through the fog of panic, but it sounded far away. "Ricky, what the fuck were you thinking?"

Ricky . . .

. . . killed Devon . . .

. . . tried to murder Wolf . . .

Kelly showed up, kneeling on Devon's other side, and I didn't protest when she pulled him off of me and yanked up his shirt. I was staring at the blood on my hands, thick as if I'd dipped them in a bowl full of it. For just a brief second, Devon was gone, replaced by the mutilated corpse of my friend Jessica. It lasted only a second, but tears filled my eyes all the same. My gaze trailed eventually to Kelly and her attempts to stem Devon's bleeding with a wadded up piece of cloth—he'd been hit through his side, just a few inches from center mass. Another person joined, but I didn't pay attention to who they were. They checked his pulse.

None of them said anything. Or maybe they did. Their mouths were moving, but I was deafened by an intense ringing in my ears. The second person left—Dallas—and walked out of view to deal with his brother.

That thin piece of thread holding me together snapped.

Red tinted my slowly-blurring vision and heat radiated across my entire body. A rage boiled inside me and I was on my feet, searching almost blindly for Ricky, for the one who had tried to take Wolf and Devon from me.

He was standing near the elevator Wolf had fallen down, his likely-empty rifle lying on the ground. His brother was chastising him and I started to march in their direction, my hand white-knuckled on my blade. I wasn't sure what my intentions were. I had no real plan of action and not a single coherent thought crossed my mind.

Just a latent, unbridled fury.

And there I was, holding a really. Big. Knife.

"Hey, I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to . . . ." Ricky stammered, taking a step back as I approached. His brother moved to intercept, pushing his little brother aside.

He murdered my partner . . . tried to kill Wolf . . . .

A tiny, meek voice in the back my head told me to stop. That I was going to regret what I was about to do. My overpowering wrath drowned it out with an unintelligible roar—the roar of the hot blood in my veins—

Before I could reach the kid and seek the revenge my soul was vying for, a thick, segmented tail struck from the ceiling and pierced Ricky through and through, skewering him upon it. The barb didn't quite make it out of the front of his bullet-proof vest and it stretched almost comically in front of his body, straining against the straps.

I stumbled to a surprised halt and in a moment of bitter pettiness, I lowered my weapon, doing nothing as the Hybrid lifted Ricky off his feet.

"Ricky!" Dallas shouted, jumping to his brother's aid.

The Hybrid turned her head to look in my direction, one of her slime-coated mandibles clicking against another as she hissed. I took a few steps back as Dallas proceeded to pepper her with gunfire. She squealed and dropped Ricky, retreating back down the hallway and into obscurity.

With her gone and my vendetta sated for now, I left a twitching Ricky on the ground and returned to Devon's side. I kneeled down next to him, my hands in my lap and sword on the floor by my legs. I just stared at him for a few seconds before a hand on my shoulder pulled me out of my forlorn daze.

Kelly locked eyes with me when I finally managed to drag my head up and she said, "Agent, he's alive!"

She was still pushing against his abdomen, the bleeding managed for the moment. My eyes widened and I looked down at him again, barely able to make out the rise and fall of his chest. I leaned forward and put my fingers to his throat, searching for movement. Sure enough, his pulse was there. Thready and weak, but there.

"He's alive," Kelly repeated.

Without a word, I grabbed Devon's jacket from where it was on the window pane. The acid had already died out and his jacket was in sorry shape, but it would be fine for what I needed it to do. Using the jagged remains of glass from the floor, I tore and cut strips out of the material and quickly tied them around his torso with Kelly's help, utilizing larger and softer chunks as gauze.

We were in a hospital full of supplies but didn't have any time to go around looking for what we needed. It would suffice, though.

When I was sure Kelly could handle it from there, I got up and ran to the elevator, ignoring Dallas' scathing look as he tended to his wounded sibling. With one hand on the wall, I leaned as far into the empty elevator shaft as I could, peering into the darkness. It probably went all the way down to the first floor, but I couldn't see that far.

"Wolf!" I shouted.

No answer came. I curled my fingers into fists and had to fight the urge to stomp the life out of Ricky right then and there. That wasn't going to fix anything and it was just the anger and grief talking. A small fall down an elevator shaft would kill my Wolf.

Dallas spoke, drawing my attention. "Do . . . do you know that alien?" he asked, giving me an accusing look.

I wasn't going to answer, but Kelly saved me the trouble and called, "Agent, he's awake!"

Instantly I returned to them. Devon finally came around, his face twisted in pain, and I grabbed his hand when he lifted it. "Thank god you're awake," I said, my voice strangely flat as I helped him stand. He was able to hold himself up, but he was doubled over and holding his side.

"Never been shot before," he grunted, his voice thick and strained. "Must've passed out."

"I thought you were dead."

"Haven't I told you a million times that I'm immortal?" He spoke in fits and started, his words stilted and slurred. The fact that he was making that same stupid joke was a good sign.

"Can you walk?" I asked, swallowing tears of relief.

He nodded, but I still offered him support as we headed toward the hallway that led to the next flight of stairs. Kelly had left us to help out with Ricky, using what was left of Devon's coat to provide basic first aid to his injury.

She and Dallas had just barely managed to pick up a barely conscious Ricky and get him upright when we reached them. Molly, who had been hiding somewhere, had finally come out and was clinging to her mother's legs. Wolf's blaster was next to Dallas and I propped Devon against the wall to grab it, but I paused when I heard the most beautiful sound in the world—Wolf's angry roar echoing up the elevator shaft.

My boys were still alive.

Chapter Text

"We need to go," Kelly pressed.

Dallas nodded and leaned down to pick up Wolf's cannon lying by his feet, relying on Kelly to keep his younger brother propped up. I moved in and stepped on it, almost catching his fingers beneath my heel before he managed to snatch them away in time.

"Hey, what's the big—"

He looked up at me and I stared down my nose at him. I said, "That's government property, so back off."

For a moment, Dallas looked like he was going to protest and shove me over, but Devon saved us all the time. "Federal agents, buddy. Best to just . . . listen to her," he said, following it up with a light cough. The last thing I needed was Devon's help—especially after he'd been shot. I gave him a pointed look which he ignored in favor of more speaking. "I'm in . . . no shape to keep . . . her from beating you up, so just drop it."

Kelly offered him no backup even when he sought it from her with a glance. He finally gave up and stood, withdrawing with his hands up and allowing me to pick up the weapon.

"Best decision you've made all night," I muttered, putting it away in my bag. I wouldn't be able to figure out how it worked while half-carrying Devon, and part of me thought that Wolf might not be happy if I used it. I didn't know why; it was just a feeling I had. If I thought about it, I realized he probably wouldn't care but I didn't want to take the chance.

Dallas sniffed in contempt but took Ricky from Kelly. That freed her up to gather her daughter in her arms and we were off through the hospital again.

Going all the way back down for Wolf seemed like a fool's errand, though it did cross my mind. If I knew the big guy, he would just leap right up that shaft and be on his merry way as if nothing had happened.

If not, he knew where to meet me. I had to have faith that he would show up like he always did. It was enough to know that he was still alive.

For the time being, I had to tend to my injured partner.

It seemed that the only one of us who wasn't in a sour mood was Devon, even despite almost dying to some scared and angry teenager. I hadn't been able to discern why when I'd been in my rage-fueled state, but that teenage girl wasn't with them anymore. If I had to hazard a guess, it was her who was pinned to the wall by Wolf's weapon and Ricky must have had a thing for her. That should have been enough for me to sympathize with him, but I couldn't bring myself to feel even one iota of pity for him. Not when he'd almost killed Wolf and Devon.

And yet you'd almost given in to your anger and killed him. You're no better, the tiny voice from before reminded me. I tried to pretend it wasn't right. I knew it was.

