A/N: Hello all! So we didn't take our road trip today. The East Coast is being pounded with a merciless heat wave this week and temperatures were set to reach 107 degrees Fahrenheit (42 degrees centigrade)! So, because we value our lives, we decided to have some quality family time instead and postpone roadtripping it up for another time. Anyway, found some free time and decided to carry on. This story's coming to a close so I'm now focusing on building up the drama a bit as a lead-up into the sequel. Hopefully you'll follow me over to that one as well. The name is still up-in-the-air (see last chapter) so if you like any one in particular let me know! That said, let's get down to it. And to all my wonderful American readers: Happy 4th of July (even if it is technically past midnight!)

PS: Just an FYI: 'Caz Hall' (mentioned below) is one of the student residences at Wellesley College. Yeah that's right: Ebi does his research :D

Oh. My. God. Three words. Three words that barely managed to form in her head because God was that an amazing experience. Spontaneous, unexplained, passionate. Hal's lips against hers and she was barely coherent after that. And then the emotions started crashing into her, one at a time.

The fear came first. Fear of everything that had just occurred. She was certain she was about to die in that house, with the skitter strangling her. She could still feel its grip on her neck, as if it had burnt its touch into her flesh. And then, from nowhere it seemed, Hal had been there, whispering her name, praying. And then she watched him attack the alien and now she wasn't sure if she should be afraid of him too. If he can do that to a skitter, what could he do to another human being? The wall of fire continued to burn behind her, continued to consume the dried-up wood of the porch. She could smell the smoke in the air, thick and hazy like the night of the invasion, when she was in her dorm room and she could smell Caz Hall burning just like that porch was now.

It was an overpowering sense, flashing back to that time, hearing the screams of the other girls as they peered out at the blue lights and the explosions. Hal said something but his voice…it was so far away now, his face slowly dissolving into the air as she could suddenly see the frenzied looks of her roommates. She watched it all over again—the windows blowing in, exterior walls disintegrating into dust. She was running now, screaming for her life, trying desperately to find her car and get the hell out. But the explosions…God the explosions were everywhere and she saw people she knew laying dead around campus—professors, club members…all just gone. And then there were the objects—bikes, cars, mailboxes—flipping everywhere, burning, falling to the ground with horrific crashes and she was screaming, screaming for help that just wouldn't come…

"Lourdes!" Hal's grip was viselike, clutching her close and the vision of his face slowly swam into focus once more. "Lourdes, what's wrong?"

The tears stung her eyes, blurred her vision.

"Lourdes? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" His fingertips ghosted across her leg, trying to feel through the splint if anything else had been broken. "What'd that skitter do to you?"

"N-not…not the skitters…" She was clawing at the ground now, desperately trying to get up. Trying to get away from the smells that were just too familiar and overpowering with everything else that had gone on that night.

"Then what?" he looked concerned.

"The…the fire…it's just…oh my God it's-it's too much…" she collapsed against him, her full weight coming to rest in his arms and she felt comforted that he didn't push her away, instead drawing her closer to his chest where it was warm and safe. She cried shamelessly, openly, felt her tears dripping down her face and dampening his shirt, the skin of his neck.

"I'm so, so sorry…" his voice was laced with more regret than she'd ever heard out of him. "I just…I lost it back there and…I…" there was a crack in his voice and for the first time she realized how much of a toll these past few days must have taken on him, too.

She shook her head. "It's not your fault…"

One by one, more emotions began washing over her. Love. Adoration. Hal came back for her! And he was still here, now. He was still holding her, still sheltering her. And he may have lost his head back there but he was motivated by the need to protect her. Whatever he was to her, and whatever she was to him, he had cared enough not to abandon her. She really needed that.

But that fear, that ever-present fear was still burning in the back of her mind. And she couldn't shake the horrific images of that night from her mind. Not while the heat and the orange glow of the flames still danced across her vision, ingraining itself into her senses, etching itself into her memory.

"We gotta get a move on," Hal said to her, his voice low, hoarse. "That skitter's friends will be here any minute." He didn't wait for her to say anything more, just picked her up and carried her on. Just a few minutes ago she had protested, desperately wanting to get away from Hal. But why? He'll do that to as many skitters as he can, but he'll never do that to you. But she was still just as nervous as he walked with her. She could feel his newly-reclaimed gun resting against her leg, swinging as he walked.

She wasn't sure when she dozed off, but she wasn't entirely surprised. In his arms she felt secure, taken care of. Nothing can hurt you here. And even the weight of the gun swinging side to side began to feel comforting, the sound of Hal's feet crunching through the dried up weeds, leaving behind the harrowing memories of what had just occurred.

