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love-and-monsters · 1 year

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The Imposter

It’s Christmas Eve, I officially have a master’s degree, and I’ve finally finished this story that I started quite a ways back. It was supposed to be quick. It ended up being over 6,000 words. So. Whoops. Anyway, Merry Christmas, Happy Solstice, Happy Hanukah and all that. Enjoy!

This story is based off this post by @cozycryptidcorner and used with permission. Thanks!

M alien X F human, 6,387 words

Trigger warning: This story contains death and murder (performed by one of the main characters), depictions of torture and gun violence, (implied) cannibalism, and mentions of pregnancy/breeding and having children.

It’s been a week and a half since we last heard from the secondary outpost twenty miles from the main command center, which means we need to actually go out there and see what happened. No one’s happy about this- even our second in command has some arguments against it. But Ann was pretty firm. Regulations state that if an outpost stops responding for longer than ten days, there needs to be a rescue effort. There could be a severe power outage, some kind of system collapse, a localized weather phenomenon. Any number of things preventing a response.

I don’t know. It could be any of those things. But I don’t think it is.

We’ve got four grunts going with us, along with our xenobehaviorist, our third in command, and me, our xenobotanist. I don’t know if they’re sending me along in order to gather samples along the way or if they think there might be a botanical element to the disappearance, but I’m going. No getting out of it.

At least I’ll be getting out of the base. It’s a little claustrophobic, being there for weeks on end.

The planet itself is beautiful. Earth-like, but with a composition of elements in the atmosphere that makes the sky pale pink in the morning, when we set out. Most of the area we landed in is covered by grass, or at least something like grass. It’s shy, curling in on itself and retreating when we roll over it. Large tangles of bushes dot the landscape with enormous, flat leaves and elongated, berry-like fruits. It’s a fascinating environment, one I would love to study more, but there’s no stopping on the way there. We roll right on by, passing the miles until we arrive at the secondary outpost.

It’s easy to see the outpost from a distance, or it’s at least easy to see its major landmark- while the main outpost is set into the side of a cliff, the secondary outpost is set in the middle of flat ground next to a massive stone obelisk.

It’s a weird obelisk, very smooth and tall, not matching the rest of the world around it. Our geologist is fascinated by it, says it’s the weirdest erosion she’s ever seen, like nothing on earth. She’s trying to team up with our meteorologist to check for unusual weather patterns that might cause it- personally I don’t see what she likes so much about it. It’s just a large rock.

The secondary outpost sits right in its shadow, nestled against it. It’s an intimidating sight to approach, to be sure. More intimidating is the sight of the secondary outpost itself, because it’s completely dim. Most of the time, there are lights along the outside, at least as a sign that it’s still operational. Now, there’s nothing.

We have to pry the doors open. No automatic power. A musty smell wafts out, like a place that’s had the same air circulating for too long. The entire place is dark.

Once we get enough torches set up to keep everything illuminated, we search. The secondary outpost is much smaller than the main one- meant for twenty people as opposed to nearly two hundred. I never knew any of the people here- they were transported separate from the rest of us so we never met- but they were pretty similar to us. Any of us could have been a part of their crew. Just luck of the draw that we weren’t.

That makes it a lot more unsettling when we find the bodies.

There are nineteen. Some of them look like wild animals got them, torn apart. Others are visibly uninjured, but with a strange blue-purple tint to their skin. All of them are dead.

Our xenobiologist takes tissue samples. The rest of us search for some sign of what caused this. There’s no obvious breach- nothing to suggest animals actually broke in. The only sign of something anomalous is on the wall near the bunk area- a massive black and blue cocoon, large enough to hold a person split open and spilling thick, sticky liquid across the floor.

The trail stops abruptly in a spatter, like whatever was coated in the liquid shook it off all at once.

It’s when we’re debating what kind of creature could have made such a thing that we hear someone banging on the inside of the bulkhead.

The bulkhead is the reinforced security section under the main command center. Designed for safety in emergencies, it auto-locks from the inside and is basically airtight- once it’s sealed nothing can go in or out until it’s released.

Our third-in-command puts in the override entry code and the bulkhead doors grind open.

The man inside is naked, huddled in a corner. He looks up and his eyes are brilliant blue, like the blue spatter outside was turned almost neon. His hair is pale blonde and messy, with streaks of spattered blue in it.

