Falling Skies 1. Crimson Prints

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review... CAN'T WAIT FOR NEXT WEEK'S EPISODE. This is blood and more blood... Before Jimmy's death. AU. Very. Read, review... may update... may lose interest... xD

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**BEN POV  
**  
I was frozen as I stared at my brother, held at gun point but a harnessed kid in the middle of the street. He was completely surrounded by skitters, and two mechs had their lights on him. His expression was blank and wary, but I knew by the slight tremor in his hand that he was scared, and by the way his gaze switched from one thing to the other. What made it worse was that the one holding the gun to his head was Karen. He loved Karen. Everyone knew that. The harness was gleaming brightly in the reflective sunlight, but I knew all Hal would see was _her _face behind the gun.

But I couldn't save him. My gun was destroyed from an earlier blast from a mech, and I was so far away. All I could do was look at the pained expression on his face and wish I could do something... anything.

"Karen..." Hal said her name quietly.

"You have killed countless of us and have stolen our children, removing their harnesses in cruelty. Do not speak that name," Karen responded in a voice both hers and not at the same time. She had always been a freedom fighter. This was not her.

"I..." Hal said but a hiss from a skitter silenced him.

"You are not to die yet, however... we have different plans for you." As she spoke, the mechs began to turn and walk away. Slowly the skitters left their formation and followed. Karen watched him unblinkingly for a moment before turning around to leave with her group. Then she said, "you will suffer as greatly as we have."

She turned and three gunshots went off. My brother screamed in agony, one hitting just above the knee, just below, and the last in his shin, making his leg buckle as he hit the ground in a heap. Karen and the skitters and mechs walked away.

"No!" My dad, standing next to me with Maggie and Weaver - all of us had been rendered useful from several mech blasts - jumped up and shot out of the building. Weaver called after him to stop, but Tom simply charged through the wreckage to reach Hal, and none of the skitters even turned and considered him for a moment. Heart racing, I followed, dropping to my knees beside Hal who was curled on to his side, holding his leg and writhing in pain. His pants were already soaked with blood all the way down to his shoes.

"Hal? Hal, let me see," Tom said, pulling Hal's hands from his leg. The wounds were streaming blood, two through-and-through, but the other had no exit.

"Get back to the airport!" Weaver shouted, starting the truck that had managed to escape damage. There was no time to be gentle. My dad and I both grabbed Hal under one of his arms an hauled him to his feet, hauling him into the back of the truck, trying to ignore his cries of pain. Weaver sped off, and we worked at tying off Hal's wounds to slow the blood loss.

I pulled Hal's head in my lap as he trembled and struggled hoarsely to breath through the pain. His dark eyes were glistening, and as our dad wrapped his third wound tightly, he put a death grip on my arm and shut his eyes tightly.

"Stay awake Hal," Tom ordered, and Hal opened his eyes again, staring at him with wide eyes.

He was still holding onto my arm with all of his strength, although if I tried, I could pry his hands off my arm. I wouldn't even dare to. The look in his eyes was bad enough.

* * *

**HAL POV**

My leg was burning. On fire. It stabbed through me, setting my nerves on fire and keeping a scream burning at the very edge of my throat. Breathing was hard, and it felt like every single movement would make me scream for real. I kept my fingers clenched around my brother's arm, squeezing so hard that it hurt. But it was a little bit of a distraction. I felt a deep ache in my chest, an all I could see was the empty look in Karen's eyes as she shot me.

Suddenly I was being lifted up again, and the pain made me whimper in extreme agony. I couldn't even move my leg, yet I could feel it like there was a thousand volts of electricity coursing through the veins. My leg was burning, and yet the remainder of my body was frozen like ice. I could hardly feel as I was half carried away.

Then there was something soft beneath me, and I knew it must be a stretcher. Struggling to focus, I saw Anne and Lourdes, and then Dad and Ben, Weaver and Maggie. I wondered if I could slip unconscious. We have long since run out of anesthesia.

"I have to get the bullet out, Hal, I'm sorry." I understood that. But I was in no way prepared for the pain that swept anew through my leg, and the scream I had been holding back escaped without so much a hesitation. Thrashing uncontrollably, I felt someone hold me down, but the pain continued, growing worse and worse until I was completely sure I was going to pass out. My head was spinning and everything was too bright. I couldn't even think. Or breathe.

Eventually my screaming died down but it was only because I could no longer produce a sound. Eventually, the pain began to ebb, and I wondered if it was over. Gasping for air and soaked with blood and sweat, I couldn't see a thing because my vision was so blurred. Every breath felt weird, as though it was barely bringing in air.

My awareness was falling apart, and pretty soon I had completely left, sinking into unconsciousness.

* * *

**BEN POV**

I was sure I was going to throw up. There was so much blood, everywhere. It streaked across the table, streamed down the legs of the table and pooled at the floor. How could my brother even survive losing that much blood? Dizzy from the horror of what was happening, I released my now unconscious brother and began to walk away, trying to keep my stomach in check. His screams were still echoing in my mind, though I'm not sure which was worse - his screaming, or the silence after he had driven himself hoarse and was still in pain. His eyes were beyond any reasonable consciousness. I tried to do anything to calm him, but he seemed to have no idea about my existence. And then he had passed out, thankfully.

I couldn't stand in there any longer, looking at the bloodied mess that was my brother. I tore out of the truck and quite literally found myself gulping in the cold fall air, practically gasping like a gutted fish. My father followed my out, stumbling and wiping his bloodstained hands over his face and through his hair, probably not realizing it.

Looking down at myself I realized I was covered in Hal's blood. I was going to throw up. I leaned against the side of the truck, breathing harder. "Oh, God..."

My dad was immediately beside me, hand on my back. "He'll be okay.. he's a fighter," he said.


	2. Frozen Minds

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review... CAN'T WAIT FOR NEXT WEEK'S EPISODE. This is blood and more blood... Before Jimmy's death. AU. Very. Read, review... may update... may lose interest... xD Yay! Update! Thanks for the review!

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**HAL POV  
**  
When I came back to consciousness, I was aware of a throbbing pain in my leg, but it as much more tolerable than the previous pain I had felt passing out. Which meant that it wasn't just a dream, and this had actually happened. Karen shot me. Part of me knew that it wasn't her... that it couldn't be her... it was all the harness... but I still saw her face and her eyes, and the distant, cold look in them. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I had to know where I was at least.

Opening my eyes, I recognized the medical truck immediately. I was covered in a blanket, and passed out in a chair beside me was my father. I looked downright exhausted, so it was good to see him asleep. I didn't want to wake him so I carefully pulled the blanket away from my leg to take a look. Around my knee and all the way down to my ankle wrapped bandages that were different shades of pink and red. I lay my head back down, re-covering my leg with the blanket. I closed my eyes but found that I couldn't go back to sleep, so I lay twitching and irritated, trying to ignore the new flares in my leg. I wondered how long it would take for the wounds to heal so I can back on patrol.

"Oh, you're awake!" a familiar voice jolted my eyes back open. I saw Anne coming in, and strangely, Lourdes wasn't with her. She walked up to me, laying her palm on my forehead. My dad snapped awake immediately.

"Hal? How are you feeling?" He asked, worried eyes fixed on me.

The first time I tried to answer, no sound came out, so I tried again. This time, I managed to answer, though my voice was weak and raspy. "Alright," I lied. Truly, I felt the opposite. I was weak and shaky, my body slow and sluggish to respond, my leg throbbing sharply, and a dull ache settled in my head, probably from blood loss. And neither of them believed me.

"Right... I have to change the bandages. They've blood through," Anne said, moving around with a thick wrap of bandages - which were always in strong supply whenever they scavenged - and moved the blanket away.

I felt a claw of pain raking down my leg as she undid the previous bandages and tossed them away. I could see the damage. Three holes, closed with stitches, were still dripping blood like a leaky faucet. I felt a chill go over me at the sight of my own raw, inflamed flesh, thick with bruising. I lay my head back, shutting my eyes.

Grimacing in pain, I felt my dad's hand squeezing mine as my body gave an involuntary shudder of pain.

"Sorry... all done," Anne said softly, and I opened my eyes. In the doorway was a familiar face.

"Hey, Ben," I called out,but it was still little more than a whisper because my voice was so weak. I don't know why. Perhaps I had thrown it out screaming. I tried not to remember that pain. Though when I did, this one was pretty minimal.

"Matt's been worried sick about you. He came here and sat for hours every day to wait for you to wake up," Ben said, walking slowly over to me, his eyes guarded.

I felt rather touched, and also guilty. Matt didn't need anything else to worry about - especially not me.

"Days?" I asked, latching on to the word. Had I been out for days? It certainly didn't feel it. It felt more like I had been out for a few hours, because I was still exhausted.

"Two days. It's morning now," Ben replied.

"Oh..." I wondered what had happened in those couple of days. Apparently not that much because we were all still sitting here. If we had moved... we were in a bus, not a room, so I wouldn't know anything till I went outside.

"Anything happened?" I asked, desperate for news.

"Been quiet recently," Ben began looking half-interested at pictures on a wall, avoiding my gaze.

* * *

**BEN POV**

What was wrong with me? How hard was it to say "I'm worried about you too?" Every time I tried to get the words out, it felt like my throat was closed and my chest tight. I had only walked in to see how he was doing and was surprised to find him awake. I found it hard to believe my big brother was injured. He looked so pale and small against the stretcher, shivering slightly and gazing at me with partially aware brown eyes. And that voice! The weak, tired, quiet sound. How could that be Hal? I could hardly hear him, and the rasping reminded me of when I was sick with a cold and lost my voice from coughing.

I didn't want to tell him about all the ... problems... happening. The fact that Pope had gone up to me and told me it was my fault, because I told the "skitters" they were going to be there. And the fact that he didn't even care if my brother lived or died. My hands shook with anger. I wanted to kill Pope. No one else seemed to be so hostile. In fact, most actually cared. Though many, only cared enough to hope he'd live to fight again. No one cared really, if he never fully recovered. Anne had even warned that he might not ever get full use of his leg back. The damage was extensive, and they didn't have the tools or skills required to repair it. It was up to his body to fix it or not, depending on how hard it could work. But I wasn't sure. Humans were so frail. Bullets could shatter bones, and there was no way to heal from that, right?

Hal refused to be useless. He refused to just sit around and wait. I could tell, even in his current state, by the way he was twitching irritably on the table, that he just wanted to get up and do something. He had always been restless like that. I just hoped he could heal.

Weeks, maybe months. What would have happened by then? Would we all still be alive?

And I only wished I could say those few words, or at least talk to him, but I was still frozen in shock, trying to understand the latest turn of events.


	3. The Fighter's War

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review... CAN'T WAIT FOR NEXT WEEK'S EPISODE. This is blood and more blood... Before Jimmy's death. AU. Very. Read, review. So... I was typing this chapter in fanfiction, right? Got it done, really liked it... hit save... And bang! It logged me out and I lost the _entire_ thing... I almost cried... no almost about it... anyway... I'll be like everyone else and type it in word and then copy and paste so I don't lose it due to incompetent logins and logging outs. Thanks for the reviews!

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**HAL POV  
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"No, I don't need that," I half hissed, half groaned as I pushed away the make-shift crutch. My weak and raspy voice hadn't gotten better much, if at all. It was bad enough I couldn't even stand up without help. I refused to use that. My leg needed to heal, not get pampered. That was too far, and I didn't _need_the crutch. It'd just be less painful. No, I could take it. This was the first time I had been 'cleared' to stand up and walk around by Anne. I would still be bleeding for at least another week, but I could at least try to get some function of my leg. And I couldn't stand sitting around anymore. It had been nearly an entire day since I had woken up, and I couldn't take lying down any longer.

It felt better, though. This hurt badly. I never knew standing could be so difficult. I had rotated myself so my leg was dangling off the end of the table, holding it up with my hands so the knee wouldn't bend. Then, very slowly, I lowered it, tears springing to my eyes and a terrible weakness spreading through my stomach. I wanted to cry... no, I didn't. My body wanted to cry, but my mind refused. Instead, I managed to touch my foot to the ground, then my other, and slowly began to slide off the table.

That's when my dad had tried to hand me the crutch. Clenching my jaw, I continued to lower myself until my good leg was taking the bulk of my weight. That's when I tried to lean a little on my right. A hiss of pain betrayed me and I everything seemed to flash bright for a moment as I quickly readjusted my weight. My dad was there quickly, letting me lean on him which was both a relief and an annoyance.

I had to do this _alone_. Right?

He didn't seem to think so. He was right beside me, holding me up and letting me lean on his shoulder. One step forehead and I was glad he was there. I was trembling so hard that I could barely stand, unable to move for several moments. "You don't have to do this," he said, and suddenly I realized that I was whimpering with every gasping breath, and forced myself to stop.

"Yes I do," I mumbled weakly. "I can do it."

Two more steps and every bit of willpower I had when I began was leaving me. I couldn't do this. It hurt so bad. I was going to cry. My body wanted to cry, despite how bad my mind was trying to force it back. How could I do this? It wasn't possible. I was too weak to even work. Pathetic. "I need... just a moment," I whispered, before promptly collapsing against my dad. He held me up as easily as if I was nothing, keeping me from falling limply to the ground. I wanted to say I was fine and that I just needed to rest, but I knew better. I knew my limits. I wouldn't be walking out of here.

