Hello, readers!

This and chapter twenty-five were originally one chapter, but I decided it was kind of on the long side and split them in half. I had to add to and embellish some scenes to make them stand on their own better, so I hope that everything still hunky dory and I improved upon the original, singular chapter by making it two chapters.

This chapter has been updated as of 11/1/2017.

~ Crayola


Chapter Twenty-Five

Watching

Thankfully, the memorial service was all that had been planned for the day, and I was even blessed some reprieve from Dad: he went off to work right after the service. Even Kristie was leaving—she stayed home long enough to pack an overnight bag and then left when her friend picked her up.

As she was leaving, Mom turned to me and said, "Nichole, why don't you call some friends and have them . . . come . . . over . . . ."

The deadpan stare I gave her made her trail off and she grimaced.

"Nichole, I'm . . . I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

Shrugging, I grabbed the remote off the coffee table and started flicking through the channels until I found some kind of action movie to watch on FX. To her, I said, "It's fine. I know what you mean. I'm fine here." Without any friends.

Even after finding something to watch, I made my way toward the stairs.

"You . . . heading up to your room?" my mom asked just as I was about to take the first step.

I paused and read the tone of her voice; hopeful but apprehensive.

Though I would have liked to stay hidden away in my room, I was going to have to try to socialize with the family eventually. Ava had recommended it a couple times—isolating myself was only going to make things worse.

If I wanted to feel normal, if I wanted to have an easier time coping with my PTSD and not turning into some sort of social reject (my words, not hers) I had to make an effort.

This would be the first step.

"No. I'm just going to check my scar and change into my pajamas then I'll be down," I said, trying to sound somewhat genuine.

Mom smiled and nodded, then took her seat on the couch.

At the very least, Dad wasn't going to be home for quite a while so I wasn't going to have to put up with any of his jabs and lectures. Not this time, anyway, but probably next time. That was something I was going to have to deal with. For the time being, I was stuck in the house until I was more mobile, so I couldn't alienate myself from my family. As much as I wanted to lock myself in my room forever, I didn't want to disappoint my mom.

So, I did as I said I was going to and changed into some comfy pajamas before going back downstairs. I did take a moment to check the incision sites, but the sutures look clean to me and I didn't notice any signs of infection.

At least, I thought so. They were going to be removed in a couple days, so I'd know for sure when we went to the doctors.

"I'm going to play games in my room, okay Mom?" Alan asked as I headed back down to the living room. I didn't hear what my mom's reply was, though, but I ended up having to flatten myself against the wall as my brother headed up. He was already on the stairs when I'd started.

"Sorry," he muttered as he went.

I smiled and tousled his hair. "No problem, bud."

He grumbled and fixed his part before disappearing into his room and I rejoined my mom, who was still watching the same movie I'd left it on.

"Everything look good?" she asked.

"Yup," I grunted as I lowered myself onto the cushions. "You remember what time my appointment is?"

She nodded. "Of course. Have it written down. I'll take you."

"Thanks."

After that movie ended, though, we weren't able to watch a whole lot of television: as night fell, Atlas became increasingly agitated. He paced the rooms, whining and growling as he did and he refused to settle no matter what we did. Fed him, put him in his kennel, gave him treats, offered to play ball . . . . Letting him outside didn't fix his malfunction, either. In fact, it only made him worse.

"What has gotten into that dog?" Mom groaned, turning up the television yet again. It didn't drown out Atlas' barking, but it allowed us to hear what was happening in the show.

In fact, I was certain the neighbors could hear what we were trying to watch now.

When it became too much to bear, Mom sighed and walked toward the back door. "What do you think, sweetie? Maybe there are some elk out there wandering around."

"Dunno," I muttered, rubbing my temples. All the barking and the loud noises were giving me a headache. I'd considered several times just going up to my room and shoving my head under a pillow, but Mom had seemed to be enjoying my company.

When she pounded against the window overlooking the backyard, I jumped and searched for a would-be attacker. When I couldn't find one and remembered where I was, I settled back into the couch and tried to hide the blush creeping up my neck. I had made it easier to sleep by telling myself that Atlas would alert us if something was going on, and now he wouldn't stop the noises. The familiar sensation of anxiety lodged itself in my gut.