I don’t recognize him, though I don’t really recognize anyone who was on this base. He looks startlingly pretty, though, with angular features and a slim body. He rises with a surprising amount of grace for someone who has been huddled in the bunker for some time.

It takes some time before he speaks. When he does, his voice is whispery, almost raspy. We gather in the bunker with him, listening.

“A virus,” he says. “Or a spore or other contaminant. I don’t know who brought it in. But it spread. So quickly. The infected attacked. I got to the bunker first. The others were injured too quickly. If I had held it open longer, I would have been attacked as well.”

His voice is soft, but steady as he speaks. Flat. Numb, maybe. His gaze wanders between us at first, but as he speaks, it settles on me and stays. I stare back at him, trembles racing up and down my spine.

He doesn’t exactly explain why he’s naked, but all of us have worried about an emergency occurring while we’re washing. Perhaps that’s even what saved him- he was away from the others and able to sneak to the bunker while the attackers were distracted. There’s some worry about contamination, but eventually, it’s determined that if it was airborne, he would have succumbed a while ago. A couple of our number head off to find him his identification and clothes- he’s currently in a hurriedly-located blanket, which is draped around him like a toga. The rest of us stay to pack up any supplies that remain, take samples, and prepare for departure.

I pack food, given that my own specialties don’t seem useful here. He stands next to me, picking up cans and boxes of dried food and setting them in a travel container. There are quite a few empty shelves, more than I’d expect from one person living here for a week. But it’s also possible they hadn’t fully stocked the bunker. Just as I’m pondering that, he steps closer to me, eyes trained on my face.

“Yes?” I say. His gaze is oddly intent. I don’t see him blink.

“What’s your name?” his voice is still whispery, but stronger than it was when he spoke before.

“Tamara,” I say. “What’s yours?”

He smiles, showing his teeth. “Patrick.” His smile widens- his teeth are oddly white. “I’m glad to meet you.”

His ID never turns up- it’s presumed to be among the other missing ones. He is clothed in the standard orange uniform and, once we’ve packed up the samples and salvaged items, we start heading back to the main base.

He sits next to me. The swaying of the transport makes him lean against me, his body warm against mine. Eventually, he falls asleep, pale hair tickling my neck and face as his head rests on my shoulder. In his sleep, he curls closer to me, trying to press as close to me as possible.

I nudge him awake when we reach the base. He blinks up at me, eyes soft and blue as a kitten’s. One of his hands is resting on my thigh. I can feel the slight shifting of his fingers as he squeezes. “We’re here.”

He smiles, though he doesn’t break eye contact as he does so, and speaks. “Home.”

Patrick takes several days to go through the required quarantine and debrief. I hear about him only through whispered rumors. He’s a strange sort, apparently, and quiet, only speaking enough to answer questions. Mostly, he watches people from inside the quarantine chambers with his bright, intelligent eyes. I visit on occasion. He always smiles at me when I arrive- I initially assume he’s just pleased to see anyone after spending time locked away, but other members talk about how solemn he is, barely reacting when they enter the visitation zone.

About a week after his arrival, I’m surprised to find him in my botany lab, dressed in white labwear over his orange jumpsuit and goggles that somehow enhance the clear blue of his eyes. He beams upon seeing me.

“I was asked what I would like to do here,” he says. “They indicated you might be in need of an assistant.”

I am not, in fact, in need of an assistant. Especially not from someone whose qualifications I don’t know. My lab is the space where I don’t have to interact with other crew, and where they don’t have to interact with me. They seem content to ignore me, for the most part, unless they need something.

But Patrick looks all but thrilled to be in my presence. It’s… unusual. I can’t remember the last time I looked at someone and their eyes didn’t just slide off me. But his eyes are focused on me, waiting for me to speak.

“Yes,” I say. Patrick beams. “We can start by examining the new sprouts.”

He is strange in his work- too smart and too naïve at the same time. He takes to the machinery and work like a fish to water, but stares like a statue when I ask him where he was originally from, on Earth. Might be for the best. I never liked small talk anyway.

He’s a good assistant. Eager to please, almost ridiculously so. Several times I mention offhandedly how I would like to have a particular piece of equipment and he vanishes, only to return with whatever I asked for. It’s usually cobbled together from backup materials, like he went to the storage closet and went ham. When I ask him how he knows what he’s doing, he cocks his head at me.

