Author's Note: I've wanted to write this for a while now and with my current fic finishing drive now seemed a good time. I honestly view The Host as a book likely to be recognised as a classic in a few decades. If not for it's written quality – which is still very good – then for it's brilliant use of perspective.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Host nor am I profiting from this fic.

Matt watched from the darkness, his hood shrouding his face in shadow. It was the first time in a week he'd been able to step outside.

Careful to avoid eye contact with any of the passersby he broke into a jog, after a year of living like this his fitness was starting to slip. The parasites around him didn't pay any attention to him. They never did.

He wished he had more time, just to be able to step out into the sunlight, but he knew it could never happen. He had five hours until he had to get back inside, it was ironic really, before the invasion going to bed at three in the morning would have been a good thing for him. Now it was just annoying.

Sighing deeply he began to circle back on himself.

Home. Yet it no longer felt like it. Matt slumped backwards into the couch, it was only midnight, three hours till he planned on going to bed. With a few hours to burn he selected a DVD. Alien, it was a sign of how pacifist the parasites were that watching a horror film was practically an act of rebellion.

Less than half an hour into the film and he was already regretting it. Too many painful memories. He'd wanted to be a scientist, maybe sign up for the first Mars mission or something, how lucky the guys at NASA must have felt, having the aliens come to them instead. Frustrated almost to the point of tears he turned the DVD player off. Instead he headed for the bookshelf, in the old days a good book would have him absorbed into it's pages within five minutes. It was still a good distraction though. The only question was which book.

Pratchett's stuff was out, he had a low enough opinion of humanity at the moment and didn't need reminding how stupid his species had been.

Colfer was also out, last thing he wanted right now was anything remotely sci-fi.

Tolkien's Lord of the Rings would take to long, he hated leaving a book unfinished.

Rowling was a bit too upbeat.

Feist was just too wordy to be reading during the early hours of the morning.

Finally he settled on Catch-22, the book was mildly tattered and the spine looked like it had been on the wrong end of an annoyed rhino but that was in many ways the sign of a good book. Anyway, dark comedy appealed at the moment and the epic war parody fit the bill.

Settling on the sofa he began to read.

Rising Skywards woke groggily, despite a full night's sleep the soul didn't feel rested in the slightest. Stretching stiffly 'she' got up. A quick glance at the clock told her she'd overslept by an hour but today it didn't matter. She had the day off.

She'd found tea helped, the body had been somewhat addicted to it before she'd taken residence in his head. It was a constant source of annoyance, she was a Mother and had requested the equivalent body but one hadn't been available at the time and she was far too committed to the soul's way of life to skip.

She settled down in front of the telly, planning to simply relax for an hour or so. Instead she found herself looking around the room, she'd never had the heart to change it.

Hanging from the curtain rail were a load of judo medals, the majority bronze but there were a couple of golds dotted here and there. The cabinet on the right was full of chess trophies although none from a major competition but that didn't matter, the medals, the trophies, they were all part of what made up someone's life. As did the bookshelves, the games, the guitar - gathering dust long before she'd arrived, the trinkets and junk, the latter she had got rid of. And now it was her life and in many ways it seemed she had a responsibility to look after it.

Feeling slightly restless and melancholy she decided to go for a walk, another habit she'd picked up from the original owner.

Author's Note: And that's the introductory chapter done.