But I also refused to be carried, and since I wasn't able to walk – at least for the moment, I had only one other option. "Let me down?" I asked through gritted teeth, wishing I my voice was stronger. I felt so weak, in every way possible.

Wordlessly, Tom began to lower me as carefully as possible, trying to protect my leg carefully. It still hurt. So much. I lay as still as possible, eyes shut, just trying to breath. My eyes were shut as I leaned my head on my good knee, wrapping my arms around myself. After awhile of shaking, I began to lean towards my only source of warmth – my dad, who had apparently sat down next to me. I suddenly realized just how tired I was. Leaning against his chest, I felt as though I was a child all over again, and that he could keep my safe from all the monsters in my nightmares.

As I faded into unconsciousness, I could only realize that the monsters from my nightmares had come to life.

* * *

**TOM POV**

I hated seeing Hal in such pain. It actually hurt, watching him shiver and flinch and whimper at the smallest of movement. I knew he hated being pitied. He hated being looked at as weak. But he couldn't do this. I knew from the start that he wouldn't be leaving the truck. Nothing I could say would have stopped him, though. I could only walk with him and catch him as he fell. Three steps. Three steps was all it took to overcome him. Fury burned raw through my chest as I understood that the skitters had done this. They controlled the harnessed kids. And now my son was...

I didn't know what he was. But he was hurt. And I hated that fact.

He had collapsed in my arms, and now, on the floor, I found him leaning against my chest, trembling weakly. I wrapped my arms around him as he drifted unconscious, clearly too worn out to continue. I held him close, not wanting to move, and simply waited.

At one moment, Ben poked his head in and froze in alarm at the sight of us, sitting on the floor, me with Hal asleep in my arms. "He tried to walk... made it a couple of steps. He's alright," I said, not quite knowing if it was true or not. Regardless, I knew this was going to be a long and difficult road. As though realizing it, Ben knelt down in front of us, looking down at Hal's leg. The bandages were a little pink, but not as red as they had been the day before... that should be a good sign, right?


	4. Just to Walk

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review... CAN'T WAIT FOR NEXT WEEK'S EPISODE. This is blood and more blood... Before Jimmy's death. AU. Very. Read, review. Thanks for the reviews! Sorry for typos and grammar errors, and weirdly worded things. I write these when I'm half dead on allergy meds and antiobiotics. :P

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**BEN POV**

At one point, several months ago when I still considered myself 'human', I would not have been able to do the things I'm doing now. I would have been forced to watch and do nothing, because I was nothing but a weak math geek with very little athletic skills. And now I was holding up my older brother as he struggled to walk. He was making it further than he had yesterday, but it was taking its toll on him. I could feel the tremors shaking through his entire body, could hear the heavy breathing, noticed how the farther he went, the more he was leaning on me. He was so stubborn. He refused to stop. He would take a few seconds to get ready for each step, then step forward, shuddering as he did so, squeezing tightly onto my arms until he relaxed and slumped for a moment.

All I wanted to do was beg him to stop and rest again, but I knew very well he wouldn't listen to me. He would keep trying until he got it, and then try again. He would push himself to his breaking point, as he always had. I felt guilty for not trying to stop him. He was hurting himself.

"Hal..." I began, after he had taken his eighth step and had nearly made it to the door. He was practically choking with pain every step now.

"I can do it," he rasped, making me flinch at the sound of his voice. Anne said it would get better in a few days time as long as he didn't strain it again. I couldn't see how he could strain it, as everything he said was little more than a rasping whisper. "I'm almost there..."

One more step and he collapsed against me, but one of his hands was around the knob of the door. I held him up as he trembled against my chest, eyes tightly shut.

"Here," he mumbled, then opened them slowly. "Sorry," he added, standing again and leaning only a little bit on me.

"Think you can make it out there?" I asked, knowing the answer that he wouldn't be likely to admit. He would say 'yes' because he didn't want to look weak, but he wouldn't be able to make it down the stairs to the ground, and we both knew it. It would be so much easier for all of us if he just let me carry him to our tent. He would never let that happen – he would probably rather crawl there all by himself just so he didn't have to be carried. I sighed.

"Yes," he growled predictably.

Opening the door, he seemed to sag at the sight of the stairs (there were only three, not including the step to the ground), as though he hadn't even realized they were there. He probably forgot. This would be interesting.

* * *

**HAL POV**

Shit. I had completely forgotten about the existence of the stairs. And now I was looking down at them, completely exhausted and wondering how the heck I could do this. I couldn't turn back now. Perhaps... I would think of something. Or let my body do it for me.

I forced myself to take a step to the top of the stairs and no longer bothered to try and stand. Whatever strength I had left in my body was gone and I let myself fall. Ben caught me immediately, with his lightning fast reflexes which used to rival that of a dead cat. I don't know what the skitters do to harnessed kids, but somehow, they improve them, greatly and beyond human measures. At the moment, that was a good thing, It kept me from hitting the floor, and at that moment I knew my brother had my back.

The next second, I was protesting greatly – yet wearily – as he lifted me into his arms and brought me back to the stretcher.

_Two days later..._

I was forced to rest for a day, but finally I was allowed to try it again. This time, it was Maggie helping to support me as I dragged myself ungracefully off the cot. The pain wasn't as bad as the last two times, but it still bordered on severely debilitating. This time, I was going to get there. I wouldn't let anything stop me – no amount of pain, weakness, dizziness, or nausea would get in my way. I just wanted to sleep in my own bed so I could keep an eye on Matt.

I tried to lean on her as little as possible, but after a few steps in, I was forgetting to worry about how pathetic I looked leaning on anyone's shoulder. If I had been alone, I wouldn't have even been able to stand up without falling over. However, I was proud to admit to myself that I had made it to the door in half the time as last time, even if I was leaning pretty hard, barely putting any weight on myself.

This time, I knew I could do it. _For sure._

The steps were the biggest problem. We couldn't squeeze down side by side, so she went first as to put as little pressure on my knee as possible, and we made quite an awkward procession getting down. I was pretty sure I was going to fall at some point, but somehow I managed to stay semi-upright. Ground... actual ground. Relief swarmed through me to be out of that truck and on the real open ground, in the open air. It was noon. The sun was half hidden behind slim grey clouds, but it was the prettiest thing I had seen for quite awhile.

A couple of passing people kept giving me weird looks. Suddenly I realized why. There wasn't exactly a fashion statement in the Second Mass, but most people made a bit of an effort to look human. I probably looked like a zombie. My clothes were still mostly blood-stained and my leg wrapped in now-red bandages. I wasn't completely sure what I looked like on the outside but Maggie had come on with a partially alarmed look on her usually calm and guarded face.

It was freezing outside. It felt good.

Very slowly we began making our way to the tend, six steps at a time. I found that after the sixth step I was exhausted and unable to move, and each time I nearly collapsed on her. A little over halfway there I actually did collapse, but she held me up surprisingly well... it wasn't that I was that much bigger than her – probably two or three inches at most – but I worried she wouldn't be able to support my weight.

"You need to rest?" She asked me, holding me up so my knee was as straight as possible. I didn't dare bend the thing.

Opening my eyes, I could _see_the tent... "No. Almost there."

A surge of adrenaline allowed me to start moving again. Ten steps in, twelve. My jaw was clattering with the effort of holding back a cry of pain, and I was shaking like a leaf. I was close. I could reach out and touch the fabric. Right now all I wanted to do was sink own in my own bed and fall asleep. Before I could reach for the zipper, it suddenly opened, and Matt was standing there, staring at me with delighted surprise.

"Hal!" He shouted, wrapping his arms tightly around my waste. I closed my hand as hard as possible around Maggie's shirt sleeve out of fear I'd fall over as I hugged him back with one arm.

"Hey buddy," I said, forcing a smile and hoping the tears burning in my eyes weren't visible. "Where you going?"

"Food!" He said, then took off running in the direction on the mess hall. He had visited me every single day since I had woken up. I felt a strong sense of relief that he was okay with everything. Maggie nudged me.

"You should get something to eat too. When's the last time you've actually eaten?" She asked.

I paused, trying to remember. "This morning Ben brought me some breakfast. And I'm not hungry." It was true. I was exhausted and slightly nauseated. The last thing I wanted to do was eat again. She held my gaze for a moment before sighing in resignation.

"Okay, just make sure to eat later. You look like you can use it," she added, helping me into the tent. It was empty, but that was fine. I made it to my bed and was almost successful in climbing in without too much pain when I accidentally knocked my leg on the side. That cry that I had been holding back for awhile finally escaped.

"Shit..." I groaned, completely frozen for a moment. Eventually, I managed to get into it, shamefully with the help of Maggie. "Thank you," I said to her, who nodded and then hesitated for a moment before leaving me to rest.


	5. Rising Waters

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review... CAN'T WAIT FOR NEXT WEEK'S EPISODE. so close... This is blood and more blood... Before Jimmy's death. AU. Very. Read, review. Thanks for the reviews! Sorry for typos and grammar errors, and weirdly worded things. I write these when I'm half dead on allergy meds and antiobiotics. :P

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**BEN POV**

Every day was just a little bit better, and Hal's voice was finally improving. He could stand now as long as he had something for support just in case, but he needed someone to hang onto while walking still, but it wasn't as slow going as before... and he hardly collapsed on anyone. According to Hal, the wounds were barely bleeding anymore, though I wasn't sure I could really trust his answer to anything I ask when it comes to his own health.

Today we were taking a walk around the perimeter – although I was going to take Hal to the make-shift mess hall whether I had to drag him there or not, because of my earlier conversation with Maggie. After she had gotten Hal to our tent, she came and found Tom and I and Lourdes.

"Do you if Hal's been eating anything?" She has asked. The question was so unexpected that we all stopped and stared at her curiously. She hardly seemed to care about the weird looks they were giving her. "I could hold him up as easily as if he was nothing earlier, even when he practically crumpled. He feels thinner than ever but doesn't eat. I know he probably doesn't feel good but he needs to keep his strength up..." At that, I suddenly realized that I could not have noticed just how bad my brother was getting because pretty much everything was light-weight to me. I still felt guilty though, and so did my dad, probably for not realizing it either.

And now I was able to understand what she meant. He had never looked so thin. He had never really been anything except for thin, but he was getting gaunt. No wonder he lost his energy so quickly. He had nothing in him. I didn't doubt that he felt sick from dealing with all the pain but he still needed to eat... I just wouldn't tell him where we were going.

As we walked, I noticed how his hands were shaking, embedded in my shirt. I didn't ask him about it though. I was slightly afraid of the answer.

That was when we ran into Pope... or more accurately, he came out of nowhere and "accidentally" bumped into me. I immediately stiffened, but it was Hal who shifted forward just a few inches to stand in front of me. Some things never changed, even though I was stronger than him now – whether he was wounded or not. He would always see me as the younger brother who needed his protection... and although that drove me insane at normal times, in the current situation, I felt rather touched. It wasn't a "macho" need, or something he simply felt inclined into doing because it made him look good. It was an instinct as basic as his need to breathe in air, and he would always step in front of me, even when faced with a speeding train – or a mech blast, I supposed.

"Up and alive, Hal, I see," Pope said, but his eyes were fixed on me, rather maliciously. He had made it clear from the start that he didn't trust me or any of the other "Razorbacks" - the nickname of which was given to those of us who had the misfortune of being harnessed (and then freed) during the war. Part of me wanted to snap his neck. The other part – what held me back – was that if I stopped being Hal's support then he would topple to the ground. That was all though. There was no moral need in me to even think of Pope as someone who meant something – everything about him made me disgusted. I've hated him from the start and that would never change. He was a loose canon and I didn't want my brothers in the way when he lost it.

"Yep. Work it hard enough and it'll get back to normal soon," Ha said, and I felt myself flinch internally. Lourdes had already told me that Hal would probably _never_ get full function in his leg again. The damage was too severe, especially around the kneecap. Hal would never accept that, even if someone told him. He would keep working at it until he realized for himself that he was... handicapped?

I found it hard to believe that my older brother would be reduced to limping everywhere he went, probably not able to fight anymore, and forced to be a civilian. Not that there was anything wrong with being a civilian – we needed them – but Hal was... a fighter...

My brother had always fought – albeit stupidly – against everyone in which a fight could be waged. When I was nine years old, and he elven, he found out that an older, high school bully had been picking on me every day walking home from school. He then decided to walk home with me, and when the bully came around again he punched him in the face... and then Hal got beaten up pretty badly and broke his arm, but he was still fighting the high schooler even as a couple of bystanders dragged him away kicking and screaming. Our mom punished him for fighting, but my dad came in later saying that Hal did the right thing in defending his little brother. The memory made me smile a bit, but now I was forced back to the present by an extremely irritating man.

"Well, see you around some time. Hope you get better," Pope said, then slapped Hal on the back twice – way too hard for my brother's frame to take. I had to react quickly to catch him as he started to fall, letting out a low grunt of pain. I stared daggers at Pope. It was fairly obviously that he had done that on purpose, and he simply gave me a coldly mocking smile before walking away.

"You alright Hal?" I asked, as he righted himself and began to balance out.

"Yeah... fine," he responded too quickly. I hesitated. I couldn't tell him. He would get worried and angry and get himself in trouble again. Instead, I just sighed and began to allow myself to think.

Everything just got a lot more difficult.

