Falling Skies 1. Chapter 1:The Bike Shop

He hit the ground, hard. Feet stinging, he charged on, full steam ahead. He chanced a look over his shoulder, and saw what he wanted. Kait and Kat were hot on his heels. They both had rucks as big as his, so he was surprised they were keeping up so well.

**Two blocks away** -

They rounded a corner and stopped to regroup.

"You both good?" He asked, panting.

"Would we both be running like Olympic athletes if either of us were?" Came Kat's sarcastic answer.

"Just making sure, I am responsible for you two."

"Oh really?" she asked, annoyed.

"Yes." He replied firmly. He didn't want to start anything, not now, so deep in the Red Zone.

"Kat, he was just trying to take care of us." Kait said, defending him.

"Whatever," was the reply.

"Both of you calm, now. We need ideas. We're stuck in the heart of the Red Zone, and fighting out on foot isn't an option." He searched their faces for any trace of compliance with his command. Both of their faces were blank, staring at him like he was stark raving mad. Clearly fame isn't everything…

"Alright," He said pulling out a map. "Lets see… we're here." He pointed to a building. " And there's a bike shop three blocks down. We'll need a few more after that Mech blew our last ones to pieces."

"Sounds like a plan to me…" Kat said. Kait concurred with her.

"No, it isn't, not yet. What do we do when we get the bikes?" He asked, inviting input from both the girls.

"What if we head down 5th, and cut across this neighborhood to Dunham Road?" Kait asked, tracing her slender finger down the route she suggested.

"You're catching on fast, Kait. Only one flaw, Dunham was littered with scrap the last time we went down there. What's the one thing we've seen these guys do? Collect scrap. Dunham could be _crawling_ with Skitters and Mechs. I don't want in on that kinda party… Let's keep on 5th until we hit 2nd. Then use that to cut across the clearer part of Dunham, and ride west all the way to the Evac."

Again, both of their faces were blank. "Just do what I say and we should be fine." he said, trying not to sound exasperated. Both of the girls agreed and they took off down the street. He was point, clearing the way; Kat was center, scanning both sides for the dreaded enemy. Kait brought up the rear, covering the way they had come. Skirmish after skirmish, the way to the bike shop felt like Iwo Jima to the trio. As the body count rose, they found themselves literally stepping through small currents of purple blood washing over the asphalt, and hacking their way through pile of corpses after pile of corpses. It was a gruesome sight; then again, it was a gruesome world. Katherine and Kaitlyn had been sheltered little pop stars before all this. Now, to see them was like looking into the maw of irony itself.

Kat wore a classic tiger stripe jungle camo jacket, which was slightly too big for her, a pair of frayed, worn jeans, and to top it all off, a pair of old Ray-Bans, like the ones fighter pilots used to wear. She wore a torso rig full of extra mags, a bayonet, tomahawk, and just basic combat gear. Kait was rockin' the classic civilian militia look. A beaten, and frayed denim jacket with the arms cut off above the elbow, olive drab parachute pants, leather hobo gloves, her shiny, black hair in a ponytail, and a bandana tied around her forehead. Her rig was two shoulder straps holding a couple mismatched types of frags, connected to a belt holding her canteen, bayonet, and an ammo pouch that jingled when she ran. He had a military, civilian hybrid style. He wore an old grey t-shirt that read, "I am the Infidel the Imam warned you about, I do not bring peace, but the sword." Over this he wore an unzipped ACU jacket, and a chest rig that only held important tools. He had no need for a bayonet; his weapon didn't use them. He had an old two-handed Scottish Claymore, as well as two bandoliers of 7.62 mm ammo. His hands were covered with hobo gloves as well, and he wore dark blue painter's jeans, with military kneepads, and desert combat boots he wore soldier-style. All three held assault weapons gained from months of hard combat to retake an over-run military post at the edge of the city.

Kat held the ever-revered AK-47, a large caliber for such a little princess like she used to be. She had a little trouble getting used to the idea of carrying it _everywhere_. Kait had a little more of a taste for American weapons, an old M14 sniper rifle rested in her hands. She had somewhere found an actual ACOG for the thing, and it made her a formidable sniper. He had followed in Kait's footsteps and scored an American weapon, an old M60, complete with box. It was definitely the largest of the three weapons, although the same caliber as Kat's AK, and the three of them all had .45s strapped to their legs.

Two hours later

The trio made their way to the bike shop; finally they breached the door and scrambled inside. They were safe… for now. There was a mess of bikes just littering the shop floor. Kat walked over to the bike of her choice, a banged up old Harley. Kait picked the most practical bike she could, an almost new looking Supercross bike. The two gassed up and straddled their new bikes, waiting for him. He took his time looking at all the bikes, until finally he saw one he liked. It lay underneath two other Harleys; he was surprised to fid it all gassed up and ready to go. He picked it up and straddled it, a smooth, black, Sports bike. The Trio was enjoying the look and feel, and just imagining the capabilities of their new bikes. The enjoyment halted abruptly though, because the worst wet blanket ever came down on them, reality.

They remembered they were still in a bike shop in the Red Zone, probably surrounded by Skitters and, of course Mechs, because where there's a Skitter, there's a Mech. Their stomachs dropped into their feet as they watched the loading door at the back of the shop get thrown open, revealing the last thing any of them wanted to see, two Skitters. They stood seven feet tall, on six legs. As they moved, the sound of the plates in their olive drab exoskeletons clinking together could be heard. One clicked its mandibles, while the other let out a small, guttural growl. They stared for a moment, with their cold black eyes… Quicker than a flash, both lunged at the trio. Equally fast, he drew his .45, and gunned the leading one down, while Kait stabbed the other with her bayonet, through the mouth, like he had taught her.

