Warning: Long, slow chapter. Some angst. Some incoherency on the author's behalf.

Apologies: Sorry for the wait. I really am.


~*~

Chapter 6:

The Bitter Truth

~*~

"Easy… easy…"

The Outlander grasped Chelsea's wrist with a weakness that twisted her stomach as she held the water bottle to its mouth. Her other arm was behind its head, supporting it against her shoulder as it drank in tiny sips. Its maxillae brushed over her hand, the tentacles caressing as if reassuring itself that she was still there as it drank, the points of the small leg like appendages quite sharp on her skin but not piercing.

Finally it turned its head away and she tipped the bottle up so that it didn't spill onto its chest, lowering it to her side, where it was taken from her, freeing her hand to lower the Outlander back to the bed carefully, so as not to jar his wounds, which were freshly bandaged and stitched.

He muttered something unintelligible, turning his head away from her as he slipped from consciousness. Chelsea stepped back, swiping her hand over her brow, before looking down at her little 'assistant'.

The young Outlander smiled up at her, tightening the lid on the bottle, before scampering off to set it with the others. He had proven himself to be a highly intelligent and invaluable help to the human doctors, especially to Chelsea, to whom he had attached himself with admirable resilience. The only time he had left her side was when he had dozed off in the early hours whilst they were getting the trucks ready.

After Chelsea had been stitched and bandaged, she had decided that she wouldn't get any more sleep, so she had spent the rest of the wee hours of the morning getting to know 'Alexander', as he said his human name was. She was slowly beginning to comprehend his childish manner of speaking compared to the older members of his race. It was comparable to the manner in which a human child would speak compared to a human adult. Some words were pronounced differently, and some of them were in the wrong order. She was getting used to it.

However, despite her lack of understanding, he was entirely fluent in English, and had impeccable writing skills in penning the language. Her incredulity over his literary skills, however, was diminished when he told her that it was a requirement of MNU that all 'Outlanders' be fluent in English, written and spoken. But she couldn't deny how much she had benefitted from it. She and Alexander had sat for nearly two hours as the young Outlander helped her brush up on his language, on words that she was unfamiliar with. That was how Chelsea found out his human name, and how she found out what the aliens called themselves.

Outlanders.

In that moment of understanding, Chelsea swore never to refer to them as Prawns again.

In those hours, Alexander had exhibited an innocent joy that was both heart-warming and heartrending for Chelsea to watch. Though he seemed as happy as any human child, she knew from experience that very young children could bounce back from things that would tear an adult mind apart.

But despite whatever abuse Alexander had experienced at the hands of humans, he retained an innocence and bubbliness that was truly heart warming for Chelsea and all the other female doctors, who were entirely smitten with him. To his credit, Alexander adored the attention and had quickly gotten the knack of how to use his big eyes to his advantage in wrapping them all around his alien finger.

To Chelsea, spoiling him and any other Outlander child that came across her path was simply an obligation. Especially when Alexander had informed her, quite calmly, that he couldn't go home because his 'father' was 'gone'.

The factual and cold manner in which he stated that broke Chelsea's heart.

She hadn't asked any more, and he had been content to let the topic drop.

"How is he?"

Chelsea started violently with a feminine squeak of surprise which infinitely amused Graham.

Pulling her eyes away from his smirk, she glanced down at her patient, "Not good." She folded her fingers together, and then braced her hands on the table that the Outlander lay on. "We don't have the equipment needed to even diagnose what's wrong with him, let alone treat it. He must have some sort of internal infection or haemorrhaging or something, because externally I can't find anything."

She glanced over her shoulder at the man standing behind her without really looking at him, "He's dying, Graham."

"Thirty percent of the Pr…Outlanders," he amended quickly, "that I've seen today are dying, Chelsea. But we can make them comfortable as they go. It's the best we can do."

"No, dammit, it's not the best we can do. We can do better. We're doctors, dammit!"

"This isn't a hospital, Chelsea," he said sharply. "This is a surgical tent on what might as well be a battle field. We don't have the resources. We save the ones we can save and we make comfortable the ones we can't. It's the best we can do."

She looked away sharply, jaw working, "I can't accept that."

"Then don't. Keep fighting. Maybe you'll get us a three storey hospital with a full staff to tend to all of the Prawns. Outlanders. But for now, keep your head in the game, alright? You've worked Doctors Without Borders. You know when you can't save someone."

She waved her hand at the Outlander lying unconscious behind her, "I shouldn't have to save him, though! Humans did this to him, Graham! They beat him within an inch of his life! And now, months later, he's still clinging to it! And all we can do is fluff his pillow and pump him full of morphine?!"

