Valen's vision came back with a snap. The sudden change in scenery, both mental and visual, made his head throb and it made him close his hidden eyes to try and dull the pain. When Kirchoff began recounting his story, it was as though he were Kirchoff, living through the experience for the first time. Just the implications of what had happened would boggle Kirchoff's mind.

Kirchoff!

He opened his eyes and saw Kirchoff who he was still pinning down to the floor, trembling and crying his eyes out. Concerned, Valen tried to touch Kirchoff's mind but the sheer amount of grief and sadness pouring from his mind was like a torrential waterfall, crashing against his own consciousness so hard that he was forced to withdraw. He let go of him, letting him roll on his side and curling up into a ball.

Valen had no idea what to do. He had never seen Kirchoff like this before. All he could think to do was stand where he was and wait for him to calm down. Minutes passed, but he didn't calm down. In fact he seemed to get more and more hysterical as time went on. Soon he was wailing as well as crying and heaving for breath between sobs and his hysterics began to worry Valen. If he didn't calm down soon he might hurt himself.

He approached Kirchoff, laid down on his side next to him, wrapped himself around him and nuzzled his head into his hair. He wasn't sure if it would help, but Kirchoff seemed to register Valen's presence and he cuddled up to his bony chest. Ordinarily he would be purring like a housecat if Kirchoff was cuddling with him like this, but he was too worried to do anything other than wait and watch.

Gradually, Kirchoff's sobs turned into gentle whimpers and his body wracking trembles turned into the occasional twitch. Valen extended his mind out to Kirchoff's and was relieved to find that he was stable enough to talk.

Kirchoff? Are you alright? As soon as he spoke he regretted asking. He obviously was not alright.

"No… I'm not…" he mumbled, speaking out loud. His voice was so hoarse and quiet that Valen could barely make it out. "I'm sorry... I've repressed that memory for so long… I couldn't control myself… I'm sorry..."

No, I'm sorry, Valen reassured him. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I knew you were in a bad mood and If I had known…

"But you didn't know," he cut in. "And I owed you an explanation because you were angry... but having to recall that…" Tears welled in the corners of his eyes again and he paused to collect himself again.

Kirchoff… Valen lowered his head in shame. I really am sorry. I overreacted because I was worried. You're the only person I care about, and if I lost you...

"I understand," he replied, reaching out and rubbing the top of Valen's head, making him purr slightly at the touch. "It's just... that I really didn't want to relive that..."

I understand.

Valen curled up tighter around Kirchoff and for a long time, neither of them spoke. Eventually, Kirchoff broke the silence, "So… I suppose I should finish my story."

No! Valen exclaimed. Kirchoff gave him a look. I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to.

"I want to," he said. "The rest of the story isn't nearly so bad. And besides, you should probably know how I ended up here anyways."

That caught his attention. Kirchoff had never been willing to open up about his past before, even with his incessant pestering.

"I suppose I should start from where I left off," Kirchoff began.

That would be an appropriate place to start, Valen scoffed, a hint of his previous sarcasm slipping past the comforting facade he was putting on for him, but all it made Kirchoff do was chuckle.

"After my assault in the alley, I thought I was a goner. I was pretty sure Barry did some pretty serious damage to my ribs and I thought I might have a punctured lung. Lucky for me, a woman was just walking past the alley and called the emergency services." An image replaced his vision for a split second.

A woman's silhouette in the light of the nearby street. Valen mentally shook his head and tried to focus on listening to Kirchoff speak.

"I was taken to the hospital, and not a moment too soon. When I got there, the doctors found out I had 3 broken ribs and really bad internal bleeding. If I had gotten there an hour later, I would probably have died. I can't remember how they fixed me up or how long it took."

This time, several images flashed across his vision in quick succession. The inside of an ambulance with tubes and monitors everywhere. The sensation of pain. A glimpse of long gray hair.

"The first time I met her was several days after the incident in the alley. It was about 3 days before I woke up, so no one was allowed to see me until then."

A white room lined with rows of beds. Some were covered by drab green curtains, but most were empty. A window directly to his left cast bright beams of light on his face.

"I can't remember too much about her first visit. I was still pretty out of it thanks to all the drugs they had me on, but I remember..."

A white room… his bed, with green curtains pulled off to one side. A multitude of images and sensation this time. A woman's face, everything but the very edges of her sharp cheekbones masked by the shadows cast by the sun behind her head. Random snippets of conversation. The soft tone of the woman's voice. She was saying something, but he couldn't catch the words. Whatever she was saying, it made him feel more at ease and he slipped back into sleep…

Valen shook his head. All these images and sensations were giving him a headache. It didn't help that he had no idea why this was happening all of a sudden. He tried to put it out of his mind and just focus on Kirchoff's words, but it was getting pretty hard.