* * *

**POPE POV**

I didn't have bad feelings towards Hal – not at all. If he wasn't always being so protective and honourable all the time, I might have been able to like him a little bit. But no, he was too busy giving second chances to that half-breed he called a brother. I could hardly stand the sight of Ben Mason anymore. The skitter-friend was doing nothing but causing further problems and would eventually lead to our downfall. All he did was leak information. Why couldn't anyone else _see_ that?

I knew the freak knew my hatred for him. Hal was oblivious. I can't believe my luck. I could have taken them both on before, but the chance for a problem was too great to risk it. Now, as I had just tested, Hal was weak as hell... and now I could do my job and save this group from itself – AGAIN.


	6. Breaking Apart

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review... LOTS of angst in this chapter... and I mean lots... and some father-son adorableness. :)

**TOM POV**

I watched from a little ways away as my son tried to walk on his own for the first time in what... two weeks? Less than that, I think. I lose track of the days too quickly. I was tense and nervous, watching him experiment around. Eventually he would be able to walk on his own, but I knew that wouldn't be today. He couldn't even bend his knee. Earlier, he had tried to as Anne instructed him, but the moment he tried, his face had contorted into a horrible expression and he let out a gut-wrenching cry of pain that made me surge forward. I felt a gnawing pain in my gut. The fact he couldn't move his knee _yet_ told him what Anne had warned was right. It was pain that prevented him from moving it, which meant a deep knee injury, probably resulting from a fracture or break in the bone (perhaps in multiple places) that they could not repair. They simply didn't have the technology to fix it. I felt numb. I had asked Anne if Hal could ever be a fighter again, and she had told him it was up to Hal.

Which meant I would have to watch my son cringe in pain and stumble and collapse when he reached his limit – I would have to watch as he forced himself to walk over and over again, as though maybe, this time, he could do it. How could he be so damned stubborn?

I knew in my heart that he had got that from me.

I now knew why my parents had grey hairs in their 30s.

Hal was standing, using a table as a support beam as he moved his leg, carefully trying not to bend the knee. I knew he was afraid of the pain. At the same time, I knew he couldn't avoid. I didn't have the stomach to say it would never go away. He seemed so determined to be alright. Why couldn't that count for something? Closing my eyes, I wished I could simply make everything better, as though there was a magic wish lying around for me to summon.

This was not a fairy land. This was their real life. And it sucked.

"Hal!" I shouted as he seemed to stumble and nearly fell. I went forward to catch him but he had already caught himself on the table, and as pushing himself back up. His face was pale. Muscles taught. There were tremours in both of his hands.

"I'm fine. I've got it," he said, and then tried again. It wouldn't eve be plausible for him to walk on his own. There was only so far the hip and femur could allow the leg to move forward without bending at the knee. Even if he could walk he would have to go very slowly. I doubted his leg could even take the way anyway, judging by the way it was shaking at that moment.

Twice more he did the same thing, always slipping and catching himself, until I couldn't take it anymore. He was on the verge of tears and he was going to try again.

"Stop it, Hal. Please. You can try again later, but stop for now," I said gruffly, grabbing him by his scrawny shoulders to keep him from doing it all over again. He was trying his hardest to glare stubbornly at me, but the shaking that was wracking his entire body, and the way his eyes were glistening made it very hard to believe.

_One week later..._

Anne was taking a look at the wounds and was pleased to see that the holes themselves were healing nicely. In fact the stitches were beginning to fall out and there was little need for bandages except to keep it clean. The bruises, however, remained dark and prominent against his skin. She passed her hand gently over the ugliest of them and I watched his expression tighten as he held back a flinch. She dropped her hand with a resigned sigh.

"Fortunately, there's no sigh of infection so all that is left is a healing road," she told us (me, Hal, Ben and Maggie). Hal was gazing at her expectantly. "Do you want to try bending your knee again?" She asked Hal, who nodded slowly, though looked rather pale – or perhaps green – at the thought of that.

He began to bend it – actually bend it – slowly and not very far. When he had gone all he seemed willing to do, I thought I saw a look of relief on his face, as though he was proud that he was at least able to do that. An then he seemed to realize that he had to unbend it to make it straight again, and the look fell away and was replaced by one of complete focus. He managed to unbend it but that seemed even more painful to him than bending it in the first place, and something akin to a whimper seemed to wrench itself from his chest. I flinched. I hated this. Those goddamn skitters, and stupid fish-heads and their mechs and their harnesses! Why the hell did they have to come _here_ of all places to ruin _everything_ we had? We never wanted this. We didn't ask for it. I was sick of my sons having to pay the price for my incompetence.

"That's an improvement!" She said brightly to Hal before walking past him to grab fresh bandages to keep his leg covered. As she walked past me, though, she gave me a long, brooding look that I understood completely. Not good enough.

I shut my eyes and tried to make myself focus again. This was no time to lose myself. Not in front of Hal. He had enough to deal with.

All set to go, I helped Hal back to the tent and was about to leave when I was shocked by his open, blunt question.

"This is going to be permanent, isn't it?"

* * *

**HAL POV**

I wasn't blind or stupid. I knew. I saw the looks people were giving me. The pity of the other fighters. The sympathy from my brothers and dad and Maggie. The way Anne and Lourdes seemed to be trying too hard to make me feel as though I was actually making an improvement. I had known it all along, really, though. Since the bullets had first ripped through my leg. That pain wasn't the one I had screamed about. Not the only one. There was another in my knee, a feeling that fire was racing through the bone and I actually felt the bone shifting, breaking, and shattering, as I fell. I knew then that there was nothing I could do.

I had tried to deny it as best I could. I forced myself to walk. I tried every single day. But I felt as though everything I was doing was tedious. Yes, I was improving a lot... but not fast enough. And none of them were enough. I still couldn't walk on my own, or without something to hang onto. I could almost feel and imagine the bones in my knee grating together every time I tried to bend it. It hurt. I felt sick just thinking about it.

And now, I knew. The way Anne had spoken earlier. My dad knew too. So did Ben. So did everyone.

"Yes... mostly..." My dad responded with a voice barely above a whisper. I stared at the floor, my head angled a little bit away so he couldn't see the flush in my cheeks or the look in my eyes. I didn't want him to see as the tears of what I was sure was self pity threatened to fall. What did I have to feel sorry about myself for? I was lucky. I was alive. I still had the majority of my family alive and with me. I had food, a bed, soldiers for protection. I had things that millions of others – dead, alive or harnessed – didn't. And who was I to about to fall off the deep because of a simple fact that I had known all along?

I couldn't fight it though. Tears came and ran down my face, but I kept it turned hoping he wouldn't be able to see. It wasn't fair. How could I fight anything as useless as I was? I could hold a gun. But would I ever be able to walk again? Run? Jump? Climb? All those simple things that I had taken for granted were suddenly held out on a branch far out of my reach. I wanted them back. I needed to fight. I needed to kill skitters and mechs and protect the Second Mass. I needed to. It wasn't a desire. It wasn't a want. It was a pure, simple need. My jaw clenched around a sob. This couldn't be happening. It was as though everything in my life had been stolen away by a simple chance meeting in the city... I was just another useless, crippled civilian holding everyone up, wasn't I?

"Hal," my dad whispered, in a soft voice I hadn't heard in years. Suddenly I couldn't stop myself from looking up at him, revealing the tears on my face. He crossed the room in three simple strides – simple ones that would take me several minutes of whimpering and crying out, hanging on to the wall or table for dear life, and weakened trembling to complete.

I was shaking violently to the point where I was sure the earth was moving.

This was a nightmare. It had to be.

My dad sat beside me, wrapping his arms around me, and all of my pride and frustrated need to 'be strong' fell away as I held him back and felt the tears starting to fall. I gripped the back of his shirt as tightly as possible, squeezing hard and completely lost myself to sobs. All the while he was hugging me as gently as he could, as though he was afraid of breaking me, and whispered in my ear.

"We'll get through this. It's alright. We'll make it work. We've got you," he said over and over.


	7. Injustices

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review... I was starting to get writers block... so I needed to put some action in this... and perhaps a bit of humour to lighten up all the heart break! :D

**BEN POV**

My brother and I walked side-by-side, me throwing out an arm only when it seemed like he was going to fall or stumble. It was two weeks since I had walked in to find my dad and brother in Hal's bed, Hal asleep against his chest, my dad asleep against his shoulder, arms wrapped around each other. In any other time, it would have been weird. I knew that instant that Hal had finally lost his nerve.

Now, things were finally looking a bit hopeful. At least, technically. He could walk mostly on his own, with a little bit of help from me or someone else. But I hated watching him walk. He was in too much pain, and I could do nothing but watch.

"Perhaps in another week or so you can go back on patrols with us," I said cheerfully. There was, in my opinion, no reason why he _shouldn't_be able to. Sure, he was slow moving and couldn't crouch, kneel, or do anything without extensive pain, but he could hold a gun and fire. And patrols didn't have to be dangerous. I knew how much he hated feeling useless. At least then he wouldn't feel so... out of touch.

"Yeah, maybe," Hal said with clearly forced confidence.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him worriedly. He seemed less sure of himself than before. He still tried. Harder than I could believe possible. But he wasn't himself.

"Morning kids," Pope suddenly came out of nowhere, walking in step with me and Hal, shoulders next to my brother. I immediately stiffened, feeling a surge of anger. What did Pope want with them? He had to have been following them. They were far out of sight of the actual camp. Then I felt alarm. What did he want? I started moving around my brother to reach Pope.

Suddenly my brother was facing me, his eyes wide with alarmed pain, and I froze. That's when I noticed the muscular arm snaked just below his throat, and the gun pressed against my brother's skull.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snarled, my hand automatically going towards my own gun.

"I wouldn't do that, Razorback. I'd hate to blow your brother's head off right in front of you," Pope growled. I stopped and slowly raised my hands. Hal's eyes were surprisingly distant and empty, making me wonder what was going on inside of his head.

"That's right... what I'm _doing_is stopping you from telling your skitter-friends our next move, Razorback. Don't act as if you didn't know," Pope responded, sounding half crazed with disgust.

I blanked. For a long moment my mind just went completely numb. What? He really thought that? I was caught between laughing at his stupidity and shouting at him for being an idiot. I don't understand how he even got that idea. Anyone could see how much I hated the skitters, and how many I killed. I refrained from doing either only because he had my brother at gunpoint.

"You think... I'm helping the skitters?" Just that simple question made me want to crack up in hysterics. I bit down on my tongue to stop myself.

"Think? I don't think, Razorback," at that time, Hal suddenly twisted hard in Pope's arm and sank his nails deep into his skin, drawing blood while hissing at Pope to stop calling me that. "I know," he growled, ignoring Hal's outburst by pressing down on him and making him wince. I felt a violent anger burning in my chest. "Take this," Pope said, and suddenly Hal was falling against me with a yelp of pain from the forced stumble. I caught him easily and pushed him behind me, holding him up with one arm and glaring own the barrel of Pope's gun.

Great.

This guy really had it in for me. I didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't my fault I had been harnessed, and not my fault that my spikes weren't fading away like all the others. Why the heck he thought I was some spy for the skitters was beyond me – but he was dragging my injured brother into this and had hurt him, and there was a burning ball of rage in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to kill him. Maybe not kill, exactly... but something close.

"Leave him out of this," I said tensely, wondering why Hal was leaning against me. Had Pope done more than shove him? Or had he landed on his bad leg when he stumbled? That was likely. Whatever the case...

Pope snorted at me. "Neither of you are in any position to be giving demands... but I'm not a cold blooded killer. I'll get rid of your half-breed self, and let your brother drag himself back to camp. Unless it proves to be an inconvenience," he continued. I had to keep my best poker face on. I could feel my brother's hand at my back, pulling the gun from my belt. Now I understood. I had to buy some time.

"My dad will kill you," I started, but he interrupted me easily.

"I'll be long gone by then," Pope retorted. "One last time to save the 2nd Mass and I'll be on my way. I think I'm outstaying my welcome... but you all are just so damn clueless," he growled.

Okay. Almost ready. I knew the moment the tension left my brother's body was the one where he was going to act.

"You don't have to do this..." I said.

"Yes I do," he glared at me. Two shots were fired. One nearly deafened me, so I assumed that was Hal. The other made me push my brother to the ground and jump practically on top of him, protecting his body with my own. My ear was stinging – not just from the noise, either. Reaching up, I felt warm blood drip onto my hand. I looked down at my brother who was seemingly caught between pain and confusion.

"Damn it!" Pope snarled, and I turned to see him holding his arm in pain which was dripping blood from a shot in his shoulder. He had dropped his gun but was reaching for it. Like hell.

I charged at him, grabbing his arms and easily holding him back as he tried to break free of my grip. "Fucking razorback!" He spat in my face. I didn't react, but instead, stomped hard on his gun, breaking it. Oh, the wonders of increased strength. As much as I hated what they had done, there was no doubt these... changes... had made me a better fighter. And it was almost worth it now.

"I don't care what you think of me, or any of the other harnessed kids. I don't care if you want to call us razorbacks or skitter-friends. We're not. But you don't threaten my brother, hurt him, threaten my family, or shoot at us. You keep calling me a half-breed, but as far as I can tell, I am more human than you," I hissed, my voice surprisingly strong. He glared down at me with fury that would intimidate many brave men, but I didn't flinch. "Go back to camp. If I ever see you raise a gun to us again, I'll kill you!" And I meant it. Without a second thought, I threw him back as hard as possible. It was about a month ago when I had done something similar to Hal. I felt hurt and angry and had provoked him, then shoved him down. In my rage I had seen him less as a brother, and more as a... target... later I saw the bruises on his wrists from our skirmish. I couldn't even imagine doing that now.