"Yes." When she went to explode, Graham's hand snapped up. "You can't let your emotions get in the way of your thinking, Chelsea. You're a doctor and you need to be one. You're not their guardian angel and you're not their bloody mother. Go for a walk, clear your head, and come back when you can do your job properly."

"I can do my job properly!" Chelsea's words were a venomous hiss, enraged that Graham would dare suggest that she couldn't do what needed to be done.

"You've spent the last twenty minutes cleaning this guy and helping him drink, Chelsea. There are other people you could have helped in that time. So no, you're not thinking. Call me cold, if you want, but when you've been in a tent full of screaming, burned, bleeding soldiers missing limbs and half their faces, you can tell me what's what."

"How will going for a walk help then, then?"

"Stop arguing with me, Chelsea," he snapped. "I am not your enemy here. I'm doing this for your own good, too. If someone dies between you leaving and coming back, it'd be better than the dozen that might die if you pass out." He jerked his chin at the bandages on her head, "You remember what you agreed, yes?"

Chelsea's expression was mutinous as she vividly recalled the condition of her going out. Meghan had made her promise to listen to Graham, and to not overtax herself. She knew, deep down, that Graham was only doing what was best for her, and that she was just being absurdly childish.

She also didn't want to risk Meghan prohibiting from coming out the next day.

"Take Alexander and just go have a breather," Graham gestured to the front of the tent, making a face. "Get some fresh air."

The Outlander youngling in question looked up at Chelsea, concerned, and she crouched down, extending her arm. With surprising strength, the young Outlander grasped her with all four limbs, and she lifted his light frame from the ground. He climbed onto her shirt and clutched at her as he watched Graham.

"Look after her, little man, okay?"

Alexander snapped the salute that he had learned from Graham just that morning as Chelsea took the bottle of water that Graham passed to her. With a dark mutter, she exited the tent, lifting her sunglasses and shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun.

"You okay?"

Chelsea smiled at Alexander, "I'm alright."

She cracked the water open and offered some to Alexander, who shook his head. Whilst he had accepted her friendliness as if it were natural, older Outlanders were still getting used to the fact that a human was willingly touching one of their kind. Many a time they had stopped and stared as Chelsea happily picked up Alexander, rubbed his head or laughed as he tugged on her leg to get her attention. He, however, thought nothing of it.

Amazing how a child's innocence could transcend fear, hate and prejudice. The innocence of their hearts unable to hold the animosity he deserved to feel.

Chelsea was infinitely grateful for Alexander.

She just wished Michael could have been more receptive.

Just thinking of the large Outlander made Chelsea's mood sour. He hadn't shown up for the morning to guide them to the medical tents. Instead he had apparently sent several other of his kind in his place. They had offered no explanation. Stating simply that he had told them so.

The only reason that Chelsea knew who 'he' was, was due to the fact that she had cheated and gotten Alexander to tell her, learning the specific sound that was his name. She had no hope in hell of pronouncing it, but she could almost recognize it whenever it was spoken.

She hadn't needed Alexander to elaborate.

Michael, it seemed had turned his back on the doctors.

Perhaps their fight had been more significant to him than she had originally thought. His outburst had seemed so random, so unprovoked that she had been completely blindsided. Perhaps Michael really did resent the fact that humans had forced their medical care on the Outlanders, an act of mercy that not all of them welcomed.

Had they taken for granted the gratitude of the Outlanders?

"Alexander."

She felt more than saw him look at her.

"Are the other Outlanders angry that we came to help them?"

By now, Alexander knew to use short, simple phrases for Chelsea, and to speak slowly so she could understand everything. "Not angry, I guess. I suppose some of them are upset that we need help."

She glanced at him, "What about Michael?"

Thankfully a child couldn't find any reason behind her interest in that particular member of his race, "Michael is a warrior. A fighter. He protects. But he's not protecting now. He has to let people he doesn't like protect him."

"Why doesn't he like humans? Is there a reason?"

Alexander's antennae twitched before he averted his eyes, "I'm not allowed to talk about stuff like that."

Chelsea knew it was unfair for her to be so desperate to know. She knew well what it felt like to have unwelcome people pry into tragedy. But she dropped it, regardless.

Chelsea glanced back at the tent, and then sighed and looked at her watch. Three minutes since she had stepped out. God, time would drag. She knew Graham wouldn't let her in after at least fifteen. Maybe twenty. Touching her bandages, she grimaced.

Definitely twenty.

But she couldn't just sit there and be useless. There were Outlanders suffering and dying. She didn't feel like she had a right to indulge in such trivial weakness. Pursing her lips, she turned and walked back to the tent, sticking her head inside.

