Chapter Two

A flurry of confusing images fade from a quickly forgotten dream and my eyelids twitch before I finally force them open, only to clamp them shut again the bright light.

"Miss Drake?" A woman's voice.

I turn my head towards the sound and force my eyes open again. The room is bright, a clean sterile white-room sort of bright. I'm mistaken as my eyes adjust. The room has a unique ugly green-blue coloring on the window side.

I'm in a hospital bed, with a machine stationed to my right diligently beeping away. There's a needle lodged into my arm, I quickly look away, my heart picks up a beat. I really hate needles.

A woman with chestnut curls stacked atop her head and a nurse's tunic approaches my bedside.

"Hello." She greets me with surprising warmth, a friendly smile on her face. I don't find myself in hospitals very often, so I've always imagined nurses as being cold and to the point. This kind of environment, with all the scary machines, needles, and rooms with warnings plastered all over them, it's hard to not feel that way.

I shudder slightly, thinking about the needle in my arm like some sort of little bug with its teeth clamped on. My obvious discomfort is noticed by the nurse and she asks, "How are you feeling? Any pains?"

I'm suddenly aware of it, and I feel an ugly grimace coming on. The pain is not intense, but it's there. A slightly burning, but mostly pulsing pain in my arm. I'm more worried about what it looks like, but when I drop the sheet off my arm all I see are bandages.

"What happened to me?" I ask, because I don't know. All I remember is being thrown to the ground by a crazy looking kig-yar and almost having my purse stolen. I'm not one to just randomly pass out, or be over dramatic in general.

Which is why I'm feeling a rising nausea as the nurse scans the machine to my right. I know it's brought on by my own anxiety, but what if something is wrong with me? What if I have some sort of terminal illness that they've only just now discovered? I don't have checkups as often as I should.

Oh please, god, no. I've accomplished nothing yet. Nothing.

The nurse doesn't speak for a moment, but instead presses a device hanging from her neck. It looks like a button that has a gray wire that wraps around her neck like an ugly necklace. Another smaller wire is attached under her ear. She holds it up to her mouth, "Dr. Towa, Lacey Drake is awake. She has some questions."

With that she lets the communicator drop back onto her chest and scans the machine to my left, "Alright Miss Drake, Dr. Towa will pay you a visit soon, he's your doctor. He can answer any questions you have."

"Am I sick?" Like dying sick? I sit up as my chest is rocked by coughing. My mouth feels too dry.

The nurse retreats for a moment and I hear running water. Soon after she is at my side again and easing me up to take a drink from a small plastic cup. I manage to take in most of it and I lay back onto a too-stiff pillow.

She smiles, "Well, your vitals are giving healthy readings, but Dr. Towa will be better able to explain the situation."

That's some relief. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." I feel a pang of loneliness that surprises me when the nurse turns to leave, her steps echoing down the hall. I wish Clover was here with me. I miss that big silly dog.

I want to go home. Hospitals always freak me out. I'm trying to be patient but my fingernails are practically putting holes into the fuzzy blanket under my chest.

I start a bit as a man suddenly walks into my room, clipboard in hand. He has dark skin that contrasts even darker with his white clothes. His scalp is hidden beneath a blue medical hairnet, as if he had just come out of a surgery. He smiles at me in a clinical sort of way, the warmth not quite reaching his eyes.

"Miss Drake? How are you this evening?"

What? Oh no. "This evening?" I choke out, "But it was morning!" I can feel that ugly redness flushing warm across my face again as I realize my outburst was quite loud.

He's not looking at me, but at his papers. "The poison in your bloodstream caused you to lose consciousness, you've just woken up." I sit there, stunned, as he flips a page in his clipboard, "There's no lasting damage, so you'll be ready to go as soon as you feel up to it. I know you've suffered a traumatic experience and you're probably still in shock."

"Poison?" My voice is small, nervous. When was I poisoned? Oh damn it, was it the coffee?

"Yes, but we got it all. You're going to be just fine." The doctor smiles a real smile, probably relieved he won't have to break any bad news, and yes, I'm happy about that too. I feel a smile take over my face in relief.