Kat stood, frozen in place. Her heart was racing, and her mind whirled with thoughts. He noticed, knowing what it was like to be in her position. It was the first time she'd seen one up close, and she was scared senseless. Her eyes traveled up and down the gory mess in front of her as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

"Hey." He said. "Don't look, it only makes it worse…" Nodding slowly, she only kept staring. It took Kait full up grabbing and shaking her to get her to stop. "Let's go." He commanded. Kat and Kait obeyed, mounting their bikes. The trio started up their rides. Revving the engine, he said, "Hang on ladies, this is were it gets fun…"


	2. Chapter 2:Outpost Yankee

Outpost Yankee, Boston MA-

He trudged into the room, weary and ready for a good nights sleep, even though it was the middle of the day, followed by his two, equally tired comrades. Kait hit the quick release on her rig. As she slid it off and tossed it to the ground beside her cot, He couldn't help but pause for a split second to take in her slim figure, slender yet strong arms and legs, and the cascade of glossy black hair that fell around her shoulders as she released her hair from the ponytail. She plopped down on her cot; lay back, and silently went to sleep. Her sister, Kat took almost less time taking off her gear, but sat, examining a bullet. He instinctively identified it, 5.56 mm NATO; it was military grade ammo. She noticed him looking, and said aloud,

"It was our manager's, the round in the chamber of his gun when they killed him… He was like our dad…" Despite her best efforts, a few glimpses emotion broke through the rock hard expression on her face.

Before he could respond, the door swung open. In walked an essence of war itself, another man, Bryan. Dressed head to toe in gunmetal black clothing, jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt, he imposed a deathly quiet anytime he walked into a room. He had a bandolier of 12 gauge shells across his chest, and a combat machete across his back. His skin was crusted with the dried, purple blood of countless Skitters, he was built like an MMA fighter, and his face, no one knew, for he always, _always_, wore a welding mask.

By the time he remembered he was talking to Kat, she was lying down, facing towards the wall. He decided not to bother her.

"Nathan, did you score any supplies on that run?" Bryan asked.

"Yeah," He replied, yawning. "Three rucks. We left 'em by the storage closet."

"Good." Bryan said. Nathan leaned back on his cot, thinking quietly to himself about how much he missed the Blue Ridge Mountains back in South Carolina. He didn't think long before he finally slipped away…

Outpost Yankee: Next Day…

Nathan breathed deeply as the cool wind whistled through the small room atop the watchtower. For the first time in days, he was calm. The stench the wind brought was terrible, but he was used to it. It had been quiet all morning. He wanted to stop and ponder the possibility that the aliens had packed up and left in the night, but he knew better. His suspicions were confirmed as an enemy aircraft rocketed overhead and flew off over the city. He watched it, like a cat studying a dog, trying to find a way to either escape or win the fight. As it dipped closer to the west side of the city, a small light emerged from the cityscape, and soared toward the craft. The ship rolled out of the way lazily. He sighed, and whispered to himself,

"Frik… waste of a good shell." He was used to these sights now, desperate weekend warriors, who got their greedy little hands on real, Mil-Spec weapons, and wasted them, instead of stock piling for a resistance. He listened for the craft to return fire, but there was silence. "Must'a hightailed it…" He thought.

The trapdoor swung open, and Kait crawled through. "You missed it!" He exclaimed. "Another daddy-son warrior wannabe show! The most spectacular one yet!"

"What happened?" Kait asked, uninterested.

"Fools took a rocket, must'a been an AT4, or something, and shot it off at a Bird! Missed… but it was a beautiful miss… perfect arc…"

"I worry about you sometimes, Nate." Kait joked.

"To be quite honest, I worry myself too…" He said, completely serious. She laughed. It was a kind of dolphin–like laugh. She always thought it was dorky, but he thought it was kinda cute.

He smiled and gazed away, scanning for threats. A thick silence descended on them like a fog. Both busied themselves doing tasks that involved no talking, all the while peeking out of the corner of their eyes to try to catch the other looking. That plan didn't work as well as Kait hoped it would. After two hours, Kait grew so frustrated with Nathan's lack of flirting. She started wondering, if all the times she thought she saw him looking at her were just imagined, or not. The evidence of the past two hours supported the former theory.

She gazed out over the city once more, feeling the hurt brought by the fact everything in the world she ever loved was gone. Her family gone, presumably dead, and her manager dead, killed right in front of her… Her manager… The memory cut like ice cold steel through her. She had watched him die, saw the life leave his eyes as he collapsed less than a yard from her. With him died her hope of a normal life after leaving the city.

Less than an hour after his death, she had collapsed in the middle of the street for exhaustion. Her sister had begged and pleaded, cried like she was being tortured, for her to keep going, but Kait couldn't get up. She didn't _want _to get up. Her sister fought for what must have been hours, holding back the tide of Skitters that was washing over her and her sister. Kait watched her sister get struck to the ground by a Skitter, which leaned in for the kill. Dark descended over Kait's vision as the Skitter raised its hand for the final blow. She remembered the feelings she had, complete apathy… She had already accepted the fact they were going to die… Without her manager they had no hope… Right as she thought that, something happened that solidified her belief in miracles. The Skitter's head exploded.

The shower of purple blood fell as a dark figure leaped over her. A large man wielding a shotgun, stopped to spray fire into the horde before lifting Kat over his shoulder. Before she realized it, another, man, lifted Kait up. She didn't even wonder who, she just wrapped her arms around him, and held him tight as he ran from the hopeless battle… It had been Nathan and Bryan who saved them, taken them in and sheltered them, protected them. That was the exact reason why Kait wanted to believe Nathan liked her, he saved her. Her hopes now were dashed. He clearly only wanted her as a friend. The thought tore her apart. She couldn't help it; she slumped to the floor of the crow's nest, tears leaking slowly, but surely from her eyes. This startled Nathan. His mind immediately assumed the worst. He rushed to her side and started checking her for wounds. While he saw no wounds, which eased his mind, the tears disturbed him just as much.

"What's wrong Kait?" He asked, sincerely worried.

"Nothing…" She replied.

"Right, nothing…" He said sarcastically.

"I can't tell you."

"Well, why the frik not?" He asked.

"Its personal…"

"We're best friends Kait, you can tell me anything." Best friends… the words struck like arrows in Kait's already mutilated heart.

After a while, Nathan, sensing her case of lockjaw, got up to return to his seat. As he stood, she caught his arm. He returned to her side, and as he did, Kait found the words to say. He stopped to take in her appearance.