She waved a hand at one of the Outlanders she startled sheepishly, before looking around for Graham and Anna. Both of them were apparently discussing the differences in setting a human bone and setting a broken carapace.

Chelsea gestured to the Outlander she had frightened, pointing at her bag. He blinked at her, then at the bag, before obediently going to get it, offering it to her with a wave of his antennae. Chelsea smiled at him and thanked him, which seemed to startle him all over again, before backing out of the tent once more.

Digging through the bag, she pulled out two granola bars and unwrapped them, handing them to Alexander, who happily devoured them. Whilst he was distracted, she made her way over to the crates of medical supplies that had been left for them. The two MNU officers just watched her in silence as she sorted through what remained and stuffed bandages into her bag. What they thought of the injured doctor apparently getting ready to wander off into District 10 on her own, they kept to themselves.

One of them did give her a radio, however, a bulky thing that she clipped on her belt. Then she went back to Alexander.

"What are you doing?"

"Graham told me to go for a walk. So I am. I'm just gonna be useful whilst I do it." Chelsea swung her pack onto her back and walked down the road between the tents, Alexander hopping happily beside her.

~*~

Michael didn't know why he was avoiding her. He didn't know why he was following her.

Cowardice was not something he was known for. He was a warrior, from a line of warriors. A soldier. He might not have been a leader, but he was never a coward.

Until now. Until her.

He wasn't afraid of what she could do. He wasn't afraid, physically, about any threat. But it was what she wanted to do, what she represented that made him so apprehensive.

When it came time for him to guide them to the tents, he had instead rounded up some young, trustworthy Outlanders to do the job for him. He had watched from the safety of anonymity, removing the cloth wrapped around his ankles and rubbing dirt on any distinguishing marks to hide himself. He also crouched or sat to conceal his greater height. Debasing himself to hide from her so he could watch her. The bitter irony of it was not lost on him. But he couldn't help it.

It was like he was waiting for them to do something to disprove her words. Like he wanted them to prove that all humans were the same. Hateful, deceitful creatures that cared nothing for his kind.

Things to be despised.

It was why he had gone to their encampment in the dark. Trying to find some evidence of deception, of their continued cruelty so he could dismiss this new endeavour as the farce it was.

Instead, he had found her. A human with odd eyes and a scarred body that reflected their own torment. A human he found he could not ignore anymore.

Hope, he already knew, was one of the vilest of emotions. The cruellest.

And she wanted to give it to him. To all his people.

The thought of sympathising humans had been a distant dream that he could ignore. But to have it thrust it into his face with such glaring evidence…

It was not pretence. He knew that now. She had almost been killed. She had been attacked and wounded. She bore bandages on her head and arms. A bruise on her face. She was battered but not beaten. Not because she was fighting for herself, and that was what confused him most.

He had watched her scan the Outlanders that had come to escort them, had watched her note that he was not amongst them with an expression that had taken him a moment to recognize.

Disappointment.

She was disappointed he hadn't been there. But why?

He wanted so much to vilify her. So much to lump her and the rest of the doctors in the neat group that he had allocated mankind into. But as much as he found reasons, he acknowledged that the illogical conclusions sprung from desperation and not fact.

At the same time, however, he didn't know why it mattered so much to prove this one human wrong. She was simply one creature, weak compared to him. So easily breakable. But she confused him and frightened him and he wanted her to go away. To go far, far away.

But at the same time… he didn't.

She had smiled despite whatever was hidden in her eyes. Laughed despite her wounds. She had happily picked up the orphaned youngling and held him in a way he envisioned she would hold a human child. She had indulged his childish antics and ensured that he was not neglected.

She had laboured over the wounded for hours and each time she emerged from the tent, she looked more and more tired and lost, like something had snatched her spirit away.

He didn't know why he cared, but he did…

Michael's hand scraped over his face as he tried to dismiss her, tried to get up and leave, but when she and Alexander wandered off from the tent, he couldn't help but stare.

The woman had almost been killed and she was walking off with nothing more than a child for company. No protection. No weapon. Into the race that had almost claimed her life.

Michael rose from his crouch against his will, startling those around him. But he had eyes only for Chelsea as she walked away, her hand extended down to hold Alexander's. His eyes focused on those joined fingers, two of hers hooked with one of his.

Then he turned and loped after her, using the tents as cover, wishing he could attribute his need to follow her as concern for his people and curiosity, because he definitely did not want to explore it further.

~*~

Chelsea placed a butterfly clip on the bandage, and then checked to make sure it wasn't obscuring the vision of the young Outlander. He blinked at her curiously, before touching the bandage. It covered the wound laid in his head that was infected. She had cleared most of the dead tissue and pus away as the other young Outlanders, in some stage of adolescence, watched with wide eyes.