I'm going to live! Thank goodness. I breathe in softly, and then I move my arm, flinch, and I remember the blasted needle.

"Can you get this thing out of me?" I ask him, practically pleading, and he notices the way I'm holding my arm out as if I want to cast it away from the rest of my body. I know I can sound childish, squeamish, but I really really hate needles.

"Let's finish up first." He rearranges his papers and pulls one free. I watch, trying to ignore the needle in my arm as he pulls a chair up to sit at my bedside, "The poison was a crude but potent mixture that rogue kig-yar have been painting on their nails. He's currently in holding, but there's an officer in the lobby who wants to have a word with you once you're ready to leave."

"Wait, so it's normal for them to go around poisoning people? Why not use guns or something?" Now that I think about it, the whole attack had been unexpected in more ways than one. It had also happened in broad daylight.

"The kig-yar was brought in earlier because he had suffered a seizure not long after he was arrested. Just an observation, but from his appearance and health exam, he was probably homeless, desperate, I'm sure he was also a bit mentally unstable. The officer overseeing him told me he was biting at his own hands."

I sit up a bit in bed, trying to stretch out my legs. I wince at a cramp in my hip, yeah, definitely been in here too long, "Is he okay?" I don't know why I ask, but I do.

"Yes, but he'll be suffering for it. Unlike you, he's going to have some hives to itch while incarcerated. The poison is apparently more potent against his own kind. It's the acid group." The doctor smiled genuinely, "I'm sure it's the least he deserves."

I bend my legs over the side of the bed, moving carefully with the IV wire slack in one unsteady hand. Both legs are tingling as I place my feet and some of my weight onto the cold floor.

"I'll fetch some attendants to see you out comfortably," Doctor Towa says, "Have a nice night, and be more cautious about where you're walking." He leaves the room and I realize with no small amount of irritation that he left the needle in. Gee, thanks doc.

I wish I could teleport home.

Fortunately, I didn't have long to wait because hear footsteps in the hall. My tense shoulders slacken in relief when I watch two nurses walk into my room, one pushing a wheelchair with a small quilt like blanket in the seat.

"Hey sweetie." The older nurse coos. She has kind green eyes, and a face full of freckles. "We're going to get you all settled and out of here in no time." The woman turns to the younger nurse who acts a little nervous with how she holds herself, actively nibbling on her bottom lip. "Karen, go unhook her for me."

The other nurse, who is probably new here, moves to unfasten me from the machine. She hesitates with my arm and I feel the urge to moan aloud in complaint, but I'm relieved when I finally feel the pressure in my arm free up.

They help to get me out of bed and seat me and I'm surprised at how dizzy and unsteady I am. My neck feels like it's full of jelly and my legs are trembling with every step. I hope this doesn't last long, but my luck I probably won't be able to walk straight tomorrow. Ugh, tomorrow.

One step at a time. I'll worry about tomorrow when it comes, I just have to get out of here, pronto.

Soon enough I'm being wheeled down the hall, bright lights flashing overhead as we zoom forward. I have to close my eyes at the almost nauseating effect the lights have on me and I'm certain I'll be resting the rest of the night from the aftereffects of the medicine.

Leanne is probably worried sick, she knows I'd much rather cut off a finger than miss work. I still can't believe I missed my first day of work…with a new boss no less.

When I'm in the elevator only half listening to the two nurses making conversation with each other, I'm suddenly thinking back to earlier that day. I stare at the floor numbers as we go down…12, 11, 10—as my mind returns to this morning.

That kig-yar had been downright terrifying, I still can't believe I was almost mugged, much less poisoned. When I try and visualize what happened, I can piece together images, like shots in a film, but they're still so unclear. Mismatched. I don't remember if I had my coffee with me at the time, or if I had tried to fight back at all, even if I had screamed. All I do remember is the one who stopped it. He's the only clear image in my mind.

I quirk my lips into a small smile when I remember how he had loomed over me like some noble warrior, his armor shining in the sun. My life isn't this way, not usually. I'm not a damsel in distress who gets rescued by aliens in armor, or anyone for that matter. Drama isn't something that happens to me.

