Author's Note: Wow. This ended up a lot longer than I originally expected. Yay! I didn't ditch the original characters, just gotta lay down some more plot. Much thanks to "Casual Reader" and "michael343334" for reviews! Your compliments, Casual Reader, definitely helped my motivation to finish this chapter up so quickly. Also, michael, I hope by posting this, that I have made it clear that this IS a series. Read and Review! Again! Flames shall be used to power the steam engine providing power to my laptop. Full sentences in italics are thoughts.
Disclaimer: I don't own Aliens. I mean, I own aliens (the small parasite currently referred to as "chestburster" living inside Nathaniel), just not Aliens, the company. The characters are mine, the plot is mine, the crab from Finding Nemo is MINE! Finding Nemo is not mine. The Cheerios company does not belong to me. Star Wars does not belong to me.
"Its too early in the morning to be getting up..." Grumbling, Natasha noncommittally pulled herself out of bed to reach for her alarm. Finding it not there, however, presented a problem. Still going off, but not in the place it should be, meant that she had to actually get up to turn it off. She lurched out of bed, shuffled over to the light switch, flipped it, found her alarm (Beneath her bed!?), and promptly shut it off. Sitting, but not laying, back down on her bed, she rested her head in her hands. Rubbing her eyes, she rose, stretching, almost like a cat. That alarm was probably loud enough to wake up some of her colleagues, and they would probably torment her for it sometime later.
Grabbing her glasses, she began to run through the normal morning routine, get clothes, take shower, get dressed. She exchanged her Star Wars: A New Hope stormtrooper pajamas for a brown turtleneck and jeans. Those pajamas had been the source of several months worth of teasing, as well as quite a few practical jokes. Worth it. For breakfast she had the same meal she did everyday, Cheerios with milk and a banana with peanut butter. Getting ready in the morning really wasn't that hard for her. She had a darker complexion and light brown eyes. Her hair was brown and came down to middle of her back; she preferred to put it into a single large ponytail running down the center of her back. She washed her face, and braided her hair. Ready to walk out the door, she nearly forgot to brush her teeth.
Leaving her rooms she went about her daily research, most of which she had researched in the past, but now had to rediscover due to the loss of all the data in the recent Xenomorph breakout. Moving through her work mechanically, her mind continued on the subject of the Xenomorph breakout. True, it had been Nathaniel's fault, but killing him with one of those, those monsters, was just vicious. The fact that anyone at all made it out of that deathtrap of a research facility was a miracle in and of itself, the fact that Nathaniel was the one that pulled it off was just short of divine intervention. Honestly, the Company should be giving him a medal, not letting an alien impregnate him and smash its way out his chest, recording his death for public display, but she definitely wasn't going to be the one to complain. Nathaniel having been scheduled to be executed (she would call it execution, because that's what it was) roughly 6 hours ago, She resolved to go and pay her last respects to his remains during her free period, in about a half hour.
The remaining work passed in a blur, simple re-cataloging of data collected on Xenomorphs she had memorized. Whilst she worked, she allowed her mind to wander, hitting quite a few points on Star Wars. Mostly how if Jango Fett didn't get run over by that bull-thing, there was no way Mace Windu would've been able to kill him. She also spent quite a few of those minutes stoking her rage against the Company, and how she could voice a complaint without meeting the same fate as Nathaniel.
Walking down the hallways, she double checked the map she'd has to pull up on her iPhone (ugh. do I really need to say that I don't own Apple?) The hallways look similar enough to the previous lab, yet their layout was completely different, leading to her having to ask for direction on five different occasions. Fortunately, she had no problems admitting when she needed help, honestly, was it some form of honor for men not to ask for directions? After about five minutes of wandering haplessly, and about two after she had lost all hope of ever returning from this maze alive, she found the door marked "Containment Room 387". She opened the door, and stopped, surprised by the sight of a reclined, sleeping man in a computer chair.
"Hey! Get up!" She shouted. "Wha, what? Ahh!" The man's confused questioning was cut short when his motion toppled his chair backward, leaving him dazed, confused, and likely with a minor concussion, judging by the concrete floor and the volume of the very satisfying thump the man made. Wow. I really stoked myself into fury, didn't I? Ignoring the miscellaneous thought, she returned her attention back to the groaning man lying in front of her.
"What, did I miss it? Aww, I haven't gotten to see a live eruption in like, I dunno, a month or something," the man grumbled.
"You think this a game or something!?" Please tell me this guy is SEVERELY concussed, and is spouting nonsense. But something about him, something about his speech convinced her that he was lucid enough to know what he was saying.
"If you wanted to see it you coulda just asked, no need to flip out on me..." He mumbled. He thinks I'm mad because I didn't see a man die in a spray of bloody agony? Actually, lets play this a little further, see what happens...
"Your right, I'm sorry, I shouldn't of flipped on you. Names Natasha." She said, trying to sound smooth. Helping him to his feet, she waited for his response.
"Natasha, sounds familiar. Anyway, mines Wellan" he responded, sounding a more than a little confused when he mentioned her familiarity. She caught sight of one of the status monitors upon which Wellan had been resting his feet before his fall.
Surprise jolted her upright. According to this, the person contained within the containment chamber was still alive, if asleep.