The last rays of day were hanging in the air, penetrating the window of the crow's nest. It danced across her onyx-colored hair, setting it ablaze with a brilliant, golden, fire. Her sky-blue eyes showed evidence of a deep-rooted, and devastating emotional pain. He wished so hard, with all of his being that he could take it away. As the last tear clinging to her soft cheek glinted with the last light of sunset, he found himself wanting to embrace her, and protect her with all his might. These were not new feelings, but only now did he truly acknowledge and understand them.

"If I can't tell you, I'll have to show you…" Her voice trailed off as she looked up into his eyes, searching hard for any trace of a common understanding. She saw his feelings show through his hard, iron color eyes, which were perfectly complimented by his sandy blonde hair, as well as the shadow of stubble that enveloped his jaw. She leaned in closer, and they both closed their eyes. The world around them went into complete silence, worry and fear melted away as they leaned to kiss each other.

_**BANG…BANG…BANG… **_

The noise echoed through the once over-run, now scarcely inhabited outpost… "Honey…" He said… "Someone's at the door…"


	3. Chapter 3:Friendlies

Outpost Yankee, Boston MA

The night erupted in sound, as the ethereal blue light that lit up the scene below erupted into orange. Screams and gunfire rent the night, as growls and whirs played as a subtle undertone. His mind wasn't paralyzed, blazing fast, or even empty. It was level, focused, and determined not to lose her, or anyone else, for that matter.

His M60 pounded a rhythm out in the chilled Boston air. The harbor was in sight, and the last bit of orange that hung in the sky was fading. It would have been a peaceful view, if not for the war being waged below him. He poured fire into the cityscape, from which issued his enemy. Six-legged green _things_ poured from the shadows, illuminated only by the flashes of blue light, which flew from some unseen part of the city. His position on the east wall was fortified, but not well enough. Rounds still tore through the brick barricade like it was Jell-O, and men all around him still fell, never to see daylight again.

He more reacted to the cry than heard it. It took only a flash for him to act after the last scream of a dying man crossed his ears.

"_They're in the courtya—" _

He habitually slung his M60 across his back and soared down from the top of the eight-foot wall. His left ankle stung as he hit the ground. He paid it no mind. He slung his Claymore from its scabbard, cleaving two Skitter skulls as he did. He swung with abandon, knowing he was the only one brave enough, or _stupid _enough, to run headlong into a gang of Skitters. He fought for seeming hours, while really only minutes passed. He fought to reach the door control. If he could just trigger lockdown, he could retake the courtyard.

His blade tasted the brains of four more Skitters before he hit the override beside the gate. The steel door hit the ground with a frightening smash, and he realized, he had just locked himself in the courtyard with six Skitters.

"Eh," he said to himself.

He dealt swiftly with the first four, but as he raised his hand against the fifth, the distant report of a rifle sounded, and the Skitter's jaw exploded, spraying his face with purple blood. The next Bug was dispatched similarly. He raised his head to call a thanks to his helper, but stood half stunned to see Kait, standing at the doorway, rifle held upwards smiling flirtatiously at him. He held aloft a thumbs-up, and loosed a terrifyingly enthusiastic

"_OORAH!"_ And stamped a cleaved Skitter skull to mush with one move. Kait was taken aback by the blood thirst of her usually levelheaded companion. He was not this kind of person. This was not the Nathan Tucker who had picked her up from the middle of a street, held her in his arms and defended her from the evil that had robbed them of their normal lives.

This was not Nathan the soldier, which she had fallen in love with. This was Nathan the warrior, the Nathan that knew only war, and killing, and almost seemed to enjoy it. She shuddered at the thought.

3 Hours Later-

He kicked his way through the stinking, darkened mounds that littered the perimeter. He gazed at the harbor, distraught over the fear that had defined his hug with Kait after the last of the attacking force had been dispatched. Why was she afraid? Skitters are scary, yeah, but she had got over it when she killed her first, or so he thought. He honestly didn't know.

He finally, after thee hours, came to the conclusion that she just couldn't handle war like he could. Not one man or woman here could.

"I'm alone…" He concluded. But why was he? Why was no one else gifted with the ability to see war, death, and destruction… and forget? He searched his regretfully limited life experience, racked his brains for an answer. Was society right? Was he, at fifteen, still an ignorant stinking child? Or was he crazy? A sociopath? He haltingly, like a schoolboy, realized… Bryan isn't the embodiment of war. He's a soldier… One who fights because he has to… to … protect, to keep war out of his home. "I'm a warrior… I take the fight to another's home, to keep them out of mine." He saw how a warrior and a soldier were alike… and yet, more different than white and black.

"I'm not meant for the things a soldier is. I'm on the frontlines 24/7."… He pondered the consequences of his decision… "What am I giving up?" Slowly, and sometimes not surely, he listed out the things he assumed he couldn't have… comfort, a stable life, (although no one has that now…) … love… That last realization stung him. He hated the fact that it was so true. On the line 24/7… what happens when my duty is done? When the enemy gets too strong for me to protect Kat, and Kait? If I'm in love with Kait, and she loves me… and we're together… What happens to her if I join the rest of the human race? When I die, she could lose it like she did when she lost her manager…

He realized his narrow miss with her in the tower, almost a kiss, almost a seal between him and her. Now he appreciated the interruption of the new arrivals. They had kept him from making a promise he couldn't keep, a promise always being there for her. If he died he would leave her here, and it would tear her to pieces.

He brushed off the sinking feelings gathering like storm clouds at the back of his mind. He had absent mindedly climbed back up the watchtower. He could see in all directions, far off to the harbor, where the black, mangled wrecks of freighters sat, the smoke and fire from their violent deaths long gone. He could also see close up, to the scene wrapping up below. Kids playing Yu-Gi-Oh, right in the same place that, four hours ago, was a war-zone. Blood still stained the cement… He saw adults, some soldiers, and most civilians. One was crying over in a corner, three more stood in a huddle, shooting dirty looks at two teenagers. Couldn't see why… Then he saw elderly, three, four, basket cases, most were just there to help with the kids… He saw a few older folks carrying guns, as well as a few kids…

He saw one kid, must've been 12, patrolling the wall near his fighting position. There was someone with him, a woman. All Nathan could tell about her was that she was blonde, and knew her way around her UMP. He surveyed the courtyard again. This time he saw Kait and Kat and Bryan, standing around shootin' the breeze from what he could tell. He gazed over the city, in the opposite direction from the harbor…

Outpost Yankee, Boston MA

He jolted forward, out of darkness, knife in hand. The image of the watchtower, and Kat appeared as the dark dissolved.