As we made our way up toward the roof, not one of us tried to talk with each other except for Devon. As far as I was concerned, we all just happened to be going in the same direction and nothing else. I was too irritated.

"Hey, where's Eddie at?" Devon asked as we scaled a staircase. "Don't tell me he died."

I snorted. The whole damn town was gonna die.

Good fucking work, FBI. As if I didn't work for them.

Though it took a moment, Dallas answered. "He decided to go to the center of town and wait for the extraction unit the military said would be there."

Devon cringed against me and I heaved him upright. I'd returned my sword to the magnetic strip on my backpack so I could use both arms to help him. Kelly had put down her daughter, so she could start shooting at aliens if they came at us. That would give me plenty of time to drop Devon's ass and use my weapon if the need should arise.

His breath hitched in pain as he was jostled. However, Devon still said, "So then—I guess you're here because you didn't buy that crap?"

"Yes, that's right," Kelly said. "We tried to tell him it was probably a trap, but he and a few others that were with us decided it their best shot and went with him. What do you guys think? Was it smart to come here or should we have gone with the sheriff and the rest?"

My partner and I shared a look, and that must have been answer enough because Dallas and Ricky scoffed and muttered various versions of "I knew it" in irritated undertones.

"There is no . . . extraction," Devon said, following it up with a small cough. He had to speak in fits and starts or else he wound up winding himself.

Ricky managed to speak a little and said, "So . . . what're they gonna do?"

Devon cleared his throat and winced, then said, "They're most likely . . . gonna drop a bomb. Wipe Gunnison off and the xenomorphs off the map."

"Xenomorphs?" Kelly repeated.

"The aliens," I snipped.

Dallas wiped his face of the sweat he was working up heaving Ricky up the stairs and said, "How can they just do something like that?"

"They'll make something up," Devon muttered. "Blame it on something else. There's a power—a power plant here."

I chimed in since Devon had talked himself into a coughing fit. Each one seemed to rack him with pain, too, if the way he dug his fingers into me was any indication. "They'll probably blame it on the power plant. Say it exploded or something. You'll just be an accident, a tragedy for the country to mourn."

"That's awful . . . ," Ricky wheezed.

Kelly said, "That's reality."

She and Molly shared a brief moment, whispering quietly to one another, and I could only assume it was because the little girl was freaking out about our conversation.

If I was a six-year-old—or however old she was—then I probably would have been really worried, too.

"What made you guys come here?" Devon asked.

"Same as you, probably. We're hoping there's a helicopter on the roof we can use to escape. We're running out of time, though," Dallas said. "The lieutenant Eddie spoke to said that the extraction was going to be in half an hour, and I don't know how long ago that was."

"One of you can fly a helicopter?" I asked, eyeing him and Dallas with doubt. No way in hell Ricky could. That wasn't exactly an elective in high school.

Kelly nodded and said, "Yes, I can."

"Were you . . . driving the tank?" Devon asked, sounding more impressed than he had any right to.

She nodded.

"Ah, neat. Well, If there isn't a helicopter up there, we can all ride with—"

I nudged Devon hard enough that he had to stop speaking, though I felt a pang of guilt at intentionally hurting him. "Devon, will you shut up and at least act like you've just been shot?"

He wheezed what I thought was an agreement.

A heavy silence spread over us and I thought they would press for the rest of what Devon was going to say, but they didn't. It was better they didn't know—not just because it would be Wolf's spaceship. I couldn't guarantee that he would let them on, anyway.

At this point, I wasn't certain if I would even ask him to. In the back of my head, though, I knew I would if Devon looked at me with those stupid puppy-dog eyes of his.

Asking was it, though. Wolf still might not agree.

"No, not more stairs," Devon groaned as we reached the final set to the roof. "It hurts . . . god damn this fucking hurts."

"You've been shot, I can't imagine that sort of thing feels like daisies and rainbows," I huffed, propping him up when he began to slip. "Lose some weight, Jesus."

Devon muttered under his breath, but it wasn't anything I could discern.

Kelly, the only one not encumbered by a half-dead person, took point with her weapon up and led us through the halls with her daughter behind her, clinging to her clothes. Dallas and Ricky were behind them with Devon and I bringing up the rear. The xenomorphs guarding the hospital nest had disappeared at the sound of Wolf's angry roar, leaving our trek to the roof uninterrupted and uneventful.

The rain was still pouring from the sky, drenching us in frigid water within a few moments of being outside. Kelly checked left and right and then held the line as Dallas helped his brother climb over some industrial tubes and electric lines. We'd been forced to go through the maintenance entrance rather than the main hospital entrance—where they brought patients.

"Devon, you gotta help a little bit here," I muttered, draping him over what I thought was a water line so I could crawl over first.

He did his best to heave himself farther up it, his face twisted in agony, and I pulled him the rest of the way over, supporting him on the way down so he wouldn't collapse. Devon was a real champ, only whining about 50 times.

Our ragtag group of survivors followed the wall toward what we hoped was the main entrance. The maze of lines, tubes, and equipment wasn't worth navigating so keeping close to the wall was our best bet until we found something familiar. It also provided some cover from the weather and other threats.

We had to climb over four more giant power lines before we were finally out in the semi-open with the helicopter in view. The hospital was in the middle of some construction like they were adding another wing, so there was tarp everywhere and a great many beams, scaffoldings, and boards littering the ground. In the dark storm, it was almost impossible to navigate safely.

Instead of breaking out toward the chopper, we crept along the hospital's wall toward the main entrance. There was a clear path there encased in a sort of gated tunnel, so we figured that was the safest way to go.

"Alright, just a little farther. We're almost there!" Kelly shouted, moving back out to the front and sprinting to the chopper with Dallas and Ricky hurrying behind her.

Devon clutched my shirt and heaved himself up, almost pulling me down in the process. "You're coming with us," he said.

"No, you're going with them," I responded. "I have to find Wolf. He's out there somewhere and I'm not going to leave him here to die."

Though he was about to argue, Molly interrupted him with a terrified scream. We had finally entered the fenced area that led from the helicopter to the proper hospital entrance—it was like a cage, likely to keep any construction from falling on top of injured patients or life-saving organs. Above us, a xenomorph was crawling along the top on the outside, hissing and growling.

Another angry cry sounded behind us and I whirled around, shoving Devon against the chain link and pulling my sword. The little girl continued to shriek, but it was soon drowned out when Kelly opened fire with her rifle. I stepped out of the way and shouldered Devon again, who was now huffing and puffing, trying to keep his pain under control.

"Hold on, Devon," I cooed, keeping my weapon drawn just in case. The xenos were closing in, but that brought me a strange sense of elation.

Wolf has to be around here on the roof!

"Go, let's get moving!" I shouted over my shoulder.

"Let me go," Devon muttered, trying to wiggle out of my grasp. "I can walk, at least. You need—you need to be able to fight."

Shaking my head I said, "You can barely walk even while I'm holding you up."

"I can!"

"Just shut up and keep going."

However, he pulled out of my grip with force. I couldn't hang on to his squirmy ass and try to slash, so I let him go, keeping him in the corner of my eye. He was hobbling but okay.

The six of us were making slow progress toward the chopper. Ricky was somewhat moving on his own, and I wondered if that was what had prompted Devon to do the same. After all, he wouldn't want to let himself be out-done by a high school student.

A xenomorph shoved itself against the fence, clawing at us and trying to break through.

"Ignore the ones at the side," I commanded. "Just push through the front. Kelly, switch places with me and watch our six!"

She yelled back confirmation and we shuffled past each other, all the others between us.

I cut down the first xenomorph to show its ugly face and carved a line through the handful of aliens that threatened to overwhelm us. They tried to funnel in, but between my blade and Kelly's bullets, we were able to break out of the bottleneck we'd found ourselves in.

"Sprint for it," I demanded, indicating toward the helicopter now within our reach.

