He knew it was time he could feel it to his bone,

So once more he sat upon the seat once more alone.

With careful words and never ending devotion,

He crafted a story full of black emotion.

But that time has passed that time is long,

And now we are here and the death toll shall gong.

This is the last chapter for now the last chapter for here,

Shall this be the last we hear?...

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

CHAPTER 7: Taking of the Fearful

Damp, salty, stinging tears ran down Flor's incorporeal cheeks, leaving shiny trails of moisture along her smooth skin as she cried. She watched the same dream dance before her, taunting her, as it did every night, every time she slept she dreamt the same dream, felt that same deep, slicing, betraying pain. But she dreamt on anyway, because she needed to know, she needed to figure out why she felt the way she did.

"Why?... Why does he have to be taken from me?..." She whispered, voice hoarse from crying. She couldn't understand, couldn't cope, couldn't feel. She just didn't know why...

To tired to care anymore, she let herself collapse to the side, tired from what felt like years spent crying. Already having collapsed to her knees, she had nowhere else to go but down, but something caught her, supported her as she instinctively buried her head into the other being, sobbing into it's chest, though it shook just as she did. Somehow, the hard chitinous arms and hands that embraced her; soothed her.

It was Flor that held her, that held herself. It wasn't... truly Flor, just part of her, that held her aloft, stayed strong even through the pain and the tears she physically couldn't shed, but instead had to keep inside, no matter the gashes she felt inside from the pieces of her shattered heart, just like the words she wished she could share with him, but couldn't only because of what she was on the outside.

She didn't know if she was a monster or not, but in that moment, she knew she wanted to be with him, she loved him, and she needed him.

She loved him?

A jolt of shock pulled Flor back into the real world, making her claws skitter and scratch across the smooth tile of the hallway without any purchase as she instinctively tried to flee, flailing out in all directions. She panted for a long moment, fighting to slow and calm her breathing and her beating heart. Long moments passed by, crouched on the floor on all fours, letting her body slow, and her mind to settle back into it's normal rhythm. Sighing internally at her own oddity, she rose to all four of her legs from where she had curled up on the cold, unpleasant flooring of the complex, stretching out to all five feet of her diminutive, petite, if very very boney figure.

Where was Nathaniel? He should've been close by...

And he was. She hadn't noticed him, for Natasha was leaned into and over him, her head resting on his shoulder and her arms curled up close to her own chest as she did, sleeping as peacefully as one could in the situation they had found themselves in.

It tore her inside more than anything the dream ever could've done to her, shredding those tiny lights of hope that had always pulled her through the nighttime terrors. Everything about the young, confused Xenomorph, sagged just a little, her tail drooped, and her head dipped a little closer to the floor.

Silently she padded away, her hands and feet clicking softly against the floor as she turned about and walked away from the two humans. She felt a bit of, stirring in her mind, a very strange and profound experience, that after a moment she realized was Drone, for he still called himself that; coming to a groggy awakening.

Feeling her distress, he walked over to her side on all fours, as she was at the time, a small and unconscious sign of deference to her.

Queen?... He sent to her in his mind, his head tilted a tiny bit, and looking up at her with a sad plaintiveness. Are you okay?...

She mentally choked past a lump welling in her throat, and gave a slight nod. I'm well, thank you Drone. The two kindred spirits hadn't much broached the subjects of names, and so she still hadn't a name for him besides Drone, and he had no other notion of calling her anything but his Queen.

And his voice... She thought, this time just to herself. It was no more the voice of a young boy, now it was that of a teen in his 15s or 16s, just short of her own 18-year old sounding voice, where she doubted it would ever progress farther.

Drone?... She started, hesitant and soft.

Yes, mother?... He responded with a soft small hiss as he tilted his head back up to look at her.

Mother... She thought to herself, perplexed, and more than a little confused. Well... the queen probably lays all the eggs so I guess it just makes sense in his head...