I had never been so terrified in all my life, the closest other event I can recall is when my mom choked on a rice ball when I was a kid and I had thought she was going to keel over on me. That's as much drama as I have had to deal with, except for some stress caused by my own compulsiveness.

I remember the sangheili now. How huge he was, his muscular arms, those strange but powerful looking legs, his two big round toes that I found oddly cute. Those scary mandibles, those brown-brown eyes. I remember his voice and I involuntarily shiver.

Oh please say I'm not crushing on him like some weirdo. Is it weird to be attracted to him, I mean his voice? Oh gosh.

"We're here." The nurse says, and I jump a little in my seat. I realize that we're in the lobby now, and I look around at the ugly green chairs and couches nearby. There's also a long metal table between them stacked full of magazines. She parks me in front of the table right next to the couch.

"Thanks." I say.

"You're welcome." It's the older nurse, the other one had disappeared somewhere. She gives me a generous smile, dimples popping up on her face. I think of Leanne randomly at the sight of them, she hates her dimples. She calls them 'craters', "Officer Calvin is speaking with another officer outside." She tells me, "He'll be back soon. You have a good long rest sweetheart, I'm sorry you had a bad morning."

Officer… of course. That report, I can't get home any slower can I? "Thanks, me too." I say and she walks off and I'm left sitting in the wheel chair by a puke green sofa. I notice a teenager in a chair nearby, with legs folded up onto the cushion, holding her arms under her knees. She looks bored.

I'm feeling bored too, not five minutes later with no sign of any police officer. An unpleasant tingling headache is starting to come alive in a tight band across my forehead and I groan aloud. I'm not sure how much longer I'll be kept waiting, feeling this miserable, when a voice disrupts my thoughts again.

"Hey, you're that girl on the news." A girl says and I look at the cute, but heavily pierced young woman to my right. Her feet are on the ground now and she is leaning forward with interest.

Wait, girl on the news? Oh no, there's no way. No way.

"He clawed your face up good, huh?" The girl continues in a voice that's irritatingly loud. My head still hurts—my face? Oh yeah…

I touch my forehead and I wince at the shock of pain there. Forgot about that one, "Yeah." I say, because I have to say something. It's rude to just ignore it, even though it's not the most welcome voice in the world (what is with this headache?), "What do you mean by news?"

The girl looks surprised and plants her elbows on her knees, head leaning onto her hands, "Oh, you don't know? You were on the news earlier. The attempted mugging? Must have been scary, those aliens are super creepy."

And your voice is super annoying. Wow where did that thought come from? Nasty. Ugh my head is killing me. I'm not rude usually, oh but I need to lie down. Where is this guy at?

Fortunately I glance at the glass doors to the lobby and I see a man in police uniform walking towards me in a long stride and I stand up from the chair, feeling surprisingly less wobbly than before. I wish the headache would disappear too.

He ended up asking me to tell the whole story, in as much detail as I could recall. I told him I could only remember so much, but once I had told the same story to him twice, he had let me check out.

I hadn't needed the wheelchair anymore and had practically skipped out the door before I realized I was insanely tired. One cab ride later and I was lying face down on my couch with a very happy dog bouncing off the cushion behind me.

I should have called Leanne and told her what had happened and asked about what I was missing, who the new boss was, etc., but instead I just flopped onto the couch for the next few hours, woke up at nine o'clock to eat a grilled cheese sandwich, and passed out on my bed for the night.

I could have regretted that decision, as nothing would prepare me for what was to be my tomorrow.

The hallways are cluttered with people who are pushing carts full of computer equipment and folders, accompanied by uniformed officers. I don't understand what's going on. I also don't expect to turn into my cubicle and see Leanne sitting on my desk, but there she is.

She practically leaps off the table and a binder skids off onto the floor as she pulls me into a hug. My face is swallowed up in her blonde hair, and I smell a distinct pear scent as I listen to her spazz in my ear. "I saw the news, are you okay Lace? I called like four hospitals looking for you, it's a good thing you don't leave your mother as a contact or she would have flown down and kidnapped you."

