"I'm confused." A mushy voice echoed in the distance. "She isn't one of them."

"I know," a tired voice sighed. "I am just as confused as you are, Marty. None of this makes sense."

A pause followed the awkward silence.

"How is she?" The mushy voice asked.

Cold satin lightly brushed against the inside of my elbow in a smooth motion. My body involuntarily shivered at the contact.

"Breathing, but still out cold," the second voice said with puzzlement.

"And the sister?"

"I sedated her with a small dose of morphine, before bringing her to the cells with her boyfriend. The zealous fool wouldn't shut up. He must really love her," he said with unexpected fondness.

"Why did you sedate her? I thought she was stable?" the voice said in obvious confusion.

"It will help her with the pain. That device really did a number on her nerves; it was the least I could do," he said with  a tinge of guilt.

"It was designed to create unbearable pain," the murky voice sighed.

"For aliens," he said firmly with an edge of harshness. "Not humans."

"Maybe they are-"

"Stop, Marty. I have known these girls their entire lives. They are good kids, not aliens." The voice floating off into the distance was becoming clearer. I could hear its words echoing off of my brain and through my thoughts. "I never should have listened to President Watson," the increasingly familiar voice said in frustration.

"I know, Reynold. We were just doing our job. Her life hangs in the balance of science now. There is nothing else we can do."

Reynold?

"Don't say that!" he shouted in anger. "She is going to be fine! Elena Elizabeth James is going to be fine!"

Reynold. Mr. Singer. Lily's father.

A long moment of silence followed the unnerving sound of their rapid heartbeats. Each beat unevenly clunked in my ear drums like rain pattering against the window sill. It was annoyingly improper.

The sound of their voices faded in and out as a red light pierced through the thin membrane of my eyelids. I recognized that I was becoming increasingly aware of my surroundings, but a deep rooted exhaustion in the center of my body weighed me down and made the task of opening my eyelids daunting. I'm so tired, I weakly whimpered as I felt my body melt into a cool metal surface. I just want to go to sleep, I tiredly thought as I felt the remains of my consciousness begin to slip away.

    That was when I felt the jolt.

    It was like my heart was trying to rip its way out of my chest. My body arched away from the table in one, excruciating painful motion, and my body collapsed back to the hard, metal table with my eyes wide-open.

I slowly moved my eyes across the room, restricted by my stiff and unmoving position. Shapes were blurry and white, and my brain was far too incapacitated and fuzzy to properly interpret them. I lazily moved my eyes to the left and was met with a pair of familiar wide-brown eyes that were filled with both concern and relief.

"Elena," Mr. Singer sighed in relief.

I immediately moved to sit myself up, but I was quickly denied when a callused hand pressed my chest back to the table.

"Careful. You need to rest," the other man said.

I moved my bewildered eyes across the unfamiliar man's face.

"What happened?" I whispered weakly. I could feel my strength bleeding into the metal table.

"You were incapacitated by sound waves in your sister's apartment. Do you remember?" Mr. Singer asked me as he shined a bright light into my eyes.

"Yes," I dreamily answered. It was difficult to think over the fog. "Wait- No?" I slurred as I stared at the funny shapes that were dancing across my vision.

"Let's see: her vitals are almost normal, her body is weak from exhaustion and dehydration, the condition of her nerves is questionable, and she is possibly incoherent. Does that cover everything for her report, Singer?"

Lily's father turned to glare at the man beside him.

"There will be no reports today, Marty," he said with certain authority.

"But-"

"I said none. I don't care if you have to make them up. The least we can do is give these girls twenty-four hours to recuperate. No reports, Marty. None," Mr. Singer commanded in a final tone.

"Yes, sir," Marty hesitantly nodded in compliance before turning away from us to tend to some test tubes off in the distance.

"How are you, Elena?" Mr. Singer asked in the doctorly voice he used when Lily and I were children.

"I-I don't know," I choked out in a tired voice that was scratchy from screaming and lack of use. "I'm tired? Does that count?" I coughed at the scratchiness in my throat. It was a hard, rough sound that caused a deep ache in my chest.

He peered down at my motionless form and frowned. "Not really. But, considering how bad you looked a couple of hours ago, I will take it."

"Bad?" I quietly whispered in a scratchy voice.

"You were unconscious for four days," he sighed with a deep frown. "I didn't know if you were going to wake up," his voice cracked as he became teary-eyed. "I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Not after your parents-" he was cut off by the sound of a loud gasp escaping his lips.

"It's alright," I weakly comforted him. "It isn't your fault."

A guilty look settled into his face.

"Maybe. But there are things I have done that I can never take back or forgive myself for," he said gravely, glancing over his shoulder towards two double doors.

It was only then that I noticed the empty blood bags on the white countertop in the corner of the room, next to the door.

"What-Why are there blood bags?" I loudly wondered as I jolted my body forward. I immediately regretted it when a wave of vertigo overtook me and made my head spin like wheels on a race car. I pressed my hands over my eyes as I cradled myself on the metal table in an attempt to scare away the nausea. It didn't work.

