Author's note 18/3/11: Before you read this: I don't know how long it will be before this is updated. I would have to re-read the Host which, with my current book backlog waiting to be read plus the major amounts of exams and coursework going on, is not likely to be anytime soon.

But still, read away, tell me what you think; all reviews are extremely welcome

I sit up, the world spinning, hurtling so fast around my head I have to reach out to steady myself. My tiny hands grope around in the darkness, searching for some kind of handhold I can reach out for. I can't see it's so dark, not pitch black, but almost there. My right hand reaches a large shape and I cling onto it, immediate warmth and strength flooding into me.

"Wanda?" Ian mumbles. Oops. I hadn't meant to wake him. He sounds groggy and still half asleep. Immediately I feel guilty for waking him. In the dim light I see his large figure rising up, the soft light catches his sapphire eyes, making them sparkle ever so slightly. "Are you all right?" he whispers, his giant hand reaching up to cup my chin. I don't need light to know his beautiful face is filled with concern.

"I um, yes" I whisper back.

"No you're not."

My eyes are getting used to the dim light now, and I can make out the more prominent features on his face, his straight nose, black hair, and deep blue eyes.

"Wanda," he whispers at me, "don't lie to me, please."

I give in, knowing that I will feel bad whatever decision I make. Guilty for worrying him, or guilty for not telling the truth.

"I, had" I paused, trying to remember some of the details from my 'vision'. "A dream" I completed the sentenced rushing. In the faint light I see Ian's eyebrows shoot up with concern. "I-its nothing to be worried about though," I stammer. "Just a dream."

"Will you tell me?" he asks shuffling towards me on our mattress. Gently he strokes my cheek, fire following where is rough hands touch me. he is running his hand up to my ear and gently kissing me, making me blush scarlet.

"I-well I can't really remember much of it" I say truthfully. My extensive memory scans, searching for the fragments of dream that were fast disappearing into nothingness.

"I-I was in the desert" I start, seeing the vivid images of the nightmare rush before my eyes.

I cradled the child in my thin arms. She stared at me, her large sapphire eyes wide with fright and trust. "Momma" her pale arms reached out towards me and automatically I responded, hugging her closer. Then I heard the noise, one that I feared and despised above all others. My small heart accelerated, stuttering uncontrollably with terror. I spun around, the small child still in my arms, my fragile frame subconsciously forming a shield around her tiny body, shielding her from the inevitable danger. I gasped as I completed the half turn shocked at the sudden reality of the situation. The gun was less than an inch from my face, the hideously shiny double barrel glinting menacingly in the moon light. "Please" I heard a small voice whisper, barely audible in the wide expanse of the desert "please don't do this." it was then that I realised the voice was my own, cracked and dry from thirst. "you mustn't" I stared down the barrel of the gun into his eyes; their vivid color shining underneath a layer of reflective silver. His sun burnt face twisted into a malicious, almost evil smile. I heard him laugh quietly to himself. "But of course I must" he said, his voice full of malice, "Shouldn't everyone have an aim in life?" he paused letting her words cut into me like knives, staring at me with his wide, manic, eyes.

Suddenly he gasps, a whole different expression transforming his face, one of pain and torture. "NO!" he yells, his voice desperate, screaming. "NOT HER!" but it's too late. As if struggling against himself he pulled the trigger, the shot shooting down the barrel towards me.

Somewhere in the distance I heard the blue-eyed child scream.

All went black and I felt no more.

"That was where I woke up" I whisper.

There is a faint light filtering through the holes in the ceiling now and in the morning light I see Ian's taught, anxious face.

"You don't know who the gunman was?" he asks uneasily.

yes.

"no. Ian, it was a dream" I start to get cross. He is always so protective; it was only a dream after all. However, despite that clear fact, something about it still haunts me. He lifts one hand up to my face again, but I look away.

"Wanda," he says, pulling my face effortlessly back towards him, "you are such a bad lier."
"im a Soul," i say huffily. "what do you expect?"
"well?"
"Wel what?"
"are you going to tell me?"

I hesitate. I did want to tell him. But, at the same time I didn't.

"It was you" I whisper, almost scared of his reaction.