I manage to pull away, "I'm fine, I was at Highland Memorial. Where are they taking our computers?" My desk is totally blank actually. I would have freaked out and thought they had fired me if I hadn't walked by a lot of cleaned out cubicles.

Leanne's big blue eyes are huge when she's excited, but now they look ready to pop out of her face, "We're under an investigation, I mean, can you believe it? You get mugged—well almost, and now we're in a crime scene. Freaky, right?"

"What?"

"Yeah, they came in yesterday morning, there was so much excitement, and I didn't think about where you were, because they had us working all morning. We were released at lunch. I had to go through so many files. You remember when I called you about Leeson? Well, I didn't know what had happened, but a corporate head met with us yesterday—you won't believe what happened…it's crazy, seriously insane."

I'm hanging onto every word, taking it in stride.

"What?" I ask, because Leanne is practically hopping up and down and I know she won't say a word until I say something.

"Someone got to Leeson." She leaned in as if wanting to whisper, but she just spoke louder, in excitement, "Those suits who came in, they are still investigating his death, but it's murder.

Murdered? Someone murdered my boss? Why would someone kill Leeson? He's an idiot and a pervert but that's nothing to kill over. "How?"

This time she did talk in a whispery voice that reminded of one used when telling ghost stories. Of course, this could legitimately be one of those, "They found him in an alley on 3rd Street." Of course, an alley. I feel uneasy. My morning all over again. "I heard he was beaten to death, like every bone in his body broken. They just had a press release over it, you missed that too."

I'm beginning to feel bad for calling him terrible names in my head for the past year. I'm not perfect, I get angry too. Beaten to death, though, who could be that angry? I'm not sure I want to know. "That's terrible, but who would want to kill Leeson?"

Leanne crosses her arms, frowning, "I don't know. I just hope they got what they wanted. Greg told me that it could have been gang related."

This feels like the most poorly directed crime movie ever, "We work for a news agency over publications; what do we have here that a criminal would want?"

"I don't know, but they must have a clue or something, or they wouldn't be checking all these files." Leanne shrugs, "They even took most of the computers which is scary. Ooh, maybe someone has some juicy story that they don't want getting out in the paper."

"Ms. Drake?" A sound escapes my lips, something cross between an eep and eek and I spin around to face who had spoken. A tall older man with stern squared eyes under thick eyebrows and a pale thin face is standing there looking at me as if he was a vice principal who caught me running in the halls during class.

"That's me." I want to smack myself when my voice squeaks. I'm too sensitive for my own good.

"I'm going to have to ask you a few questions." He doesn't seem to notice my awkwardness, and keeps a calm mask on, his seemingly expressionless face making me feel a little uneasy. "If you will follow me, please." Even the 'please' has a dull tone to it, as if this guy is just reading off a script.

Leanne makes a face at me and waves me away and soon I'm walking with an old man who seems completely apathetic to the world around him. He walks alongside me with his head straight ahead, unspeaking. Soon we're walking down a hall and he's opening a door for me and I step into an unfamiliar room. I decide that it must be the mail room, because down this hall there's only this room and a lobby and it has windows. This room is all walls and nothing else. It's been cleared out completely. I try to hide my unease as the door shuts behind us, and we're alone.

"I understand that you worked personally with Mr. Leeson, is this correct?" He asks me immediately and I'm taken aback.

"What?" I frown, feeling a creeping chill run down my neck. I cross my arms over my chest, "Can you clarify?" Personally? What does he mean by 'personally'?

"Your coworkers said you worked on extra assignments for Mr. Leeson. You've kept files and handled his emails?" His voice sounds almost monotone but I can hear something akin to frustration in his voice that takes me by surprise, "Did he mention anything about his brother, Jake Leeson?"

"Who?" Stupid response, but Rob Leeson has a brother? How would I know? "Uh, no. Never heard of him."

The man's expression seems to darken, lips pursed, the space between his brows a furrowed trench. "This is important Ms. Drake, are you quite certain you don't recall the name, even mentioned in passing?"