"Alright. That should do for now. When the bandage starts getting dirty, or in a couple of days, come see me and we'll take another look. Try not to get it wet until then, okay?"

He nodded and ducked his head, making her smile faintly.

There had been faint trickling of small wounds that she had looked at along the road and then into the tents as Alexander helped convince wary Outlanders to let her tend to them. Sometimes it worked. Most of the time it didn't.

Chelsea didn't mind. Some was better than none.

Her radio crackled suddenly, making all of them, Outlander and human, jump.

"Chelsea…"

It was Graham, and he sounded less than pleased. Smiling at the Outlanders, Chelsea took the radio off her belt. "Hi hunny. I'm fine."

"You won't be when I'm done with you. You've been gone for almost ninety minutes. Where the hell did you go? I come out here to see if you've faceplanted, and the MNU officers tell me that you walked off. Goddamit, Chelsea. Of all the people!"

"Well, I'm fine." She took several steps away from the Outlanders, picking up her bag from the ground.

"You were almost killed last night, Chelsea. Last night. And then you wander off on your own again. Are you suici-" He cut himself off with such speed that Chelsea's gut clenched with a pang of anxiety. "After what they did to you. How can you just wander off?"

"I can't blame all of them for the actions of a few. If we were adopting that attitude, what does that say about what they can think about us?" She smiled at Alexander as he skipped back to her side with two cans, shaking her bag open so he could put them in with the rest of the things he had collected. The way that Graham had silenced himself on that word made her uncomfortably suspicious. But she let it drop.

"Just come back, alright? We're almost out of stuff here and it's getting late."

A wry smile took her features, "Alexander. Time to go." As he returned from the small pile of garbage he had been rummaging through, she waved at the young Outlanders and spoke into the radio. "Coming back. I'll see you in a few."

"You've been gone for an hour. We might as well come and pick you up."

"I'm only about twenty minutes away. I made some stops along the way."

"Chelsea!"

"See you soon, Graham." She turned the radio off and slipped it back onto her belt.

"We going back?"

Chelsea smiled down at Alexander and tapped his head, between his antennae, "Yeah."

"Is Graham mad?"

"Nah. He's just grumpy."

"Why?"

"Cause he's a man, and men are silly."

"Why?"

Chelsea laughed and shook her head, "Don't worry. Come on. We'd better go ba…" Chelsea stopped, her boot scraping over some loose stones and nearly sending her ass up as her eyes were drawn to an Outlander that was watching her from between two tents.

At first she had thought – hoped – that it was Michael. But that notion fled from her mind when she saw his height and the bandages on his hand.

It was the wounded Outlander that had been ignored by the others the day before. The one that had fled.

"Hey…" She stepped towards him, then stopped when he took several back, eyes widening. "Hey. No. I'm not going to hurt you. Please. Let me look at that han-" Something grabbed Chelsea's sock over the top of her hiking boot and she jolted to a stop, glancing down at Alexander.

"Don't!"

"Don't… don't what?"

"Don't go near him."

"Don't go…" Chelsea looked up, but saw that the Outlander was gone, leaving only empty space where he had once been. "Alex… what on Earth was that about?"

"The adults say not to go near him. And he doesn't go near us."

"Is he dangerous?"

"He must be… Why else would they keep us away from him…?"

Chelsea stared back at the spot again, eyes narrowed. Then she sighed and nodded.

"Alright… let's go…"

As Alexander headed back to the medical tent, Chelsea spared one last stare in the direction the Outlander had gone. Admittedly, though, that wasn't what was foremost in her mind. Nor was Alexander's cryptic fear of the Outlander. He had seemed timid, afraid, not threatening. He had definitely not wanted to interact with her.

What stuck in her mind was the fact that she had originally hoped it was Michael…

~*~

Don't follow me. Don't follow me.

The wounded Outlander scrambled through the tents, desperate to put as much distance between himself and the human female.

He hadn't meant to get so close. Hadn't meant for her to see him. He just wanted to watch her, curious as to what intentions a human female would have for walking alone amongst the Prawns.

But he had seen her honey coloured hair, and it had lightened suddenly. She had become slightly shorter, more slender. Her scars and bruises and bandages had vanished and suddenly he wasn't looking at a stranger but at his beloved Tania. His Angel. She smiled and laughed and turned towards him.

Then the woman's voice, carrying an accent that was very much not Tania's, and mismatched eyes that held things he didn't want to think about shattered the illusion, making him recall where he was.

Recall what he was.

He didn't want her to come anywhere near him. She shouldn't be touching any of them. Shouldn't even have been in District 10. Alone. Unprotected…

Most of all, he didn't want her to remind him of Tania again.