Kelly and I switched once more so I could stand by Devon's side. Helping them was helping Devon, so I did what I could to make sure they made it to the helicopter.

There were a few close calls, but we sprinted—or limped, in most cases—across the tarmac and up the couple steps to the landing pad. Dallas dumped his brother inside and brought his own firearm to bare, opening fire upon the xenomorphs trying to follow us. Devon did the same until we finally drove them off to regroup, allowing us a small reprieve.

"Get on," I huffed at Devon, pushing him past me. He was in so much pain he didn't even argue and took a seat on the edge of the chopper, letting Kelly on first so she could get the thing started. With all our luck, I had been expecting the stupid helicopter to require a key to start.

Thankfully, she seemed to have no issues flipping switches and hitting toggles. Since all seemed fine, I grabbed Dallas as he passed by and pulled him up close, clutching his collar.

"Hey cowboy, I need you to keep Devon on that bird, you got me?" I hissed through clenched teeth.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Exactly what I said. I have to go, and he's gonna try to follow me. But you have to keep him on board and leave. Do not wait for me and just go," I demanded.

He searched my face for some answers before giving up and asking, "Where are you going?"

"I have to find the big guy," I said, turning to leave.

"The alien?" Dallas was flabbergasted.

"I don't care what you think about me," I said, "but please, I need you to get my partner somewhere safe."

Dallas looked over his shoulder. Devon was still sitting in the open door, catching his breath. When Dallas looked back at me, he nodded and said, "Okay, I will. Are you sure you don't want us to wait for you?"

It was a nice sentiment that even after what had almost happened back on the operating floor, he was still offering me a ride. I didn't need it, though.

"No. Don't. I'll find another way to evacuate."

"With the alien?" Dallas asked, his eyebrows raising.

I couldn't help but roll my eyes and I didn't even dignify the comment with an answer, merely turning to leave. However, Devon called after me. "Hey. Hey, don't let her go! Nichole, you get your ass back here."

I stopped long enough to see Dallas meet Devon on the landing pad and grab him. Devon struggled but wound up nearly collapsing from the pain. I hesitated, torn between going with him and looking for Wolf, but Devon was fine. He was going to be fine. In a few minutes, he'd be on a helicopter and on his way out of the city. That wasn't something I could say for Wolf.

"Devon, go with them! I'll be fine," I assured him.

"Like hell you will," he growled, still fighting against Dallas. But, between his injury and Dallas' better position, he was losing that battle. Kelly had already managed to fire up the helicopter. It's engines were warming up with a deep hum.

Even though it was more than obvious that Devon wouldn't be able to keep struggling, he continued. Even though it winded him and threw him into coughing fits, he shouted at me. "Don't you dare leave without saying goodbye to me! Don't you fucking dare!"

A tight feeling in my chest wound its way inside me and I was unable to ignore his request. Not after everything we had been through together. Part of me wanted to believe that we'd be able to meet one last time before Wolf took me, but I knew better than that. An intense dread was weighing on me like something bad was going to happen there on the roof.

At the very least, I didn't want to risk cheating Devon out of the farewell he wanted. That we both needed.

I ran back to the helicopter, bounding up the steps. My knee buckled under the strain it was going through, but I caught myself and approached Devon, knowing better than to get within arm's length of him.

It wouldn't be too farfetched to think he'd try to grab me and pull me in.

"I have to go, Devon," I said, raising my voice as the turbines roared and the rotors above our head began to spin. They would have to take off soon and I needed to meet with Wolf.

"You don't have to—"

Nodding, I spoke over him. "I know. I want to. And I'm sorry that it's hurting you like this. You have to go, though. You're hurt and they're ready to leave now."

"You can come. Wolf will find you if he really wants to."

It was true enough, but that wasn't the point. "I can't leave him, Devon. You know I can't just turn tail and flee because things are getting tight."

"We need to go!" Kelly shouted.

Both of us glanced at her, shutting her down with our expressions alone. When we turned back to one another, I took his face in my hands and smiled at him. "I'm still trying so hard to get over my past, Devon. But, let me tell you . . . your friendship has meant so much to me. It's made it so much easier to move on, and I'm grateful for what we've had, what you've done for me over the past few years."

"Nichole . . . ." He grabbed my wrist with his good hand, squeezing with his fingers. I let him.

"Thank you, Devon. Thank you so much for everything. For the stake-outs, for the all Chinese food and pizza. Thank you for putting up with my bullshit and listening to me when I needed someone to talk to. For being there when I didn't even know I needed someone. Thank you, Devon, for bringing just a little bit of light into my life when I was alone in the dark."

I was glad for the rain. Glad that he wouldn't be able to tell where it ended and my tears began. I gave him one last, big smile and then kissed his forehead once before letting go of him and leaving, freeing my arm from his grasp with a swift movement.

He reached for me, but I was too far gone. Dallas took him back up and tried to heave him into the helicopter as Kelly made the last preparations for take-off.

"Nichole!"

"Good-bye, Devon," I said, turning to look at him one last time. Though he wouldn't be able to hear me, it was obvious from his reaction that he had read my lips.

His eyes widened and he renewed his vigorous, but fruitless, battle with Dallas. "Nichole? Nichole! NICHOLE!" He doubled over after that, and Dallas was able to shove him inside and close the door.

It felt like a small animal was burrowing into my stomach. I took a deep breath, muttered an apology, then turned away so no one would see my wipe my eyes. I wanted to stand and watch, to make sure that they left with Devon in tow, but I couldn't wait. I had to leave and put my trust in these strangers to finish the job that I tried so hard to accomplish. So, I bolted farther along the roof to see if I could find Wolf.

Behind me, the helicopter lifted off into the air and banked hard to escape the city.

Relief crashed over me like a refreshing wave of heat in this ice-cold rain threatening to wash me away. The citizens were out of my hair, Devon was going to be okay, and I was able to do as I pleased to find Wolf. I had no one else to worry about or to hold me back.

I'd finally done it. I'd finally made sure my friend made it to safety. I protected him. Not once in my life had I felt so free.

Chapter Text

My night wasn't over quite yet. Devon was safe with those citizens, on their way out of the city and away from the missile strike. Time was running out, though, and I needed to find Wolf so we could get the fuck out of Dodge.

A task that was beginning to look bleak. The rain was complicating everything.

Visibility was next nothing through the thick deluge falling from the sky like a solid sheet of water. The rain had soaked all the way to my bones and it felt as if icy needles were digging into my skin, stinging with each drop that hit my body. My water-logged clothes clung uncomfortably to my body and weighed me down, making each step a chore as I navigated the construction. If it hadn't been for piercing construction lights drawing power from the backup generators of the hospital, I wouldn't have been able to see my own hand in front of my face.

All it did was punctuate one thing: I was alone.

Again.

Familiar fear and panic settled deep within me and I clung to my weapon with both hands like a lifeline. I prayed that my hands weren't so wet that it went flying out of them at some point. That's just what I need.

The xenomorphs—rather, kiande amedha as Wolf preferred I call them—were drawn out by the helicopter's departure. They started to track me and my progress across the roof, clambering over catwalks and casting shadows across the opaque tarps littered about the rooftop, covering various surfaces and protecting them from construction.

Rather than attempt to fight them all by my lonesome, I opted to sprint across the more open area of the roof toward the other side where I could lose them in the equipment. They were building a new wing, it seemed, and a lot of the new floor was already built.

I have to find Wolf . . . I'm no match for an entire horde . . . .

On high-alert, I managed to spot an oncoming drone from the corner of my eye and I dropped to the ground as it pounced, sailing over me. I managed to catch mid-jump with a fairly awkward swing from my left and the sharp blade sliced right through its midsection, cleaving it in two. I had to dodge around the body parts that dropped around me, hoping upon hope that the rain would dilute any acid blood that splattered me.