"Hey…" She said. "That new guy wants to see you. He said his name was Weaver."

"Can't Bryan do it?" He groaned sluggishly…

"Weaver asked for the our leader… even Bryan agreed you make most of the decisions…" She said.

"What?!" He asked, confused, and still a little groggy. "Bryan's seven years older than me! How is he _not_ the leader?"

"I don't know… But I guess its official now…" She put on a mock sheepish grin, and tilted her head jokingly. Her hair slinked over her shoulders to follow her head. It was black…and shiny, just like her sisters.

His boots clomped as he sauntered sleepily through the hallway to the office room where the four slept. This base had once been a warehouse, simply used for a small outpost at the start of the siege. The hastily constructed courtyard wall, and watchtower gave credit to this theory. He opened the door and stepped in to see five men huddled around the table. They had spread maps and figurines over the surface of it. They were obviously under equipped, he thought as he recognized the maps to be tourist maps, and a few of the figurines as action figures of Clones and Jedi from that TV show _The Clone Wars_.

His entrance garnered the attention of the men. All but two were military. He reached his hand forward to shake the hand of the man he recognized to be the highest ranked. He stopped suddenly though, when all of the military men snapped to a salute.

He wondered for a split second, and then saluted back. The men lowered their hands and began to shake his. He greeted each one congenially and then introduced himself.

"It's nice to finally meet you Lieutenant." The Colonel said. His name was Porter. He was tall, but aging, and his hair was white. Introductions went around, Reed, Weaver, Jameson, and finally, Mason.

The last one was different. He wasn't military, he wasn't brazen like Reed and Weaver, and he wasn't loud, and strong willed like Jameson. He stood back from the group, obviously studying me. He was tall, like Porter, but younger by far. His hair and eyes were deep brown, and obviously, the only thing he knew how to do with his AK… was point and shoot. He looked physically capable enough, but he didn't seem to belong in a Militia. When all the introductions were finished, Nathan turned to Porter and said,

"Well, Colonel…The reputation of the Massachusetts Militia precedes it…"


	4. Chapter 4: The Nightmare World

Location: Unknown, MA

_He ran along the road. His heart was bursting with joy and he hadn't the slightest clue why. He hoped, just… hoped, that there was something wonderful in the house at the end of the road._

He drew nearer to the house, he was almost crying with joy now. He went into a full sprint, jumping the fence and bursting through the front door. He ran through the house, not even tired, searching for it, that… that wonderful thing!

_ The bedrooms were all empty, without even a piece of furniture. This was odd, but he didn't care, he simply had to find it. His boots clomped on the hardwood floor as he sprinted into the kitchen, and finally stopped running. Breathing normally, he ransacked the cupboards, threw open the empty fridge…nothing. It wasn't here! _

_ He collapsed in grief as his tears of joy turned to tears of desperation. What if it wasn't here? What if it never existed at all? The fear and anxiety bubbled up in his gut, pressing on his lungs, suffocating him. He was drowning in a sea of blasted hopes and dreams. The waves of depression shook him as he sobbed and longed for whatever it was he had hoped to find in this bare… empty house. Nothing. There was nothing here for him. To another, this house held the things they only dreamed of, popularity, or intelligence, or fortune…yet to him it yielded nothing…He, still sobbing, pushed himself off the ground. He stood and pushed his way through the house, back to the front door. He didn't need it… what ever he had come for._

_ "I don't need it!" He screamed, kicking at the door._

_ The door burst off its hinges, and fell into the pitch-black chasm below. He now knew his only other option was to jump, either that, or go back into this wretched house. He closed his eyes, and stepped to the edge. He was going to do it…kill himself. He couldn't go back to the house; all it did was remind him of how nothing in it meant anything to him like it did others._

_ His eyes split wide open. His tears of joy flowed again. Had his ears deceived him? He had heard a laugh, a giggle really. It was a woman… not a thing… a woman! That was what he had been searching for, a friend, or maybe more than a friend. He didn't care; he just had to find her. He tore through the house frantically re-searching for her. He followed the sound of her laugh; her melodious, and beautiful, laugh. It led him to the back yard. It was a wide-open forest, full to bursting with wizened, and old, oak trees. Brilliant red and blue flowers flooded the ground as far as his eyes could see._

_ She ran into view, spinning and laughing. She stopped and smiled her sweet smile at him. She was barefoot, and her tan slender legs gave way to denim shorts from her knees up. She wore a pink plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and sunlight glinted off her necklace chain as she held out her hand for me to take._

_ I suddenly became aware of the state of my clothes… the muck and blood that clung to me, and my eyes, still pink and puffy from my tears. I motioned toward my clothes, and she just shook her head and smiled wider. I marveled at how she, the picture of beauty, could accept me in my battle-worn state. Her soft, baby blue eyes met mine caringly, and her silken gunmetal black ponytail drifted in the breeze._

_ I moved to take her hand. I was so wrapped up in her intoxicating gorgeousness; I failed to hear the whistle. The woods shook with terror as the first shell of the barrage touched down right between this woman and me. We were blown backwards as more artillery fire rained down like hail. She screamed… a piercing scream of terror that cut me deeper than any piece of shrapnel from the rain of shells ever could._

_ I scrambled up to get to her, only to see her being dragged away by some… some beast… with six legs and a green body. It was like giant spider, but with the torso of a human. It was disgusting, abominable. I suddenly became aware of the .45 in my hand. Had I had this the whole time? I didn't know, didn't care… I just had to save her! I pointed, and in desperation, blindly fired at the beast. My gun dropped from my hand as I watched her go down… That… that STINKING BEAST had… had used her as a bullet shield… I…I… had killed her._

_ My brain couldn't handle it. I went into a frenzy of tears, and curses, and bullets. I fired until that gun was empty, then charged down the beast. I was on it in seconds. As I leaped to attack it, it punched out and struck me… hard…_

The world exploded around him as his face slapped the hardwood floor.

