*For the purpose of questions raised about this FanFic I have started a Q&A on my bio, feel free to take a look.*

Hello Darlings! I felt I just wanted to throw a few little notices out there before you - hopefully - jump right into this.

Firstly, I am English. It's undeniable and it also means that any attempt to write this with Americanisms would just be disastrous. There will probably be the odd one in there, just because it flows better but as this is Fan Fiction it will just have to be that way.

Secondly, I will probably be using that wonderful 'artistic licence' because, whilst sequels to The Host are underway, they're not here yet. My point being, the world twenty years after the novel will purely be my own imaginings.

And finally, this will probably be a slight mix of both film and book. As much as I love the book, and all past events will be as the book states, it does make it easier to stick with the main characters selected in the film as I'll obviously be adding new characters. Plus I actually really like what they did with the characters, which is unusual for me. Erm, character descriptions will probably follow a similar thread to the film as well, just because it's more visual (have you noticed how many dark haired characters there are in the books?) and makes the characters easily distinguishable.

Other than that, which was ridiculously long, I really hope you enjoy this little tale of mine.

Chapter One

The light flickered white hot through my eyelids, red and blinding. Too bright and far too close for my liking. It certainly did little to calm the dull pounding in my head. I had the strange prickling sensation of 'pins and needles' in my fingers and my toes, like I was coming back from... from where? The darkness. It had engulfed me as I remembered it but I didn't feel like I had been sleeping. Perhaps I was merely drifting for awhile, but that couldn't be right.

There was new pain. Just above my eyebrow, a sharp burning. A cut, I thought, or perhaps it really is a burn. I could imagine my blood pooling around it, the air licking at it like a cat with its abrasive tongue, cleaning it, cooling it but also causing the pain to sear through me again. I gasped at the sting of it, my eyelids fluttering open against the vivid orb of light shining squarely into my face. Protesting, I attempted to sit up but they were pushing me down. They? They were everywhere. My eyes had adjusted and I could see them all now.

My mother, blond and lovely, looked pale but otherwise calm as she leaned against a white counter with a sleek silver basin. Beside her, my father seemed torn between a smile and a frown and that slight hint of worry made him seem like the most human person in the room. He stared at me with silver eyes before redirecting his gaze to a tall, lanky Healer, whom by now seemed to be standing abnormally close to me, examining my head warily. I noticed the Healer's lips moving but the words seemed late to reach my ears, like the sound around me was out of sync.

"Lily, my name is Healer Rivers. Can you hear me?"

He was a strange looking man. His thin arms stretched down from broad but skeletal shoulders. His neck reminded me of a giraffe, slender and stretched but it made his square jaw look oddly comical. I supposed giraffes looked pretty funny too. The tan that darkened his skin made me wonder how he would look tearing at the tree tops for food.

"Lily, you are not being polite."

This voice was female. As the world began to focus properly I could see this reproach came from my mother. Her voice held the same serene tone as her demeanour but the scold behind it was still buried beneath, easily distinguishable to a finely tuned ear from years of admonishment. I wondered sometimes what it would have been like, the colonisation. Was it exciting? Or were they nervous? Could Souls be nervous back then? It was easier now that the Souls had been with their Hosts for so long. The emotions, overpowering as they were apparently, seemed easier to embrace but it was a fine line between the deep seething anger of the human heart and the brief glimpse of frustration that mother often felt at my behaviour.

Thinking of her, my gaze fell on her narrow eyes. Her Host had a kind face despite her sharp features. It was a face that looked incomplete without a smile, but she was not smiling now, only regarding me with that same peaceful and insufferable expression.

"Where am I?" My voice came out mixed with a groggy sleepiness.

I looked around at the room. The air was dry and the bare white walls seemed to reflect the intense lights into every space, filling the room with a harsh, clinical brightness.

It was my father who answered my question.

"You're at the Healing centre. You fainted, Lily. Do you remember?"

He still looked concerned. His eyes were just a little too wide, stretching the creases that spread from the corners. I could see them crinkle when he smiled in my memories. Now he was stepping towards me. He was slow, not too anxious, but still his entire body seemed to burn with a need to be close to me. This had often confused me and I wondered again how he could be so... so well adjusted to human emotions.

"Yes," I said confidently, remembering the way the ground had come up to meet me. The nauseating dizziness swirled in my head again as I recalled the sickening thud with which my head hit the desk of the Comforter's office.

"I still think we should have done it whilst she was asleep, Arthur, it would have been quicker, easier." My mother's voice wrapped around my father's name like a verbal cringe, like her very nature rejected. His Host's name. It was her words though that sent a shiver rocking through me.

It came in flashes now. The birthday cake, a poor choice as there was nobody left now to invite to a party. One by one their eyes had turned silver until my whole class, every friend I had, was wiped away, their bodies the only glimmer of my childhood companions. I noticed it first amongst my peers but slowly even those in years below me were lost. I was late. So very late. 'Resistant,' my mother said. 'Stubborn,' said my father. I liked to think of it as 'human.'

I never knew how many of them had been given the choice. I'd never thought to ask. It wasn't in a Soul's nature to force anything on anyone, especially not insertion.