With some good luck, it would mean that I wouldn't have any of my limbs melted off.

"Wolf!" I shouted, ducking underneath some framework and pausing when one of the kiande amedha launched overhead again. If I hadn't moved down in time, it probably would have tackled and pinned me.

I didn't know how well yelling was going to help, but I needed to do something. The black bugs already knew where I was, so it wouldn't make anything worse at least.

Underneath the small beam, I was shielded briefly from the rain. I didn't plan on sticking around, though, and I dove right back into the downpour, barely avoiding a barbed tail thrust in my direction. The alien bug squealed with rage and came at me—black on black. If their chitinous exoskeletons weren't so reflective, I never would have seen any of them coming.

Thankfully, though, the light glinted off their natural armor and I had a small frame of reference to where they were. It wasn't much, but it was enough—for the time being. I was still practically swinging my sword around blindly, hoping to land a lucky strike like I had before.

So far, they were all whiffs. I'd used up all my good fortune earlier chopping that thing in half.

Another drone launched itself at me but I rolled out of the way, sliding on the wet surface of the roof and further soaking myself—if that was even possible. After some scrambling, I managed to stand back up and took off running again. Adrenaline kept me going, kept the chills at bay, but they were started to seep deep inside me and I had to fight the urge to curl up and shiver.

These fuckers have the upper hand. I need to stay on the defensive for now. Keep moving—find somewhere to hide . . . .

Again, I called for Wolf, yelling at the top of my lungs. "Wolf! I'm here." Still, I could barely hear myself over the rain and distant screeches, so I didn't have much hope that he could, either. I wasn't even sure he was even on the roof yet.

But what else could I do?

The plan, at first, had been to head back into the hospital to track down my alien knight, but I was all turned around. The bugs had me running all over the place, barely avoiding their teeth and claws through sheer virtue of my reflexes and smaller size. I was slowly losing my momentum, though, and traction on the roof was becoming next to nothing. The shoes I was wearing were more for running on dry pavement than dodging and weaving atop a wet roof.

Even if I had been able to make it back inside, the enemy was coming from within; they were abandoning their nest to seek out threats and possible hosts. I wouldn't have been able to go inside at all with a growing hive to fight through.

I just have to keep safe until Wolf comes for me.

If I had to fight, I had to fight. But first, I was on the lookout for a small corner that I could back into. If I could force them into a bottleneck it would be easier for me to pick them off in tight quarters, I might have a chance. Since I was on an open roof, I knew that finding something like that would be next to impossible. I didn't want to have to rely on Wolf all the time, but I was between a rock and a hard place.

Finally, though, I did succeed in finding a corner between one of the finished sections of the new wing. I didn't know what was on the other side—offices, more recovery rooms, maybe—but whatever it was, it was close enough to what I was looking for that I scrambled to back into it. The lighting wasn't ideal due to the position of the construction lights, but all I needed was to catch my breath and gain my bearings. The quick, panicked breaths weren't doing me any good. My legs were shaking and sore, my lungs felt like they were on fire, but I couldn't remain idle for too long.

Just a short break. Only for a few moments. I just want to catch my breath . . . .

Three alien drones snarled down at me, clinging to the walls of my corner. Shit! I forgot they can move vertically, too! I scrambled away from the wall, peering up at the aliens and blinking away rainwater. I watched them closely, gauging whether or not they were going to pounce. They crawled down the sides of the next floor up, their tails lashing, and then an angry shriek came from my side.

I whirled around, swinging wildly with my sword. This one I couldn't even see, but it did retreat with a high-pitched whine without truly attacking. One of the others moved too close to me and I made a crazy slash to ward it off only to have the thing wail and retreat just like the first one had.

What are they doing? They couldn't wait to attack me before.

The third one dropped down next to me but quickly bounded away before I could even turn, making me stumble away in terror—it had been so close. I would have been dead. So why weren't they attacking?

We continued that awful dance across the roof with me trying hard to watch my own six. My enemies would move in as if to strike, I'd counter, and then they'd withdraw. I found myself shouting and cursing at them, trying to bait them into making a commitment, but they were content to herd me around the roof, goading me over and over.

"Come on! Fucking do something. Try it, fuckers! Come see what you'll get."

Not for one minute did I believe they were afraid of me. Why not swarm? Why not charge? My attacks became sloppier as I grew frustrated and exhausted, my body heavy from the wet clothes sticking to my skin.

They're herding me, I realized. But to where? Why?

Out of habit, or instinct, or desperation, I opened my mouth to call once more for Wolf. As loud as I could, to draw him over. He had to be up there with me, he just had to be. I was at a loss for what to do against more than a couple of these dreadful creatures, let alone when they were playing cat and mouse.

Before I could do it, though, I shut my mouth and swallowed my voice. No matter what, I wasn't going to call for him. I was going to deal with this all on my own.

To the best of my abilities. For better or worse. My fear wasn't going to overwhelm me this time.

I maneuvered myself until I was backed against another construction wall—or a divider of some sort—to prevent anymore sneak attacks. They surrounded me with their lips drawn back and their tails arched over their backs.

Slowly, with painstakingly slow steps, they approached.

With nowhere else to go, there was only one option left to me. I took a few deep breaths and tried to find my center, tried to stop my hands from shaking, but my whole body was battling tremors from the cold, adrenaline, and terror. My fingers tightened on the hilt of my sword until my knuckles turned white. I wasn't going to stand there and wait for them to do whatever it was they were going to do. I couldn't wait around for Wolf to come help me. I didn't have time to, not with them bearing down on me.

No, I was going to go to them.

Raising my blade up in preparation, I released the breath I was holding and charged.

My enemies screeched and swayed, surprised by my sudden display, and then the floor beneath them erupted into a spray of mortar and drywall. Dust and dirt exploded outward and I stumbled back in surprise, nearly falling before I caught my balance and staggered away.

They were sent scattering like roaches, screeching and growling in alarm, and then Wolf jumped up from the hole he'd made, guns blazing and ready for a fight. So to speak, anyway, seeing how I was the one who had his gun.

"Wolf!" I gasped, hauling myself back to my feet.

He turned to face me, then whipped around when the kiande amedha finally recovered and swarmed him. My first instinct was to pass him his weapon, but it would be impossible while he was fending off an attack from all sides.

For the time being, he'd have to make do without it until a better opportunity presented itself. He was a big, tough guy. I had faith in him.

Seeing him alive and well filled me with determination. I came to his aid and swung at the drone standing between us. It squealed and moved out of the way, ducking around to Wolf's other side and filling the gap left by one he had hurled away.

A sound off to my left caught my attention and I spun around to find one of them leaping down at me from atop the wall. I swung and ducked at the same time, throwing myself into a roll as the alien slammed down where I had been. I had been trying to chop its head off, but all I did was chip its shoulder spike.

Undeterred, it stood back up and came at me again. I braced myself for a fight, and then a thick whip wrapped around its head and yanked it back.

"Hey," I snapped at Wolf, "that one was mine!"

Wolf dragged the screeching drone toward him. It thrashed and screeched the entire time. I had to skirt around the giant hole in the roof, but I lunged all the same and hacked at it with my blade, leaving it in ribbons. Wolf pulled his whip free and cocked his head at me.

"I could have done that without your help," I muttered, wiping my face on my arm. I wondered how he was faring with the rain, but I couldn't tell just by looking at him.

He chuffed and then pivoted on his heels, snapping at a pouncing drone with his whip and driving it back. It squealed and retreated behind a power box. It was the last one—the rest had either been killed by him or had fled to regroup with more of their hive mates.

"Did you call the ship?" I asked, marching toward him now that we had a moment's peace. "We need to go. That tactical strike will be here any minute."

I watched over my shoulder for danger, listening to Wolf's affirmation. I half expected to see Devon hobbling after me from around some corner like the misguided stray dog he was, but there was nothing. The chopper was gone, and so was he.