"You OK?" Kait called.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" He answered "Just a nightmare!"

He picked himself up off the dusty floor of the high level penthouse they had claimed for the night. He had rolled off the couch were he had been sleeping, rather fitfully, for obvious reasons. His weapons lay beside the couch. His M60 sat silently, for the first time in what seemed like forever. Next to an M40A5 he had been issued for this assignment.

"You sound real fine." Kait said.

"It was just a dream." He replied, telling himself more than telling her. It had been an awfully vivid dream.

He grabbed his rifle, and thumped down beside her at the window. It was actually a huge wall of glass over looking the city. Kait stared down at the landscape as if she were a hawk searching for prey, her keen blue eyes staring through her sniper scope, scanning and hunting for a target.

She still hurt from the coldness of Nathan's presence. It bit, like a feral pitbull. She had thought that he loved her. Especially when they had almost kissed two weeks previously…

"Listen," he said, "I want to tell you something."

"What?" she asked, annoyed.

"I love you…"


	5. Chapter 5: A Whole New War

_ The dark swallowed him whole. No matter how much he fought, it overpowered him, pushing him down. He was powerless to make himself free of it. Everything about him was being compressed, smaller and smaller until one day, he thought, he might just disappear, and all that would be left of Nathan Tucker… would be dark._

_ So he fought tooth and claw to stay conscious, to not be overpowered and consumed by that bitter dark. More than once, he would push back the darkness to only to watch helplessly as his body was controlled by the dark that he fought against. Doing things he didn't want to do._

_ He would see himself standing by, as kids his age were worked to death for the resources that the earth held under its surface. His mouth would speak, ordering the children to work even harder, but they weren't his words. They were the words of the overpowering, dark presence that corrupted his being. He stood by, watching the torture of prisoners that had done no wrong, and he said nothing. He saw himself dutifully present by his master's side. His master was the source of the dark that he fought. This terrible, gangly, blue, beast that controlled his body, and the words he said._

**Location: Charleston, SC**

_He was sitting next to her in the penthouse. The woman he loved, watching her hunt skitters like she had been doing it her whole life. The sun glinted off her glossy black hair and, for a second, he was at peace… Then all hell broke loose…the walls exploded, and the windows shattered, and skitters rushed down on them…_

His eyes clicked open. No spasaming, no loud, overly dramatic gasp… just a click of the eyes. He inhaled deeply, breathing in both the scent of lavender detergent on the pillowcase, and the smell of a sterile room. He wished he could go back to sleep, but he knew he couldn't.

He sat up. He realized he was shirtless, and his jeans felt like he had been wearing them for two years. He was in a clinic of some sort, in a wide room full of other beds, all empty. There was a young woman flipping through a clipboard at the other end of the room, and she had noticed him.

She ran to the door and called through it, "Anne! He's awake!"

A few seconds later, a woman ran through the door, stopping only when she reached his gurney.

"Hello." She smiled at him.

"Hi." He replied. "Where am-"

She cut him off with her answer, "Charleston, South Carolina. You've been here a while actually."

He stared at her in disbelief. "Charleston!" He exclaimed. "What ever happened to Boston?"

"Were you in Boston when it happened?" She asked.

"When what happened?! Look. All I know is that the last thing I remember is sitting in the penthouse with Kait! Porter had sent us to recon a hotel for the Militia to set up in!" He said starting to panic.

She couldn't believe her ears. "Look, you need to calm down. Tell us how it happened."

"How what happened!?" He yelled, really starting to panic.

"How you were harnessed…" She replied meekly.

Her question burned through his mind like a flame following a trail of black powder, going around and around in circles. Memories from the night he was captured flooded back into his mind, swirling, spiraling, and crashing. His mind ached with the overload.

" I- what- I don't – What?" He had had enough of this woman's questions. It was time for some of his own

He went berserk. He kicked off his covers, and jumped to the floor, as Anne stepped back in fear. His legs felt so weak he collapsed to the floor. Anne kept walking backwards away from him as he clawed his way across the floor to her. He screamed,

"WHERE IS KAIT? WHERE IS SHE?"

The flood of memories stopped on one in particular, an image of Kait lying on the ground, her hair messed up, and her empty eyes on him, hand out stretched, as if she was pleading to him for help, blood coating her beautiful face…

"NO! NO, NO, NO!" He sobbed, pounding the floor with his fist.

She was dead. He couldn't save her… He curled up and laid on the floor, as sobs overtook him.

* * *

"Young man." A voice said.

Nathan looked up from the ground. He saw that multiple people had come in since he had collapsed in sobs. There was a man who stood at the center of them all. He was tall, and well built. He had deep brown hair and eyes, and an overall compassionate look to him. Surrounding him were what must have been his security detail, because the all had guns. Whoever he was, he was important.

Anne was sitting on the ground next to Nathan, with a hand on his shoulder, attempting to comfort him. The girl who had called for Anne was sitting opposite of her, doing the same.

"Young man, I'd like to talk to you." The brown haired man said.

"A-about w-w-wh-what?" Nathan choked out, still in tears.

"About you, I would like to know your story. Can you tell me that?"

Nathan slowly nodded.

"Thank you." He smiled. "Now can you start from the time you were captured?"

"Yeah." Nathan swallowed. "M-me and Kait were out on recon, checking out a hotel for the Massachusetts Militia to hole up in. I can't remember how long we were there, but I had just woken up from a nightmare, I remember it was a really weird nightmare… But I went over to relive Kait from watch… we were talking an-and… they attacked. All of a sudden, I'm on the ground, and all I can see I-is-is K-Kait's dead body… Then black till now, except for small pieces of time, put I always thought those were just more nightmares…"

"Well, let me fill you in." He said. "You've been harnessed for the last two years. You were made a slave to the aliens. We believe you were paired with what's called an Overlord."

"What's that?" Nathan asked. "Some huge, king Skitter?"