“I learned,” he says. “I know what the parts do, and I see how they go together in my mind.”

I take that to mean he’s more or less self-taught. It doesn’t bother me, though our second in command would probably flip her shit if she found out. We’re only supposed to use standard issue supplies, and repair with the exact correct components, and any modification needs to be rigorously checked by our site’s engineer. I get that there’s safety reasons, but he modified a light source into a sustainable, sterile incubation unit to check the self-reproductive process of one of our samples- it could be revolutionary to creating a sustainable food source, but if I’d asked, it would have been turned down. It’s the first damn time my work or position has been treated as anything close to important. Maybe it’s stupid and petty, but I’m not turning that down.

Patrick takes meals with me in my lab, in the area I’ve designated as a clean zone. Technically, I’m supposed to eat in the mess hall with everybody else, but I stopped as soon as it was no longer required. There’s nothing wrong with the rest of the crew. We just don’t talk, and it’s more comfortable staying here than sitting in the uncomfortable silence- or worse, sitting in but apart from the amiable chatter.

It’s not their fault. Most of them are engineer types. They like the mechanics, the challenge of setting up the base and forging their own path. I don’t think I’ve ever been much of an adventurer. It lets me study my plants and figure out how they work and be quiet and alone. That’s all I need in this job. The other crew members don’t particularly care about that, and I don’t really care about their fantasies of adventure and glory. So, we talk very little.

Patrick is different. His eyes are sharp and clever and he pays attention like I’m imparting the secrets of the universe when I speak. And he lets me talk, smiling as I ramble about anything and everything.

He only talks sometimes, when I nudge him. It’s never specific, and I don’t pry. But he speaks about having been sent away from his family when he was young, and wandering for a long time before finally coming here. He talks about wanting a family of his own, to love and be loved by. His eyes gleam as he says that the only thing he wants is to be able to care for the people he loves- to prove that he’s a good partner, that he will be good for someone.

I take his face in my hands before I can think better of it. “You’ll make an excellent partner. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met.”

He tilts his face into my palm, almost nuzzling against it. “I’m glad,” he says. “Very glad.”

It starts slowly after that. Little things, normal things. He grabs extra snacks for me when we get meals, making sure to snag whatever I like for dessert. He always tries to give it to me, though he practically squirms in happiness when I say that he can have some and showers me with praise. His eyes gleam bright blue, focusing adoration on me like a magnifying glass focuses light. It’s pleasantly warming.

He stays near me. Not at all times, making himself scarce when I tell him I want space. But even when he’s not there, I can feel hidden eyes on me. Perhaps I should find it disturbing, but after the isolation of space, it just feels… comforting.

He sings, sometimes. Strange, trilling melodies that don’t have any words. He sings to me as he takes work from my hands, nudging me toward my bed. “Take care of yourself,” he says, half-humming the words. “You’re valuable.”

His blue eyes speak nothing but the truth. Everything in my body trembles at the thought.

Our third-in-command goes missing two days later.

There’s panic- controlled panic, but panic still. The missing person protocol is deeply entrenched, each of us with a specific role to perform. My role is mostly to stay out of the way.

We don’t find a body, or even a trace. Patrick comes to work in a new orange jumpsuit. I pretend not to notice.

Our xenobiologist vanishes three days after that. Patrick comes to work with a cut along his jawline and wearing an oversized, ill-fitting jumpsuit. I say that it looks like he might have cut himself shaving and got blood everywhere. He repeats that to the commander when she comes by.

Patrick asks to sleep in my quarters that night. Technically, it’s disallowed- the official reason is that even with our birth control implants, they can fail and there’s not enough supplies here for a safe abortion, and certainly not for a baby. But people here have bigger concerns than illicit sex, and no one protests when Patrick and I slip off to our quarters together. Maybe they even think it’s safer- no one wants to be alone right now.

The sleeping quarters are small, big enough for a bed, a dresser set into a wall, and a bathroom and shower separated from the rest of the room by a thin curtain. Patrick isn’t at all bothered by our close quarters. If anything, it seems to please him, since every opportunity he gets, he’s pushing his body up against me, nuzzling like an overly friendly cat. It takes some effort to disentangle myself from him to change- despite his touchiness, he’s shy about nude contact, so I’m fully dressed when we get into bed together.