He wanted to put as much distance between himself and her as possible.

So engrossed was he in the concern of pursuit, he paid no attention to what was laid out before him, so by the time he saw the larger Outlander before him, he didn't have any time to react before he smashed into his chest.

The wounded Outlander landed on his bad hand, sending pain spiralling through his body, which the larger capitalized on, grabbing his throat. His unbandage hand wrapped around the creature's forearm, eyes wide as his gills fluttered, his still-adjusting mind thinking he was choking.

"What did you do?"

"Fucking nothing! L-Let me go!"

The larger Outlander leant over the smaller, eyes narrowing as his antennae twitched. The wounded Outlander's alien physiology detected the presence and scent of a dominant Outlander and he was disgusted at how that registered in his mind.

"You're running for a reason."

"Fuck off. I didn't do shit. Let me go!" His eyes widened when the Outlander's hand tightened. "I fucking swear! I was running from the girl!"

The hand loosened as his captor started, blinking, "The girl?"

"Yeah. She came towards me. I didn't fucking want her to touch me."

Suddenly he was hurled to the ground and a foot planted on his chest, crushing it under the larger Outlander's weight, "Did you hurt her?"

The pinned Outlander stopped his struggles when he registered the words, eyes widening, "Hurt… fuck YOU! Fuck you, Prawn! I won't ever hurt a woman! I don't give a shit what I am now! I won't ever hurt a woman! The bandages and bruises were already there! I bet no human did that. Look to your own kind!"

It seemed that the Outlander didn't believe the pinned one for a moment, before he lifted his foot and stepped back, exhaling sharply, "Explain."

The other picked himself slowly, awkward on his unsteady feet, still unused to how they moved. He cast a dark glare at the Outlander, his mouthparts twisting into an alien sneer, "Explain what?"

"You won't hit a female."

The wounded Outlander rubbed his face with the back of his good hand, "I might look like one of you fucking creatures, but I'm not one. No human man would ever hit a fucking woman."

"It seems inequality exists amongst your own race."

"Don't give me that shit. It's got nothing to do with that. It's… women are supposed to be protected. They're weaker. It's just how they're made. Men are supposed to keep them safe. And she's here, all alone, in fucking District 10. Fucking bandaged up. Who the fuck gave her those wounds, huh? No man. No human. You fucking monsters, hurting a woman."

The large Outlander narrowed his eyes, mouthparts clicking together, "Don't forget you're one of us, human."

"Yeah. For now. Until Christopher gets back. And then I'm back to being human. Back to being fucking human. Until then, I won't let her touch me. No woman should have to touch one of you fucking creatures."

The other Outlander seemed disturbed about his harsh words, making the wounded one curious.

"Why do you care about her, huh? What is she to you?" Then his eyes widened and he pointed at the larger Outlander, aggressive despite the size difference. "Don't you fucking touch her, you hear me? I know what you do with those prostitutes. She's not like that. Don't you fucking touch her!"

Michael whirled on the smaller Outlander, enraged that he would insinuate he would violate her like that. He would never hurt Chelsea. The dominant sound that escaped his throat was enough to send the mutated human that was once known as Wikus skittering backwards, eyes wide.

"Run away, pest, before there's nothing left for Christopher to restore."

"And she wants to help you fucking things. She's mad. She's fucking insane." This was muttered under the mutant's breath as he turned and loped clumsily into the tents, vanishing from sight quickly.

Michael's shoulders heaved with each of his breaths as he watched him go, then he stepped back, glancing towards the road. A line of white tents obscured his sight of Chelsea, but he knew she was there. He could feel her presence, like a beacon in a perception he didn't know he had.

The mutant's words came back to him. About how she shouldn't have to touch him. He knew that his kind disgusted humans, but Chelsea had never shown any signs of disgust. She had happily touched Alexander. Happily been held by him.

She was different, wasn't she? She was different to the humans Wikus described.

Because if she wasn't, that would mean that she, as a human female, needed to be protected. And that might possibly be the unknown feeling that Michael was experiencing. But that was impossible. He didn't want to protect her. He had saved her because he didn't want his word to be broken. Because he didn't want his people to suffer for Adam's thoughtless act of hate.

He hadn't protected her for the sake of keeping her safe.

Because that would mean that he actually cared about Chelsea.

And he didn't.

… Did he?

~*~

"Callum. If you get me a bubblebath, I'll have sex with you."

"I'll be right back."

Natalie's laugh was weary as Callum hopped out of the truck like his lap was on fire. But instead of racing off for the false promise of a bubble bath, he helped her down behind him.