Good. I wouldn't have put it passed him.

Still, just to be sure, I asked Wolf, "Is there anyone up here with us? Humans, I mean."

For a moment he stared at me with his head tilted as if he couldn't believe me, but I continued to meet his gaze with the same expression and resolve. He snorted and jumped up on the divider I'd been backed against, scanning the area. I faced away from him and remained alert in case more drones came back for round two. I'd slowly grown accustomed to seeing in these conditions, so playing look-out was a little easier.

The hole Wolf had punched his way out of crumbled and I jumped, then let out my breath in an irritated huff.

Just a fucking rock.

When Wolf called down to me, I turned to see what he had to say—or to guess, really. I barely had my mouth open to ask before he snapped back around to field a pair of drones that blind-sided him, throwing him off the barrier and out of my field of view. My heart dropped down there with him and I tried to run around the barrier to come to his aid, but a strange noise echoed up from the hole in the roof. I paused long enough to watch another giant, muscular alien leap on out and land in front of me.

All I could do was gawk up at the Hybrid as she greeted me with an earth-shaking roar—then she dove at me.

She hit me hard and fast in the abdomen with a thick forearm, slamming me back-first against the wall. Pain lanced up my spine and I arched my back, wheezing out a pained cough—the backpack I wore softened some of the blow, but not enough. Something, I realized in horror, had definitely cracked when she'd hit me.

She didn't leave me hardly any time to recover from the blow before she was lunging at me again. I had the wherewithal to throw my arms up to shield against her, still armed with my sword, but my reactions were sluggish and ungainly. The Hybrid smacked me with her heavy tail, disarming me and once again sending a new wave of agony all the way up to my shoulders. I knew instantly that my dominant hand was broken. The Hybrid shoved me back against the wall as if trying to push me all the way through it. I kicked—and then she was wrenched off me and thrown several feet away, allowing me to slump to the ground.

For one confused second I thought I'd somehow come into superhuman strength, but through the rain, I could make out Wolf grappling with the Hybrid, their forms silhouetted against the construction lights.

Wolf had her snared with his whip, pulling it taut around her throat as he dragged her backward. I recognized my chance. After wiggling the backpack off my shoulders, I braced it between my legs and used my good hand to almost literally tearing it open so I could fish around for what I was looking for. Wolf's computer, a bunch of random shit I'd forgotten was in there, and the cannon I'd been holding on to jostled around inside. My dry clothes were in there—though it was the monkey suit I had been wearing at work—so I had that to look forward to.

Well, it was getting wet with the bag open.

Finally, I found Wolf's gun and I pulled it out, setting it aside so I could zip the bag up and put it back on. Before I could handle the gun, I was distracted for a moment: Wolf's fight had devolved into a fist fight after the Hybrid finally ripped the whip right out of his hand. I picked up my weapon up by the blade and tucked it under my arm, then groped around in the shallow puddles for Wolf's gun.

It was right where I'd left it next to me, but the rain had flooded the roof under an inch or two of water. I could only hope that it wouldn't render it useless. After it was in-hand, I switched it out with my sword so the gun was now tucked under my arm and I was holding my weapon by the grip. All I had to do was keep the gun safe until I could hand it off.

Then, I stood and fought through the aching discomfort all over my body to join Wolf. It was two against one. The odds were in our favor and now was my chance to earn my keep while I was at Wolf's side. Each breath made it feel like sharp thorns filled my chest and my right hand was uselessly pressed against my stomach, but I still had two legs—alright, they weren't in the best condition, either—and one good hand. That had to count for something. That one hand was my left and it wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.

After Wolf dodge-rolled to put some distance between him and the Hybrid, I had even more running to do. My legs were already threatening to drop me, but I pushed on all the same. The Hybrid turned her head as if to look at me, then slipped away before I could catch up, disappearing into the sheet rain and electrical boxes before Wolf could stand up straight.

I stopped next to him, our backs to each other. "Where are you, bitch?" I muttered, scanning the darkness. There was minimum light filtering through the rain, and water obscured my already-blurry vision, but I tried my best.

Behind me, Wolf growled what I could only assume was a similar sentiment.

"You know where she gets this shit from, right?" I huffed at Wolf, referencing the hybrid's tendency to disappear into thin air. He chittered in exasperation and I said, "Yeah, from you all!"

It was probably too soon to be making light of poor Jailbreak, but I was really fucking irritated.

"Where is she?" I asked Wolf.

He had no new information for me and I scoffed. "You're the one with the fancy high-tech mask. What do you mean you don't know where she is?"

Wolf snorted and babbled something at me. All I could do was roll my eyes. "Here, I found this—your gun," I said, trying to take it in my left-hand without accidentally dropping my sword. Wolf held out his hand to take it, for once sounding grateful.

A drone dropped down dropped from scaffolding above us and landed almost on top of Wolf, making both of us turn to deal with it. It screeched at us and moved back, and then the Hybrid barreled through from the opposite direction, shoving Wolf across the roof with one powerful blow. He skidded several yards away and the drone ran after him, leaving me alone with the Hybrid. Using the momentum from her charge, she spun around and caught me with her tail. My sword and the gun skittered out of sight, clattering against something within the darkness. I was still reeling from the strike when she pounced on me like a wildcat, dropping me to the ground and landing on my chest.

I had enough time to draw in a single, needle-filled breath as she adjusted her weight. Weakly, I put my hands up to fend off her attack, but it was all useless.

Nothing I did could throw her off of me.

Nothing I could do stopped her from forcing herself through my defenses and shoving her face in mine—gagging me and lighting my throat on fire. I couldn't see, I couldn't breathe, and my mind completely shut down. The strength seeped from my limbs as everything fell apart. I kicked the air weakly and I clawed at her.

Then I swallowed.

Chapter Text

All I wanted to do was scream, scream until I couldn't any longer. Scream until everything else went away and it was just me, in the dark, yelling until my soul left my body.

But that wasn't in the cards for me. I couldn't do anything but keep—swallowing.

Or choke. I should have let myself choke but damn it all, my body wouldn't let me. It fought to take the burden being forced upon me, fought to keep me breathing and prevent my gagging. Prolong my death.

I wagered the Hybrid wasn't going to let me have a choice in the matter, either.

With my thoughts growing ever fuzzier and my lungs burning, the strength was seeping from my limbs. My will to live was failing quick. The Hybrid lacked the air sacks the facehuggers had to keep me from suffocating. Milliseconds became hours as darkness threatened to sweep me up—and then everything stopped.

The Hybrid went rigid. Her tusks dug into the back of my scalp, then suddenly released and she threw herself off of me with a shriek. A cloying, coppery taste replaced her invasion and I wheezed out a wet gag.

Then, for the first time in what seemed like days, I took a deep, gasping breath that sent me into spasms as my ribs threatened to crumble into dust. The added weight of the Hybrid had almost collapsed my entire chest cavity, and now I couldn't catch my breath.

Coughs racked my body. Tears streamed down my face and I almost passed out from the agony. Somehow, I clung to my consciousness and rolled once over the gravel-covered, soaking rooftop until I was on my stomach, hacking up my own blood. I clawed at my chest with one hand, the other propping me up on my elbow. Nausea swept over me and I dry-heaved a couple times, trying to crawl away from the awful alien stamping her feet next to me.

Two.

I couldn't wrap my head around it. I should have been glad it wasn't as many as I'd seen with the waitress, but was that really anything to be glad for?

One was too many.

Despite my physical fatigue, injuries, and disgust, I managed to flip myself over and spotted Wolf grappling with the Hybrid, lit up by the construction lights behind me. He had his blades wrist-deep in her back, trying to drag her away from me, but she had dug her heels in and refused to leave. Thankfully, they were dead-locked a safe distance from me.