Pope scrambled to his feet, looking between me and Hal, who was still lying on the ground, and then stalking away angrily, holding his arm.

I waited until he had gone, wondering if I had made the right choice. I had simply made him hate us more. Shaking away the thought for now, I turned to Hal. "If I go deaf, it's your fault," I said, half jokingly, to try and lighten the mood. We used to do this all the time. Where had our brotherhood gone? Lost in the war and death and blood. The invasion had stolen much more than lives.

"Better than being dead," Hal grinned back, and I very carefully helped him to his feet.


	8. Betrayal

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review... Some action here... needed it! I hate when I finish the new episode... because now I have to wait an entire week for the next one! :(

**-  
HAL POV**

"We're moving out!" Weaver called to the gathering crowd. "We're heading South towards Charleston where the new capital is supposed to be! There we will establish a stronger resistance. All soldiers and civilians, work on packing up. I want to leave by noon!"

The response was immediate, as people turned to their already half-packed belongings and prepared to leave. We had known we were leaving for the past couple of days, ever since that woman had flown in with the news of a new capital in Charleston and contact with Europe. If it was true, it was a large sign of hope. If not, then we were going to head into another trap. Unfortunately, that's all we had to go on, and if it was a trap... there wasn't much we could do about it except hope.

I, particularly, thought it was a much better idea than going to the Catskills. It was cold enough here as it was, without having to go further North in the icy cold of winter. People were getting sick left and right, and it was only a matter of time before a really bad case came down.

It had been just four days since Pope had his little hissy fit, and so far, nothing more had happened. We hadn't told anyone about it, and Pope simply told his group of Berserkers that his gun had a misfire. No one seemed very interested and the incident passed unnoticed. Except for the fact that he kept giving us dirty looks whenever there was an opening for one, there were no more hostilities.

"Hey Matt, what you got there?" I asked, spotting my little brother with a gun similar to my own hanging over his soldier. I always felt a strong sense of unease when I spotted him with a gun. It was dangerous. He was too young to kill.

"Dad let me have it," Matt replied honestly, glancing my way for a moment. I hesitated.

"Alright, just try not to shoot anyone with it," I said as lightly as possible. I hated disappointing him and making him mad – and taking the guns from him was one of those ways.

He grinned at me, relieved.

I limped towards my dad, who was helping Anne move things in and out of the med-van. "Need anything?" I asked, and they both looked up at me for a moment. I blinked, suddenly feeling awkward because they had been in one of their... lovey dovey conversations. Damn it. I shifted uncomfortably, ready to flee. I had never seen anyone so in love as my dad and Anne. No matter how much they tried to hide it. I still wasn't blind...

"Actually, can you go help Ben? He looks like he's taking half the camp with him," Tom said, looking past me, and I turned to see Ben standing practically knee-deep in gear and backpacks. He didn't look particularly like he needed help, while he was wearing about six bags already and didn't seem too bothered. But I needed something to do.

"Sure," I said, turning to head towards my brother.

"Wait, Hal. How's your leg?" Anne asked. I hesitated a moment. I hated lying. But it kept unwanted questions away. And curiosity.

"It's good," I said, moving off as quickly as possible to Ben. In truth... I could walk on my own for the most part. They knew that. What they didn't know was that I would sink down when I was alone and hold onto my knee because the pain from walking on it was too great. I didn't tell Anne about the fact that I could practically feel the damage... I could feel the break: one bone raking against the other, sparking down my leg. It didn't help that the deep bruising traveling down the majority of my leg itched so terribly that I had to force myself not to touch it, because even the lightest brushing inflamed the entire area. I felt like it was never going to stop. And I knew it wouldn't... not completely.

My teeth clenched as I walk, but as usual I covered it with a false partial-grin.

"Hey Ben. Need some help?" I asked, and without waiting for an answer, pulled one of the packs of his back. I would have grabbed one on the floor but really didn't want to bend over... He turned and grinned at me.

"Thanks. I'm just helping to move some stuff over to the van," he said, nodding in the direction of the oddly-shaped vehicle that some of the civilians used.

"Oh, good," I said, grabbing another bag that he handed to me. None of them were all that heavy. Probably just personal belongings maybe, like picture frames or scrapbooks. Those were some of the most important things that people left hanging around most days. Everyone needed a picture of their past.

Another two bags later, we headed off toward the truck. I felt off-balance and weak the entire way there, like my leg was about to buckle at any moment. It probably wasn't use to the added weight. Lourdes was helping to load everything on the truck so we passed the bags up to her. She smiled politely at us both.

"We're almost ready to go."

It was refreshing when everyone worked together how fast things got done.

_Six hours later._

They arrived at some ghost-town like city that looked like it had taken a blast or two at some point during the war. It seemed completely dead and empty... but you could never know for sure. And none of us were all too keen on risking the lives of our civilians on a guess.

We walked down the street, guns drawn, looking for any sign of movement. All that shifted were weeds in the breeze.

Turning back, we were almost back at our checkpoint when the first bullet went off. I flinched, starting to duck down but finding me knee unwilling to help me. Instead, I had to stagger forward and dive down behind some rubble, spinning to face the fight. Two mechs were walking towards us, followed by a rather large group of skitters. Most of our fighters had hunkered down alright. Someone hurled himself over the rubble to land beside me.

"Take them out!" Someone shouted from afar. I fired at the skitters. My gun wasn't reinforced with mech-bullets and I didn't have a rocket launcher anywhere close by. Several went down. I used my gun as a partial shield over my head as a mech fired in our direction.

"Nice shot the other day, kid," Pope's voice hissed in my ear. _Crap!_I thought, starting to shift away. It was too late. The anger in his voice warned me that something was coming.

Something slammed down over my head and I felt my body slacken into nothingness.


	9. Stranded Waves

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review... Sorry for the cliff hanger... here's another! :p Gonna get some pre-furious-attacking here for the next chapter.

**-  
BEN POV**

We were losing. Two of our fighters went down – dead – from an explosive mech blast. Several others were injured and were being dragged out of the mess. I fired at will, aiming for skitters that continued to appear. An eerie whirring warned me of another mech arrival. Looking back I saw most of us were retreating, trying to help along our wounded and dead. I tried to search for my brother in the crowd but he was nowhere to be found. That's when Weaver began screaming for an official retreat. Civilian crowds were pushed back. Normally, I would have let my hate take over and stand there, killing as many of them as possible. But my heart was racing and my mind was on other things. I couldn't see my brother anywhere. He had been right near me when we had been ambushed, but now he was gone. He could have gotten dissolved in the crowd, but I couldn't be sure. I began to retreat too, firing to hold back to the skitters.

That's when I saw the prone shape lying in the dirt. "Hal!" I screamed, but my voice was drowned in the noise of gunfire, shouts and explosions. I shot towards him, almost getting myself killed in the process by a mech firing, and dropped down beside him. I could tell by his shallow breathing and the way he wasn't moving that he was unconscious. Gently I rolled him over and saw several trails of blood dripping down his face. He was alive... so he hadn't been shot.

I knew immediately that it wasn't the work of a skitter or mech... they would have killed him.

No time. The next explosion was pretty close. I soon found we were completely cut off from the rest of the group. Grimacing, I turned and found myself face to face with a skitter. It hissed at at me, its protective fangs withdrawing from its mouth. In an instant, I was up, slamming a knife down its throat. It gave a screeching gurgle of pain, blood streaking from its mouth before it sagged and fell. I twisted the knife, just to be sure, and it hissed, its twitching ceasing.

Before more were alerted to our position, I tossed Hal's gun around my neck and picked him up, running out of the firefight. More explosions followed, but they began to grow distant. Out of sight, I brought him into the remains of a deserted building and lay him on the ground, waiting for the battle to end so we could make our way back to the group.

* * *

**TOM POV**

I paced, waiting as the rest of the fighters managed to get their way back to me. I scanned all of them for sight of either of my sons, but when neither of them returned, I started to panic. Moving through them, I was ready to head back into the ambush when someone stopped me. Weaver.

"I know you're worried about your sons right now, Tom, but you can't go back in there. There are too many of them and you'll get yourself killed. I promise you when everything calms down we'll go back in there and find them," he said, his voice strong and steady. My heart was racing. If we waited there was a greater chance that they would be killed or captured. I couldn't lose Ben again. I couldn't lose either of them. I closed my eyes, wiping my hand through my hair, breathing rather heavily in an effort to calm own. _Damn it!_

"First time I can... I'll find them," I said harshly, beginning to pace back and forth in the fast-moving crowd. Anne and Lourdes were moving from person-to-person, treating the most serious injuries and then the minor ones. Maggie suddenly appeared at my elbow.

"I'll go with you," she said as steadily as possible. Jimmy came over too.

And we waited as the sun went down.

* * *

**HAL POV**

I woke with a blinding headache and the suspicion that I was going to be punched. My eyes shot open and I sat up so quickly that I smashed into something which gave a loud grunt and fell back.

"Urgh..." I groaned, holding onto my head and wondering why there was a faint ringing in both ears. All I remembered was being shot at by mechs, and then... everything was fuzzy. Literally. I was seeing double. Eventually I recognized Ben's face. When I pulled my hand away from my head I saw blood smeared across my glove. Great. What happened?

"You okay?" Ben asked, as I stared at him blankly, trying not to feel sick as his form wavered in and out of outlines.

"Yep," I replied warily, blinking hard. I still had to squint to see at least a little bit clearly. Why couldn't I remember what happened? I must have gotten hit on the head by something. Maybe a missile exploded overhead and I got decked with some bricks or debris.

"What happened?" Ben asked, reaching out to lay his hand against my head, where it was sluggishly oozing blood.

"I don't remember," I replied honestly, trying to think hard about the last few moments of my consciousness. We were running. From the skitters and mechs because they ambushed us. I dove behind a pile. Shooting. Skitters going down. We were doing good, weren't we? But people were backing up and some were falling unmoving. Then nothing. Something was nagging at my consciousness but I couldn't be sure what. Apparently my brain new something that I couldn't figure out.

"Okay... we got separated from everyone else so I'm waiting out here until the skitters go away. Then we'll find our way back," Ben said calmly, handing me my gun which felt surprisingly heavy in my arms. Maybe my brain was more screwed up than I thought. My ears were still ringing, after all.

We waited in silence for a bit longer, and by then I was starting to get really tired. All my limbs were heavy. The ringing was increasing and my eyes were drifting shut. I leaned against the wall, resting my throbbing head against the cool stone. My head must be boiling. How could it be so hot? The stone felt a bit relieving to me, turning the fire down a little bit. The nagging thought that I was missing something came back. What was it?

I kept thinking about churches and religions. I wasn't sure why. I had never been particularly religious. I mean, sure, when I was a kid I was like everyone else, believing in a god – I wouldn't call it _the_God. But it was more of a "be like everyone else" idea than a "I actually care and believe" idea. Why think about churches?

There used to be a very Catholic couple down the road from our house. Very, meaning they would look at me, being the demon child I was, that I was going to go to Hell if I didn't start listening better. Like every other kid, I just laughed. They always talked about the bible and quoted things I really didn't care about... and they were so focused on their church that they believed and hung onto every thing the Pope said. The Pope?

My eyes shot open. I was suddenly wide awake, cold. Ben quickly tried to wipe the worry from his face.

"Pope!" I said, finally realizing what my mind was trying to tell me. I remembered now, the other person dropping beside me. And the words – the voice. "It was Pope."


	10. Shattered

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review... Sorry for the cliff hanger... here's another! :p Squee! More blood and violence! If you hadn't noticed... I don't like Pope very much. :P (as for why Pope left him... I might get into that in future chapters).

**BEN POV**

"We have to move!" I shouted, pulling up Hal by one arm as a mech sprayed gunfire into the walls of the building we had been hiding in. I fired back, then took off, practically dragging my brother behind me before gunfire ricocheted over our heads and we hit the ground. Undeterred, we continued crawling until we escaped from the main line of fire into a different room. I wasn't sure how the mechs had found us, but we needed to get the hell out of dodge fast. More bullets exploded rather close to our heads. I didn't flinch, but forced myself to keep moving.

The walls were thick enough to protect us from the majority of the gunshots. We managed to get out of the major firefight and I pulled Hal to his feet.

"Can you run?" I asked spinning my head to look at him worriedly. He was pale and trembling, looking a bit unfocused. He nodded at me anyway... and I had no time to make sure. I turned and ran, his sleeve in my hand, and hardly noticed the almost immediate amount of weight I as we took off. There were bullets everywhere, starting to catch up. Something exploded. I ducked as I ran, only hoping Hal was doing the same thing.

I slammed into a wall, too blinded by smoke to see where I was going. Hal smashed beside me, doubled over against the wall. He clearly hadn't been running. I'd dragged him the entire way without realizing it. He was starting to sink down the wall.

"Hal!" I screamed his name, but was drowned out by the sound of a mech-missile heading dangerously close by. Not even I had time to dodge that. I shoved Hal down and threw myself over him as the entire world crumbled around us.