It's so dark outside . . . we'd never know if a drone was out there . . . .

"Atlas! Shut up!" Mom called after throwing open the glass pane.

"We'll just have to put him back in his kennel and hope," I suggested, leaning over the couch's armrest to peer around the wall separating the kitchen and living room.

"I guess." Mom unlocked the deadbolt, pulled open the wooden entry, then pushed open the screen door. It creaked loudly and she stepped outside to shout at Atlas. "Come on boy! Get inside!" she demanded. Heat from the kitchen leaked outside in wisps of wavy air and mom's breath was visible.

"Atlas what are you doing? It's too cold for you to stay outside!" she called again when he didn't come after the first time.

His barking remained at the far side of the yard, but with a little more shouting and coaxing from my mother, he came bolting inside like his ass was on fire. Mom locked up, then followed him into the main part of the house. "Come on, get in your kennel. Kennel up."

Despite the command, Atlas made a show of pacing between the kitchen and the couch. Even when the elk did come down the mountain, he was never this crazy about it. As I watched him pace, my chest tightened with each whine and whimper. My fingers clenched and unclenched while mom chased him around before finally dragging him into his kennel.

"Now calm down," she demanded. She was slightly out of breath from the race.

"Was there something out there?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

Mom shook her head and slumped onto the couch with a heavy exhale. "Not a thing that I could see. I don't know what his problem is but he needs to chill out." She turned the TV down to a more manageable volume. It would still be a while before my headache went away.

"Probably just some wild animal," she said after another moment's thought.

"Yeah, maybe." Though, I wasn't convinced.

In his kennel, Atlas seemed a bit calmer. Every now and again he would make little whimpering noises, but it wasn't as bad as it had been before. Atlas rested his head on his paws and heaved a sigh as he started to realize he was stuck.

"Can he still sleep in my room tonight?" I asked, my eyes not leaving him.

Mom looked at him as well and shook her head. "No probably not, I don't want him making it harder for you to sleep if he's going to keep barking. If he's a good boy, I'll let him out, but if he keeps it up then he's staying in the kennel."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry sweetie. Can you sleep without him for one night?" she asked, stroking my head.

I leaned away from her and elicited a disgruntled noise before she let her hand drop. Sighing, I stared over at Atlas' kennel and fidgeted with my hands. "Um, I guess so. If he gets better he can come into my room, though, right?"

Smiling, she nodded. "Of course."

It was going to have to do, but at the rate he was going, Atlas probably wasn't going to calm down at all. He tossed and turned in his kennel, sighing and huffing and straight up barking sometimes. I took my crutches and wandered into the kitchen to look out into the backyard.

Approaching the window was difficult, but I eventually forced myself to part the blinds mom had drawn and peered outside.

Nothing but blackness.

Taking a breath, I turned on the back porch light and looked again. Still nothing. Sighing, I turned off the lights and grabbed a snack before returning to the living room.

No matter what, though, I couldn't convince myself that everything was okay.

*:・゚✧

When the time had come for me to retire to my room, Atlas still hadn't calmed down. I was almost beside myself, glancing at the windows and doors every now and again, half-expecting a drone to burst through the window and try to finish what it started back at the ship.

I kept playing scenarios in my head: where Dad kept his baseball bat and how long it would take me to grab it; what sort of knives we had in the kitchen, and if I could kill a full-grown drone with one before it melted; any hiding places we could pile into; whether or not I'd be able to hold my own with my legs in the condition they were.

It went on and on until Mom declared it was time for bed. I was almost too terrified to go by myself, but I bit my tongue and went anyway.

Like the big girl I was.

After wishing Atlas and my mom a good night, I turned in. Since I didn't have my comfort dog with me, I resorted to turning on the television so I didn't feel so alone in my room. I had it turned down so I could hear it, but it wouldn't distract me while I tried to fall asleep.

Emphasis on "try".