Patrick presses up against my back, nuzzling his face into my neck. I can feel the cool tip of his nose tracing lines against my skin. It’s pleasant, if a bit shivery. After a few moments, he transitions to small pecks against the back of my neck. Then open-mouthed kisses. Then his tongue starts tracing against my skin. The shape of it is weird (are tongues usually this long? This sinuous?) but his hot breath and the coolness of his kisses creates a nice tingling. Eventually, the movements become lazier as he falls asleep, nestled close against me. With his warmth and comfort, I fall asleep not too far behind him.

I wake slowly and dreamily in the morning. Patrick barely stirs as I get out of bed and into my usual clothes. Even when I return and try to nudge him awake, he only blearily opens his eyes before closing them again with a sigh.

“Are you all right?” My heart jumps in my chest. We have limited medical supplies- if he falls too sick, it’s possible he won’t recover.

He tilts his face toward my hand as I rest my palm on his cheek. “I’m fine,” he murmurs, though there is a lazy undercurrent to his voice. He blinks blearily. “Perfectly fine.” He catches my hand with his, tugs my palm to his mouth so he can kiss it. “You’re wonderful. Perfect.”

I run my fingers through his hair, admiring the white strands as they drift. “What’s wrong? You’re acting strangely.”

“Everything is all right,” he says. “It’s almost time.” He kisses the tips of my fingers, one at a time. “I just need to rest, darling. Once that’s over, we can be together.”

I stroke a hand over his forehead. He feels warm, though his skin is quite pale. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”

“No. Just tired.” His eyes close. “I love you. Do not worry. Everything will be all right. We’ll be together.”

He sleeps after that. It’s a strange sort of sleep, one where his body goes completely still, except for little shivers and muscle twitches.

I stay with him for a time, but eventually, I leave the confines of the room to get something to eat. He’ll be hungry when he wakes up, he’ll need something to eat too.

The base is quiet. That’s unusual- the individual rooms are supposed to be soundproof, but even the smallest noises carry down the halls like an echo chamber. Typically there will be the sounds of at least one person moving around.

The silence makes the back of my neck prickle. I try to pick up my pace, but the sound of my footsteps clanging in the silence makes me slow back down again.

I was considering checking on my plants, but by the time I make it to the cafeteria, my nerves are shot. I’m not sure whether I’m hoping to finally run into someone or if I’m scared of that. All I know is I want to get back to my room with Patrick.

Once I’m in the kitchen, I gather as much stuff as I can carry and immediately turn to head back to my room. I make it just past the doorway before a hand catches the back of my clothes.

I scream. The sound echoes across the walls before it’s cut off by another hand on my mouth. There’s a moment of fading sound before silence takes over once more.

I fight, but I’ve never been all that physically strong, and my captor drags me into one of the nearby security rooms. They’re not places I regularly visit- mostly they’re waypoints for security details and commanders to get a quick read on what’s happening in the building. As soon as we’re fully inside the room, my captor drops me and pulls the armored door shut. The pressurized lock hisses and clicks into place.

It’s the commander, though she looks significantly more disheveled than I’ve ever seen her before. Her clothes are rumpled, her hair untied and knotted. But more than that, there’s a frenzied look to her. Her teeth are bared, her eyes so wide I can see the whites all the way around. She looks frightening.

It becomes significantly worse when she levels the gun at my chest.

“Tell me what you know,” she says, “or I will fucking shoot you.”

My mouth opens. It takes several seconds before any noise comes out. “Wh- I don’t- what are you-”

“Don’t lie to me.” The commander takes a step closer. “Don’t move or I will shoot you. Talk or I will shoot you. Tell the truth or I will shoot you.” She makes a noise that is not quite a laugh, but not quite anything else, either. “I won’t kill you. I’ll shoot you. I’ll shoot you over and over. There are lots of places you can shoot a body before it dies, did you know?” She considers me for a moment, as if eyeing up potential targets. “So. Talk.”

I swallow several times, but there’s no liquid in my mouth. “What am I supposed to be talking about?”

Her expression sours. “Him. It. That thing that you let into your room.”

A flicker of offence steadies my voice. “Patrick’s not a thing-”

“Like fucking hell he’s not.” The gun trembles in her hand and I remember exactly how delicate my position is. “You know what he’s been doing.”