* * *

**MAGGIE POV**

Nightfall. Scouts showed that the majority of the mechs and skitters had returned to whatever ship or base they had come from. We could only hope we weren't going to walk into another ambush. This was a small patrol, not an attacking force by any means. We had only enough weapons for quick self-defense, as we did not know what shape the brothers would be in when we found them. _When_.

A couple of the Bersekers came with us, including Pope, whose presence I noted with extreme disgust. He gave me another of his most mocking smiles as we slid out of camp. God I wanted to kill him. The only thing that kept me from doing so was Tom, purposely standing between us so we didn't try to rip each other to shreds. It was something we both had to fight doing whenever we saw each other lately. So instead of focusing on him, I thought about Hal and Ben.

I knew Hal very well. All of our missions together, and the things we had gone through. Granted, I had kicked his ass the first time I met him, but he started it, trying to take me out first. It was a good thing I had decided to join them. If not, I wasn't sure where I'd be. And I liked it at the 2nd Mass. It felt like we were doing something _good_for a change. Making progress. It was a whole family of people, minus the occasional asshole, and it was something I never thought would have existed after the world ended. They proved me wrong – mostly Hal and Tom. I liked Hal. In a brotherly way, as he was the closest thing I had to family in the entire world. Ben was okay too, but I never really knew him. He didn't spend much time with me. Before his brother's injuries he had been withdrawn and aggressive. Now he was just focused solely on the well-being of his brother. I admired that.

"Get down!" Tom hissed, raising his hand. We all complied, and I peeked over his shoulder to see two mechs firing angrily into a building. I had the darkest feeling that Ben and Hal were inside. After a few minutes of that, one fired a missile dead centre into the brick structure. In a violent display, brick was torn from brick as the entire building went down, toppling several buildings beside it as its interior burned.

I stared, frozen for a little while as the mechs scanned the remains, and then, seemingly satisfied that their job was complete, walked away.

Tom tore up and into the wreckage like a bat out of hell. I followed, ignoring what everyone else was doing, though aware that Jimmy was right beside me the entire way. He and Ben had hit it off rather well – once Jimmy had gotten over his little 'Razorback' problem. Although I was rarely known for getting involved, I didn't miss much. I observed.

The building was completely in shambles. If anything had been inside of it, I was sure it would have been crushed and destroyed by now. My heart was racing because all I could imagine was Ben and Hal's bodies lying amidst the burning wood and beams that had helped support the bricks.

"Hal! Ben!" Tom was yelling, tossing around debris in a vain hope at finding them.

"Shut up before you bring the bugs back!" Pope snarled over him, and I wanted to shoot him in the eye. He alone was doing nothing, leaning against a charred support beam, indifferent. I could tel he didn't give a damn at all.

"I don't see you doing anything," Tom hissed, giving Pope his most scathing. For a former professor, he had some pretty dark expressions.

"What the hell should I care? As far as I'm concerned, that's one less half-breed..." he was silent for a moment, as though in consideration. "And one less cripple." Tom lost it, hurling himself at the man, while the rest of us stared at him in disgusted disbelief. Who was this sub-human calling a half-breed?

I was going to beat him to a pulp with Tom when a coughing sound distracted me. It was very muffled. I turned. A large mound of debris was... shifting? What?

I ran to it. "Jimmy, help me with this!" I called, doing my best to move huge pieces of smoldering brick out of the way. I hissed in pain, the heat burning into my palms. Jimmy began moving the pieces with me. Within minutes I saw a shirt. Then, the pile shifted again, brick sliding away onto the floor. I saw Ben haunched over on his hands and knees, arms covering his head. The backs of his hands were burned badly and I could see blood dotting his shirt and pants. He as breathing hard and began to raise his head. Lying motionless beneath him was Hal.


	11. Discovered

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review... Apologies for misspellings. I have no excuse for those ones but for this one... I just finished and it's storming pretty badly, and I want to get the chapter up BEFORE we lose power... because I don't know when we'll get it back. Anyway, happy house collapsing!

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**BEN POV**

When the ceiling collapsed on me, it felt like every bit of air I had in my body had been knocked out of me. It hurt. Shockingly hard. Since I had been harnessed, I rarely felt pain. It was as though my body had grown more resistant to pain in those couple of months. Now I was driven back to reality. Pain seared my hands and back as heat stormed into my skin, digging into the crevices and burning my flesh alive. I cried out, trying to ignore the feeling that I was being crushed alive. I had tried to keep myself on my hands and knees so I didn't end up pinning Hal, but I quickly was beaten down. I heard his gasp and could feel his breath against my face as we were quickly buried beneath flaming rubble. I squirmed uncomfortably to try and get away from the heat. I froze when Hal whimpered. We were trapped. I couldn't even push the stuff off us. Smoke was filtering down all around us. I coughed and choked, feeling suffocated.

Somewhere, I thought I heard voices. I froze, trying to focus. Beneath me, Hal coughed and wheezed, and I hated the fact that I couldn't move. They had to be voices. Human voices. I thought I recognized one. I shifted again, trying to lift myself up, but couldn't quite manage it. The voices came closer, and suddenly things were shifting off of me. The burns were hurting really badly. I coughed again, the air source becoming even more slim. Too much smoke.

The weight was lessening. I could manage it.

With a tremendous effort I managed to lift myself up so that a lot of the brick fell away. The smoke dissipated for a moment and I gasped for air. Then I saw Maggie and Jimmy. Somewhere behind them, my dad was pinning a bloodied Pope against the remains of the wall. I saw white. _Pope._ This was his fault. What did he have against my brother? I know he hated me, but he had no right to bring Hal into this.

"Make sure he's okay," I growled to Maggie, getting to my feet and limping across the room, aches and pain dissipating as my anger grew. I gave him a chance to just walk away and live. And he did this? Blood roared in my ears. Whatever he was, I wasn't going to let him walk away this time.

He saw me approaching, and without warning he dug a knee into my dad's stomach, making him keel over, losing his grip. He lunged at me.

I didn't hold back.

I dug my fist into his chest, reveling in the feeling of hearing and feeing his fragile, human bones breaking. I felt pain in my fist, and looked to see deeply charred, burned skin split and bleeding. Ouch. It was worth it. Pope was on the ground, holding his ribs and spitting out blood.

"Ben!" My dad turned me to face him and then flinched away. I didn't care. I looked past him to see Maggie taking care of Hal, and Jimmy pacing near the outside, gun out, looking for trouble. My dad forced me to look at him. "Are you okay? Your hands are burned...," he trailed off, looking at my badly burned hands. For a moment I maintained my angry silence. I didn't really want to talk. I wanted to kill something. But I forced myself to calm down and looked at my dad, whose face was bleeding and slightly bruised from his fight with Pope. Another reason for me to want to tear him apart.

"He hit Hal," I said, my voice half a snarl. My dad looked confused, so I clarified. "I found Hal unconscious... when he woke up he said Pope hit him over the head with his rifle," I said, shooting a hateful glare at Pope who hadn't moved. I hoped he was dead. Maybe a bone hit his heart. That would be great. Never have to worry about that creature ever again.

My dad looked between me and Pope for a moment, then shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He seemed to have trouble arriving to a conclusion.

"Okay, all of us are going back to camp. Now. You need to get checked. So does Hal. I need help getting Pope back so we can decide what to do with him," he added, though it was clear by his expression that he didn't care _what_ happened to Pope. I would just leave him here and let him die. But we couldn't do that, could we? No, we had to follow chain of command. And in any chain, we are not allowed to make life-or-death decisions. Maybe if I killed him then we wouldn't have to.

I glared at my father.

"If I get anywhere near him, I'm going to kill him," I spat, taking one more look at Pope before taking several steadying breaths and walking over to Hal. He'd looked better. His head wound was open and bleeding heavily once more and he had bruises over the side of his face under his hair line. That must be where Pope had hit him. His eyes were once again confused and unfocused and I could tell he had a concussion. He had also lied to me when he said he was able to run, but I knew it was simply because he was stubborn and hadn't wanted to slow us down. Unfortunately, he ended up doing that regardless.

That wasn't quite true. I had been the one who ran into the wall.

I knelt down in front of him, forcing him to look at me. He gaze seemed to look straight through me. He was not going to be walking home whether he wanted to or not. By the way he looked, he probably couldn't even form a decision either way. I wondered if he was even aware what was going on.

I grabbed him, ignoring the pain in my hands, and lifted him into my arms, rewarded by... silence... he didn't make a sound of protest. All that I heard was an almost inaudible animal-like whine.

"Ben, your hands!" Maggie said, but I didn't listen.

"I've got him," I said, in a voice that told everyone not to argue. And no one did. I wasn't aware of pain or fear or anything at all, expect his head lolling back against my chest when he lost consciousness. I knew this is what it meant to be a brother.


	12. Awakening

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Finally separating my authors notes from my disclaimers...thanks for all the reviews! And I have no idea what I'm writing until I write it. So it will last until my brain goes dead from ideas. :P I like Hal & Ben brotherly... fluff would be the correct term, right? And I really like father/son stuff too! And I hate Pope, clearly!

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**HAL POV**

Headache. Extreme. Make that an entire body ache. But mostly the headache. That was what was distracting me, as nails were being pounded into my skull. I tried not to think about it. But my thoughts were racing and that's all I could do. It took me awhile to remember what had happened. There was the ambush. Then Ben. Then we were ambushed again. Then the ceiling fell on us? I wasn't quite sure what had happened after that. I must have passed out because there was absolutely nothing in my memory after that. Maybe I hit my head again. It felt like it. In fact, it felt like I had been shoved off a cliff and rolled all the way down the rocks. Perhaps I was being a bit dramatic. Or, perhaps, not. I had to know where I was though. Were we still trapped? Had we found a way out? Were we back in camp?

I forced my eyes open, squinting in pain as everything began to swirl into a cobwebbed focus. Eventually I was aware of Ben sitting nearby, partially asleep, with his hands bandaged and a gash across his forehead. Damn. What did I miss? It had been quite a long time since he had gotten himself hurt.

"You look like hell," Ben commented, and I flinched. I had been focusing so hard on his hands that I didn't realize he had noticed I was awake.

"You too," I responded with a grin that made me feel like I had split my head in half. It shattered my vision again and vanished into a grimace until I was able to get it back. Ben stood up and walked – no, _limped_– over to me. I felt a sudden sense of worry. How had he gotten hurt? "What happened?" I asked, trying to focus on those last few moments... the ceiling had collapsed, right? It must have. That's the last thing I remembered.

He frowned at me.

"The building collapsed. Remember?" He asked, eying my curiously. Yes, I did remember that. But nothing after.

"What happened after that? I don't remember anything else."

Ben seemed to get even more worried for a second, but then relaxed. I couldn't understand the expression in his eyes. I wasn't sure I wanted to. I wanted to fall back asleep, my eyes half aware of what was happening. My pounding head was about to explode into a million pieces.

"Maggie and Jimmy dragged us out. I almost killed Pope. Then you passed out and I carried you here..." He said, starting to frown again. "So you don't remember anything that happened after the building collapsed? Anne said you might have hit your head again which would mean you may not remember it at all," he added. Oh, really? I didn't notice. The headache was starting to make me sarcastic and irritable. I squinted at him, feeling the bandage around my head.

"Almost killed Pope? Where is he now?" I felt a sudden twinge of concern. I hated the idea that Pope was out there, plotting another way to hurt Ben. And then I worried about all the other people who feared and hated my brother for being a "Razorback". What if they got the same idea Pope did, and decided to try and kill him, too?

"Dad and Weaver are deciding what to do with him," Ben said, his voice becoming cold and empty.

* * *

**TOM POV**

I didn't understand why I had to be dragged away from my sons just to deal with this degenerate who should have been kicked out and left to die ages ago. But Weaver wanted my opinion, despite the fact that it was clear what my stance on _this_ would be. I'd given him so many chances, and yet he tried to kill my sons _twice_. I didn't understand why he had even bothered to come to find him. Would he have tried to kill them, if given the chance? Is that why he had badmouthed me? He thought they had died? I had too, to be honest. I knew they were in that building when it had collapsed and I had thought, 100%, that it would have crushed them. For a normal person, it would have. But Ben wasn't normal. They were lucky. Just lucky.

The look on Ben's face when he had attacked Pope had scared the hell out of me. His eyes were devoid of any feeling other than hate – and a little excitement, even, when Pope fell to the ground. I knew the look from the way he looked at skitters every time he killed them. That's why I had flinched away. That and the fact that his face was bloodied and burned as well as hands – his hands taking the worse of the damage. That's why I was going to kill Pope if I ever got my hands on him.

"We can't keep him here. He's rogue. He tried to kill _both_of my sons," I snapped at Weaver, who simply sighed and used his best 'leader' eyes to try and calm me down.

"I know that Tom. But is it safe to let him off on his own where no one can keep an eye on him?" He reasoned, making me pause for a second. If he was out on his own – and survived – he would ample opportunity to cause us trouble. I felt frozen. If we let him stay, at least someone could keep an eye on him... but we'd all have to put up with seeing his face and try to resist pulverizing it. If he left, we'd be at a greater risk. Which left...

"Captain Weaver!" Anthony stumbled in, nose streaked with blood and one eye puffed up, supported by Dai who also looked worse for wear. "Pope escaped," he rasped, blood streaming out his mouth.