"No, he never talked about his family." I say, and I'm beginning to feel as if I'm on trial. Murder my boss? Yeah…I can't even smack a spider without feeling guilty. I feel his dark eyes cutting into mine and I feel the urge to stare at my feet, but I don't want to look guilty, although I know I'm not.

I feel my teeth on my lip, as he stares at me, and I'm waiting for him to say something, anything, and I don't have to wait long.

"My name is Stephen Clint, I'm part of the intelligence department." He holds out a hand and I quickly grab it, not expecting him to introduce himself randomly. His grip is firm, and cool to the touch and we shake hands. "I'm going to share some information with you Ms. Drake that I believe you should be privy to. For your own safety."

Safety? "What do you mean?"

He draws a finger down the side of his nose as if scratching an itch, but his eyes don't look at me. That's not a good sign, he's acting edgy. I feel my heart begin to beat a little faster. Don't panic, just hear what he has to say.

The man draws in a heavy breath, "Leeson's brother was involved in something dangerous. We believe that he stole something valuable to a terrorist organization. Rob Leeson revealed your relationship with him in a message, and this places you in immediate danger."

Time around me creaks to a standstill. I have to force myself to breath evenly. What he says goes through my mind again and again, and I'm trying to make sense of his words, "No." I finally force the word out, voice cracking. Inside I can my fear growing with each rampant rise in my heartbeat, "We were never a thing, I mean, he flirted with me occasionally, but we weren't dating. I didn't like him. I mean, I didn't hate him, I just didn't like him in that way." I'm babbling, but in my dizzying state of fear, I can't do anything else.

This can't be happening to me…not to people like me. I write news articles. I edit papers. This doesn't happen to people that painfully average. I need to sit down, but there's literally nothing in this room but a crushing silence.

My hands feel clammy and I press them flat against my skirt as I wait for him to continue.

"We found messages in his personal email where you were mentioned. He insisted you two were a couple. He sent a picture in a conversation with his brother and suggested that you wanted to keep the relationship quiet while at work, for the sake of keeping professional."

"That's not true!" I blurt out, practically yelling in the empty room. My voice seems to linger before fading, and I realize there are tears rolling down my cheeks when I taste salt, "I'd never date him, he was pushy, and had no boundaries whatsoever. He never respected me as a person or as a peer." Tears are blurring my vision now but I can't stop, "He's lying, he lied. I-I don't know why."

"Ms. Drake." His voice is calm. How can he be so calm? I just want to smack his face, break that cold, composed mask. "Whatever the truth, it doesn't matter now. The damage is done, and whoever murdered Mr. Leeson is very aware of your existence."

My legs are weak, I'm shaking. I could pass out, but instead I hold onto his words like a lifeline, one that is slipping away steadily in my grasp.

"Jake Leeson disappeared five days before Rob Leeson was killed. We believe he has gone into hiding. Your employer had no other family, and we have found no other personal ties to the brother. His girlfriend overdosed several months ago. There's only you."

"What can I do?" I pull the neck of my shirt up to mop at my face, uncaring that this strange man can see my bare stomach. I feel hot, dizzy. This can't be happening, this isn't real, yet tears continue to slip down my face.

This impersonal man squeezes one of my shoulders in a firm, almost comforting grip, his severe looking face creasing into something almost grandfatherly. "If you can remember any details that could be important, I need you to tell me now. Nothing you say will make the situation any worse than it already is."

My heart pit falls. Is it over? Is there nothing more I can do or say that will save me? I can't ask, I can't think about it, "No, there's nothing." My voice is pleading, shaking, "I don't know anything." They're going to kill me.

"Thank you." His voice is sincere but I don't react to him. I'm staring down at my feet, tears cooling on my face, my arms wrapped around myself like a blanket, "Ms. Drake. We won't leave you without protection. There's a volunteer program of sorts, recently funded by the government that will ensure you're taken care of."

I look up. I'm stunned by his words, hopeful.