"No, not exactly. The Overlords enslaved the Skitters."

The image of his old master popped into Nathan's head. "Wait… I remember now… looks like a blue fishy Slenderman?

"I guess… but you were at a mining site, inspecting the work, I guess. We raided it to save the harnessed children and… scooped you up as well, looks like."

"So… now I'm back to normal?"

A man in the corner stifled a laugh. He was as tall as the first man, but more muscular. He wore a leather biker jacket, and jeans. He had shoulder-length, brown hair, and a beard. Around his neck he had a leather string with four fingers on it… _Skitter _fingers…

"You got as much chance of bein' normal again," he said, " as I do of getting' in the Guinness Book of World Records…"

"Yeah? What division are you in, World's Girliest Hair? I think I got a pretty good shot then." Nathan replied.

The room filled with the snickers of the others. Biker Boy was apparently taken aback by the razor edge in Nathan's voice.

"You're not the first person to make that joke… but you're the first one to do it with a straight face… names Pope."

"Nathan." He replied.

"Now!" A gruff voice announced. "We need to answer some other questions…" A man stepped forward. He was getting on in years, but looked like he could still kick the butts of about everyone in the room. He spoke again in his rough voice,

"All th' other kids we've seen that have been harnessed as long as he has are far beyond recognition… in other words too far gone. Why is he different?"

"I have a few theories about that Colonel." Anne said, standing up. "All the kids we've seen that were too far gone all had one thing in common… they were all joined to Skitters. Nathan was joined to an Espheni. I mean, for all we know, it could've been changing him into an Espheni, like the other children were turned into Skitters."

"Then why isn't he a giant blue fishhead?" the Colonel demanded.

"Well, we know how advanced the Espheni brain is. Maybe both physically and mentally, the Espheni are so far more complex than Skitters, it takes much longer for a human to turn Espheni, I mean, it could take years, or decades longer than a Skitter harness."

"So, I'm safe?" Nathan asked.

"Well… no. There have already been some physical, as well as mental changes." Anne replied.

"So… freak-town for me then?" He asked.

"No, absolutely not!" She exclaimed. "You're still human… but you might find yourself with some strange abilities. You see, with the help of the Volm tech-"

"Volm?" He interrupted.

"Don't worry, they're allies." She answered.

"I ain't ever met an alien that's friendly…" He spat.

Pope chuckled. "Hey! I like this kid!"

"Whoopdy-frakin'-doo…" Nathan retorted. "Let me go get my diary, this is a life milestone for sure…" He said sarcastically.

Pope was stunned, as unlike before, Nathan drew unhindered laughs from the rest of the group, who were obviously happy to see Biker Boy put in his place. Pope dropped a, what Nathan guessed to be, supposedly intimidating scowl onto his face, and hung back from the group, glaring at Nathan.

"As I was saying…" Said Anne, recovering from her fit of laughter; "the harness did make some changes to your body in the two years you were harnessed."

"Like what?" Nathan asked.

"Well, with the help of the Volm tech, I ran some full-body scans on you while you were unconscious. They revealed not only a physiological evolution, but a mental one as well. You see those slits in your arm?"

He examined his arm. There, just a few inches below his wrist was an opening, a bit more pronounced than a simple slit. He gawked at it as Anne said,

"Yeah. We don't know what they do but-"

"I know." He interjected.

He thrust his hand to a side of the room were there was no one. Out of his arm shot a three-foot length of bone, he guessed. It was razor sharp, and weighed next to nothing. He gaped in awe along with the others. He had known what it was, but he hadn't expected it to be so large.

Nathan broke the silence first, "Y-you said mental changes too?"

"Y-yes," She stuttered. "Uh, um…you know how scientists used to say we only use some small percentage of our brain at a time, and that if we could use all of it at once, we could harness comic-book type powers? Well, it was blown off as fiction, but for you, it's apparently… real."

"So… I'm essentially a comic book superhero?" Nathan asked.

"Well you're not totally there. The harness only gave you the ability to use around 65-70% of your brain at one time. We don't know if you have any powers yet, because you've been out since we deharnessed you three weeks ago." She said.

"It-its like the harness planted this all in my head before… but I'm just remembering it all now…" He explained.

He reached out his hand, and held it, concentrating. A few moments later he flipped it over faster than anyone in the room could blink, and the silence died as the sound of groaning metal filled the air. All the gurneys in the ward flipped upside down like his hand… at the _exact same time _as his hand!

"Telekinesis!" He announced.

It had been three hours since Nathan had woken. Even now he sat and listened to these adults determine his immediate future. He had tried to join the argument, but Pope had shut him down each time. Nathan was really starting to hate that guy.

All he could do was move over to a corner of the room, and let the idiots argue amongst themselves. As he sat in the corner, the girl who had been sitting beside him followed.

"Hi." She said, smiling. "I'm Lourdes."

"I'd tell you my name, but what's the point, you'll hear it when they read it off at the gallows." He replied.

"They're not going to hang you!" She insisted.

"Well, if Biker Boy over there has his way…"

"Pope? He's just a big talker." She chuckled. "You could take him even if you weren't part Espheni."

"Is that so?" He laughed.

His face ached in a strange way. It was like he hadn't laughed the whole time he was harnessed, and the shape his face took when he laughed now was entirely a foreign experience to him.

"You know, Miss Lourdes," He said. "When I came to, for a while, I thought I was insane…"

"Why?" She sounded concerned.

"You know, waking up in hospital, doctors all around, and people with guns show up when I freak out… But of course, I found out I have swords in my hands and, uh, everything's okay!" He joked.

They both laughed as the other adults carried on.

"Also, I mean, look a this place! It looks like the war never even started!" He said.

"Yeah, Its great, The New United States of America." She sighed. "Its hard to believe, that seven months ago, we were being chased around Massachusetts by Skitters. I haven't seen combat since the 2nd Mass arrived in Charleston."

"Wow, sounds like I have a lot to catch up on…" He said.

"Yeah, a lot." She smiled.

They carried on conversation like that for another hour, laughing and joking the whole time.

"Well, Nathan!" The brown-haired man called.