I can’t speak. I just shake my head.

“You know. You’ve been helping him. Been getting close to him. And he stayed in your room last night.”

My voice comes out tiny and whispery. “He’s not like that. You can’t blame him because he’s still new here- because of what happened to his crew-”

“What happened to his crew?” The commander’s voice breaks into a rush of hysterical laughter. “His crew! So, you really don’t know about that bit. Guess it makes sense he wouldn’t tell you.”

She’s on top of me all of a sudden, gun muzzle against my brow. “I don’t know what he told you. I don’t know what he’s convinced you of or what he’s got over you that’s making you cover for him. But that wasn’t his crew.” She goes quiet, dragging in a few ragged breaths. “He killed them.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say. I’m not surprised. I sort of wish I was, but… I’m not. Maybe I should be more upset about it. Maybe it’s the immediate prospect of having my brains blown out with Patrick as my only real source of help here. But somehow… I think it’s just that I don’t care.

He would hurt other people, but not me. Never me. Because I’m special to him.

“Took me ages to get the security video- he wanted to make sure no one would find it. But I saw it. He’s not human. Fucker slaughtered everyone and went into a cocoon.” The gun presses harder against my head. “When he came out, he went into the bunker and waited. He wants something. And given you’re the only person he’s been so buddy-buddy with, I figure you’ve got a better shot of knowing what that thing is.”

“I don’t know.” My voice comes out weak and wavery. “I didn’t know he wasn’t- What- what are you going to do to him?”

“I’m not going to do anything to him. But turns out, there’s a pretty large number of people here who are more than happy to try and kill a murderous alien.” She smiles, wide and terrible. “Unfortunately, we had to be practical. Don’t know how much gunfire it’ll take to kill the thing, so I told them to get the biggest guns they can and keep shooting until they’re out of ammo. They weren’t real happy about that. Didn’t like the idea of killing the thing so quickly. It’s fair, I’d say. Think they might be due for a little revenge, but we can’t take any chances.” Her smile gets wider, but it never touches her eyes. “They were pretty pleased when I told them about a certain traitor. Technically, we should bring you back for interrogation, but. I don’t think anyone will notice an extra name on the missing list, would you?”

Terror knifes me in the gut. “No!” He’s not dead yet. I would know, somehow, if he was. If I can get to him before they do- he can help me. Take me somewhere safe, I know he can. I just need to save him-

I lash out, aiming my foot for one of her calves. She barely stumbles, readjusts her gun, and there’s an earsplitting bang. For a second, I wonder if she missed. Then pain so great that I can’t even scream radiates up my right leg.

I wheeze, my entire body arcing and twisting from the pain. I broke my arm in a machinery accident when I was twelve- this is worse. So much worse. My vision swims, clouding with gray spots. I can’t think or breathe or do anything more than lie here and wait to die from the pain, because surely something this bad will have to kill me.

“I was considering dragging you back home.” The commander’s voice comes to me as if from a great distance. “Handing you over to the council for punishment. But y’know what? I’m not feeling that generous. You helped some inhuman creature stab my crew members in the back. They didn’t even get a chance to see their death coming.”

She walks around me and, beyond the onslaught of pain, pain, pain, I feel the muzzle of the gun touch my uninjured leg. “I figure I’ll shoot both your arms and legs, then set this place on fire. I figure that’d be about what you deserve. I hope the fire takes its time getting to you. I hope you get to feel every second it licks your skin. I hope you beg for death for hours before it finally, mercifully-”

There is a muffled grunt and a wet, crunching thud. The gun muzzle stops pressing against my leg. The commander screams, once, and falls silent. There’s another wet crunching sound, then silence.

“Darling.” The voice is strange, with a sort of reverberation to it now, but I recognize it.

“Patrick!” I try to move toward the voice, but the pain strikes me so terribly that I almost throw up. A gentle hand, tipped in dripping claws, rests against the side of my face.

“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” The hand turns my head, tilting me so I can really look at him.

He’s beautiful.

He no longer looks human. His skin is dark and shines like an oil slick. Bands of electric blue run up the tendrils that stretch out from his head in place of hair. He has a tail, long and sinuous, and his legs are elongated, giving him a digitigrade stance.

And his eyes are the same piercing blue as always.