I felt numb with rage and panic.

"How the hell did he do that? He has broken ribs for God's sake!" Weaver snarled, storming out of the tent, immediately calling together a crew. I blinked myself out of the daze. I had to check on my sons first. My fight with Pope earlier had left me more than a little bruised, but I could take him again any day.

Darting past them I ran to the medical van, hoping to hell that the demented criminal hadn't gone after them again. As I rounded the corner, however, I ran face to face with the but of a gun, and fell backwards, stunned. Blowing blood out of my nose, I stared up at the same man I had been ready to kill earlier, teeth bared like an animal, bloodied and holding a pistol at my face.


	13. Strangled Cries

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Thanks for all reviews! Sorry this is a bit late - couple hours. Was at camp most of the day with no internet or computer! anyway... some Tom & Pope violence here... because I don't put Tom in this enough. I'll try to add some more of Maggie, too... I don't write romance but I can do fluff. xD

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**POPE POV**

I glared down at Tom, fury lit through me. The pain bouncing through my ribcage thanks to his mutant son only fueled the flames, and I knelt, albeit a little stiffly, next to him, pressing the gun against his neck. His eyes didn't show fear though. I hissed through my teeth, spitting out blood on him, before taking his side arm and holding that against his temple. Nothing. Only cold, hard rage. Damn him. Damn him to hell. I remembered the time I saved his sons' lives from that Carson character. Never again. In fact, I might just turn into that Carson character – minus the working with skitters part. Anything to get rid of all these Razorback, skitter-changing freaks. And as for Hal... he simply pissed me off for shooting me, and getting in my way on more than one occasion. Why the heck did they even give him a gun? He was a cripple, not a fighter. He couldn't even run. I snorted in disgust. The Second Mass was going down the hole, and all Weaver was willing to do was put more useless and traitorous people to work.

"Don't make a sound or I'll kill you," I hissed, and just to prove my point, smashed the butt end of his handgun into his jaw. Blood went everywhere. I smirked crazily at the flash of pain that entered his eyes. But there still wasn't fear. The anger was almost rival to my own. If only he wasn't so blinded by his sons. He would realize I was right. That I was doing the good thing, trying to save the group from another disaster by trusting the hybrids. It wasn't my fault his other son was caught up in the process. I wasn't sure if I would take joy in blowing his brains out too, but it felt good to smash him over the head with my rifle. Make up for him shooting me in the shoulder, which still ached like hell.

People were running around the camp like crazy, looking for me. I had a bone or two to pick with Mason. Grabbing him by the front of his shirt, I wrenched him to his feet, thrusting him into the bushes outside the camp. They wound find us if we remained still for too long. And I didn't want some stupid patrol to mess up the plans I had just made. Once clear, I shoved him with all the strength I had into the closest tree. He staggered off of it, so I kicked him in the back of his legs, dropping him. Damn, this hurt. Bloody mutant kid breaking my ribs. It was such a hindrance. Wheezing. Get angry again. I had been distracted long enough for him to roll around and scramble to his feet, reaching for me. I grabbed his hand and twisted, not hard enough to break it, because I didn't have enough strength in my arm, but enough to make him crumple to his knees with a hiss of pain. I smirked again, as cocky as I could manage, because it drove him crazy when I did that. I rammed my other fist into his face, once, twice... a third time. The guns were forgotten and I had dropped them. He suddenly grabbed for my ribs and I couldn't hold back a scream of pain. Releasing him, I immediately dropped to the ground, feeling as though I was suffocating in a swirling pool of pain that reverberated through my chest. Crap. Damn wounds.

It wasn't fair.

A boot swept for my face and I rolled unsteadily out of the way. That hurt too. But I was getting angry again, and the pain was tolerable. I had, at least, some control of myself. I lunged, knocking Mason to the ground, and we both rolled and grappled until my greater size and strength finally played an advantage. I worked to protect my ribs as much as possible so he wouldn't take advantage of my injuries again. I punched him in the mouth as hard as possible, knocking his head off the ground, and making him go limp... at least for the moment. I took that as the time to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze, pressing my thumbs against his windpipe. He practically seized against me, and finally there was fear in his eyes, the kind I could live on and the kind that excited me.

I tightened my grip, listening to him choke, and feeling the rapid fire of his heart beating through his chest.

* * *

**TOM POV**

I couldn't breathe. Pure terror raced through me, my heart pounding violently against my chest, eyes wild, thrashing and struggling beyond control. If there was one death I never wanted to experience, it would be bing strangled (or drowned, because they were similar). As my lungs began to convulse in my chest, struggling for one tiny breath of oxygen, my vision grew blank and dark, fuzzy spots appearing in the areas I could partially see. I couldn't think. My consciousness was fading. My eyes were shutting on their own accord.

Something happened, because without warning, the weight on top of my vanished and I could breath. I sucked down air, wheezing and coughing and holding my throat, trying in vain to ease the deep ache in the centre of my chest. I was caught somewhere between stages of consciousness until I felt a hand rubbing gently into my back, easing my way back into normal breathing.

Slowly, I lifted my head, blinking the black spots from my vision.

It was Maggie, supporting me from falling face first into the dirt. Pope was gone. That was a relief, for a moment, until I realized he was still out there, an angry animal looking for someone to take his attitude out on. I wouldn't let it be on my kids. My life was unimportant. I had to protect them, and I couldn't relax until Pope, or his body, was found.

"You okay Tom?" Maggie asked with genuine concern in her voice. How she had lived in that skitter hunting gang with Pope for so long was beyond me. I would have killed myself.

"I'm alright... I have to check on my sons. Pope... is still out here somewhere. He hates Ben." I said between breaths, not realizing that I was spouting off things that Maggie was already aware of. Sometimes, I forgot just how smart she was. If there was anyone in this camp I would trust my life with, it would be her. I'm glad she and Hal worked together so much. Hal and Ben would be too busy protecting each other to get anything done properly... and I didn't trust anyone else. Except Jimmy. Damn it... I should be paying attention to the group more. Then I could learn to trust some more people.

Lately, however, trust was something in short supply. People were out hunting for Pope as I made my way slowly to the medical van.


	14. Our Nightmare

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Thanks for all reviews! Ben & Hal here... will try to get Maggie in next chapter. o:

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**HAL POV**

There was darkness everywhere. The entire world was set in dark black fire, the sky itself glistening with blood the colour of charcoal. I staggered through it, trying to find my way out of the dark, but no matter how far I went, there was no light. I was suffocating. I was being hunted. Grey shapes moved through the darkness behind me. I couldn't see them, but I could imagine them there, and could also imagine the bright red eyes that glared through me. I ran, gasping, trying not to slip in the dark. There was nothing in front of me, yet nothing beneath me, either. I was running in place. The hunters were getting closer. I could hear their footsteps, their heavy breathing, and their excited, angry snarls. My heart was thudding with fear, threatening to leap out of my chest. I hoped it would. Then, I wouldn't have to fear. Or even feel, at all, ever again. It was almost better that way. What were we fighting for? What was I running from? At the moment, I wasn't even sure where I was or how I got here.

Then I saw Ben, curled on the ground, covered in blood and bruises. My eyes widened as I ran towards him, calling his name. My voice came out as a quiet echo, hardly loud enough to reach him. How could he hear me, if I could hardly hear myself?

He turned towards me anyway, and my breath caught in my throat. A shadow loomed up behind him, long blade raised in the air. "Move!" I ordered, but no sound came out this time. All I saw was him, staring at me with a blank expression – a familiar blankness. Then I looked closer. A glowing orange harness was in his back, flaming rivulets shooting up the inside of the creature. My brothers eyes were changing colour, red, orange... he was being pulled away from me – or I from him. The blade went down.

I jolted awake, gasping for air, gripping the arms in front of me like I was about to fall through thin air. My fingers were white. I was shaking uncontrollably, soaked with sweat, pain throbbing through my head and leg and various other aches in my body. Ben was looking down at me, his expression both concerned and afraid. I hated myself for taking a moment just to check to see that he was still unharnessed.

Of course he was fine. It was just a dream.

I heaved a deep breath, managing to get some control over my breathing. Yesterday, our dad had come in, bloodied and exhausted, saying that Pope had escaped. Now I spent every other waking moment glancing at the door to see if the psycho was there, trying to break through it. Of course he wasn't. He wouldn't dare take Ben on face to face again – not that he knew just how strong he was. I wondered if that was... though I was afraid of the idea... because the harness may have been trying to turn him into a skitter? After learning that the skitters were also once harnessed, that had been my fear. That Ben was going to turn, too. But I wouldn't let that happen. They couldn't have my brother. They would have to go through me, first, and I would kill as many of them as possible before they killed me.

"Are you okay?" He asked me, and I realized I was still squeezing his arms to the point his own hands were changing colour. I released him, sinking shakily back down onto the bed. I wasn't sure what to make of the dream... nightmare would be more accurate. I had had many since the invasion, but none quite like this one. I couldn't really be sure what it meant, or if I should even take heed of it.

"Just a bad dream," I mumbled quietly. "Sorry if I woke you," I added, realizing it was still night time and he, if he were a normal person, would still have been asleep. Had my pathetic whimpers and cries woken him up again? It wouldn't be the first time.

"No, I wasn't sleeping," Ben said in a way that I couldn't be sure was lying or not. I could never tell with him anymore. It frustrated me, no longer being able to understand what was on my brother's mind.

But being his brother didn't give me instant access to his secrets and personal feelings. Nor did it give him mine. Ben frowned at me, as though wanting me to give him more of an explanation, but when I offered none, he simply sighed and went to sit back down in _his_ chair. It was right beside the door. His hands were still bandaged, but he said the burns were healing well.

I sat up slowly, ignoring the stiffness in every muscle in my body. Perhaps I should make the medical bay my new home. God knows I've been here enough. It would simply save me and everyone else the time of moving me back here the next time I got myself shot, hit, or buried in rubble. Though next time, I would probably run out of my 'luck' and get something even more serious. I was already a cripple with a concussion. Maybe I could lose an arm, or an eye. That would _really_ put an end to my career. I grimaced. It was too easy to get hurt and killed in this world. Before, there was always a chance... and the aliens had taken it away.

"What do you think would have happened if we had nuked them?" Ben asked suddenly, as though he could read my thoughts. I looked up at him, seeing half his face obscured in the dark, tense with thought and sadness. He was probably think about mom, I realized, feeling a pang as I thought about her. Kids shouldn't have to deal with this. "I mean, everyone said that if we nuked them from the start, everything would be the same. But it wouldn't, would it? How many survivors would there be, set on killing as many of us as possible? How could we sleep, knowing there were other things out there that knew we existed, and we had killed so many of them? What would our world be like then?"

I stared at Ben, feeling a deep sadness in my chest, because I knew he was right. The moment the aliens had come, everything that could have been had been changed forever. None of us would ever have been the same. Even if they had been friendly... the idea was foreign to me.

"We would always live in the same fear we live in now," I mumbled back, wondering why we all _had_ to be afraid.


	15. Lost and Destroyed

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Damn. That episode... every time I watch the new episode, I get mad because I have to wait an ENTIRE WEEK for the next one... anyway. Some Maggie and Hal in this one! :D and cliffhanger.

* * *

**MAGGIE POV**

It had been three days since Pope had escaped and we hadn't heard a word from him since. Not a sighting, not an attack – nothing. I wondered why I hadn't just tried to bag him the time I caught him attacking Tom, but knew that I had had little choice. Tom had barely been breathing. His health came over concern for catching Pope. With that discovered, I moved on to the next matter. Hal. He had finally been cleared to go on missions again – just patrols for now, and always with several people. I wasn't sure even that was enough. I made sure to sign up for everything he had... as had been and Tom, who was also cleared to go on patrols. I knew the feeling was mutual. Pope would have to go through both Tom and I – and whoever else was with us that night – before we let them get to Ben and Hal. I was, actually, fairly certain that Ben could take care of himself. The bandages had been removed to reveal slightly burnt, but healing flesh. It looked a lot better today than it had a few days ago, that's for sure.

A crackling in the bushes to the right made us all freeze. Then several things happened at once. Ben shoved Hal to a semi-cover behind a log, making wince as the older brother stumbled from the sudden movement. Ben than jumped down after him, gun raised into the bushes. I followed, Tom and Anthony moving down onto the soft, wet ground beside me. It had rained all day and the groan was marshy and disgusting. We were all going to catch pneumonia. It was freezing.

Two skitters prowled out of the bushes, seemingly in deep conversation – if one could call it that. The crackling hisses and growls that were their voices were never quiet understandable for me. Stupid bugs. I had always wondered if Ben could still understand what the skitter-bugs were saying, but I felt it would be rude to ask... if he did understand, surely he would say something.

"Wait," Tom hissed, as I was about to open fire. I did so, knowing he must have some idea what he was doing... even if I didn't understand. We waited. About a minute went by, and then...

"Now!" We all fired at once, one skitter's head going up in a spray of blood as all our bullets found it. The other turned, hissing at is in something that seemed to be panic. We shot it again and again as it came closer, but it was no match – why it thought it was didn't concern me. Skitters were quite stupid. They always walked into the middle of the gunfire like they were actually suicidal. Perhaps they were. I would be, if I looked like that.

There was a momentary silence as we waited for the sound of more skitters approaching, but nothing happened. Slowly, we raised ourselves from the ground, soaking wet and muddy. Gross.