Falling asleep proved difficult with Atlas' fuzzy lard-ass next to me. I tossed and turned, the occasional whimpering coming from downstairs not helping at all: I couldn't shake the niggling feeling that there was something hanging around that was upsetting him.

When I wracked my brain, I couldn't come up with anything. There were no more drones—at least, not as far as the government was concerned—so maybe it really was only a passing herd of elk. That certainly wasn't unheard of, though it was a bit late in the season. There still could be some herds out there lagging a little bit behind or driven into town because of all the commotion in the woods.

Bears, mountain lions . . . there was any number of things it could be.

Surely the last thing I had to worry about was more aliens?

In the end, despite trying not to be dependent, I took my prescribed sleeping pills and let them lead me the rest of the way to sleep land. It wasn't where I particularly wanted to be, but I also didn't care for the side effects of not sleeping—I didn't need any more hallucinations, I didn't need to be any more irritable than I already was, and the definite last thing I needed was death.

So, sleep it was. Nightmares it was.

Even after taking the pills, it still took me a full hour to finally relax enough to fall asleep. The last thing I was aware of was the hum of the garage door opening and closing when Dad came home from his unusually late shift at work, then I was cast into a sleep full of shadows and elk with sharp teeth and beady black eyes.

Long, spindly hands groped at me in the darkness. I couldn't scream, couldn't run, couldn't move—still, those hands clutched and held me down. In the distance was a sharp sound, one that I was unable to immediately place . . . .

Atlas.

It was enough to draw me out of slumber, but I was unable to shake the lingering feeling of something holding me down. I struggled to roll over and opened my eyes. By now I was used to seeing silhouettes in my room—manifestations of my nightmares. It took a few seconds for them to fade, but I could blink them away if I focused. That still never stopped them from startling me and sending my heart into space.

This one, however, didn't go away.

This one was bigger and closer to me than the rest.

This one wasn't the shape I was used to.

A scream rose in my throat but the pressure on my chest—which I normally associated with my sleep paralysis—moved with the shadow and a rough hand covered my mouth, effectively silencing me. It took another hand to restrain me as I thrashed about, and downstairs Atlas snarled and howled.

"SHUT UP!" came the booming voice of my father. Not only did the dog fall silent, but even I ceased my flailing for a brief moment before starting up again.

Familiarity was chasing away the fear. The texture of the hands on me, the shape of the body looming from above. Now that Atlas was silent—or had at least quieted to whimpers again—I could hear the clicking and chittering that I had become accustomed to. My heart rate started to normalize, but I was having a hard time coming to terms with what was in front of me.

Wolf?

When I, at last, ceased my struggles, he let go of my face and removed his other hand from my chest, letting me sit up. I stared at him for what seemed like forever, and then a flame ignited in my stomach, radiating all the way up to my skull.

"What are you doing here?" I hissed through clenched teeth, lashing out at him.

The big muscle head leaned back and lifted an arm to ward off my thrashing hands. All I managed to do was hurt my fingers and twinge my wrist as I slapped at his arm gauntlet, but I couldn't stop. When he stepped out of my reach, I threw one of my pillows at him and he growled.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded again. "How did you even find me?"

He unstuck the pillow from a sharp edge of his armor and it flopped dully to the ground. The metal jewelry adorning his tresses clinked together when he turned his head to look around the room. I watched him, chest heaving due to my tantrum, and he lifted his arm to slide a finger down the side of his wrist computer. A hologram projected above it, showing a mass of bright red blotches surrounding something dark blue.

I squinted and leaned forward to see it better, and realized that the red splotches were bodies and they were surrounding a tree.

Right. Infrared vision.

The hologram shifted, zoomed in, and focused on one bright red light sitting down next to a smaller one. It took a moment, but I realized—it was my brother and me.

"You were there?" It came out a whisper. It was a rhetorical question, the answer laid out on a silver platter. He'd been watching that entire time, lurking out of sight with all those people. He'd seen my panic, he'd seen my baby brother comfort me, and he'd followed us home.

That shouldn't have come to a surprise. He was a hunter. It was what he did.

Wolf turned away and walked the length of my room in a couple paces. He stopped at my crutches and placed his hand on one of the supports and wiggled it back and forth. I grimaced and explained, "They're helping me walk until my legs heal and strengthen."