"Lie down," Mr. Singer quietly commanded in a concerned voice. When he saw the reluctance in my eyes after I cracked away part of my hand so I could look at him, he added, "Please?"

I begrudgingly obeyed him, lying back on the table with my knees pulled to my chest.

"I feel like crap," I muttered as I stared at the plain, white ceiling. I didn't know exactly what was off about me, but it was still somehow enough to make me feel like absolute garbage, like I was thrown into a dumpster and too physically weak to pull myself out.

"You look like it," Mr. Singer said seriously, though he showed signs of cracking a thin smile in amusement. It was almost comforting.

I briefly looked up at his bright eyes with dim interest, before shifting my head towards the blue-tiled floor. The pressing drowsiness made it hard for me to focus.

"You can't stay here," Mr. Singer eventually said, slowly in a voice that he indicated he wished otherwise. "The generals won't allow it. You must be taken to the cells with the others," he bit his lip.

I leaned my head forward in his direction.

"Generals?" I said out-loud in a voice of disbelievement. "My father was a high-ranking officer in the Airforce. Do they not know that?"

"They know it, Elena. They do," he explained in discontentment. "But they don't care. Not anymore." He quickly motioned Marty out of the room and walked to the other side of the table so he was no longer facing me. "That machine that knocked you are your sister out wasn't meant for humans, Elena. It was specifically designed to incapacitate aliens like your boyfriend. Originally, you, your sister, and her boyfriend were supposed to walk away scot free, but that went away the moment the machine incapacitated you and your sister instead of your boyfriend."

I stared at him wide-eyed.

"You-You think my sister and I are aliens? That we aren't humans?" I asked him incredulously, staring at the aged man in front of me.

"I-I don't, Elena. But you must believe me when I tell you that other, very important, people do, or at the very least they strongly suspect it. You and your sister aren't safe here anymore, and there is little I can do to protect you. I am powerless here outside of medicine and my daughter."

I took a deep breath and sighed into the defeated man's eyes.

"Then what do I do, Mr. Singer?" I asked quietly in the softest voice I could muster.

"You give them exactly what they want from you," he said with newfound insistence and meaning behind his gaze.

"And what is it that they want?" I wondered out loud, staring at the man to my right.

Mr. Singer opened his mouth to answer my question, but just as his lips began forming the words, the double doors burst open in the presence of four guards in black and Marty.

I stared up at Mr. Singer with a newfound, unfamiliar feeling that made my heart swell in both hurt and anger. "You called them here?"

"I was ordered to inform the guard once you were stable and awake. I am bound."

The guards marched in sync towards the center of the room, towards me as I laid helpless on the icy, cold table. They were wearing helmets with shields over their heads, which made it exceedingly difficult to distinguish their faces and see them as humans instead of soldiers. The guard that reached me first pulled out a set of handcuffs from his back pocket, and my exhausted body immediately went tense in fear.

"What do you want?" I commanded, sitting up and pulling myself away from the soldier.

He blissfully ignored me, reaching for my newly gaunt hands.

"That isn't necessary, Bryan," Mr. Singer calmly interrupted. "She is too weak to refuse containment." He paused, thinking before saying, "And I would much prefer it you could treat her with the slightest bit of care so she doesn't show up in my office tomorrow. I do have other priorities than serving your bosses' side projects," he added with slight annoyance and controlled bitterness.

"Whatever," the soldier said in a careless tone. He tucked away the handcuffs back into their safe place inside his pant back-pocket and leaned over me with a newfound curiosity.

His interest  ticked me off just merely in the sense that I was tired, I wanted to sleep, and he was disturbing me. In a normal scenario where I wasn't so drained that I couldn't stand up, I would have considered snapping at him to remind him that I'm an actual person, but the weight of the fog on my brain prevented me from doing so.

"What are we going to do with her?" a soldier in the back asked. "She looks like if she stood up, she would fall back down."

"We could roll her in on a gurney...though we don't have any of those," another soldier said. He didn't sound like the sharpest pencil, I mindlessly thought.

"Enough!" the soldier named Bryan shouted. "I will carry her," he stated firmly, intimidating the other soldiers enough to make them stare emotionless at the ground.

"Actually, I will," an arrogant voice blatantly stated as it strode through the door.

Carter, I hissed under my breath in resentment when I saw I saw the familiar hint of golden hair.

"Yeah right!" I bitterly laughed. "Over my dead body, Watson," I deadpanned.

He looked over my frail form and frowned in concern. "You certainly look dead. Have they not been treating you well?" he asked, eyeing Marty and Mr. Singer dangerously.

"Don't pretend like you care, Carter. You haven't looked my way in years. You don't get to just stride in now and act like the concerned boyfriend. We haven't been friends for years."

"What are you talking about, Elena? I have always-"

Carter was suddenly interrupted by my new favorite guard, Bryan.

"Look kid, I get your dad funds our program, but I have a job to do, and some lovesick teenager isn't going to stop me from completing it to my full ability. Now, step aside, and allow me to do my job," he stated in cold annoyance.

"My father-" Carter spat in anger.

"Your father isn't here kid, and we both know whose side he would take if he was. Step aside, Carter," Bryan coldly commanded.