Then he kisses me again, a pleasent burning sensation. A fire of passion. His hands are in my halo of hair, on my neck, and my hands are flat against his smooth, muscled chest. All the memories of the previous night suddenly come flooding back to me in a great rush. The rainy season had finished about a week ago and once more, me and Ian were in a room together- on our own. We were in our own world, together as one.

"wanda, Wands." he mutters through our locked lips. "You know i woud never do anything like that. I love you"

I am reasured by this and the dream is quickly forgotten. Oblivious of the dawning day around us, we sit there on the mattress, neither of us focusing of anything but each other. That is of course until Jamie appears.

"EW YOU GUYS!" he shrieks, flinging open the makeshift door. "If there is one thing I need, it is NOT watching porn before breakfast!"

We spring apart in surprise at this sudden intrusion. I, of course, go tomato red and start biting my lower lip in embarrassment. I throw a sheepish glance at Ian who is glaring at Jamie so hard I was amazed the boy didn't frizzle up on the spot.

"well," says Ian getting to his knees. I try to stifle the laugh that attempts to escape me on sight of Jamie's appalled face. Ian glares at him even worse, and I had to admit he looked rather sexy shirtless with only trakky bottoms on. "Well, you should burst in on people then, should you? Huh?"

"Ooooh, well so-rry" Jamie says, hands on hips, a fake pout on his lips "I only came to tell you two too hurry up. It's Mel's Birthday today. We're gathering in the kitchen"

Oh God! Melanie's birthday! I have completely forgotten. Jamie slouches out of our small room muttering something about being 'scarred for life'. I glance over at Ian who, to my great surprise is in silent hysterics. I patiently wait for him to stop laughing.

He stops.

"what?" he asks, pulling a strange face. I giggle.

"why were you laughing?" I ask incredulous.

"well, proberly a combination of Jamie's supposed pouting and your face when you realised it was Mel's birthday today." He starts laughing again."don't worry, he says, realising the genuine concern on my face" I've managed to get her a CD player.

"really?"

"uhu, why did you think I wanted to go to the main shopping centre on the last raid?"

oooh! I seeee! That would explain Ian's mysterious half-hour disappearance. I glare at him.

"why didn't you tell me?" I accuse. "That worried me silly!"

"uh, I forgot" - I believe him.

"ummm" I mutter disapprovingly. "what about…"

"CD's?" Ian interrupts. "yerh, Jared's got some from some where.- Spice Girls." He sniffs in a disapproving fashion. I, of course have never head of them.

"who?"

"Ask Mel"

"okay"

I sigh. I should proberly get up. I drag my small self from under the warm covers and onto the floor.

Ian, however, is already standing, grinning like a mad thing, his sapphire eyes glinting.

"I need a shower," he says, grabbing a towel and a handful of clothes from the pile in the corner.

"mkay" I mutter. I am trying to reach the five feet or so across the cold, stone floor to grab my shoes. "rawr!" I grumble. I am about an inch off and I really don't want to tread on the freezing ground.

I hear Ian laugh again. He walks over too my sneakers and picks them, passing them too me.

"thankyou" I smile.

"Your welcome" comes his reply. He walks out of the room whistling some song I didn't know to himself.

I stuff my tichy feet into the sneakers and stand up, surveying our small cave for my clothes. I spot them, neatly folder in a corner of the room. Carefully stepping through the various card-games and other possessions scattered across the floor, I walk over to them. I hated mess- but somehow when Ian was your partner, and your adopted 'brother' spent the majority of his time in your room, it was unavoidable.

I start pulling my arms out of the arm holes in then tee shirt. Then occurs to me that I didn't actually know what I am wearing. I glance down at the large baggy tee-shirt, Ian's of course. It reaches to past my knees! It is black, with a name scrawled across the chest. I hold it out, attempting to reach the scratchy white lettering.

'My Chemical Romance'. Hmmm. I make a mental note to ask Ian about it later.

I pull the shirt off, letting it crumple to the ground and hastily pull on underwear and then the folded clothes on the floor; a faded pink, baby doll top with a cartoon kitten on it and a pair of grubby blue jeans.

Quickly I pull a brush through my tangley, golden hair before turning and exiting the room, heading for the kitchen.