"The next time she visited I was much more coherent. It was then that I learned what she did for me. Not only did she call me an ambulance, she also offered to pay for all my medical bills and take care of me personally after I was discharged. Of course I was wary of her offer, but I wasn't in much of a position to argue…"

" Hello Steven." The woman said in a soft, high voice. She sat herself down on the small stool next to his bed as she always did.

He sat up a bit, but his ribs prevented him from getting up beyond a slouch. "Hi Silvia."

" How are you feeling?" she asked.

" Better," he said half truthfully. He did feel better, but better was a relative term. He still felt like a sack of shit that had been thrown out of a three story window.

" Well that's good to hear," She looked skeptical, but she held her tongue. "So, I hear that they're going to turn you loose soon."

" Not for about another week," Kirchoff slumped back down into the thin hospital blanket. "Maybe more, depending how well my ribs heal."

" Don't worry about it too much dear. You just need lots of rest." She ruffled his hair. Under ordinary circumstances he wouldn't have tolerated anyone treating him like a sick little boy, but to have Silvia do it… it was comforting.

"After I was out of the hospital, she offered to let me stay with her. I considered turning her offer down, but the only other person I had to turn to was my dad, and there was no way I was going back to…"

You fucking faggot! I didn't raise you to be a puny little cocksucker! Get out of my house!

"...my father. So I took her up on her offer. She took me under her wing…"

An enormous plate piled high with food. A small pair of hands on his shoulders. A warm bed with blankets tucked up high around his shoulders.

"...and treated me like her own son. Her real son had died on a tour of duty 6 years earlier out on some planet, and from what I gathered they had left on pretty bad terms. Since his death she had spent most of that time as a shut in…"

Empty rooms filled with furniture, all immaculate and clean. A dusty picture of a man in military outfit. His face was blank and emotionless...

"I lived with her for about a year and a half. She wasn't particularly old, but she was lonely. I didn't really have anywhere else to go, so I stayed with her."

" Steven, it's time for dinner!" Silvia's voice echoed from downstairs. She was most likely in the kitchen, cooking up what smelled like pasta. His stomach growled at the scent. He pushed his chair back from his desk, which was covered with a mix of papers, empty plates and various pieces of garbage along with the small personal computer that sat in the middle of the mess.

" I'll be down in a minute Silvia," he shouted back. He pulled on a clean shirt from his closet and replaced the smelly one he had on for the clean one. He had been up all last night and today applying for jobs and he smelled like hell. He smoothed his hair in front of the mirror hanging next to the desk and did his best to make himself look less like a slob. Once he was satisfied with his appearance he opened his door and walked downstairs to the little kitchen and dining room.

" You look terrible," Silvia fussed. "Were you up all night again?"

" Yeah," he admitted. "It's not easy to find a job."

" Well don't wear yourself out," she said sternly. "You need your sleep, you know."

" I know." A plate of food was placed in front of him. It was piled high with spaghetti and meatballs, one of his favorite foods. "Thanks for the food."

" It was nothing Steven," she said and ruffled his hair. He looked up at her face and saw her loving smile.

"It was like having a mother, a real mother to take care of me. My real family was always… distant during my childhood. My mother died when I was young, my father was always busy with work of one kind or another and my siblings were much older than I was. I was never good at making friends as a child either, so most of my life was spent alone. Silvia was the first person to genuinely care for me. I guess when she found me, she saw me as an opportunity to reconcile herself with the way she treated her son before she died. Whatever the reason, I know that she genuinely cared for me."

A hand on his shoulder. Silvia smiled at him from her large armchair as he read aloud to her from an old, leather-bound book. The look in her eyes as he walked in the door after a long day of work.

"But one night, about a year and a half of living with Silvia. I came home after going out drinking with a few of my friends. The lights were on, but the house was…"

Quiet… The house was so quiet. No sound coming from the kitchen, the living room or the upstairs bedroom where Silvia slept. She was normally up until late when he went out, usually cleaning and waiting for him to return. He stumbled down the hallway towards the living room, thinking that maybe she fell asleep in the big armchair she always liked to nap in.

He opened the door to the small living space and cast his gaze around the room. It took a bit longer for him to investigate his surroundings, but after a few seconds he realized that Silvia wasn't in her armchair, or anywhere else in the room for that matter.

Then a sound from the kitchen, the sound of running tap water hit his ears. He turned around and stumbled his way back down the hall to the kitchen. The door was ajar, swinging ever so slightly. A sense of dread washed over him.

" Silvia?" he called out. "Are you in there?"

No answer. He pushed his way through the door, and right away, he saw her. Lying face down on the floor, hair sprawled over her head. It concealed her features, but it wasn't enough to cover the red pool of blood seeping around her head…

"I was so overwhelmed with grief that after I found her body, I went out and drank myself into a stupor. I was utterly miserable. The one person in my life who cared about me, the one person who made my life worth living, was gone. Even though I was stone cold drunk, I remember that night so well…"

He was walking along the sidewalk crowded with people. He bumped into several of the pedestrians and they cast him angry looks, but he didn't care enough to acknowledge them…

"...I can't remember exactly how I got to the rooftop, but I guess it seemed the best way to go. I always loved the lights of the city..."