"Everyone's okay?" Tom asked, and several nods and affirmatives echoed around us.

"Let's get out of here," he said, and tensely, we began to hurry back to camp. When there was one skitter around – or two, I guess – there would be more. They were like termites. Filthy and powerful. I ended up at the rear, walking backwards, scanning everything behind us for more enemies. I bumped into someone's back and Hal suddenly materialized next to me.

"I thought you might like some company," he said, with his signature, gentle grin. I smiled. Two guns were better than one. Unless they were pointed at each other.

"Good to see you too, Hal," I said, jumping at a crunching sound from behind us. Someone must have stepped on a twig. Forests suck. It was impossible to walk quietly, with the leaves, twigs, and other things all over the place. At least it was rainy. All that would make noise now were twigs and branches, if they were brittle enough.

"Where the hell are we?" Tom snarled and we both flinched. I turned and found myself staring at... some kind of city remains. Don't tell me we went in the wrong direction? I clenched my jaw around a frustrated response. How hard was it to keep track of where we were going?

Now we were lost who-knows-where, in a city full of who-knows-what.

"Stop scowling," Hal whispered in my ear, and I flushed. Was it that obvious? I immediately forced myself to smile... just a little. He had a way of making me do that. A familiar noise whirred nearby. We all froze. I felt Hal stiffen beside me, flinching away. The mech was coming. Its lights were fast approaching. Everyone began to run for cover. We didn't have the weaponry with us to take it down. It was far too late. The ground exploded beside me. Hal grabbed my arm as we were both thrown through the air to land in a skidding halt beside an old car. My back ached from striking the ground too hard. Hal pulled me up, and we both curled up behind the car, hiding from the mechs searching beams as it began shooting at different things around us. I hoped the others had gotten out of there in time.

"Keep your head down," Hal hissed, pulling me back as I tried to peak over the roof of the car. Just in time. A missile blast zoomed over our heads, missing the top of the car by inches. Crap. That was close. I was suddenly aware that Hal was crouching over me protectively, as glass and rubble was raining down all around us. What was he thinking? He was in no shape to take any more damage, especially for me.

Gunfire was everywhere. The others must be engaging. We didn't dare too. We were too caught out in the open. One missile hitting the car just right would send us flying into oblivion. More glass shattered everywhere. The ground exploded in front of us, sending several yards of concrete flying into the air.

_Holy shit,_ I thought, cringing instinctively against his chest. Fortunately it didn't land near us. We had to find better cover – or they had to finish off that mech before it killed us.

It whirred again, even above all the fire and explosions that were blazing around us. That's when everything went black.


	16. Falling Down

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Another fist fight? Sure. Another cliff hanger? Why not? :P I can't help it. I'm a mean person!

* * *

**HAL POV**

Damn. I didn't see the second mech in time – the one who came up right beside us. By the time I had turned, it was far too late. The stunner blast hit Maggie, and some of it coursed through my body, making me convulse in pain as we both lurched backwards. She was unconscious, and I was barely awake. The world was spinning. It felt like the entire world was vanishing before my eyes. The stunner had felt like electricity running through my veins, making my teeth clash together. Ow. I watched, limbs too heavy to grab my gun and raise it in defense as the mech came closer, whirring as its pre-warning to another shot. I shut my eyes. We were both going to die here, lying in the middle of an area that would have impressed World War I trench-soldier survivors.

Bullets ricocheted off the mech's outer metal. It turned towards the source, miraculously leaving them alive. Disabled... but alive. A face – a human face – appeared around the edge of the car. Ben. His face was streaked with blood down one side where a bullet had grazed his cheek. He reached for me but I shook my head angrily.

"Take her!" I said, and with the remaining feeling I had left in my limbs, pushed Maggie towards him. "I can walk," I partially lied, because I wasn't sure if I could or not. I'd have to take it really slow until I got full feeling back in my body.

He grabbed her easily and ran off into the woods. I staggered to my feet, shuffling drunkenly and hanging on to the car. Those stunners were a pain. I felt like my limbs were packed down with sand, my entire body slow to respond. I moved a few feet on my own but felt like I was going to topple over. Suddenly I was being supported and found my dad at my shoulder, half dragging me along. I looked back. There was a mess of mechs lying around the pavement, somehow, miraculously destroyed. All we had were guns, right? How had they managed to take them out? Whatever. The fact was, we weren't dead. So far.

"Keep walking," my dad hissed in my ear as I stumbled. I bit back an angry response and simply settled for mumble.

"Sorry." Where was Anthony? I was going to look back again when I saw him running past us, wielding what looked like half a bazooka in his arms. Now it made sense. He must have decided at the last moment to bring anti-mech weaponry, though I wouldn't know why. It wasn't a common thing to bring on a patrol if we were supposed to be moving quickly, and lightly, through unknown territory.

He kept running, probably to catch up to Ben who had vanished ahead of us. Soon enough, he too was swallowed up by the forest canopy.

"Dad," I said, hearing the sound of crunching undergrowth to the left. Too heavy to be an average animal, but too light to be a skitter or mech. He turned, accidentally jerking me around. Then we were falling, tumbling through undergrowth and down some kind of ravine or sorts to soft, muddy ground at the bottom. I lay gasping for air as I lifted my head from the deep puddle beneath it. I rolled, partially on one side but froze at the severe pain rippling down my leg. _Damn it!_ I could hardly move it, and realized I had smashed my knee on the way down and now could hardly move. I squinted through the mud streaking before my eyes until I saw two figures standing there – my dad and... shit.

I wasn't able to hear what they were saying before they leaped at one another, pushed into another furious fist fight. I didn't care what Pope wanted – I wasn't going to let him hurt my dad. With that thought, I pulled the knife from my ankle brace and fought painfully to get to my feet.

* * *

**TOM POV**

Pope and I had wrestled down the slope, slapping, clawing and biting because neither of us had much room to put in a real blow. We hit the bottom with a gasping grunt, water spraying up all around us. It did nothing to slow us. I rolled, on my knees, and slammed my fist into Pope's face before he could stand. He snarled with rage, throwing my backwards with a well aimed elbow to my jaw, then jumped on top of me. He got in two more hits, but the adrenaline pumping in my veins drowned out most of the pain as I bit down on his hand and slammed my knee into his stomach. He coughed in my face, gasping for air, and I used that to my advantage by rolling him over and slamming my fist into his ribs. They were still broken? His sharp cry of pain told me I was right. Good.

"Go to hell," I snapped at him, but was knocked to the ground, ears ringing, when he slammed a rock into the side of my head. Ugh. I couldn't see or think for several moments. Next thing I knew, I was being tossed violently against the side of the rocky ravine. My body screamed in pain. Blood was dribbling down my chin from my mouth. I moved forward but he kicked me to my knees. Then there was a gun to my head, and I knew in that second that he was going to pull the trigger, and I wouldn't be able to stop him.

I shut my eyes. I wouldn't let him see my feelings, my fear, my anger, or my pain. I thought about Matt and Ben and Hal. What would Matt do without me? He had lost his mother and I was the only parent he had left. I had just come back. He didn't deserve to lose me again. And Ben. Who would protect him from dangers both in the camp and outside? Who would save him from the hate? Who would try their hardest to make sure he was doing okay? Hal could fill in, but... he was here. Shit. I forgot about Hal. I couldn't let Pope kill him when he was done with me. My eyes shot open, but I had the distinct feeling that whatever I did now would be too late.


	17. The Enemies

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Teehee. Part 1 is over. Time to introduce the real antagonists! soon.

* * *

**HAL POV**

In sheer panic, I lodged my knife into the back of Pope's neck, falling against him as I dead so. For just a few seconds we both were frozen, before the gun fell from Pope's hand and we sunk to the ground. The knife was still in my hand, the back of the blade slicing into my palm because my hand slipped as I stabbed him. I didn't feel a thing, except a strange feeling of.. was it curiosity? And horror. I had just killed another human being. I saw, just in time, the cloud passing over his eyes as we fell when he tried to turn towards me. He hadn't made it all the way, but I still saw his eyes, glinting with fear and surprise before they faded into a world of no feelings at all. I felt strangely cold, as though all the warmth had been sucked out of my body the moment I brought the knife down. I had down it to save my father's life, but it was not like killing a skitter. I didn't know what skitters felt, thought, or believed. I couldn't understand them or connect them with any important living creature that I knew. But Pope was human, in the most vague and anatomical sense there was. And I _knew_ human. Here I was, lying on top of his body, shivering in the empty air, his eyes fixed unseeingly on the sky.

And I felt shame.

"Hal," my dad's arms wrapped around me, lifting me from Pope's body and turning me away. He pulled me against his body, and I could feel the tremours running through him, too. I shut my eyes, letting him hang on to me, out of fear that if he let go then I would completely fall apart.

* * *

**BEN POV**

When neither Tom or Hal made it out of the woods, I immediately grew worried. They had been right behind me. Where had they gone? I laid Maggie down gently, checking to make sure she was otherwise unharmed, and realized she had only been hit by a stunning blast. I looked up to see Anthony pacing around, his gun out and ready, scanning for enemies among the trees. I was certain we were heading in the right direction now. Unfortunately, Hal and Tom had vanished.

"Get her back to camp, I'm going back to check on my dad and Hal," I ordered, and without waiting to see his answer, took off into the trees. I was faster than he was and didn't get tired. And I could hear far better than anyone else could even begin to. Another thing to "thank" the skitters for, despite the fact I hated them. Without them, I wouldn't be able to hear the obvious scuffle happening somewhere to my right. I could hear my dad... and was that Pope? Rage immediately took hold of me. That bastard! What kind of slinking, rat coward is he? I was going to kill him, no questions asked.

That's when I arrived at the edge of the ravine, and looked down. Pope was lying dead in the dirt with a knife in the back of his neck. My dad was hanging on to Hal who was shaking uncontrollably. I saw the blood dripping from his hand and immediately understood.

I jumped down beside them, dropping to my knees in the mud next to my dad. Part one of this nightmare was over. What would happen now?

* * *

**UNKNOWN POV**

I moved smoothly through the forest, watching in silence as the humans went about their business, unaware of my presence. As soon as the mechanical support had been destroyed, I began to follow them back to their camp. There was something about one of them that intrigued me. I had been told that one was a previous child under our care, and it was strange to see a child with so much hate for us. Certainly they would have saw our reasoning for this war and remained on our side, with or without the chemical controller? But this one... went rogue. It had been under control for long enough to begin the Change, so one day, it would understand our reasons and finally fight on our side.

But it wasn't our former child that I had been sent to look over. One of our privileged children had taken a great interest in one of the kids in this resistance group. I was sent only to check on the progress of the attack. It seemed petty to me, and to my overlords, this silly thing called revenge. But at the same time, it was refreshing to know that humans who had harmed us so much would be paying for it. Death would be a reward, for them. One the would not receive for a long time.

It pleased me to see the humans fight amongst themselves, for I knew that their resistance group would fall apart with them. Although it would be much simpler to just kill them all now, those were not my orders. It would be so easy. They were so distracted.

I watched them for a bit longer, until they had finally begun to return to their camp. I was not to follow them. The risk was too great to me, if I followed them all the way to their point of resistance. It would have been helpful for us to know where they were heading, but for now, we were to leave them be. The overlords were becoming soft, if they let the interests of the children come before their need to end this war. Just earlier, two of my friends had been killed by these same people. It didn't matter. Not really. There were thousands more of us, and each of us were friends, in one way or another. We weren't like them. Not quite. Our orders came before our bonds. That's what made us strong. That's what will make us win this war. They will see. When they are dying in the dirt, watching our great empire finally take complete control of their world, they will see.


	18. Fatal Rest

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Teehee. Squeee. Hurt comfort? ... not yet. Next chapter... more or less, angst and sadness.

* * *

**HAL POV**

I grimaced. It felt like I was going to be starting over. I could walk at least, but not as well as before and definitely not without support, unless I felt like hopping everywhere. At least Maggie was alright. She woke up yesterday, the morning after the attack and Pope's death, with the typical post-stunner headache and weakness. Somehow we managed to survive all that, and Pope was dead, and things would finally be going back to normal. Mostly. Things would never quite be the same again. I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw were _those_ eyes, staring at me and dying. I couldn't stand it. I was exhausted, but refused to talk to anyone about it. I didn't want to talk, and it wasn't like they would even want to hear it. Sighing to myself, I looked out over the camp that was its most relaxed it had been in days. Without Pope looming over them, everyone felt much more safe. I knew it was only a matter of time before something happened that would bite that idea in the bud. They seemed to forget that skitters and mechs were twice as dangerous as any human was. Twice might be an understatement. My eyes were drifting shut, my head foggy with exhaustion. I hadn't slept in days. I heard a familiar voice in my ears, and saw a bloodied body lying motionless and cold in the dirt. My eyes shot open and I staggered, hanging on to the side of a truck as I worked to keep my balance.

I was falling asleep standing up now. Great. A headache was throbbing between my eyes, and all my senses were off, my thoughts slow and sluggish. I finally noticed a group of people standing around my father. I limped heavily over to them, standing just off to the back so I didn't get too many looks. People gave me strange looks often these days and my patience for them was starting to run short. I didn't really know what was wrong with them. They were all, really, just annoying...