"Yes Sir?" Nathan responded.

"We have decided-"

"What is this a trial?" Nathan interrupted.

"No. But, we have decided to let you go."

"Assuming you could detain me… but thanks… I guess."

"I took the liberty of contacting your friend and telling her that you're awake." He said.

"So, is she waiting for me?" Nathan asked.

"Yes."

"So… can I go now?"

"Ah, yes. You're free to leave. By the way my name is Tom. Tom Mason." He said.

"Mine's Maggie." Said a blonde woman who Nathan hadn't noticed before.

"And I'm Colonel Weaver. The man with the gruff voice said.

"I know who you all are. I remember all of you now. All except for you Miss Maggie… and you Pope."

Nathan shook hands all around, and turned to walk out the door. Before he turned the doorknob though, he turned back to Tom.

"Before I go, what are the chances of me getting back on the lines?"

"Well, it's hard to say. Come by my office later, and we'll talk about it."

Pope shot Tom a look uglier than an Espheni. Nathan then turned to go.


	6. Chapter 6 : The ARC Unit

**Location: Charleston, SC**

**** His boots clacked on the tile floor of the underground mall. Tom Mason had called Nathan to his office by sending a runner to track him down… something was up. As he reached the opaque glass door of Mason's office, he sighed heavily, cracked his neck, and pulled open the door.

"Nathan, nice to see you got my message." Mason said.

"Yes sir, you wanted to see me?"

"A few days ago, you asked to be let back into service in the military. Didn't you?" Mason asked.

"Yes sir, as soon as you let me." Nathan replied.

"Well, after careful consideration, and a… heated discussion… with Pope, you might remember him, I have decided to let you resume service."

A grin cracked over Nathan's face. "Thank you sir!" He exclaimed.

"And… I've decided to assign you to my son, Ben's ARC unit."

"ARC?" Nathan asked, puzzled.

"It stands for Advanced Recon and Combat…"

Nathan jumped at the voice. Out of the corner walked Colonel Weaver. How had Nathan not noticed him? The Colonel handed Nathan a sheet of paper.

"There's your assignment. It has every thing you need to know."

"Thank you sir." Nathan saluted.

Nathan turned to walk out the door, reading his assignment on the way.

"Nathan?" Mason called.

"Yes sir?"

"Just a few more questions. Please, sit." He said, motioning to a chair by his desk.

Nathan crossed the room to the chair. As he pressed himself into the cool leather of the chair, he could feel Weaver's eyes boring into him, searching for the slightest slip up. It was clear that the Colonel wasn't too happy about Nathan either.

"How are you settling in?" Mason asked.

"Uh… fine." Said Nathan. "My friend Kat's room is two sections down from here, and uh… she's been letting me stay with her. It would be cramped, but I don't have many things, so you know."

"All right…" Mason said, nodding his head a little. "And your powers, how are you finding them?"

"It… its like I've had them since I was a little kid. I'm pretty much a master already, but uh… the thing is, it requires so much energy… I can only to so much at a time."

"How much?" Mason asked.

"Well… I could probably last an entire battle if I kept it small, like disintegrating Mechs, and charring skitters."

Mason's eyes got big. He glanced at the Colonel with a worried look, like he thought that Weaver would do something, but Weaver just kept on staring at Nathan.

"I thought you had telekinesis?" Asked Mason.

"I do. Telekinesis is one of those powers that can do almost everything… like the Green Lantern! I can look down to the molecular level and tear the molecules apart… and I can excite the molecules in the air to create fire!" Nathan explained.

"Wow…" Mason sighed.

"That's not all, I can do other things like catch bullets, and control water, and earth!"

Mason was dumbfounded. He couldn't believe just how amazing this boy's powers were. He spoke. "Well, sounds like I did the right thing assigning you to an ARC unit, those could come in handy quite a lot."

"Yes sir, they already have, in keeping the Berserkers of my back." Nathan said.

"Well teach 'em a lesson for me, okay?" Mason joked.

"Yes sir, I will!" Nathan exclaimed.

"You're free to go."

Nathan snapped to a salute, first to Mason, then to the Colonel, and then he turned to leave.

* * *

The chatter abruptly stopped as the metal door creaked on it hinges. The Special Ops teams have their own barracks, as well as armory. Nathan stepped through he doorway, only to feel the eyes of the two Spec Ops units click directly on to him. The Berserkers and the ARCs both lived in these barracks. This was where Nathan would live.

"Great…" Muttered Nathan as he noticed Pope's was the leader of the Berserkers.

"Whaddya want?" Pope half shouted.

"I've been assigned to… Ben Mason's unit." Nathan read from his assignment page.

"You mean… to tell me, that you… have been assigned to Spec Ops?"

"Yup." Nathan shrugged.

"Un…believable. UN-FRIGGING-BELIEVABLE!" Pope screamed, kicking the table at the center of the room. "We ask for Volm guns and they give us a fish-head!" He said shaking his finger at Nathan.

"It could be worse," Nathan replied mockingly. "I could've been stuck in your sorry unit."

Pope was furious, but he didn't scream, or fly into a frenzy of punches. He got quiet. From the looks of the Berserkers' faces, this was something to worry about. But Nathan stood his ground like a statue, as Pope uttered a consecutive string of death threats that would have made a normal man weak in the knees. Nathan just stood hands in his pockets, holding Pope's stare and not giving two craps what Pope thought he could do to him.

"You finished?" He asked, when Pope stopped shooting off his mouth.

Pope didn't even reply. He roughly pushed past Nathan and stormed out of the barracks.

"Don't listen to him." Said a boy of about Nathan's age. "He's an idiot."

The boy was wearing a black long-sleeved shirt, grey pants, and he had short brown hair.

"Ben Mason." He said shaking Nathan's hand.

"Nathan."

"This is Denny." Ben gestured to the girl behind him. "Welcome to our unit."


	7. Chapter 7: The First Mission

**Location: Charleston SC.**

**** A fog still hung over his mind. After his rude awakening, and rushed breakfast of slightly green powdered eggs and rubbery grits, he was still half asleep, rightly so, as it was four in the morning. Darkness still enveloped the disturbingly empty streets of Charleston, and a cooling, welcome drizzle of rain pattered on his bare arms and face.