Finally, as daylight broke and the sun began to peek up, plumes of smoke still billowing in the far distance, they reached the safety of the barn. He roused her gently, shaking her slowly in his arms until her eyelids fluttered open and she squinted at the sunlight. Hal set her down momentarily, sliding back the door and helping her inside. "Welcome home," he said, a note of dry humor in his voice.

In the familiar, musty space her mind began to clear and she immediately drew the sewing kit from her pocket. "Here…light a lantern and I'll stitch your gash up once and for all." Her voice had taken its professional tone, the one that never ceased to amaze her because no matter how emotionally invested she was in the situation she always sounded so detached and impersonal. But Hal complied.

"Lie back," she commanded. A smirk found its way across his features as he lay down and she slowly unwound the gauze. It was sticking to his forehead. "This could hurt a little…" He grunted in pain as she ripped the gauze away but she knew he was doing his best. She made it a point to tell him exactly what she was doing, hoping that maybe it would put him at ease. More like put yourself at ease. "Wow…that…that's pretty bad," she murmured.

Hal tried to laugh it off. "Just a flesh wound."

"Okay, I'm going to disinfect it now," she almost winced at what his reaction would likely be. "And it will sting." She took one of the disinfectant swabs and dabbed at the crusted blood and dirt. He released short hisses of pain. "Sorry," she apologized ruefully.

"Stop…enjoying this…so much…" he hissed out, though the humor in his tone was still evident despite the agony this had to be causing him.

She found herself smirking too, unable to control it. "Shut up," she giggled. "And hold still." She had the needle threaded now and slowly began to sew the gash shut, praying that it wouldn't become infected. It was painstaking labor given the dim light and the look of pain on Hal's face. She wished she had a local anesthetic to give him but this wasn't a hospital or a med lab. This was field medicine. When she finished, she sat back on her heels and looked him over briefly. "That should hold until we get back to the 2nd Mass. Anne will probably do a much better job than I ever could."

"Nah," Hal said. "You did a good job—it feels good as new. Thanks."

She cast her eyes down again, suddenly shy. "You're welcome."

Hal slowly rose on his elbows as she began to pack up the supplies, feeling like a huge weight was lifted off of her chest now that his wound would finally stop bleeding once and for all.

"So what was that back there?"

"Huh?" she looked to him confusedly as she slipped the sewing kit into her pack, which had remained by the door where she last left it. She hoped he didn't want to discuss the kiss. She really didn't want to talk about it, would prefer to discuss anything besides it because the conflicting, intense emotions would only make her head spin right now.

"Last night…you started screaming and crying…what happened?"

"Oh." She felt the heat rising in her cheeks and was grateful for the dim light so that he couldn't see it. She was suddenly regretting wishing to discuss anything besides the kiss. "It was nothing…"

"That wasn't nothing, Lourdes, you were terrified."

He reads you like a book. "I was just…scared. That's all."

Hal shook his head. "I've seen you scared—that wasn't it. It was almost like the fire had something to do with it. You kept looking at the burning house and trying to get away-you were terrified."

Terrified summed it up pretty well and the emotions rose quickly in her chest. "When I was at Wellesley and the invasion happened the dorm was on fire, okay?" She knew her voice was much louder than she intended it to be. "I was the only one to make it out of Caz Hall alive and all I could smell was that smoke and that…that fire and I just don't like seeing buildings burn, alright?" She turned away, forcefully sifting through the pack for lack of anything else to do, her shoulders shaking as silent sobs wracked her body. "I'm afraid of burning buildings…of fires like that…" Add that to the endless list of things you're afraid of.

Hal's hand found purchase on her shoulder, offering her a reassuring squeeze. "It's perfectly normal to be scared of that. That was some pretty scary shit you had to go through and I don't blame you…"

And yet, he's not afraid of anything like that…

"And I'm sorry," Hal apologized again. "I-I shouldn't have set the building on fire like that. I was just…I was pissed at them. At everything they're doing to us and I completely lost it…"

Why's he sorry? He's justified—they killed his mother, they took his brother and made him into their slave. They have his dad and…his girlfriend. That thought startled her a bit. Suddenly she could only see Karen's judgmental blue eyes staring at her coldly, boring into her heart like a drill.

'What are you doing hanging around my man? What kind of human being are you? You take advantage of his vulnerability? You take advantage of my situation?'