Do you... love me? She thought to him, after a little consideration.

I would die to save you. He responded without a second's hesitation. Kill for you, die for you, protect you, and serve you however you see fit. It was like a slap to the face. And... it was like a warm hug all at once.

Could you protect me now?... She asked, quieter than ever before. She had never needed it this much before, never hurt this much before. She had never been so alone. Now it felt like the only person here for her was him, this small, still only a day old Xenomorph, that had just proclaimed his undying loyalty to her.

Drone stood a little taller at her words, seeming to take pride in his responsibility, in the fulfillment of his role and duties. Absolutely my Queen. Then he seemed to sag a tiny bit, deflating, though only out of confusion. But... from what?...

From what's inside me. Inside my head. She answered.

There's... something inside you?... He tilted his head, and equal amounts of confusion and worry for her filled him, Flor's connection to him showing her everything in his head and heart, and she smiled as the childish naivety warmed her heart, breathing a bit of life back into her.

No, something inside me. Not a real something, you can't touch it or fix it with your hands, or fight it with your tail or your claws. It's... a missing something. An emotion that's... strange, not supposed to be there, or maybe one that isn't there and should be. She went on, hoping and praying he would understand what she meant.

Kind of like... a memory?... He said to her softly, seeming more profound than ever she had heard him.

She nodded to him, not saying anything, just thinking to herself at the time, and Drone spoke again before she broke the momentary silence herself.

How can I protect you from a memory?... He almost seemed to whisper to her, a tiny note of pleading entering his once strong and sure voice.

I think... you can't... She sighed at this, and curled back up to sleep a couple more short hours on the hard flooring, they might not have another opportunity like this, to rest in the small shelter of a room with a door undamaged enough to physically slide and blockade closed. She felt a slight shift in the air and knew that Drone had laid down beside her, curling up just as she had, into a small ball on his side, tail wrapped up between his legs. and arms pulled close to his chest.

She rolled over to face him, and softly pulled herself close to his hard chest. She felt a sudden pang of confusion, and a bit of fear from him, but that dissipated quickly, as he realized he could sense she wasn't hurt. She rested her oblong, red-black head on his chest, and she could feel him wrap around her, tail, legs, and arms; surprisingly warm despite the chitinous exterior and slick, hard skin. And they lay like that, Drone holding his Queen protectively, both precisely the same size, and in that moment, Flor fell off to a slow, relaxed, sleep.

Allysa stuffed the last of her clothes into the faded out backpack, red with dark black highlights. Everything she would need was in there, toothbrush, comb, clothes, some money, and a small plastic bottle of water. With a soft sigh of resignation, and not just a little determination; she shrugged the thin backpack up onto her shoulders, fitting both of the snug straps onto her. She wouldn't be coming back here anytime soon, to this place she used to call her home, but there was nothing else that mattered to her here, not the photos, pillows, the old, and in some cases tattered; stuffed animals from her childhood. She didn't want any of it. Maybe she would come back some day to get some of it. But not this day. She had her necessities, and Uncle Marion would help her with the rest.

Her mind long ago set on this course, she slipped up the hood of her jacket, concealing her face and hair as she moved to her bedroom window. Sliding it quietly open, she swung one leg out, then the other, so she was sitting on the edge of the windowsill. She didn't bother trying to make a rope out of clothes to lower herself the two stories to the floor, things like that only worked in the movies anyway. She just leaped straight down, grunting and rolling with the impact, and then rose to her feet silently after, thankfully free of cuts, breaks, or even the slightest bruise. Allysa hurried along her way, sneakers padding softly along the pavement as she ran, ran away from the only house that she'd ever called a home, but now wasn't even worthy of the name "shelter" in her mind.

Her home had become broken, in more ways than one; she thought to her self as she took the turn to cut straight through the four block park which would leave her only a block away from her Uncle's house. Her family was broken, her leaving was a sure sign of that at least. But her parents were split, her brother in jail and her mother an alcoholic. So she was leaving to her Uncle's, a home far far safer than her own decrepit, rotting, building.