She had chosen to let go over dousing me with her blood and killing the things now inside me. Desperately, I wished she hadn't. I was even grateful that Wolf had taken the risk.

With a solid kick to her back, he sent her stumbling forward a step or two, ripping his blades from where they nested by her spine. Before she could turn on him, he held up his plasma cannon—the one I had tried to give him—and point-blank blasted a hole in her head the size of a basketball.

Her body remained upright for a few prolonged seconds, and Wolf left her to fall and strode toward me, each pace filled with purpose.

Never before had I been so happy to see him. I kept my eyes on his wrist blades, eagerly awaiting the sweet embrace of death. All I could see was him running me through with them; putting me out of my misery. Like he had those on the ship. The men and women stuck to the walls, incubating their own personal demon.

Like I know was.

However, when he neared, the blades slid away into his gauntlet. My heart dropped into my shoes I realized that hadn't been his intention at all—how could he hesitate?

Do it—do it—you need to do it—

Speaking was beyond me. I could barely draw a breath to fill my lungs let alone form words.

As he kneeled by my side, the weight and realization of what had just happened hit me like a truck. I sat up and grabbed my chest, tearing at my collar until I could scratch at my skin, determined to dig into my own chest and neck to rip the parasites out with my own hands.

Held-back sobs clogged my throat. Adrenaline kept me lucid through the pain and fear, but only barely. Wolf grabbed my hands to stop me from inflicting more wounds on myself and hooked his arm around me. I hadn't noticed, but now that he was so close, I realized that was missing his mask; it had likely been dislodged in the fight.

Water pooled around me where I was stretched out, partially held up by Wolf's strong, scaly arms. Though I attempted to scramble away from the black carcass next to me, my feet only slipped in the water and Wolf was an unmovable wall, keeping me in place.

Part of me was still wary of him. Wary and hopeful. If anyone would keep me from suffering this ill fate, it would be him.

But was I ready? Was I ready to—to—die?

At last, I found my voice: It was muddy and hysteric. Speaking burned my throat and tore at my chest, but I was able to find my words.

"No, no, no! No no no no!"

Well, I found one word.

Panic squeezed my heart like a python, constricting my battered ribcage and making my stomach churn. I gasped and clawed at my abdomen with one hand, the other scraping around to find Wolf's arm in an attempt to pull myself upright. My mouth worked like a fish out of water and I fought to ignore the taste of bile and blood at the back of my throat.

All I could think about was Jess, curled up on the floor while one of those monsters chewed through her sternum. Of the soldier who helped me escape, bucking and seizing on the wall. All the blood—pain twisting their faces —the sound of them taking their last breaths—the squealing—crunching—

That is going to be me.

What do we do?

It took me several excruciating heartbeats to realize I hadn't vocalized the thought. My jaw bobbed and for another brief spell, I only managed a strangled sound before I found my voice at last.

"What do we do?"

In the end, I wished I hadn't spoken: my voice was shrill and hoarse in my ears, slicing through the sound of rain pelting around us. Through the downpour and darkness, I could barely make out Wolf's features, but it was his heat that drew me in, the strength that he promised.

My nails dug at the fleshy part of Wolf's bicep. He inclined his head toward me, his mandibles pressed tight over his mouth. His brow was furrowed, his muscles tense and coiled. Vibrant green blood mixed with the rain and I remembered: he was hurt, too. Had been for a long while, through hell and high water.

I wished I could be as strong and infallible as he, but true dread had sunk its fangs into me and my body was at its limits. It tore at my insides and drew fresh tears to my eyes. The rain was a blessing in disguise: it concealed my open weeping.

It was too much. All of it was just too much.

Every part of me not entrenched in panic was revolted at how human I was.

At last, Wolf made a move. With a growl, he swept me up into his arms. I held tight to his shoulder, choking back sobs and gripping the front of my shirt with one hand. My eyes scanned his face, looking for some kind of answer. There was nothing there, nothing that I could read, anyway. His expressions were too foreign. Were his mandibles pressed in anger or concern?

"You can't—you can't let this—you have to—please—please—put me out—ki—" Hysteria won and I babbled at him, trying hard to ask for mercy but unable to utter the words. My throat burned and made my voice thick. Each syllable was a kick in the teeth, each breath drawn was a betrayal to myself, to the strength I wished I had.

The rain poured without relent as he moved me to the edge of the roof. I wished the weather would swallow me whole or tear me apart. Anything would be better than this.

Yes . . . yes. Throw me over. Drop me—it's high enough.

It wouldn't be pretty, but it didn't have to be. It just had to work. It just had to be enough to end my suffering.

Once he reached the roof's end, though, the ship's cloak was dispelled and it shimmered into view. I let out another despairing sob. Why won't he just end me?

The ship spun around, the door opened, and Wolf leaped across the three-foot gap to land safely inside. He let me down while the ship closed up and headed away from the building—it vibrated and shifted, making me lose my balance. I tried to hold on to him so I wouldn't lose my pillar, my rock, but he pulled away with a gentle command.

"Wait—wait. What are you doing? Where are you going? Wolf—you can't let me—"

He put his hand up to tell me to stay, but I didn't want to.

I didn't want to be alone.

However, when I tried to follow him and beg him to use those blades of his on me, my legs refused to move. I attempted a step and my knees buckled; I dropped to the metal floor like a rock and could do nothing but stare after him.

I'd forgotten how hot the ships his kind used were. The heat had already chased away the chill from the rain, but I couldn't stop shaking. I was certain that I would rattle myself into pieces at any moment. My hand was permanently balled into a fist, gripping the front of my jacket and shirt until my knuckles turned white and my palm stung. I still had my broken hand tucked against my body, taking short and shallow breaths.

It was hard for me to figure out what was worse, the things inside me or what was going to come next.

Not the—god help me—the birthing but what Wolf had to do. He could have done it right there, in the rain, but he hadn't. He could have easily pierced my heart or tossed me over the edge of the roof—but he hadn't.

Why? Why? Why?

Fuck, he could have even left me on the rooftop to die from the missile strike. Why would he bring me aboard the ship? Perhaps his honor wouldn't let him cut me down without putting up a fight. Maybe he meant to have me battle him and lose in a dignified battle to the death or whatever.

There was no way. I could barely make my legs take even a single step.

As I was thinking of dueling to the death with him, I realized that I had left behind my blade. The one that I'd used back when I was in high school. The one that Wolf had kept for me all this time. It had been knocked from my grasp by the Hybrid, and then—and then I'd forgotten all about it. I'd left it behind with . . . with . . . .

Oh god. Devon.

Jesus, why wasn't he there with me? Why had I sent him away? He would have made me feel better. He would have known what to say, what to do. He would have had any number of platitudes and inanities to say and talk me through this.

Then I remembered.

My pistol.

With my hand shaking, I reached for my belt and unclipped the holster. I checked the safety, looked in the chamber. One bullet inside, a full clip loaded.

When I closed my eyes, I saw the police officer. I saw the flash of the muzzle firing. I heard the sound of their bodies hitting the floor, saw the blood pooling underneath them. My lip quivered and I raised the gun to my head.

If he won't do it . . . then I'll . . . .

Before I could finish the thought, the ship lurched and I was thrown against one of the walls, my sidearm dropped along the way. Over the various sounds of the moving ship, I could hear the faint concussion of an explosion and my heart almost stopped altogether. The town . . . the citizens . . . all gone.

Groaning, coughing up more blood, I tried to pick myself up. My arms refused to support my weight and I slumped back to the floor, face-down on the metal. I couldn't even reach for my sidearm, scant inches away from my fingertips.

With a heavy, painful grunt, I used my elbows to drag myself across the floor toward my gun. Even the small amount of pressure against my chest sent blinding agony through my entire body, making my vision go white. Fine. I didn't need to see—I already knew where my gun was.