"I really would like a bubble bath, though," she murmured wistfully.

"I'd like the internet to be up and running," he responded. "I want to check my emails and let my mother know that I haven't been killed."

"A worrier?"

"Paranoid schizophrenic."

"…Oh."

Callum grimaced as he rubbed his neck, "I hate to admit it, but I came to Africa to get away from her, too. She was driving me insane…" He gave a dry laugh. "Ahhh I'm not funny…"

"Does she know we'll have SatPhones soon?"

"No, thank God. I mean, I love my mum, but… No. I'm thirty. Not thirteen."

Natalie smiled faintly, "I wish I had a mum like that."

"You… she's not dead, is she?"

"Nah. But she's obsessed. A lawyer in some firm. I don't care and the indifference is mutual. She's ticked that I decided to be a doctor like my 'good for nothing bleeding heart father'." Natalie smirked.

Callum was about to say something utterly in appropriate in an attempt to cheer her up, but thankfully he spied someone approaching out of the corner of his eye. "Graham!"

The US corpsman arched a brow, "Did I interrupt something? You sound relieved to see me, and since you have a beautiful woman on your arm, that kinda makes me worry for you, man."

"You know I only have eyes for you, Graham."

"… Okay. We entered new realms of weird." Graham smiled as he cupped Natalie's chin. "You look shellshocked."

She gave him a wan smile, "Nothing hard sleeping pills and a hot bubble bath won't fix."

"Sleeping pills I can do, but I'll have to substantiate you on a hot meal, instead. Come on."

Natalie grimaced, "I don't think I can… I've never felt so guilty about everything in my life…" She glanced back at the tents, her eyes hollow. "Those poor creatures…"

"Hey. Don't think about that." Graham wrapped his arm around her waist, squeezing her. "We're here to help and that's the best we can do. Come on. You were the last ones in, but we haven't started eating yet."

As the three of them made their way to the mess tent, which was already bustling with activity, Natalie said suddenly, "Where's Chelsea? And Alexander?"

It was only then that Callum noticed that they were absent from the tent, and from the rest of the camp. Callum and Natalie had been paired, same as Graham and Chelsea, and he already knew that Graham wouldn't have come back to the camp without her.

Graham jerked his head and the two of them turned in the direction he indicated where, beyond the tents and on a small rise, they could see someone sitting on the ground, concentrating on something in their lap.

"She scooped up some food and wandered off. Guess she wanted some time alone. With Alexander."

"You sound disappointed at that."

Graham glanced at Natalie, and then lifted a shoulder in a sigh. "I just hope… she doesn't lose herself in whatever world is behind her eyes and forget there's a real one, out here, that she has to live in."

Natalie stood for a moment longer, watching Chelsea, her expression unreadable as Graham's words rang in her mind. It was only when Callum called her name that she blinked back to herself, glancing at him.

"Coming."

Chelsea stroked Alexander's back as he slept against her thigh. To one side was the crude little phone she had made with the two tins he had found and some twine. He had been thoroughly entertained by the fact that they could speak through the tins along the twine. When he had launched into the explanation of how electrical current could emulate vibrations for phone calls, however, Chelsea had feigned that her brain had hurt, amusing him even more.

The two of them had eaten until he was full and then she had fed him a little more, before he had dozed off against her leg, apparently overcome by the activities of the day. The almost-empty plate lay to one side and she was perfectly content to let him sleep as the sun kissed the horizon and began to set in full.

"What happened to you, Alexander? Where is your parent?"

"He's dead."

Chelsea started violently, causing Alexander to roll over and flop on the dirt. Amazingly the resilient little Outlander child remained asleep and Chelsea thumped her chest, trying to get her heart to beat properly.

She perceived out of her peripheral vision that a large Outlander moved up beside her, crouching down. When she looked to him, she saw two MNU officers watching him warily.

Chelsea looked to the Outlander's face and she jolted again when she realized that it was Michael, her eyes widening, "What the… you scared the shit out of me!" Without thinking, she slapped his shoulder, making him recoil and rub the joint. "Holy Christ. I think I lost two years of my life."

He apparently decided to let that slide as he knelt down beside her, watching her warily. It was Chelsea that spoke again, however.

"What did you mean he was dead?"

"Are there meanings to the word that I don't comprehend?"

His sarcasm wasn't appreciated and she turned to glare at him. He stared back at her, the intensity of his gaze somewhat unnerving. Instinctively she rubbed her mouth, wondering if she had chicken grease on her face.

One of his hands shot out, making her gasp and recoil, but he only grabbed her wrist, holding her. Pulling her forward, he rested her palm on his shoulder, staring at her still.

Silence reigned between them and Chelsea glanced away, then back, "Uh…?"