Nathan's black rubber hearing protection was draped around his neck, and his dog tags jingled underneath his plate carrier. His helmet swung in his gloved hand as he cherished the feeling of tiny droplets of rain falling onto his buzz cut hair. It reminded him of the Blue Ridge Mountains, and the rainy nights he spent camping with his two best friends, Dillon and Priya.

Dillon was what they call a "red-neck", and lets face it, he never proved 'em wrong. You know the type, always some article of clothing with real-tree camo on it, (usually for Dillon it was his hat,) cowboy boots, and a true blue southern drawl. While Priya, she was a city girl of sorts. While she had an accent, she was still a master in the "art" of make-up, and crap like that.

Dillon and Nathan knew each other for a few years, but never really started hanging out until Nathan introduced Priya to Dillon. Yes, it's what you're thinking. A few months after Dillon and Priya met, they started dating much to… well no one's surprise. Even Nathan saw it coming, and, (of his own admission,) he never was to bright about relationships. The two hit it off. They dated for five or six months, they were the most adorable couple in the school, even the teachers thought so. Both were wildly popular.

All the while, Nathan sat in the corner, waiting for the brief, amazing minutes he had to spend with them between classes, and on those beloved camping trips. He was a third wheel, not even he denied that. He was the friend that walks behind the others when the sidewalk is too small. He would just keep telling himself, "The third wheel keeps the balance…" but it never worked.

Anyway, long story short, Nathan wasn't on the best of terms with them when he moved to Boston. Except for the tiny note Priya slipped him before he left,

"_You were always there for me, even when I wasn't there for you._

_ You're my best friend. Thank you for everything!"_

_ Love-Priya_

He kept that note. Even when the world went to pieces, and when the skitters came, he kept it close.

"What's so funny?" Asked Denny.

Nathan realized he had been smiling, "Nothing…" He said, still smiling. "Just memories…"

"Feeling up to sharing?" She asked slyly.

"The weather… it reminds me of camping trips I used to take with my best friends."

"Oh." She said soberly. "I guess they're…"

"Dead? Yeah… well, probably. Don't know for sure." He sighed.

Denny shifted uncomfortably as she walked, afraid she'd hit a sore spot with the new guy.

"All right, you're here. Sit down." Colonel Weaver's rough voice ordered.

The three teenagers, Ben, Denny, and Nathan all took seats round a large square table. Strewn across it were heavily detailed maps chock full of troop positions and movements, supply stores and ammunition caches for the roving platoons the bigwigs in Charleston had deployed to live out in the Badlands, always on the move, 2nd Mass style. Their missions were to do as much damage as possible to the skitters in three-month cycles when they would be swapped out to come home for furlough.

These platoons were called Legions, because only the best soldiers in Charleston were picked for them. The best-of-the-best were reserved for something else entirely. They're called Spartans. The best warriors, _not soldiers_, warriors, a refugee colony like Charleston could produce. They survived by themselves, in the Badlands for five-month cycles. They were tasked with the same thing as Legions, only they did it by themselves. Entire skitter units, Mechs and all, Spartans engaged and destroyed them. Often from long range, they resorted to close range only as a last resort.

"I gonna be frank. The bigwigs in Charleston think we need to do more than kill skitters." The Colonel sighed.

"What else is there to do?" Nathan asked.

"They think… we need to start another colony."

"Why?" Nathan mused sarcastically. "They gettin' tired of the harbor?"

"Can it, soldier. You do what you're told." The Colonel barked. "They want you to scout the downtown area of Greenville SC."

"Ok… what kind toys we gonna get for this?" Nathan said greedily.

"You get a pickup, your personal weapons, and as much ammo as you can carry in your packs."

**Four days later:**

The pickup jolted to a halt just in side the gates of Charleston. A weary Nathan jumped out of the back. His legs stung with the strain of taking each step, and his eyelids fluttered sleepily, even as he walked along. His M240 Bravo was slung across his back, and swung around with each jarring step he took. Ben and Denny climbed out of the truck's cabin, equally sore, and stiff from the last four sleepless days, and the multiple hour car ride from Greenville, to Charleston.

"See you in the debrief, in a couple of minutes." Nathan sighed.

The two others grunted in agreement and left to prepare for the debriefing. Nathan walked along for not even a minute before Kat was in view running down the road to meet him. As she came closer, Nathan opened his arms to hug her, but instead was greeted with a smack to the face.

"Um… what was that for?" Nathan asked, unfazed by the smack.

"Where WERE you?" She demanded.

"Can't say." He stated. She countered this with another smack to the face.

"I was TERRIFIED! I had no idea what had happened to you!"

"You knew I was assigned to a SOCOM unit!" He exclaimed.

"I didn't know you'd up and leave in the middle of the night! Why are you even doing this? We could have a normal life here!"

"You wanted a normal life!" He shouted. He was getting angry. "I don't want what YOU want! I don't want to settle down in a little house here in Charleston! You do!"

"I just thought…" she stuttered. "I just thought we could settle down and have a normal life… together…" She whispered the last word, as if it took all her might to do so.

"What? … What? You want me to give up on the fight because you have some kind of CRUSH on me?" He half-yelled.

"I just thought, since we had been through so much together…"

"What, that I might love you?" He asked harshly.

"Yes…" She whispered.

He was shocked. He hadn't expected her to own up to it, at least. "I'll deal with you later." He said, pushing past her.

Nathan entered the briefing room, still freaked about what had just happened with Kat.

"You're late… Never mind. It doesn't matter. What happened?!" Tom Mason said hurriedly. Obviously he had heard about the bullet holes in the side of the pick-up.

Nathan reached back into his pack, rummaging around, painfully slow. When he found what he was looking for he pulled it out and tossed it. The cherry red fabric contrasted greatly with the white briefing table, as it landed in the center of it. It was a flag. Even in a crumpled pile, everyone could still make out the design. There was a white circle, and a swastika.

* * *

**AN:Just so no one is confused, this story takes place four months before the start of Season 3.**


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Falling Skies, Adventure, Romance