I shuddered internally again.

And yet they had all succumbed so easily. It was like a whirlwind the way they all just... changed one day, like it was the most natural thing for them, for everybody. Apparently not for me though. My eyes pricked and my throat burned as I thought of the final choice. It had been a compromise to begin with. Nineteen years on Earth was what I had asked for. A strange number but it seemed about right. Eighteen was too cliché from the books I'd read, the books that I had stolen, the books condemned for their violence and intensity. Full of innocent teenage girls swept away by tall, dark, handsome strangers. Yes, eighteen was far too young, the years much too short. A tender age. Yet, twenty was too old, wasn't it? Practically an adult, and thus my dilemma began. So I had settled with this: nineteen.

Now it was here it was still too young. My throat constricted again.

This was not what hurt me so much though it did cause a dull ache in my chest. No, the stabbing pain in my heart wasn't from the years that were never long enough, it was the rejection. Nineteen years worth of birthdays, trips to the park, nights spent cuddled between my parents in front of the television, boring though the stilted acting was, would be wiped away. That was what they wanted; me gone and another Soul in my place.

Back in the present my head jolted towards her, my eyes alert now.

"No," I screamed at her, struggling to stand through the woozy feeling in my head. It was still pulsing, making my stomach churn. I lurched slightly and fell gently into my father's arms.

"Fire, please, I'm sure you can see you're scaring her," my father said, smoothing my hair.

I knew this was meant to be of comfort to me but his arms felt like they were suffocating me. I needed to move, to get away but the pang in my chest was there again. This time it was caused by the separation, by the way his arms still reached out for me. I could barely see. Everything before me looked like a collage of worried expressions and arms, so many arms reaching and clawing for me. My breath heaved and I could feel the familiar flow of adrenaline rushing through my legs begging me to run. It pumped through me and made my heartbeat thud in my ears.

In slow motion my next words formed in my brain. I felt them inch through my nerves to my lips until they opened and I spoke.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Even as I hurled myself at the door I knew why I'd said it. It wasn't that I couldn't obey their wishes; I'd never be sorry for that, but there was a part of me that knew somewhere inside my father an equal part of him would miss me. He would worry over me and I felt selfish to cause it. But I wasn't a Soul, it was human of me to be selfish and for a moment I relished in it.

Behind me I heard my Healer calling after me, telling me he needed to heal the cut on my forehead but I ignored him the same way that I ignored my parents. I focused on the blood pounding in my ears, my gasping breath as fear and the thrill of exertion drove me down pristine white corridors. It was surprisingly empty for which I was grateful. It didn't last long however as I flew into the reception area. I stopped for a moment, caught off guard by the shocked faces that greeted me as both patients and Healer's appraised me with concerned eyes. Concerned, silver, shining eyes. The sick crunching of my stomach intensified and I could feel acid in the back of my throat. My head bobbed forward as my body convulsed a little and I fought the bile that rose in my throat.

Souls. Souls and then more Souls. There were too many off them. Everywhere.

As two Healers began to walk cautiously towards me I bolted for the sliding doors and they opened before me with a hiss. Outside the vomit would not remain contained and I hurled into a border of neatly trimmed shrubbery. My stomach gurgled as I spit the last gush of bitter liquid from my mouth but no more came.

They were coming again. The two Healers from a moment ago were walking towards me through the sliding doors, followed by both of my parents and Healer Rivers. The latter still clutched a cylinder of Heal - or perhaps it was Clean, I couldn't tell from here – in his hand.

My feet reacted beyond my control. Glancing back at their stunned faces one last time I threw myself forwards and began racing along the pavement. I crossed the road without looking, a very un-Soul-like exploit, to put just a little more distance between myself and my pursuers. I didn't know where I was going but I knew I needed to keep running. I couldn't go back there. I wouldn't let them push me away. If they caught me I would fight, fight with everything I had to stay, to keep my body. Did it work like that? Was fighting enough to keep your, I struggled for the word, 'consciousness' here?

My legs began to protest and my lungs burned as I continued the incessant sprinting. Would they follow me? How far could I run before my body gave up? Where was I going? Could I really just run away from them? The onslaught of questions kept me distracted as I raced aimlessly along each new road before I realised there were fewer and fewer buildings with each new turn that I took. I knew the healing facility was near the outskirts of town but I did not recognise the sandy landscape that was forming ahead of me, contrasting the neat, deep green grass of the suburbs.

In fact, the street around me was practically desolate. There were houses here still but they seemed abandoned too, most having fallen into disrepair. No doubt they were on a list somewhere, of homes waiting to be restored. There would be new Souls to fill them. I wasn't sure if that thought made me uncomfortable of not.

That thought made me feel exposed though and whilst it seemed I had lost my tail of worried followers I began running again. Every sound felt heightened now that the thumping in my head had calmed and I had caught my breath again. Despite this it seemed I noticed the roar of the Jeep too late to stop myself from running up a narrow alley between two houses, shoving myself through a narrow crack in the wooden fence at the end and unknowingly flitting into the road, and into its path.

It feels cliché to say this but: Read and review?