"Do I disgust you?"

Her brows winged towards her bandaged brow, "Uh. No. But you're kind of weirding me out right now…"

"I disgust you." He tossed her hand away with a sigh.

"No. That's not what I said. You're just acting weird."

"You don't know me. You don't know what's 'weird' for me."

"I'm getting a little tired of you snapping at me for nothing," she retorted sharply, trying to keep her voice low so she didn't disturb Alexander. "What's your problem? I haven't done anything wrong."

"You shouldn't be here."

"Well I am. So tough titties. And don't give me anything about forcing myself on you. I'm not. I'm here, and I'm helping, but if anyone wanted to protest about my help, they could have. Be afraid. Be angry. Resent that you need help. Fine. Hurl abuse at me. I can take it. But someone is extending their hand to you. I know what we've done to you, and it sickens me. It does. You don't deserve to be treated this way. But I haven't done anything. So don't blame me for it when I'm trying to make things better."

Chelsea gestured at the white tents, "So hey, why are you here anyway? You chickened out this morning for no good reason. Go do it again. I didn't ask you to be here. You don't have to be here. You shouldn't be here. So just go away, since I seem to disgust you so much." Chelsea turned away, returning her attention to Alexander's form.

He had slept on peacefully through their heated exchange and she was grateful for that.

Michael, however, didn't move. She couldn't feel his gaze on her, but his presence was… odd. She shouldn't be so upset that he was upset, but she was. He was one Outlander. Only one. But his approval seemed to mean so much to her. As if the righteousness of their expedition hinged on his opinion.

Which was beyond retarded.

Her eyes closed and she cursed herself for being moronic. Her hand reached out and touched Alexander's back, brushing over his carapace once more, as if she could draw strength and comfort from his innocence.

"MNU took him."

Chelsea blinked and turned to look at Michael, who was watching her hand stroking Alexander's back, avoiding her gaze. Finally he turned his head away, his maxillae twitching, before he answered her silent question, ensuring to keep his words slow and to pause so she could rapid-translate in her head.

"His father was suspected to be part of a resistance, which he was, but there was no evidence. Those with young are careful. The young are the most important thing. He wasn't stupid enough to do anything with young. But they didn't care. They ripped his shack apart and dragged him out and beat him in the middle of the street." Michael rubbed his shoulder, his mouthparts drawing tightly together. "I lived near him. I wanted to help. I did. But I knew if I tried, I'd be dragged away as well. And I'd be just as dead as he was."

Michael shook his head slowly and exhaled, "It's the fate of all those that are taken. They're never seen again. But he was so young. So confused. Some of the others, ones that were closer to his father took him in. But he just kept asking where his father was… He was so lost." The Outlander closed his eyes and put one hand to his head. "And all I could think about was the fact that I had watched it happen and done nothing. Just as I had a thousand times before. Just as I did a dozen times after, right up until we were forcibly relocated."

Chelsea barely comprehended everything he had just said. Most of it was incoherent, lost behind the image that was dancing behind her eyes. Alexander standing where his father had been last, hearing the echoes of his father's cries. Wondering where his father had gone.

Worse yet, wondering when he would come back.

Did he know? Did he know that his father was dead? Did he know that he was never coming back? That he would never see him again. He had probably become one of those horrific genetic experiments that had been reported. Probably fucking target practice for all she knew. But there was his son, who had bounced around happily all day and helped her treat his wounded elders and who had wrapped the female doctors around his finger. Maybe it was childish innocence that allowed him to shoulder the burden. But regardless, Chelsea suddenly had the overwhelming need to protect Alexander against every single threat. To cradle him against her chest and make sure nothing could ever touch him again.

Chelsea bent her head over Alexander and made that quiet vow in her mind, etched it in her soul. She knew there were so many young Outlanders who would have suffered more, suffered worse, but what mattered to her was Alexander.

She swore he would never, ever be hurt again…

Michael watched her, before turning away, eyes narrowing, "That was only one moment. One single moment of twenty eight seasonal rotations on this forsaken rock full of cruelty and malice. We have every reason to hate you. Every reason. And you come and reach out and expect us to take your hand."

"I know," she said quietly. "We were naïve in-"

"Not naïve. Arrogant. Pure arrogance."

"We are not arrogant!"

"No. You're right. You're evil." He shoved to his feet and walked away.

Sick and tired of his obstinacy, she got up as well, careful not to disturb Alexander, and hurried after him. Grabbing his wrist, she yanked him around, refusing to be cowed by his snarl of rage. "You can't blame me for what was done to you!"