Carter bitterly glared at Bryan with the coldest gaze I have ever seen him carry. It was scary coming from the perspective of the little girl who used to think she could love him. Boy was she wrong.

"Fine," he growled, flaunting his back and quickly striding out of the door so fast, it was almost like he was running out of the room.

I visibly sighed in relief, closing my eyes, once I no longer felt his presence. It was a nice feeling.

"Are you ready?" A softer, more human-like voice asked from the side.

I looked up and found a barely aged soldier with light blue irises and golden brown hair that was slicked back in a crisp and professional haircut. It was only now that I noticed that he disregarded his helmet to the nearest guard on his right, so I could see his face. My lips curled up just the slightest amount, upon seeing his face, because one of the cold and calculating guards actually looked relatively human and I found it rather amusing in my tired state.

"Yes," I weakly and then gratefully sighed once I realized that the blue-eyed guard was no other than the man who saved me from Carter

With the greatest amount of care a bulky and strong trained-soldier can manage, Bryan, to his best ability, scooped me up into his arms and carried me out of the infirmary. He must have dismissed the other guards because once we left the infirmary, we were alone traveling down the dark hallways and dim corridors.

I was tired and weak, but grateful nonetheless. So when the urge to thank Bryan crossed, I didn't hesitate to act on it.

"Thank you," I weakly whispered, as my body sagged into Bryan's hard arms.

"Your welcome," he shortly said as he turned down a longer hallway that was darker than the others we had passed. "Everyone needs a break from that brat at some point," he said in obvious distaste of Carter.

"Agreed," I stiffly smiled as I remembered the hateful look in Carter's eyes. It still made my bones quiver.

I lost track of how much time passed between the point when Bryan's feet started moving and when they stopped moving. It was still too foggy for my brain to focus or fully process my environment. In fact, I only realized that Bryan and I had arrived at the cells when I heard a very loud and familiar voice yell a list of...unpleasant things at Bryan.

I marginally recognized the voice as James', but I was too drowsy to truly comprehend that it was him and care.

"Hey!" Bryan yelled over James' loud and assertive commands. "I understand you are upset, and I understand you have been worried about her, but she is fine. See? I brought her back to you, good as new. You can see for yourself."

He slowly walked in front of James' cell so I was within eyesight. I passingly noticed the dark circles under James' eyes and his once-pristine, but now dirtied dress clothes. Saying he looked rough and exhausted was a compliment.

"Good as new?" James raised his voice in anger. "Are you blind? Or do you honestly expect me to believe-"

"Do you want your girlfriend back or not?" Bryan asked coldly. "Because if not, I can lock her up in another empty cell far away from yours, Prince."

James glared at Bryan, but nonetheless, he backed away from the cell door, raising his hands above his head, and kneeling to the dark stone floor.

Bryan carefully readjusted my body, so I was being supported by one of his arms instead of two, and pulled a silver card from his back pocket with his free hand. He briefly swiped the card into a reader beside the cell, and the glass door slipped open with an audible click. While James remained motionless, kneeling on the cell floor, Bryan carefully tucked the card back into his coat pocket and using both of his arms, he carried me into the cell and placed me gently on the floor in front of James' still form. Backing away with the slightest hints of concern in his eyes, Bryan walked out of the cell and locked the door behind him. He stared at me for a long moment, wordless, as if he wanted to say something comforting but he couldn't find the right words. Something about the scene of it unsettled me deep inside my core.

Upon a closer look at James's intimidating and threatening gaze, Bryan strode out of the room without a second thought, and James and I were left alone on the cold, stone ground.

I found the coolness of the stone comforting, so I didn't hesitate to curl up against it on my side when the strong urge to sleep struck me.

"Elena?" James called in an almost high-pitched, worried voice.

"Yes," I answered tiredly as I closed my eyes.

"Don't fall asleep," he didn't quite command, but almost pleaded in his soft, yet elegant voice, as he moved to kneel beside me.

"I'm tired," I sighed as my eyes remained shut. I could feel the weight of stones pressing down on my chest, begging me to sleep.

"I know," he said urgently. "I know, but you need to stay away for a little longer, okay? Then you can get as much rest as you need."

"Why?" I quietly whined as I felt myself being pulled under a comforting blanket of darkness.

"I need to make sure you have no physical injuries or residual damage that could put you at risk. Dylan had to do the same for Meila."

"That doesn't seem...necessary," I slurred incoherently as my body sunk comfortably into the stone. I could feel my mind and body rapidly slipping under.

"Elena?" A far away voice called out.

"Elena!" A voice yelled as the last bit of my consciousness slipped away into the world of sleep, and my mind was lit with the light of one-thousand stars.

AN: Another chapter for you guys! Hopefully you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I would say more but I am very tired, and about to go to bed, so I will keep this short and sweet.

This chapter isn't the most exciting thing in the world (It's nothing compared to the last one) but it gives you a bit of background leading into the next chapter which is important. I hope you guys found this chapter marginally interesting? Feel free to let me know in the comments :)

There will be more updates. I will try to post again soon so stay tuned :)

Have a good night guys! (or day!)

-Elly6431