Another glance in my direction, then he yanked the comforter off my lap. I gasped, pulled another pillow out from behind me, and hit him with it. He snarled in surprise and reared back, shoulders squared and chest puffed out. I ignored his display and covered my lap with the thinner sheets, cheeks burning: I didn't like sleeping with pants on. Too hot.

He rumbled deep in his chest as he watched me for any more signs of aggression. When I showed none, he reached for the sheets again. I almost hit him with the pillow one more time to ward him off, but he snapped his gaze toward me and I froze. Though I didn't think he would hurt me, I wasn't about to test his patience, either. Disgruntled but obedient, I lowered my "weapon" and huffed. Though I swallowed my modesty, I couldn't help but think of what Ava had told me about the last kind of alien encounter.

But, I also knew I was being stupid. I was just a big mass of heat in his eyes. It wasn't like my lack of clothing meant anything to him. I was wearing panties anyway, so I wasn't really naked.

The guy was practically naked himself, wearing minimal armor to protect himself.

When I made no further attempts to accost him, he pulled aside the sheets enough so he could examine my legs better. I still felt the burn in my cheeks, but tried to ignore it as I said, "I can mostly walk on my own, but it's the doctor's orders."

Couldn't let him think I was a total gimp.

Wolf ran his fingers over my knee and shin, making me shiver at the light touch. The whole situation was uncomfortable: no one touched me like this.

Then, suddenly, he took both hands and torqued my leg in a bad direction.

Pain shot up my leg and spine, making me arch my back. My sharp cry cut through the relative silence of the house. Out of instinct, I beat Wolf with the pillow even though he had already snatched his hand back out of surprise—and concern, I hoped.

"Don't do that!" I said, teeth grinding as I fought the waves of throbbing. "It's not totally healed yet! God dammit you're like a child."

He reprimanded me with a sharp cuff to the ear. I glowered at the wall and let him lecture me in his strange language for a few seconds before rolling my eyes and cutting him off. "I'm not apologizing. Jesus, you—that fucking hurt, holy shit. How did you get in here, anyway?"

Before he could answer, a door opened and closed down the hall. My door was open—Wolf hadn't closed it behind him when he'd come inside. Fear bloomed in the back of my head and I turned to Wolf and looked around, reminded of something. Reminded that when I'd last left Wolf, he hadn't been alone.

There was another alien.

"Oh my god—where's Brutus? You . . . I hope you're keeping that asshole away from my family!" I hissed, half picking myself up from the bed.

A shadow paced closer to my room, leaving little time to discuss it. Deciding to trust that Wolf wouldn't let Brutus come, I turned back around and waved my hands in front of him. I wasn't afraid of the person who might be coming toward my room, I was afraid for them. Afraid they might see Wolf, freak out, and make him hurt them.

Frantic, I fought to keep my voice down. "Go invisible! Someone's coming."

I wasn't even finished talking before he melted into obscurity with an electric sizzle.

A faint knock reached my ears, but the person on the other side of the door didn't wait for an answer before pushing it open more and peering inside. I barely had enough time to pull my blankets back over my body and try to look like I had been sleeping.

"You okay in here, sweetie?" Mom whispered. "I thought I heard you shout."

Fake squinting against the dim light from the hallway, I said, "I'm fine, Mom. I had a bad dream, that's it." I was trying to sound groggy.

She leaned against the door frame and looked at me through half-closed eyes. I could tell by the angle of her hair that she had been deep in dreamland when my outburst had woken her. "Do you want me to let Atlas in? He might be quieter in your room."

Atlas was still whining downstairs, making those half-bark sounds he made when he knew he was going to be in trouble if he did the real thing.

He most certainly would not be quieter in my room, though.

"No." Every muscle in my face felt tight as I fought the urge to look at the spot where Wolf had disappeared. Being nonchalant with my erratic pulse was also no easy task. "I'll be okay. I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"You sure you're okay? Do you need a glass of water or anything?"

"No," I insisted. "Close my door, please? I accidentally left it open."