The sharp, tell-tale snap of a stick of to her left yanked her out of her own thoughts. As soon as her mind came to it she realized she could feel the weight of foreign, unwanted eyes upon her in the near pitch black, perhaps many eyes, she couldn't tell, it was too dark out, too gloomy out to tell. Still, vainly, she swung her head about in search of the gaze boring into her flesh. A sharp, bone chilling ice ran up her spine as slowly, she turned around to face the dark silhouette that was Errik.

Gritting her teeth, she tried hard to restrain her voice to calm apathy, but still veritably spat out "What do you want Errik? I told you last time I saw you I didn't want to see your mug again."

Even though it was pitch black out she swore she could see a gleam of teeth in a wide smile as he returned, in his customary suave tones "But Allysa, how I wished to see you so! And just as much," he went on, the tone of his voice subtly changing to a grim countenance, " how was I supposed to convince you to come with me if you never saw me."

Another chill ran up her spine, and the hair on the back of her neck rose, though she remained calm with ease, but the barest hint of desperation slipped into her voice. "Oh yes indeed, I'm coming with you, all the way to your home. Like hell."

To this he laughed, as if her entire resistance amused him, and it was the loudest sound in the park's eerie quiet. Not even the nighttime animals made a sound in the palpably thick dark night air. Something was wrong here, she could taste it, something more than just a stalker ex-boyfreind.

But right now those kinds of thoughts were only in the back of her mind, deep within her subconscious, raising the hairs on the back of her neck and starting to pump adrenaline into her bloodstream.

"You're coming with me whether you like it or not, whether you want to or not, whether you fight or not," and, whispered though they were, she had no trouble making his words out among the dead quiet of the park's nighttime atmosphere, and deep in his eyes she could see he believed it, see he meant those words every inch as much as it sounded, knew she wasn't going to going to Uncle Marion's after all.

Suddenly his eyes widened in sheer, primal horror as they locked onto something just over her shoulder, his mouth open in fear, a scream trapped within him from the purest petrification. She instinctively jerked her head around and she turned her body to defend from whatever it was he saw. And as she turned she knew it was over, he had her, had tricked he with the stupidest, simplest of ruses. She wondered if anyone would ever know what happened to her.

And then for a second time, she wondered if anyone would ever know what happened to her, and her words rang with the chilling foretelling of her own death, as she locked invisible gazes with the eyeless monstrosity looming just behind her. The midnight demon lunged, and the world, went black.

When Nate awoke, he was quite surprised to find Natasha leaning on him, her head on his shoulder, and he glanced over at the younger woman. When had she moved closer to him? During the night? Earlier this morning? Well he was thankful for the small, unconscious blessing, no matter his chagrin at being in such proximity to her, especially after-

As he started to choke up, he mentally cut himself off, starting anew again. No matter his chagrin, and by the surprised and very embarrassed look on Natasha's face as she woke, he could tell it had indeed been unconscious. She quickly rose and dusted herself off with the prim, stiff air akin to someone who just found a large hole in the backside of their trousers.

"We were warmer together." He gently offered to her with a small smile to assuage her embarrassment.

She returned the smile, equally nervous and and small, and responded, "And a little comfier than the floor, though I'm not exactly sure how you felt."

"Well just to be honest," he answered with a wry tease, "It felt like I had a person sleeping atop me, though it might've been some rocks..."

"Mhhmph." She responded unintelligibly, accompanied with a swat across his shoulder.

Quickly as possible, Nate was up and getting the group all up and ready, though this process was mostly just a glance at everyone, Flor and the new small Xeno- /small Xeno?!/... The newer Xenomorph had grown considerably even during just the first night, and was now even bigger than Flor, though not by too much, and was closer to Nate's own size. Moreso, even though Nate couldn't place any real sense of the aliens gender based on his physical stature, he could tell simply by the way it- he walked, looked around, the aura he seemed to radiate, that he was undoubtedly a "he".

