Chapter 4
Heart racing, April stared across at the unconscious man.
Was he...dead?
She wrapped her arms protectively around her, noticing that she was still shaking slightly. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself, but it was as if her body had a will of its own.
This couldn't be happening.
She was either dreaming, or her grief had finally given her some sort of mental breakdown that was making her hallucinate.
The third possibility, that he was actually lying slumped in the middle of her study, simply couldn't be possible. Discovering an intruder in her house, yes, that was plausible, but one who could...shape shift?
She still hadn't recovered from the sight of seeing David standing there, so alive, so real. Despite every fibre of her being telling her that it couldn't possibly be her husband standing in front of her, there had been a part of her desperately clinging on to the hope that it really was him. That there had somehow been a terrible mistake and David hadn't really died, that they had buried another man.
But then he had gone. Been snatched away from her again. Disappeared in front of her eyes as quickly as he appeared. Replaced by a strange man who couldn't have been more different from her husband.
She felt a surge of anger rush through her and she clenched her trembling fists. How could he have done that? Been so cruel? To steal the identity of the man she missed, yearned for, so very much. Though she had been pretty overwhelmed by shock, she vaguely recalled him apologising, but what good was that? The deed had already been done. Her heart had been shattered all over again.
She glared down at him, though she was still tense with fear.
Who the hell was he?
Her eyes ran tentatively over him, noticing his bare, bloodied feet for the first time. There was also blood on his top and smeared across his face. The latter was no doubt from his nose bleed, but she had no idea what had happened to his feet.
He looked very pale, his raven black hair only emphasising the fact, though whether that was his natural colouring or through being ill, she didn't know. His face was lean, his cheekbones high and well defined, his brows heavy and brooding, his lips thin and somehow...sardonic, even while unconscious.
His clothes were unusual, though she couldn't quite put her finger on just what made them different. The forest green top looked more like a tunic and had an old-fashioned feel about it. His trousers, on the other hand, were a material not unlike leather, and looked more like something a rock star would wear.
He didn't look like an alien, but what if this form was simply another deception, and he was really green with three eyes and long spindly arms?
She took another breath.
Christ. What was she supposed to do now?
Call the police? The FBI? Did those X-File departments actually exist in real life? Because this was certainly a case for Mulder and Scully.
She dragged her hands through her hair despairingly. Oh, why had he chosen her house, of all houses, to fall to earth? As if her life hadn't been traumatic enough!
She thought of David again and as her chest tightened, a perverse part of her wished the man was still in her husband's form, just so that she could see him, be with him, a little longer. She could pretend it really was David - his beautiful smile that could be adorably boyish, his warm brown eyes with the endearing crinkles, his soft chestnut hair that curled stubbornly at the nape of his neck. Oh, for just one final time...
She reached back up for her wedding ring, clutching it tightly, as she promptly shook away the thought, disturbed by such an idea, realising how wrong it was. This man was not David. He never had been. He was an imposter. A cruel trickster.
She found herself nervously taking a step closer.
A dead trickster?
Her heart pounded so hard she feared he might hear it. Despite this, she took another step...then another...finally squatting down beside him, ignoring the little voice in her head telling her to get the hell out of the room, the hell away from him.
Was he breathing?
She scanned his torso, searching for that tell tale rise and fall of his chest.
Was that slight movement she detected?
Before she could stop herself, she reached out, not quite sure what she was intending to do. Check for a pulse, perhaps?
She gasped when his hand shot out, snatching at her arm, his fingers curling around her wrist tightly. His eyes snapped open.
"What are you doing?!" he snarled.
She tried to pull away but his grip was like steel. "Ow! You're hurting!"
"I asked you a question, mortal!"
"I was checking!"
"For what?!"
"To see if you were dead!"
He blinked his surprise at her answer, easing his grip, though he did not completely free her. April stared down at him in panic. Oh god. He was going to kill her. Why hadn't she damn well called the police when she had the chance?
But when their eyes met she was surprised to see his soften a degree. A smile twitched at his mouth, though it was cheerless. When he suddenly released her, his hand dropping to the floor as if it had been zapped of energy, she quickly shuffled away from him.
He turned his head weakly towards her. "As you can see, I am not," he replied curtly.
April braced herself for an attack but he did not move. He did not even rise. She did, however, notice him flexing his fingers experimentally.
Frowning, perplexed, he regarded her soberly. "But I fear I might be dying."