"What're you lookin at?" Wellan slurred slightly turning his head. I think he actually IS concussed...
"Nothing,"'she hastily stammered out, drawing his attention away from the status monitors, "Come on, you should head over to the infirmary." I can take a closer look once he's gone...
"Yeah, I think your right..." And without another word, Wellan stumbled off in the general direction she had started from. That went surprising well...
When she was sure that Wellan was gone, she went over to the main view port, and hesitantly looked into the chamber. Nathaniel hung, suspended from the wall with various restraints and ties. His face was deathly pale, and seemed to be having troubled dreams. Aside from that, he looked all right though, heart rate normal, respiration stable. Everything looked great actually. Even blood pressure. Surprising, seeing as he had a alien larvae growing in his chest, one that eventually would kill him by smashing its way out his chest.
"Man these guys must really be running late. In his current state, I'd say the embryo was implanted about a half hour ago." Knowing he has about a hour and a half left to live made tears well in her eyes. She'd promised herself she wouldn't cry. She wanted desperately to walk out, right now, and try to forget the man about to die in the very building she lived in. The man who forgot to lock down the Xenomorph pens. The man who saved her life. The man who she was in love with. She collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably.
Nate dreamed. He dreamed of happiness, of despair, of love, of friendship. But in every dream, waited a Xenomorph. In nightmares, It lurked in the darkness, pinning him to the wall with a lightning fast tail strike. In dreams of friendship, he sat in a stereotypical suburban house, chatting happily with Natasha, while a black shadow darts past a window. In dreams of despair, he watched, again and again, as Natasha, the only woman who he ever felt might love and care for him as Jenna did, died screaming, an Alien exploding out from within her. In dreams of love, he married Natasha, a perfect wedding. But through the stained glass windows of the church, he could see the Xenomorph, and somehow, he knew that it wept. In the moment of his deepest sleep, in the place where dreams don't exist, and and even the deepest shadow fails, Nate opened his eyes.
He looked upon a familiar landscape. rolling hills forested with trees continued into the horizon, the sky bright blue, with puffy white clouds meandering lazily across the sky. The trees were speckled with green, yellow, and red, signs of the advent of fall. Birds chirped back and forth, flitting about on branches, while squirrels greedily collected nuts and other foodstuffs for the coming winter. A cool breeze washed across Nate's face, chilling his skin pleasantly. Though he had never before seen these hills, and could not place where it most resembled, he felt innately felt at home amongst the trees.
Walking forward, he aimlessly wandered through the short underbrush, none of which seeming to bother the wildlife flitting about him in the least. The relaxing stroll came to a stop as he entered a small clearing, trees spaced evenly around edges of the small area of open grass. A rustling from the opposite end of the clearing drew his attention. The underbrush parted to reveal the shiny black carapace of a Xenomorph. Acting surprisingly calm, the Xenomorph, almost seeming to stroll, wandered around seeming to sniff at the wildlife and underbrush. It rose to two legs as a bird flashed above its head, head following the birds movement till it faded from sight. It almost seemed confused at the wildlife that treated it as no threat, but seemed uninclined to prove otherwise. Not just a Xenomorph, the Xenomorph, his Xenomorph. A light bulb flicked on in his head. There was a reason it just felt, right, to call it his. And that same reason was also why it was here, in the deepest recesses of his mind, a place even he had never seen before.
That Xenomorph, is what the chestburster inside him would eventually grow into. As he came to this conclusion, he felt the urge to approach it. Even though logic told him other wise, his instincts told him that it wouldn't harm him. His Xenomorph was occupied by the various plants and animals foreign to it to such an extent that he got within ten feet of it before it noted his presence. Dropping to all fours, it warily approached him, tail twitching. He smiled, noting its almost feline mannerisms. He crouched, balancing on the balls of his feet, reaching out to stroke its smooth eyeless carapace. It hissed, backing cautiously away, then slowly edged its head, meeting his hand. As they connected he felt a deep resonance, almost an echo, or a whisper. He felt trace of, contentment, happiness, and a deep, insatiable curiosity. Emotions, he realized, which originated from the Xenomorph.
Pondering this thought, he absently stroked his Xenomorph's smooth skull. Now free of any sense of danger, it moved closer rubbing its head along his stomach. He paused, listening closely, noting a deep rumbling in the air. With shock, he realized the Xenomorph had begun to purr. Almost unnoticeable, it was a deep bass, like standing next to a subwoofer. He stood, it following suit, rising two two legs. It was actually shorter than him, likely due to its immaturity. Despite that his previous research station had housed Xenomorphs, he had never really taken the time to look at them. His Xenomorph was completely encased in black chitin, and possessed a long spike-tipped, ridged tail. Its head was elongated, like a stretched human skull. He smiled, strolling contentedly along with his Xenomorph.
Author's Note: No, he isn't dead. Well. This will probably go down as one of my all time favorite things to read (or write). Turned out really different than I first envisioned, different but better. It's not over yet! Fun side note: That thing with her alarm clock, that happened to me Monday morning. Flames (in accordance with common open-flame cooking guidelines) will be used to grill steak, pork kabobs, and pineapples. Gotta name the Xenomorph. Ah brainstorming time...
Hindsight Edit, about 3 hours after posting: I forgot to accept flames!
-flames acceptance added