He continues, "We have a body guard pre-selected, because of the extreme situation. We can allow you to interview some candidates for the job, but I wouldn't recommend the wait. The department has made a good choice, I assure you. He will keep any potential threats away from you and your home."

"A body guard?" I stare at him, teeth roll over my bottom lip and I can taste my spent tears. I'm exhausted, but I try and keep my optimism—my hope. "He'll stay with me?"

"Yes, you'll have to prepare a room for him, but he's the best man for the job. We want you to be protected Ms. Drake, you can trust that we will work hard to keep you safe. He's a professional, and he won't overstep any bounds."

Okay, yeah. I breathe in and out slowly, feeling surer with each breath. A body guard, I won't be alone. I think of Clover then. I hope someone won't try and hurt her. He can protect both of us, "Thank you." I could cry in elation, but I'm tired of crying. I just want to go home and sleep.

The man really smiles for the first time since entering the room and I feel comforted by his change in expression. I take in slow, calm breaths. Everything's going to be alright.

"You're going to take the rest of the day off, we have a lot of work to do here. Your coworkers will be dismissed shortly and you'll all be paid for your time. The government funds investigations into terrorism like this one. Now, I'm going to fetch Kahlo." He releases the hand from my shoulder that I had forgotten was there. That spot feels cold now, "Wait here."

So I wait. I stand in this room feeling as if the very walls are going to cave in on me at any time. It doesn't feel impossible, because I know that because of what my boss has done, because of the lies he had spread, my life is in danger. I can't be alone, and I wait anxiously for someone to walk through that door and take me away from this place.

I can hear footsteps and I take in a deep calming breath as my heart picks up pace. They're back. I correct my slack posture, fingers playing the sides of my skirt nervously as I wait.

The door opens and Clint steps through and I see movement behind him, but it's unclear. Then I see a leg. Wait, an arm? I blink in confusion and then rapidly in recognition when I realize that the man designated as my body guard is ducking under a door that is not quite tall enough to get his whole head through.

Heavy footpads later and he's standing in front of me, no over me, eclipsing me in his shadow. I swallow hard as I look up at him, unbelieving. He's so tall, and he's…

It can't be.

The officer steps to one side, leaving us face to face, well almost. "Ms. Drake, I'd like to introduce you to Kahlo Modem. I understand that he is quite a bit bigger than a human but we can set you two up in another home if you can't find the space."

But that's not a problem, there's actually no problem. It's just the feeling of déjà vu. I'm not sure of its origin until I look into the almost black eyes of my body guard. I scan his armor with flickering searching eyes. It just can't be.

It is. I don't know how I know, but it just has to be…

"Y-you." I say, mouth gaping open, "You were there. You helped me."

The sangheili dips his head to gaze down at me with his glimmering dark eyes, "Yes, I recall you were injured. Do you fair well?"

"Yes!" I can feel a blush painting my cheeks at the outburst, but this is so surreal, "I'm fine, just a few scratches." I don't know why I'm reacting like this. I feel embarrassed, unsteady…confused. He rescued me earlier and now he's going to be my body guard? What are the odds?

The alien flexes his lower mandibles lightly, "That is good to hear." He holds out a large four-fingered hand. It's gray and lightly wrinkled like an elephant skin, "It is a pleasure to meet you Lacey Eliza Drake." I hate my middle name, mom couldn't decide between Lacey and Eliza when I was born so I had to have both. It usually sounds ridiculous, but apparently it sounds really exotic with his accent. I place my hand in his, my absurdly small hand.

I hope he doesn't comment on my face, because I'm pretty sure it's the color of strawberry milk right now. I don't know why I'm so self-conscious around him, maybe because I passed out in front of him yesterday? That's definitely embarrassing. We shake awkwardly, with me mostly twisting my wrist into his huge palm until we separate.

"Kahlo, Modeem right?" I ask.

"Modem." The sangheili says smoothly, and his mandibles do that shrugging motion again, "But you may call me what you wish Lacey Eliza Drake."
"Uh, just Lacey." A smile quickens on my face, and I feel almost giddy. I'm talking to a sangheili and somehow I'm thrilled about it. I guess there aren't many aliens in the city, at least not here, and he had made quite the impression on me. "May I call you by your first name?" I ask.