He creeps closer and I see the sharp tips of his many fangs in his blood-covered mouth. “You’re hurt,” he murmurs, voice thick with pain.

“You’re not,” I whisper back. “How?”

He smiles. It’s all sharp teeth and cruel delight. “I heard you yell. And then I heard them coming for me. I slipped away before they entered my room and attacked them from behind. They were foolish and sloppy, and I knew I needed to find you. I came as swiftly as I could.” He leans forward to press his forehead to mine. “You’re safe now. Always.”

There’s black licking at the edges of my vision. Now that the adrenaline’s fading, the pain’s becoming the centerpoint of the universe. Terror burns in my chest. I’m not going to die, but our medic is probably dead now, and I don’t know how to set a broken bone. “Patrick. I need help. It hurts. I- I don’t know how to make this better.” My eyes sting with tears. He saved my life, but I can’t survive an alien planet with a broken, bleeding leg. If I get some kind of alien infection, that’s the end for me.

“Shh, shh.” Patrick murmurs, cradling my face in his hand. “It’s okay. I can fix it. I’ll fix everything.” He smiles, and this time, his face looks soft, comforting. “Lie still. This will hurt, but then it will feel better. You’ll be safe. I’ll never let anything happen to you again.”

He bends forward and presses a kiss to my cheek. Then a kiss against the side of my neck. Then the slight nipping of sharp teeth. Then his fangs sink into my skin.

I wail and try to thrash before the pain in my leg stops me. He pats my face, teeth digging in deeper and deeper, then releasing. A tingling sensation starts to spread from the bite area.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs. “I love you. We’re going to be together forever, and I will always be here to protect you. I love you so much. Just rest now. Rest.”

The tingling numbness crawls up my face and my eyelids droop. With the soft, soothing whispers of Patrick in my ear, I close my eyes and drift into a slow, easy sleep.

It’s a warm comforting sleep, the sort of sleep you get when you’re settled under warm blankets against the chill of the night. I don’t dream. I just drift, cozy and warm. Sometimes, from a distance, I hear Patrick murmuring soothingly to me. All soft, comforting, loving tones that make me settle back into the gentle warmth of sleep.

I drift to the surface in bits and pieces, sometimes breaking into wakefulness for a few moments before being pulled back under. Patrick is always there, a constant, warming presence. Sometimes he’s holding me, sometimes he’s speaking quietly, sometimes he’s pressing pieces of meat past my lips and helping me swallow them.

There’s pain, sometimes. It comes and goes, like my consciousness. It’s more like a full-body cramp at times, more like a sharp itching at others, sometimes a bone-deep ache that reminds me of when I was hitting my growth spurt. Whenever I try to shift away from the pain, Patrick is there, murmuring and soothing until I’m asleep again. The longer I sleep, the less the pain is every time I wake.

Eventually, there’s a shift when I open my eyes. It’s subtle, but I can feel my consciousness more clearly than every other time I’ve woken up. My body is stiff, and my limbs are clumsy. I try to roll over and only succeed in crushing one of my arms under me.

“Easy now.” Hands roll me over onto my back. The room is bright, full of sunlight in a way the station never was. It smells nice, too, almost floral. I shift a little bit, trying to get a better look at the room. “Here. Eat.”

Something presses against my lips. I instinctively take it into my mouth- it reminds me of pork, like fresh pork, something I haven’t had in a long time. “Take your time. Here. Eat some more.”

Another piece of meat pokes past my lips and I take it. It’s Patrick’s voice that’s speaking, and I trust him instinctively.

He presses a few other pieces of meat into my mouth and offers a few sips of water. As he does so, I can feel my mind slowly clicking into place with my body. It’s easier to move around, though I feel strange. My body doesn’t respond quite in the same way I’m used to.

“Lie still.” Patrick strokes the side of my face. I turn my attention back to him. He looks the same as when I saw him last, all elongated and black. His soft, blue eyes are locked onto me with a strange intensity. “How are you feeling?”

I open my mouth to respond and am immediately struck by the weirdness. My tongue doesn’t sit the same way anymore, too sinuous, and my teeth feel longer and sharper than normal. “F-feel… weird.”

“Yes. I know.” Patrick smiles at me, his teeth still sharp as knives. “You’ve been out for a while. It took longer than it should have, because of your injuries. But you’re all healed now. You’re better.”