When my fingers touched the grip, I willed myself forward another millimeter and pulled it closer. However, a growl met me and I was hauled up onto my feet, the gun left behind on the floor. I cried out in pain and Wolf loosened his grip, but didn't let go.

He demanded something in his language and it didn't take a genius to know what he was asking. It was something I heard him say often enough— something like "what are you doing?"

"Just let me die!" I wailed, doubling over and wheezing from the effort of saying even that much.

Wolf stared at me. He had donned a new mask, and it made me realize an important thing: I could breathe the air on his ship. I hadn't had a single issue since coming aboard—well, besides the broken ribs. This whole time I'd thought he'd been flying the ship or something, but he'd been adjusting the life support system to suit me. The ship must have been on autopilot, flying in any direction to escape the nuke.

Should have just let me suffocate.

"Please," I muttered, slumping as exhaustion finally caught up with me. My head was swimming, my chest on fire, and he wouldn't let it all end. "Just . . . let me . . . ."

Wolf cocked his head to the side and regarded me for a moment, then picked me up like a doll and carried me through the ship bridal-style. All my strength had left me, so all I could do was go along and hope he knew what he was doing.

"What are you going to do?" I asked meekly.

He carried me through a set of doors and into a small room with nothing but a handful of canisters that looked big enough to fit a large man—or, perhaps, a Wolf-sized man. Wolf had been muttering and clicking to himself the entire walk over.

Maybe he'd been trying to talk to me. I hadn't been paying much attention: my mind was a million miles away, imagining all the things ways this could have gone right—only to have it fucked up by a god damn alien desperately in need of a sexual harassment seminar.

Then, finally, he said something that I could understand. In choppy, gravelly English, he told me, "You . . . be okay."

I looked up at him with a screwed expression, wondering if he'd said the wrong thing. He wasn't looking at me, however, and merely brought me over to one of the pods.

After appraising them with a critical eye, I looked up at Wolf and asked, "What is it for?" in a raspy whisper. They didn't look like any kind of magical surgery machines, and I had a hard time believing he'd have one. Mostly because he didn't seem like the doctor type.

Ignoring me, he shifted my weight so he could free up a hand and he slapped his fist against the glass casing, popping open the container. He dropped me down and unceremoniously ushered me inside.

The inside gave me just enough room to turn around without knocking around the walls, and I spoke out in a complaint. "Hey—wait!"

He growled in exasperation and gently pushed me back inside when I tried to come out. I let out an undignified, pained squawk and the glass slammed back down in front of me, encasing me inside. A new wave of fear, this time at the unknown, threatened to take over and I leaned forward to push my hands against the glass and watch him punch commands into the glass itself. It was firm, and I couldn't push it open.

There was so much I wanted to know. He definitely meant what he said earlier, but I still couldn't believe it.

"What is going on?" I huffed, grimacing. In a moment of stupidity, I slapped the glass with my bad hand and I recoiled, clutching it to my broken ribs and making everything worse.

Wolf moved his fingers across the window as if he was typing. I couldn't see the display, so I figured that it was only in a spectrum visible to him. I pushed my good hand against the glass, hoping that the heat from my palm would disrupt his work long enough so that I could get some answers.

"What are you doing?" I begged to question.

However, my attempts didn't seem to delay anything he was doing.

At last, when he turned his attention to me, he spoke. His English was broken and rough, but I could make out the meaning of them without much struggle. He must have really wanted to make sure I understood what he wanted, considering he had never spoken to me in English at length before.

"Sleep," he told me.

My mouth gaped in confusion and I shook my head back and forth slowly. "You . . . are you going to . . . ?"

Fix me?

I didn't dare say it out loud and simply fell back. There was no way that was the plan. I wished he could offer more, wished that I could ask more, but I didn't want any false hope and he wouldn't be able to explain through the language barrier. I knew I was lucky enough to get the words he had given me.

No. I'm being euthanized.

Wolf wasn't going to give me a bloody death. He was going to let me just . . . go to sleep.

That, I could live with.

He put in one last command before taking a step back. I let my hand drop and I swallowed a cough, trying not to make my discomfort any more terrible than it already was.

All I could do was wait for the gas, or . . . whatever they used to lull me into a forever sleep.

At that moment, my thoughts went to my mother, to my father. To my sister and brother. A black car would pull up to the house, then the agency would deliver the news and all my family would have left to remember me by were pictures and a folded flag and a "we're sorry".

As my personal coffin was lifted off the ground by unseen machinery, I knocked on the window and Wolf brought it back down to look at me. If he could even see me through the glass.

"Wolf, don't . . . whatever happens to me," I started, pausing every few words to catch my breath. "Whatever . . . becomes of me, please just . . . just let Devon know that I'm okay. They'll, they'll probably declare me dead, anyway, but so long as . . . one person at least thinks that I'm okay, then . . . then I'll be alright."

He stared at me a moment, then let out a breath that made it look like he was deflating.

Then, he started the machinery back up and I was swallowed up into the wall. My heart started to pound when I realized that I was sitting in unyielding darkness, but I closed my eyes tight and tried to realize that it was all I had to look forward to now. All that was left for me.

Nothing but the black void of nothingness.

The capsule—which I was certain was actually a cell—was slanted back so I wasn't quite standing but nor was I lying back. It was solid and unyielding: as if comfort hadn't even been considered in the design. As I felt around and fought for a good position to be in, I found restraints.

Whatever this thing was, it was meant to keep someone inside. To keep someone prisoner.

In my wiggling and pained throes, I managed to smack the back of my head against the wall. If it was meant to keep someone prisoner—then it was probably meant to keep that someone alive. If that was the case, what was the plan?

After a moment, the answer came. I became aware of a faint hissing sound from all around. My breathing became even more labored with a medicinal aftertaste left on my tongue.

He was going to drug me.

So, exactly what I had thought. He was going to put me to sleep. In a portable jail cell. For them, it was probably a sedative that knocked them out. For me, it was probably a lethal gas that would put me down.

It didn't hurt to breathe—well, any more than usual. Whatever the gas was, it wasn't burning me or causing any other responses. It was heavy, like trying to breathe in high humidity, but it was also mostly familiar to when I'd gone under for my surgery. So, at the very least, it wouldn't be unpleasant.

Except for the broken ribs, the broken hand, the burning in my pride, nervous bleeding in my brain.

My lip quivered and I turned on my side, wrapping my arms around myself. I couldn't quite curl up into a ball, but I had just enough room to double over.

Now that he couldn't see me, and now that he might not be able to hear me, I let loose. I released every pent-up emotion that I had saved up to save my dignity and composure. As much as my shattered chest would allow, I wailed and screamed.

Not even the sedative being pumped into my capsule could quell the sobs wracking my frame. Only the effects of the drug slowly calmed me down, subduing me and forcing me into a semi-conscious, torpid state of whimpers and sniffles. It didn't stop me from thinking about everything I regretted now that I was at death's door.

I should have called my mom a little more often. It was a small solace that, in those early moments, I'd realized that I was never going to see her again. I'd called her—one more time—to tell her I love her. To hear her tell me she loved me.

One more time.

Everything had gone so wrong, though. I'd always thought I'd have a little bit of extra time before Wolf and I disappeared into the sky.

It had all been planned in my head. After we'd successfully eradicated the remaining bugs, I was going to say . . . something, anything, to Devon. I hadn't really thought that part through. In my perfect world, he and Wolf would have been getting along fine and we could have all—laughed about the whole situation together.

Then I would have called my mom again. I still hadn't hashed out my speech, but I was going to improvise something to let her know that I wasn't coming home or calling again.

But it would have worked out.

All my loose ends tied up. All my worries and fears cast aside. I could have followed Wolf on his ship with nothing holding me back. The future would have been waiting, warm and welcoming and everything would have been . . . fine.

Fine.