"You may Lacey." He says, and I'm pretty sure he is smiling at me, although his mandibles make it hard to tell. He seems pretty friendly and he already saved me once already. Oh this is going to be really awkward isn't it…I hadn't even thanked him properly yet.

Time to remedy that. "Thanks for helping me yesterday, I didn't know where to find you to thank you." I say.

His lower mandibles flex again in an upward angle that I think suggests a smile, "It was by my honor." He replies simply.

I can't help but gaze up at him with fondness. He still wears the thin but hardy looking bronze armor on his shoulders, chest, and legs, but the cloth underneath it is a rich green material with dark blue embroidery. He looks almost noble not only in what he wears but how he holds himself. His stature is confident, shoulders leaned back, head up, yet he looks relaxed. I remember how quickly he had moved to save me from that kig-yar and I don't doubt his abilities.

He's also really tall. I hope he can get around the apartment okay, and around Clover with no trouble. What if she bites him? He is really intimidating to look at and he probably smells way…alien. I'll just have to see what happens.

"You two should head out now." Clint says as he pulls out a communicator from his shirt pocket, "We already have your address Ms. Drake, so we can send Kahlo's things over tonight. In the mean time you can show him your home, and set up an area for him to sleep."

"Yeah, of course." I say quickly, and I feel the sangheili's eyes on me. I feel a fluttering in my chest and I swallow. I'm not afraid of him, just nervous. I'm really hoping that I didn't leave any dirty laundry on the floor again.

"Do not worry Lacey." Kahlo says suddenly, and I look up at him. His eyes latch onto mine and I find I can't look away. "You need not fear. I have trained many years for this and this alone. I will preserve your life. I promise this to you, Lacey Eliza Drake." His voice deepens in his resolve.

I feel honored, a little awkward, maybe even undeserving. The way he spoke, with such dedication…it had the same effect on me that a poem would. He seemed chivalrous, almost romantic in his words. It was hard to believe his species had tried to wipe out my own so long ago.

I didn't know Kahlo but I felt I could trust him. I wanted to trust him. After what he had done for me, he seemed worthy enough, but it was his eyes that I really trusted. I've never really been that intuitive, but I felt like there was a connection between us. When he looked into my eyes, there was this energy to them. He held me in that gaze and I felt there was a promise there, a certainty that calmed me.

"I don't doubt it." I tell him, smiling with my teeth.

He smiles back, a multitude of small fangs glinting in the light, and I'm reminded that I have no idea what sangheili eat. Or what other needs he has…or where he'll sleep. I can't make him sleep on the couch, but what else can I do? Maybe I should buy an air mattress…

All I do know is that I'm tired from the cry I had, and still in shock from all the crazy things that have happened since yesterday morning. I need to get my priorities straight. I also really need to buy some groceries.

I guess this will be a learning experience.

I walk to the door, following after Khalo. He goes through first and steps aside to let me pass and then he is moving alongside me as we make our journey down the hall and towards the stairs. The passersby who come at us from the hall have to edge their way past, ducking under the sangheili's elbow, because Khalo refuses to budge from my side.

As we walk I admire his build. He's not only tall but real broad in the shoulders and has the most amazing looking legs, they're completely backwards looking. His feet are also massive, they're like two size tens in a man's size.

This examination makes it all the more obvious that he's not built to handle my tiny sofa. Barely my own bed which is pretty small for a queen mattress.

One step at a time…With that thought I start to pay more attention to the stairs I'm about to go down before he has to save me from my own ineptitude. My own klutziness will kill me before someone else does.

I really need to start thinking more positively.

Okay, here it is. Almost fifteen pages, a bit more than the last chapter. I was working hard to get something out so I hope this will suffice. ^_^;

If you enjoyed reading, let me know what you think. I appreciate your time, and a thank you to everyone for the comments. I'm glad you liked the first chapter, and I hope this one is well received. I had to go through it a few times, so there may be some mistakes.

:3 Well, anyway, thanks for reading!