Mom seemed to have no intention of leaving, but finally, she said, "Alright sweetie. Sweet dreams. I love you."

"Love you too," I murmured, kind of embarrassed saying it with Wolf in the room.

I waited for what seemed like forever for her to walk back to her room after she closed up. Even after she closed her bedroom door, I counted to five, and then released the breath I had been holding. No more outbursts. I had to be quiet from here on out.

Just too bad Wolf's really good at pissing me off.

Wolf had already dropped his cloak when I returned my attention to him. "How did you get in here?" I made a point to keep my voice down.

While he fidgeted with his computer, I turned on my television—I usually set a timer so it wasn't on all night—and pumped up the volume. That way, if Mom or Dad woke up again, they would assume it was because of the show playing.

He showed me another hologram, and it took me a few seconds to realize that I was watching him sneak into the garage when Dad had returned home. Wolf forwarded the recording through a short time lapse while he monitored my family's vital signs from inside the garage, then just walked inside like he owned the place.

Even though I knew he had been invisible to the naked eye, it still made me nervous to know how easy it might be for someone to sneak into the house.

How close he'd been without anyone realizing.

"So where's Brutus?" I asked.

Wolf answered with an indication toward the backyard, but I didn't know if he meant Brutus was in the yard or somewhere off in that general direction. Whatever it was, at least he wasn't in the house.

I barely trusted Wolf with my family, let alone that asshole.

It was his turn to ask a question. He reached forward and indicated toward the center of my chest, his head inclined ever so slightly. I shook my head and lifted my hand to rub my sternum. "I don't understand."

Again, he indicated toward my chest. When I still didn't catch his drift, he turned to showcase one of the decorative skulls adorning his armor.

I made an O shape with my mouth. "Right, the thing you made." I grimaced and rubbed my face. "The government took it away when they found me. I don't think they're going to give it back. I'm sorry, there wasn't anything I could do."

Honestly, the thing was a bleak reminder of Jess' death, anyway. I probably wouldn't miss it.

For a moment I thought he would be angry with me, as he just stood stalk still for an uncomfortable amount of time. I started to fidget, but he finally looked away.

"I'm sorry," I said again, a little more desperately than I'd meant.

He turned a few inches and set his heavy hand on my head before walking around the room and looking at my things. Patronizing as always. I watched him, brow furrowed, as he approached my pile of stuffed animals. The one he picked out was an eighteen-inch lion I'd long forgotten the origin of.

"What?" I asked.

Without looking at me, he turned the well-loved toy over in his hands, squeezed it, ruffled the faux-fur mane, then turned toward me, raising it up. He growled an inquiry and tilted his head.

"It's a toy. It's not real."

His snort was one of disgust and he dropped it back into the pile before returning to my bedside. "What are you doing here?" I asked, a little insulted that he didn't approve of my stuffed animals. What did it matter to him?

The alien lifted a hand, palm facing up, and motioned with his fingers for me to stand.

I shook my head in refusal, but not because I was being disobedient. I had a bone to pick.

"I'm not supposed to go walking around that much. Remember that whole, you made me jump out of ship falling down a hill? Then I broke my legs? This—" I made a sweeping gesture over my legs, "—is all your fault, you know."

He shook himself, his dreads swinging with the motion, and he dropped his hand. With the mask on, it was hard for me to pick out the nuances of his speech, but I could at least figure he was saying some sort of admission of guilt, or maybe he was trying to tell me it wasn't his fault. There was really no way for me to know. However, I chose to believe he was apologizing. Made me feel better, at least.

Once more, he indicated for me to stand. "Why?" I asked suspiciously.

Part of me thought it knew the answer. I was hoping it was wrong.

Wolf made an exasperated sound and my voice played back through his mask. It sounded as if he had recorded it from far away and it was warped, but I still recognized my own voice. It had been from when we'd visited the memorial in the national park. Though it wasn't too loud, it still made me look toward Mom and Dad's room. No sounds came from that direction.

"Can we go?" the recording played.

A lump formed in my throat and I forced it down, where it fell to the bottom of my stomach and settled like a rock.

"Go".

He's here to take me.