Pulling himself away from his gawking at the larger creature, he set his mind back to the task at hand; the two Xenomorphs were both already up- and eager- though they felt it, more than really looked it. Natasha on the other hand was still groggy, the awareness that came with her embarrassment having worn off. He clapped his hands together, and issued a curt, "Alright, lets get moving and get out of here, today!"

"Aren't you cheery this morning..." Natasha grumbled at him as she scrubbed the side of her hand against her eyes.

"The possibility of long and excruciatingly painful death perks me up." He quipped nonchalantly.

"Whatever..." Natasha returned, too tired to banter this early in the morning.

In return, he just smiled at her, letting the subject, and it's unspoken verbal challenge; drop for her sake. He hated doing this- this verbal /sparring/- when he was tired, it made sense someone else couldn't stand it either. He cut his own yawn short before it really got started at all, then gently wrapped his arm around Natasha's shoulders; it look like she would nod off where she stood, and fall face first into the ground when she did.

The slight motion and push of his arm wrapping around her almost knocked her over as it was, though that same arm support saved her, and the sudden and unplesent sensation of falling seemed to shake her awake just a bit more, though it was hard to ever be fully awake in the black gloom of the tunnels. She caught herself, and yawned once more.

"Where're we trudging off to toooodaaay..." She grumbled, getting caught in a soft yawn halfway through.

"We're getting the hell out of here today..." He murmured softly. Everyone of us is getting out of here, alive. Screw what they might think, Flor and the little guy're coming with us. They're family...

And true to his word, several minutes later, they were at the hall junction that lead directly to the charred generator chassis, a T intersection, with a single, thick, extra-large door set into the hall through which, Nate hoped, they'd be able to find a way out of here. However, judging by the scars across the whole of the intersection, they weren't the first group to pass through this part. A combination of chemical burns and metallic scars, along with a single, faint blood trail leading up and through the missing door- as if someone had been dragged, battered and bloody, against their will- told him exactly what had happened to the Marines he had met up with earlier, as well as where the Xenomorphs had gone. To the first he had expected that, though he had hoped to God that it wouldn't, and to the second, he had expected that as well, and he hoped to God that they hadn't found a way out.

"The Xenomorphs have been through here," he commented as he knelt down, softly wading his finger across the bloodstain. "Still a bit wet..." He murmured softly, then stood back up. "25-30 minutes tops, they've been through here."

Natasha nodded softly. "So they're ahead of us... makes sense, they're certainly faster..."

"Probably smarter too." Nate laughed, as he looked to Flor -though the whole situation seemed like quite the opposite of a laughing matter to him. Nervous habit he supposed to himself-. "What do you think Flor; smarter?"

The small Xenomorph nodded enthusiastically, and he could detect hints of what seemed to be /laughter/- a soft up-and-down hissing- and more than a little bit of good natured amusement coming from what he had figured was his bond to her. Suddenly he wondered about that bond. Was... was that what queens used to communicate and control the drones? So was Wellan right after all? About her being a Queen?

His thoughts were cut short however, a very, very worried look coming onto his face.

"What?," Natasha asked, noting the look on his face.

"The Xenomorphs aren't here anymore," He whispered softly to himself.

"We'll we'd be dead if they were, I think that's kind of a good thing Nathaniel."

"But if they're not here, then where do they have to be heading?" He said as he turned to look at Natasha.

"Oh God..." She paled, considering the implications of they're absence, "If they reach the surface..."