The wind was strong up here. It whistled and screamed into his ears, blocking out the sounds of the city far, far below him. It battered his clothes, making them flap wildly in the breeze, adding to the cacophony of sound already pounding against his ear drums.

He looked down on the city, the bright lights of all the cars, streetlights and buildings casting a glow up at his face. The smaller lights of the far off residences and the factories extended far out into the distance and beyond the horizon. It was a pleasant sight. He was glad to have seen it before it all came crashing to an end.

" W-w-well... s'time," he told himself. He stepped up onto the lip of the roof and peered down over the edge, his legs wobbling dangerously. He could see the cars whizzing by on the well worn roads, stopping only when the traffic lights changed color. The people were also there, walking by on the sidewalks, talking on their phones, hailing cabs, eating at the fancy restaurants that lined the streets, and conversing with one another.

" Hope I don't hit any," He chuckled. It was a morbid thought, but why should it matter to him? He wouldn't be around for much longer anyways.

"...And the next thing I knew I was on the ledge of the roof. I was all prepared to..."

He hesitated for a moment, his resolve wavering... Then he raised his leg to take the last step forwards…

One last deep breath...

This was too much for Valen to handle. He recoiled from Kirchoff, shaking his head, trying to clear the awful vision from his mind.

Valen had taken a step back from him and was shaking his head and growling like a rabid dog.

"Woah, Valen! Take it easy, what's going on?" Kirchoff asked. He gestured towards Valen, but he hesitated to go further.

Kirchoff, I keep seeing your memories, Valen said quickly.

"What?"

Whenever you're thinking about a memory, I see images and feel sensations. It's like... like I was you, in your memory.

Kirchoff opened his mouth to speak, but only a faint squeak escaped. He had grown used to Valen's ability to read his thoughts and emotions, but the idea that Valen could actually see and experience his memories was something else.

"Valen, are you sure that…" Before he could finish his question, he was put off by the sound of the sound of someone fumbling with a microphone. "We're gonna have a long talk about this later."

The sound of someone fumbling with the microphone echoed from the speakers until a deep gruff started talking over the intercom, "Dr. Kirchoff, please step away from the Xenomorph so that we may transport you to your new living quarters."

In response, Kirchoff wrapped his arms tightly around Valen's neck. He looked up into a camera defiantly, as if daring the man at the intercom to do something.

"Dr. Kirchoff, please step away from the Xenomorph subject so that we may transport you to your new living quarters," the voice said again. All Kirchoff did was hold onto Valen tighter. Although it was faint, he could feel him purring.

"Just transport them together Major," Dr. Nigel said. Her voice was faint, but it was still loud enough to heard over the intercom.

"But it's against protocol! If we are to transport a Xenomorph we must…"

"Yes, Major, I'm well aware of the protocol," she exclaimed. "I'm just trying to save you hours of frustration. Trying to separate them will be impossible unless you want half a squad of marines to die trying, and I'm pretty sure we all want to avoid that."

"...Yes Doctor."

"Very well," Her voice got much louder the next time she spoke. "Kirchoff... Valen… Say goodbye to your cell, it's moving day."

A door slid open on the side of the wall.

"Your ride awaits," Dr. Nigel said. "Just bang on the side of the container when you're ready to go. And be warned, it can get a bit noisy in there, what with the engines on the transport carts."

With Kirchoff's arms still around Valen's neck, they walked over to the door of the dim box and stepped into the transport container. It was cramped, only about feet high, 6 feet wide, and 10 deep, lit only by a flashlight that had been turned on and tossed inside. The beam of light was too bright for Kirchoff, who shielded his eyes with one arm while keeping the other around Valen's neck.

Can you get that for me? He thought wearily, not bothering to use his vocal cords. His throat was raw from sobbing and talking.

Valen reluctantly stepped out of Kirchoff's embrace and tried his best to turn off the flashlight. It took quite a bit of fumbling, but eventually he clicked the light off with one of his claws. Once that was over with, he flopped down on his side and extended his arms towards Kirchoff. He sat down next to Valen, who wrapped his arms around his waist and curled up around him. He let out a long sigh and leaned back against Valen's ribs and felt him purr. During all their years together he never would have guessed that cynical, snarky, arrogant Valen was so cuddly. Still, he had gotten used to Valen snuggling him during their time in the cell and he wasn't going to complain about it now.

Want to get going? he asked him.

Valen didn't reply. He just banged his tail against the side of the container to signal that they were ready to depart. For several minutes there were the faint sounds of people running around, dragging things, opening doors, preparing the little transport cart to take them to their new home. The sudden noise of the engine starting made the container vibrate. Kirchoff and Valen flinched at the sound it made, but it wasn't unbearably loud. The driver revved the engine and the transport cell rolled slowly forwards.