"Then who can I blame?! Who can I blame for everything that we have suffered. Don't think you can come into here for a week and know what it is we have endured! You don't! Don't think you can hear the story of one orphaned child and think you comprehend! You don't. You don't know what suffering is!"

"Yes I do."

"No. No you don't!"

"What is it that I don't comprehend, Michael?!"

"Your race butchered my children, and I had to watch them die!"

~*~


Cuh-liffhanger, and the reason for Michael's prejudice is revealed. Which is identical to Adam's reason, ironically. But it shows you the two paths that their hatreds took. Adam was reduced to insanity and Michael was reduced to… well. Utter despair.

Firstly, I want to apologize for the long delay between chapters. I actually had this finished two weeks ago. Or near to. But then my Microsoft Word spasmed on me and through a series of unfortunate events that were mostly my own stupid fault, I ended up losing the whole chapter. So what you see before you is actually a complete re-write off the top of my head.

Some of the conversations, to me, don't flow properly. It was because I was trying to emulate the previous chapter before it was deleted, because everything was totally perfect in that moment. But as you can see, it didn't succeed properly.

I would have gotten this chapter up sooner, but I'm afraid that I had 4 assignments due quite recently, so they unfortunately took priority. Damn University!

As promised, here are the responses to you, my wonderful reviewers, for Chapter 5.

Writer's Apprentice: Thank you for your well wishes. Chelsea thanks you as well! I hope you're ready for a bumpy ride, though. You're right, though. Alexander will play a very important part in the story, as you'll see. He will be a catalyst that is needed for a reaction. Otherwise the two components (Chelsea and Michael) would never truly work. Alexander will be their driving force. Or at least what he represents. And Chelsea has faced death on many occasions and has come out the other end with her life. What that has left her with, as you can see, is a very firm belief, more if which you will see as her story is told in later chapters.

Herr Wozzeck: To be honest, the 'aborting' and killing of the eggs in the film made me really sick. Especially the amusement and joy that came from it. I had to explore that further in the fiction, and it will. I can't just let something like that. And Alexander isn't a main character so much as he's crucial for some things to happen between the main characters. You'll see how in later chapters. And yes, there will be some Christopher/Oliver(CJ) parallels in this story. I just loved their relationship. It was so, as much as I hesitate to use the term, human. Adorable and heart warming.

Vampiric Angel 4: Thank you!

Amaruk Wolfheart of the Wraith: Thank you very much! I'm glad the re-write helped.

Azdgari: … Wow. Just… wow. Thank you. Very, very much. I'm glad that you enjoy it so much.

Blue Jay: Chelsea's very lucky for a lot of things, as you'll see. Sorry this chapter took so long!

Mistah Eleganzah: Sorry that the argument from Michael seemed too abrupt, but that was the point. I don't think I explained it well enough. It's supposed to have spilled forth with little to no provocation because he's been thinking about it a lot. I hope this chapter helped explain it better. The changes to chapter four came because of you, so you should pat yourself on the back. I thank you for that! And the prologue had been disturbing me for a long time. I originally wrote it to ensnare readers without boring them with chapter one, but when I saw my views, I realized that hadn't worked. So I re-wrote it. I'm glad it worked!

The Raven Quoth: Thank you! I hoped you like this chapter!

Miss Meliss: Thank you. I'm glad you've enjoyed this fiction so much! Nothing pleases me more than when someone enjoys my writing! I'm glad I could make such an effective story for you. Michael and Chelsea's relationship is definitely a slow starter and there will be many mishaps and maladies along the road, but hopefully they can emerge with a strong friendship. As for grammatical/spelling errors, please be aware that I am Australian, and our dictionary spelling is different to the American one (As I am assuming you are. I apologize if you are not.) So what might appear as spelling errors to you might appear fine to me. Other spelling errors could come from simple mistakes and me not noticing wrong letter placement. Such as 'form' instead of 'from'. Mostly because I write these chapters in the late hours of the night to the wee hours of the morning, or after an assignment, so my brain is rather frazzled. I will keep a closer eye on it, regardless. Thank you very much for your advisement! As for your questions, I hope most of them will be answered through this story, but I hope I leave you with some to keep you thinking! I think it is an author's greatest victory if they can leave a reader with more to contemplate after the story is finished, so that it can never truly end for a reader.

Sagira: Thank you very much! You flatter me, really. I haven't had the time/opportunity to read other fanfics, unfortunately, but I am sure there are others that exceed mine. But regardless, I'm very glad you think so.

I shall try to get the new chapter up as soon as possible, University allowing, and hope that you all enjoyed this chapter in the meantime.

PLEASE review if you liked it. Reviews keep me going! Critique me, shred me, do as you wish! And flame. Nights are getting cold.

Love

Anne