"You're right," she breathed, though she wasn't sure if she was talking to Hal, to herself, or to Karen.

Hal looked at her questioningly and she decided she should at least play it off as if she were talking to him the whole time. "You were right to do what you did…They need to realize that they can't keep doing this to us without repercussions, right? I'm sure that your dad or Ben would've done the same thing…"

"No," Hal said sharply. "Well…maybe Ben. But Dad wouldn't have. I really, really should've tried to control myself back there."

He's just a kid in all of this. Just like I am. But the difference was, Hal had grown up infinitely more than she had. He was a man now. And she was left clinging to childish fantasies of an ideal world where she wouldn't ever have to personally harm anything. But Hal's rage served as a stark and tragic reminder that he was barely seventeen, still susceptible to things that ordinary seventeen-year-olds were susceptible to. Not that there were any ordinary seventeen-year-olds left in the world.

"Don't worry about it," she finally said, preferring to end the subject there and not dwell on it anymore. She yawned, the excitement finally giving way to exhaustion.

Hal shivered a bit.

"Oh," she said softly, moving to remove her jacket. "I…I grabbed some extra clothes for you but that skitter sort of surprised me. Here…"

He held a hand up to stop her. "Keep it," he said. "It's nothing."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Hal, it's kind of cold in here."

"Which is why you should keep the coat. If you're so worried about me then why not lie down over here?" A mischievous smirk crossed his face. "You know…share body heat?"

She nodded, a little bit dumbfounded. But the warmth Hal afforded her was more than enough incentive.

They must have lain there for at least a half hour, both trying to sleep but both too charged to actually be able to drift off. At some point she removed the jacket anyway, feeling much warmer now. "Lourdes?" Hal broke the silence and she rolled over to face him on the barn floor. Her eyes were questioning. "What…what was it like for you…before the invasion, I mean."

Was this some sort of bonding session? She frowned at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

Hal had to ponder that one a moment. "Like…what do you miss?"

"My family, my friends, my roommates…"

"Besides all that," Hal leaned back, stared at the rafters. "Don't you ever just…just sit and think and wish for something?"

Yeah. All the time. I miss my phone, my laptop, my car. Normal food, routines, schedules… "Lots of things, really. I just…I miss being able to go out and hang out with my friends. We used to go into Boston and eat at these really, really bad cafes and then just wander and listen to street performers…" It was a dreamy voice that overtook her tone now. "What do you miss the most?" she asked him.

"My mom," Hal stated quietly.

"Besides all that," she mimicked, if only to try to stay away from the sadness just below the surface.

"You'd think it's lame…"

"I told you mine," she reminded him.

"My lacrosse sticks," he finally said sheepishly. She stifled a laugh. "No, seriously! They…they weren't cheap. I used to go out into our backyard and practice after school, even during the fall or the winter when lacrosse wasn't in season. I guess what I really miss is…just being able to play lacrosse…"

But that wasn't it. And they both knew it. What they both really missed was the same thing: freedom. Freedom to wander the streets of Boston or play lacrosse. She routinely prayed for things to return to normal, though, for her to regain that freedom. "One day," she finally said, facing him, snapping him out of whatever thoughts he'd had floating through his head. "One day you'll play lacrosse again."

Hal laughed. "There's a thought…we gotta get back to camp first, though."

And just like that the moment passed. Now they were no longer reminiscing, they had to actively formulate a plan—some way to get back to their friends.

"How are we gonna do that?" she asked earnestly.

"We'll figure it out," he promised the same thing he'd been promising all along. But they'd made it this far. Why should she doubt him now? They would figure it out. "But rest is important and neither of us have slept in a while."

And there, curled up in Hal Mason's arms, she let sleep claim her. Her dreams were of simpler days, with jazz music playing off Boston corners and her friends laughing and sipping Starbucks out of Styrofoam cups. They were beautiful dreams. And it had been so long since she'd had beautiful dreams…

A/N: I think two more chapters max? This may break your hearts but ultimately things aren't gonna stay rosy forever. Anyway, how was this chapter? The more I consider Lourdes, the more I really think she needs a back story. So I'm writing it myself! Let me know how you like it. Hal and Lourdes have definitely forged a strong bond here…but as I mentioned peachy times don't last forever and there needs to be some lead-up to a sequel. So expect angst and anger and some action in the final two chapters. Fair warning to all. Also: sequel titles are still open to debate. Let's hear which ones you like!

PS: Comments on Lourdes feeling a bit scared of Hal now? Like it? Don't like it? Is it logical is my main question…