Because this was what I'd wanted.

. . . what I'd told myself I wanted.

The Hybrid had ruined it all. The government had ruined it all, with their "nuke the site from orbit" mentality. Everything had fallen apart. There were too many loose ends. Too many regrets. Too much had gone wrong.

And the future was now cold and rigid. I wasn't ready to leave yet. I wasn't ready to disappear off the face of the planet.

My thoughts started to turn to static. I'd exhausted all my energy into crying, and the sedative had free reign of my systems now. Though I wasn't quite suffocating, I could tell that Wolf had upped the dosage when I hadn't immediately passed out: the air was even thicker and a stronger, sterile taste coated my tongue and throat.

Well, I was done with fighting. I was done trying to be strong. I wanted this last moment of weakness, this last moment of emotional upheaval.

I dug my fingers into my chest again, though the gesture lacked power. My muscles were relaxing, my mind fading. The pain left me and I could take deeper breaths.

Good.

Let oblivion come.

If I was lucky, it wouldn't ever let me go.

After taking a few more deep breaths of the sedatives swirling around me, oblivion came—and for a long, long time, I was gone. Swaddled in darkness, cradled by the void, and . . . this time . . . for good . . . I had nothing weighing me down.

Chapter Text

The furs were soft against my fingertips, warm around my body. That was about all the comfort I seemed to be allowed, though. Sure, there was a bed of sorts under me, but it could have been the universe's most luxurious mattress and I still would be miserable and full of pain.

When considering the alternative, I knew that I really had jack shit to be complaining about.

I hadn't left Wolf's bed since I'd woken up on it. Those first few seconds of consciousness had been terrifying—waking up in a strange place with a strange face staring down at me . . . it had been Wolf's servant, in the end, and Wolf had shown up soon after and chased them away.

A weird, insect-like alien staring at you was not the greatest way to come back into the world.

Though I was still somewhat mobile, moving only made everything worse so I didn't. Nothing he fed me would stay down unless it was a liquid. All I could do was sleep in fits and starts and lie on my side curled in the fetal position.

Every last part of me hurt.

Mostly it was my abdomen, but my legs weren't up to snuff either. There were minimal surgical marks, but a myriad of bruises littered the operation sites. I still didn't know what they'd done to me, but I had figured it out by looking at my body.

Wolf hadn't euthanized me. Waking up was enough of a clue for that. I wasn't wearing a whole lot, but my clothes were piled up in the corner, still dirty and ripped. There was a huge, stitched-up incision down the center of my chest like I had been vivisected. Then the marks on my legs, like they'd tried to rectify that . . . .

They had operated. Or tried to. For the most part, they'd succeeded: I was alive and no longer had those things inside me. The way they had left me, I almost wished they hadn't succeeded.

They clearly hadn't quite known what they were doing or just didn't care enough to put in their best effort.

Why would they? I'm only human.

Painkillers would have been nice, but these people were of the belief that pain was weakness leaving the body. I wished sometimes that I was back in that cell and on ice, but I didn't think I was even on his ship anymore. It didn't feel like we were moving. Well . . . mostly. Sometimes it felt like the whole room was spinning.

I hadn't seen any more predators, and it had been . . . quite a while since Wolf had left. Every now and again I was visited by that strange mantoid aliens with four arms, bright eyes, and seal-like skin the color of decaying leaves. They freaked me out, but I wasn't in any condition to keep them from doing their thing. Which was feed me and help me walk to and from the facilities, which had taken some getting used to.

They made me walk, made me move. Probably to keep my muscles from becoming atrophied.

And I hated them for it.

There wasn't even any way for me to know how long it had been. The weird mantis-things occasionally opened up the shutter to what I assumed was a window to let in some light, so I kept time that way. I had to wager a guess of around four days since he'd surreptitiously left.

Who knows how long the days are here.

My time outside of bathroom breaks was spent nearly catatonic, curled up in Wolf's bed and cocooned in his furs. I'd fucked everything up. This wasn't how any of this was supposed to work. I should have been . . . out, killing things with Wolf.

Yet, there I was—moping in the dark. Lamenting my lot in life. Whimpering quietly when I shifted the wrong way and exacerbated the healing internal damage.

Finally, though, Wolf returned. It was a tiny bit of light in my otherwise bleak non-life. I wanted to be mad at him for ditching me, but I couldn't summon enough energy to feel anything even resembling anger.

He probably has better things to do than babysit me.

I only knew it was him entering because the footsteps were different. The mantids were graceful and quiet and Wolf's were heavier, like he wasn't trying to tip-toe around me. I refused to turn and look at him, but I did at least acknowledge he was there with a whisper and a cough.

He chittered something at me, but I respond outside of kind of shift my shoulder toward him. I was still wrapped up in the furs, trying hard not to be seen. Not until I was 100% better.

When I wasn't so disappointed in myself.

" Where's Nichole?"

My eyes shot open at the sound of that voice. I stirred, gritting my teeth, and struggled to roll over. When I'd managed that, I propped myself up on my hands and let the furs fall down my waist—only barely aware that I was practically naked.

" Why isn't she with you?"

Wolf was a few paces away, looking down at me with his head cocked. He was wearing his mask, as the room was set up so I could breathe fine. The mantid servants seemed to be fine in either atmosphere.

Though my mouth and throat were dry, I swallowed anymore and searched Wolf for answers. He played more of the recording and my heart almost burst.

" Is she okay?"

Tears pricked the corner of my eyes and I tried to wet my mouth so that I could speak. At last, I managed to. "You saw Devon?" I asked, my throat full of sand and voice only a whisper.

"Please just let Devon know that I'm okay." My voice, from inside the cell. "So long as one person at least thinks that I'm okay, then I'll be alright."

"Where is she?" Devon's voice again. I realized that he was going through his entire interaction with Devon. Or most of it.

"I'll be alright." Wolf had repeated for him.

Oh, how much I wanted to see his face, to see firsthand how that conversation had gone. What I would've given to have had the conversation with him myself.

I sank back to the bed again and lifted my heavy arms to press my hands against my head as if I could squeeze hard enough to keep the tears from falling down my cheeks. I was in no condition to fight my emotions anymore.

All this time I'd spent in bitter reprieve over my mistakes, marinating in my resentment, Wolf had been out delivering my message because I couldn't. At this point, it was better I hadn't gone because I might not have left because of Devon. Wolf would have had to kidnap me.

He'd done so much for me and I didn't deserve any of it. I'd made him wait five years and inserted a third wheel into our reunion. I'd complained, I'd inconvenienced him I'd . . . I'd become this hollow shell of what he'd seen in that crashed ship. From the moment he'd pulled the Hybrid off of me, I'd been a wreck. A complete and utter mess.

And now I was a broken shell. A bruised, barely-recovering burden in his bed.

"Why?" I asked aloud, wondering if he could hear me with my face pressed into the mattress. "Why are you doing all of this for me?"

Wolf regarded me for a moment, then played more of the recording from his time with Devon. "You take care of her, you hear me? I don't care if I have to build a rocket ship myself, I'll find you and I'll kick your ass if you don't!"

If it wouldn't have hurt so much, I might have laughed.

" You'll watch out for her?"

When I looked up at him, he straightened up and nodded his head once with a stalwart growl. I bit my lip to keep it from quivering and looked away again, touched by his gesture. I knew he wouldn't do it just because Devon asked him to. Not if he didn't want to already.

The bed sank in as Wolf sat next to me. He put a hand on top of my head and I reached up to take it in my own hand, rolling onto my side. He gripped my fingers and I held his rough, warm hand against my bruised and swollen chest.

It was a comfort, holding his hand in both of mine. He didn't move away even as I quietly cried in equal parts despair, relief, and pain.

I didn't deserve his generosity or his attention. I didn't serve this moment of affection.

Not yet.

But I would. I was going to make sure of it.