Nate nodded softly in response to the unanswered question, stepping through the door and producing a small electric lightstick he had salvaged from an abandoned room. The room was scorched, and the door protecting the generator and staircase was laying helter-skelter across the room, bent almost in two from some powerful blow. /The explosion of the generator probably blew open the door and let them into the room... and out and up through the staircase./

The room was fairly large, with a small side chamber straight ahead containing the generator and it's backups, the two emergency staircase wells to the right and left on the room. Or, at least, that was how he remembered it. The entire generator room had collapsed in on itself, tons of rock blocking the entanceway, as well as, no doubt, filling every available space of the confines. The room the generator had once resided in was designed to contain an explosion, should it ever occur, and it had done a good job. Or, good enough job. They were still here after all, though the blast had managed to collapse about three flights of stairs in the left well.

"The left stairs are gone," he called, turning back towards the rest of his group as he said it, watching curiously as Flor bent closer to the bloodstain, seeming to sniff at it. No not sniffling, looking. Her head bent back up, "looking" at him with her invisible gaze, then pointing down at the stain, seeming to mentally nudge him to come over and inspect it. He came over to see it was a large, clawed print, and as Flor placed her own foot inside the print, it became abundantly clear that the Xenomorph the clawed foot belonged to, was very, very big.

Drone watched his Queen interact with the one she called Nathaniel, his head cocked softly at an angle. She didn't speak to him, like she did to Drone. To... him. Yes... Drone was a him. A he. She doesn't speak to him like she speaks to Dro-.. to... me. He watched as she pointed to the ground, to the print, he knew; and then looked up at the human. Then she seemed to nudge... herself. Like she did when she touched his emotions, but only to something inside of her.

As he looked at Nathaniel, who in turn was watching Drone's queen, suddenly he felt a strong sense of protectiveness well up inside him, a near insatiable desire to stop him, and the woman, because... they could hurt his Queen? No they've done nothing wrong, they're friends! Drone told himself. His body went completly rigid, the desire transcending protection, becoming a single instinct, kill. To kill them just for looking at his Queen.

Inside he shivered, curling up on himself, refusing to move. No! This was all wrong! It was happening again!

Terrified, he cried out to his Queen, voice shaking, sounding near to tears in his frightened whisper, to afraid to move, to speak louder.

Queen, help... me... please... He pleaded, his entire body shaking as he mentally struggled against the hatred welling up inside of him.

And in an instant, she was there within him, repressing the murderous instincts with her awesome and formidable mental strength, and instead gently nurturing a calm, a warmth inside him to fight away the growing cold. He could tell she didn't know how she did it, he didn't know either. Be she did know what she wanted to happen. And with a Queen's strength, what one wanted, happened. Drone's breathing calmed, returning to again to the normal, he hadn't realized he'd been holding it; calming both from her efforts to help him, and his own reassurances about himself, and resisting his instincts. His Queen didn't want him to kill, and fight, didn't want violence. His Queen was right and his instincts were wrong, that was all that mattered. His shaking subsided, and his muscles relaxed, again completely in control.

Thank you, my Queen... He whispered to her again, overcome with gratitude to her. As she mentally left him, he felt the instincts start to return, but he ruthlessly crushed them, and shoved them away. His Queen had demanded servility, and it was his duty to compl-

When have I ever demanded servility?... His queen softly laughed to him, completely aware of his thoughts all the same. It still shocked him a bit that her voice sounded like one of the humans, almost, but just as well, for it also sounded more real than anything else could, more soothing, more emotional. He had never known it was possible to show so much emotion in the way one carried their voice. He had learned it, some of it, from how she spoke. He was getting better, he thought.

W- Well... You didn't I suppose... he stuttered in response, taken off guard. But it is what you want, Queen, right?...

Yes of course it is Drone, she said, unconsciously projecting emotions of happiness, and pride. In fact he could almost hear the mothering smile in her voice.

Then it is my duty to uphold that wish, he said, puffing his chest out just a bit in pride. She smiled more; he could feel it this time without her even speaking.

Just remember, I will never force you to do something you do not wish to do, she said, and for some reason, the words didn't upset him as he expected them to. But... she was Queen, shouldn't she be in charge? Yes... a voice, his voice, whispered back to him, So you follow, but she will not force you. It is up to you to obey her words. He nodded to himself, and a feeling of encouragement came from her about his decision.