I stretch my limbs out, and something strange shifts. I twist my head back, trying to get a look at it and I see my body.

It looks like Patrick’s. Long limbs, a tail, pitch black skin with a slight sheen to it. I move and everything shifts accordingly. I can feel the texture of the floor under my skin. It is, however unbelievably, my body.

I whip my head toward him. “Wh- what is-”

“It’s all right, don’t panic,” Patrick says in a soothing voice. “You’re safe here. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

“But I don’t understand- what happened?”

His expression softens and he pats my head. I feel the strange head-tendrils sprouting from my scalp twitch in response. “I told you I would fix you. And I did.”

Yes, I remember- the pain, the terror. I feel strange, but not bad. There’s no pain any longer. In fact, my body feels good, energized. It’s just… “How?”

Patrick smiles. “I’m not human.”

I stare at him. He stares back, as if he’s given some kind of massive revelation. “Yeah,” I say once I realize he’s serious. “I sort of figured that out. What are you, though?”

“We don’t have a name, really. We don’t need one. You can just keep calling me Patrick.” He stretches like a lazy cat. “I came from another world a very, very great distance from here. I didn’t have much of a body, at that point. I was more like spores, seeded into a protective container to carry me through space as I traveled to another planet. Like an egg. Eventually, I landed here, on a habitable planet, and I hatched.

“When my kind reaches a habitable planet, we need to adapt to it. My spores traveled until they found a body they could attach to- one of your former kind.” He smiles fondly. “I don’t have many memories of that time- but I do remember when I finally awoke in my new body. It wasn’t perfectly adapted to the environment, but I could help with that. I just needed to find someone to make a colony with.”

“Someone to make a colony with?” I repeat. My lips feel slightly numb. My heart is pounding in my chest. Patrick leans against me, a contented smile on his lips.

“You,” he sighs, my voice almost like a prayer from his mouth. “I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on you. From the moment I caught your scent. You’re perfect. So clever and sweet and my wonderful mate. My queen. The one I need to start a colony.” He nestles into my side. “Once I found you, I knew everything would be all right. I had to take some time to save up my strength, so I could fully adapt to life here, and prepare for you to join me. I wish I could have done it sooner” His expression darkens and he presses even closer to me, almost like he’s trying to fuse our bodies together. “They should never have gotten the opportunity to hurt you.”

“Hold on,” I say, trying to process things as fast as he’s speaking. “You said we were starting a colony together?”

“Of course. A colony of our very own. We’ll fill this planet with our children, and someday, we’ll send them out through the cosmos to form their own colonies, just like I did.” He sighs dreamily. “I’ll take wonderful care of you, I promise. You’ll never want for anything again.”

“With… with our children?”

“Oh, yes. We’ll have many children together, enough to create a whole hive on the planet. I will care for you, and so will our children. We’ll be a family. And you’ll be the center of it.” He pats along my head and back in long, smooth strokes. “Isn’t that what you wanted? You’re special. You’re important. You’re the most important person in this galaxy. You’re going to be the mother of a whole empire.”

“But the humans,” I say. “If they come back.”

“Then we should be ready to handle them by the time they get here. Our children will grow swiftly, and we have all the supplies left here. They cannot take us on- they cannot hurt us. They will fail. And we will spread through the stars, with you by my side, always cared for and loved. I will do anything for you. I love you. I adore you. My beloved mate. There will never be anything you want for and you will never be harmed again.”

I take in a shaky breath. It sort of feels like I should be crying, but my eyes aren’t getting wet. Patrick holds me, murmuring gently. My chest hurts, but it’s a relieving pain, like ripping off a too-tight bandage. It’s warm. Safe. Just the two of us. Just Patrick, who cares for me more than anyone else ever has. Who will care for me. I never have to worry about anything again, not as long as he’s here.

“I love you,” I murmur into his shoulder. Patrick makes a humming/purring noise, rubbing his body against mine.

“I love you. Adore you. So much.” He presses me down onto my back, kissing and nipping at every bit of exposed skin he can find. His hips grind down against me. “Please- please-”

He can’t get another word out before I pull his mouth to mine for a kiss. Our children will become rulers of the planet, and we will live with them, together forever and always, safe from pain and fear and hardship. In love and safe, forever and ever and ever.

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