He shuffled a bit, edging closer to his Queen and the print on the floor. It was huge, more than twice over what his Queens claws could make, and still more than his, despite his greater size. He shuddered a bit inside, and for more than one reason. He could sense the tiniest bit of fear in his Queen. No not fear, that was the wrong word. Fear with a bit of enthusiasm, a bit of hesitance. Trepidation. Yes that was the word. He smiled to himself. What's a smile?... he suddenly whispered to himself within the confines of his thoughts.

Mentally he wrenched himself out of the inane thoughts that plagued him, and to more pressing matters. He could smell fear and trepidation from the other human, the female, what had he heard her called?... Natasha? She was afraid too. The only one, oddly, who seemed not to be afraid was the human male. Nate, or Nathaniel. He wasn't sure which yet. He was resolute, but not afraid. He softly cocked his head as he looked up at him.

"Well," The human said, "Nothing to be done and no reason to get all flustered over a simple print, let's keep going."

"Nathaniel, the stairs are gone..." The woman whispered from his right.

"There are two sets of stairs, remember? In case if something like this happens and one of them collapses."

"No, they're just... gone..." She whispered, completely at a loss for words, and Drone could feel a deep, stinking fear start to seep from her, the smell of it sliding low across the room like a vile fog. She stood at the entrance to the right 'staircase'. The door was swinging loosely on it's hinges, at an awkward and broken angle, drooping down into a black lightless abyss opened as if by some huge, titanic explosion. A single light flickered on and off in the chasm, briefly illuminating the stark grey rock, and the rift driven into the ground, running deeper, deeper, where they had once hoped their salvation might lay.

A distant scream, it could've been a simple metal beam across rock, but they all knew it was more than that. The ripped and torn carcass of what might have once been a man, strung up across the ceiling; told them that. Natasha's shoulders were slumped, and defeated, her one hoped yanked out of reach, just above her head.

Nathaniel's was solid, back straight as he softly stepped past her, eyes downward and forward into the black. No fear came from him, the only smell was a whiff of a determination harder than any chitinous armor Drone possessed. His Queen stood and moved to the door as well hesitant, but ready, and her large body guard Drone moved as if her shadow, willing to follow her into the abyss, read to die for her. Natasha looked up at Nathaniel, and nodded softly, her fear fading slowly as she nodded.

"There's nothing there now," She murmured softly, almost to herself.

"Nothing but down, and onwards," Nathaniel said from in front of her, not looking over his shoulder.

"We have to, now."

"It's the only thing left to us. We're the only thing left."

Down we go... was the last sound Drone heard, from his Queen, before resolutely, the four made their way deep into the bowels of the earth, none of them ever knowing if they would come out again.

END OF:

Problems of a Dual Nature: Part One

Author's note: How fast the time flies, how quickly if flees from our hands; the tighter we squeeze, the more it slips through our fingers. I wish you all who read, a good holiday season, and I hope you've enjoyed my little story, for it is for you that I write. Tell me what you think, the more who say so, the more this story can get better. Flames shall be used to brighten the dark, warm the heart, and light the spark.

Epilogue:

She still wore her heavy backpack, and it cushioned her as she lay against it, propped against a wall as she was. She tried to still her harsh, clipped breathing but her body refused to obey, stark terror pumping adrenaline through her bloodstream. A sharp, guttural his sounded from directly in front of her, and she jumped, trying not to cry. She cracked her eyes open, and she wished she could of closed them. She was transfixed by the sight of the black, ebony skinned demon, with it's warped elongated head, boring holes through her with it's eyeless gaze. She couldn't look away, though tears streamed from around her eyes as she looked, sobbing quietly.

It leaned it's head closer, parallel to hers, and let a long, sibilant hiss out into her ear, moist breath spraying along her neck. She closed her eyes.