"We're starting to run low on medical supplies so we need people who can quickly scout the surrounding cities for pharmacies and hospitals for anything you can find," Tom said, looking around at the semi-interested group of civilians and scouts. Most clearly didn't give a damn. Why would they? As long as they were alive and fed, who cared about the people who got injured or sick along the way, unless they themselves were the "victim"? Sometimes I hated civilians. Like right now. I thought I was going to start screaming at them all to just _think_, and I had to force myself not to speak, not to move, and try to calm down. I needed rest, desperately.

"Hey, Hal," Maggie said, and I shot my head up. I hadn't heard her come up. I had to squint a little just to see clearly. She looked better than she had yesterday, half conscious and confused. No one looked or felt good after being stunned though. "You look like hell," she said bluntly, taking a second look at me with a bit of concern in her eyes.

I forced a grin, neither feeling amused or annoyed. In fact, I didn't feel very much of anything except a powerful need to lie down and sleep for the next month. I wouldn't do either. I didn't want to see those eyes when I shut my own. No matter how good sleep seemed, it was never worth that. I tried to come up with something to say in response, but my brain was going incredibly slow, and the headache was getting worse. I remembered the days of Advil with a pang of longing. To have a bottle of Advil right now...

"Woah, careful," Maggie said, grabbing me, and I realized I had been swaying. I blinked at her, vaguely realizing I was shaking. If she realized that I was about to pass out from exhaustion then she would _force_ me to sleep. I had to make something up.

"Sorry, just thinking... lost my balance a little," I said, partly lying. It wasn't _completely_ a lie. I was simply avoiding the truth. I couldn't tell if she believed it or not. Her expression was growing fuzzy. Everything was receded around the edges a little bit. Realizing I was probably going to collapse soon, I began to turn to get away from the line of sight of... everyone. "I have to check on Matt," I said abruptly, as a viable reason for my sudden lurching stumble in the other direction. Everything was fading fast. I needed to sit down somewhere and recover some energy. Coffee didn't help. All that did was make my heart rate increase.

No longer aware if she had followed me or not, I sunk to the ground on the other side of the truck, where there was no one to see me. My hands were shaking. My eyes shut again, and for a moment I saw nothing but darkness. And then I was swirling through a world of chaos and vivid nightmares. There were eyes growing blank, then blood red. A body swarmed with maggots and flies, gushing blood, revealing organs and bone, until all that was left was bone the colour of mustard, eye sockets and nose and mouth filled with the writhing maggots. I thought I was going to be sick. Then the creature slammed into me, knocking me to the ground, landing one me and began to shake me violently, and I thought I was going to break in half. It kept howling my name in my ear, making my head ripple violently, and I struggled to get away... and as I fought for breath, thinking I was going to die, my eyes shot open and I was staring up at Maggie who was shaking me and calling my name.

My heart thudded violently in my chest, a cry of panic at the edge of my throat, burning me. In the panic of waking I had grabbed tightly onto her arms, my hands shaking violently. What the hell had just happened?

"Are you okay? You passed out on me," she said, uncharacteristically gently. Oh. That was weird.


	19. Skulls and Skeletons

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Nexxtt... I'm sorry I keep switching back and forth between Ben and Maggie each chapter. :P I post with Maggie and people ask for Ben, and I post with Ben and people ask for Maggie! I'll try and come up with a chapter in which both are involved. ;o

* * *

**BEN POV**

Since Maggie told me what happened, I decided it was time to stop being subtle and get forceful. Of course I had noticed that Hal hadn't been sleeping since Pope died, but I just assumed he would succumb to it after a day or so and be fine. Apparently not. He needed sleep, and I wasn't going to listen to him try to tell me otherwise. I went to Anne first. A patrol just came back with a nice amount of medical supplies, and, hoping they had something useful, I went to Anne.

"Do you have any sleeping pills?" I asked, and she hardly seemed surprise when she looked at me.

"Actually, we got quite a few in the last raid," she began to rummage through a cabinet, moving around bottles and boxes until she seemed to find the one she wanted. She dumped two tablets in her hand, small, round and cream-coloured. Handing them to me, she said, "you can slip these in his drink. I doubt he would willingly take them," she told me. I must have looked surprised, because she added, "your brother has been walking around half-dead for a couple days. I'd talk to him but he won't listen to me." That was true. He never listened to anyone. It was sometimes quite annoying. He would rather get stabbed in the eye than spend two seconds listening to someone if they were trying to help him.

Almost... like me.

Maybe it was a Mason thing. My dad was the same way.

Thanking Anne, I slipped outside and immediately searched for my brother. I found him sitting at a table, head in his hands, drifting in and out of consciousness in sporadic bursts. I sighed, grabbing a couple mugs of water and dropping the pills in one. I swished the glass around until the foaming pills turned into a fine powder and then faded into nothing. I walked over to the table and set the glass down right in front of Hal, who was in the process of falling into another doze. He jolted awake, looking around with scared eyes, fogged over with sleep loss. I hesitated, then nudged the glass over to him. "I would have gotten you coffee but I don't think it would work on you."

He looked blearily from the glass to me, then wrapped his hand around it. I could see hand shaking as he lifted the glass. I waited until he had drunken half the glass to speak.

"Matt was looking for you earlier," I lied, but I knew that was the easiest – and only – way to get him back to our rooms. He seemed to take a long moment to understand, then looked at me. He looked so unfocused that I knew for sure he had no idea what was going on.

"Okay," he mumbled, slowly rising. He could barely walk, barely move. When I wrapped an arm around his shoulders to keep him standing, he hardly protested. We made it all the way to the tent before the pills – or his exhaustion without them – began to take over. He crumpled, and I caught him around the waist, pulling him into the empty tent.

"What did you do to me?" Hal growled, starting to struggle against me. I readjusted my grip, grabbing both his wrists and pinning them together against his chest, pressing his back against me. I had to be careful of his leg. I almost forgot.

"You need to sleep," I said, ignoring his struggling and protests.

"I don't want to," he said weakly, making me sigh again as the back of my legs hit the cot. I held him completely still, until his struggling finally ceased and he fell limp against me. Once he was asleep I laid him down on the cot, leaning against it for a moment as I passed my hand through my hair, sighing. I swear, I have the most stubborn brother on the planet.  
_  
Later that day..._

I woke to the sound of whimpering and cries of fear on the other side of the room. I saw up instantly, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. It must be nearing night time, because the sun was going down, its light blocked by the trees and buildings around them. When I could finally see clearly, I saw Hal curled up into a small ball in the middle of his cot, gripping tightly to the sheets beneath him, trembling, thrashing and jerking around. He was muttering something, but the words were so jumbled that I had no idea what he was actually trying to say.

"Hal?" I jumped onto his cot, grabbing him by his shoulders and lifting him up, trying to force him awake. I couldn't be completely sure what he was dreaming, but I had a guess... "Wake up!" I said, and remembering something I had learned from Anne and Lourdes about waking someone up, I began to rub the centre of his chest – the sternum. After what seemed like ages, I felt Hal seize in my arms and try to sit up, his head smashing into my chin.

"Careful..." I mumbled as he tried to wrench out of my grip, clawing against my hands in some kind of panicked frenzy. "Hal, it's me!" I called, and slowly he began to relax and stop fighting against me. There was a long moment where neither of us moved or made a sound, and I felt his fragile, shaking body lean into mine.

"I don't want to sleep," Hal said, his voice barely above a whisper, and suddenly I understood. It was why I hadn't slept hardly at all after I came back from being harnessed. The nightmares kept me awake, kept me scared, to the point where I refused to sleep. I suddenly felt guilty for forcing him into this, but at the same time, I knew he couldn't run from it forever. I had tried, but I hadn't gotten very far. At one point, it all caught up.

"I'm sorry," I said back, and it wasn't long before he fell back asleep... the nightmares came faster that time, and when Tom and Matt finally came in to sleep, my dad didn't seem very surprised that I was in Hal's cot, trying my best to comfort him when the nightmares got too bad.

No one got much sleep tonight.


	20. Line of Defense

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Nexxtt... I'm sorry I keep switching back and forth between Ben and Maggie each chapter. :P I post with Maggie and people ask for Ben, and I post with Ben and people ask for Maggie! I'll try and come up with a chapter in which both are involved. ;o

* * *

**MAGGIE POV**

A whirring made me freeze and glance cautiously over my shoulder. Lights were flashing behind me, and I took off, leaping into the trees to hide. When the mech came around, its lights went over trees and bushes, not seeing me. Across the street, Ben and Dai were crouching behind a collapsed, abandoned building, peering worriedly at me. I waited until the mech had passed before climbing out of the woods and moving swiftly over to them.

"Any skitters?" I asked, scanning the rooftops for the six-legged bugs. There didn't seem to be any. But the bugs were good at hiding. They had incredible ambushing skills.

"None that we can see," Ben responded, scanning the area carefully. "Just seems to be one mech patrolling the outskirts. Leaves us open for some raids." We had been running low on food for awhile and needed to hurry and find some before everyone starved. Scavenging for food wasn't always easy. More often that not, the stores had already been looted by other resistance groups or groups of families who had come and gone. Some of it had expired and gone rotten – although sometimes people were hungry enough to eat out of date foods. Some stores had been completely obliterated. And sometimes, they were great positions for skitter ambushes – skitters knew we required food to live and they would hunt us down in the most obvious places we would go to find it. We had lost many good people in those raids alone.

"There's a Shaws," Ben said, pointing at the run-down looking general store. My family only ever went to Walmart. I've never been in a Shaws in my life, but I hoped they had some salvageable food. If there was more than we can carry, we can just come back later with a bigger patrol.

Walking in, we were all rewarded with an incredible display of rotten, swampy fruits, brown and liquefied vegetables, and a smell like an entire zoo had gone into the store, died, and was decomposing. I put a hand over my mouth, fighting a gag reflex. I was used to sights of gross things dead things, and rotten things... but the smells? No thanks. Even Dai looked a little green in the face.

"That's nasty," Ben growled, voicing all of our feelings.

That's when all hell broke loose... again.

Gunfire rippled all around the room, shattering windows, breaking apart walls, and knocking over shelves. Ambush. I dove to the ground, snarling in disgust as my hand slid in some kind of slimy orange goo that smelled like decomposition. Adrenaline saved me from actually vomiting, and I scrambled across the floor to hide behind a shelf before turning to see what was attacking us.

I froze.

A line of harnessed kids stood, firing at us with a collection of machine guns, eyes as blank as the night, with two skitters hiding behind them. I felt rage course through me. The cowards! Using children as shields? I couldn't shoot children, harnessed or not. I began to shuffle backwards. None of us were returning fire. There had to be a way out of the store.

Several bullets broke through the shelf, sending jars of... somethings shattering above me. Glass rained down over my head and I ducked down again.

Something large and heavy landed on top of me. I grunted, clawing for purchase on the floor, and suddenly whatever it was rolled off. "Sorry!" Ben hissed, and I saw he was bleeding from a deep scratch on his face. "I didn't see you. Come on, run!" He hauled me up by one arm and they both took off down the aisle. Looking back I saw Dai following us, duking every time a bullet smashed items off the shelf. We made it to the end, but just as I turned the corner, a clawed hand slammed into my face, backhanding me hard enough to send me skidding backwards across the floor, seeing stars.

The skitter had only a second more to snarl at me before Ben opened fire, cutting it down almost instantly. Again he helped me up, pulling me across the store. I felt blood dripping down my chin from my split lip. "There's an emergency exit over there," Ben said, shooting out the door. We ran through, knowing that the kids were giving chase because the bullets continued to spray over our heads.

We fled onto the streets and found ourselves caught in another battle. Tom's patrol had found their own ambush out in the streets. It had been two weeks since Pope had died. Hal was at his father's shoulder, firing calmly away at the approaching skitters. We had to get out of here fast, before the kids who had been chasing us caught up. Firing at the skitters from behind seemed to disperse them a little. Strangely, there were no mechs. I had always wondered if the aliens had an unlimited number of mechs or had to manually replace them each time one was destroyed. If so, I wondered how many of them they had left, and how to stop them from making more. Mechs were the only things we couldn't kill by simple gunfire... and beamers, but the 50 cal on the back of the truck-mount was useful for taking those down.

We bolted across the street as fast as possible and dove down beside Tom, Hal, Anthony and a Berserker. I had no idea what his name was. He's the one who smells bad enough to make a maggot vomit. At the moment, I just turned my head away and looked warily over the top of our barricade.

"What's going on?" Hal asked me, looking alarmed. All the skitters were down. Footsteps could be heard coming in our direction.

"They're using harnessed kids," I growled. Tom and Hal glanced my way in surprise, then seemed to give up. They must have read my thoughts. We cannot raid the food when it is being guarded by children. No one wanted to hurt them.

"Let's get back to camp," Tom hissed, and we all immediately began to flee the area. Behind us, we heard gunfire but nothing went near us. Hal was beside me and I suddenly realized he couldn't quite run. He was running as stiffly as possible but incredibly slow. Before I could speak, though, he turned to me.

"You're hurt," he said, looking concerned. I blinked, then brushed blood off my chin.

"I'm fine," I said back, shrugging off his worry. For one who couldn't even run, I didn't think he had any reason to be concerned about _me._


	21. Sickness

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: If you are squeamish, this chapter will bother you. Also. THIS IS IMPORTANT. Instead of updating once a day, from now on (until further notice) I will be updating only once every two days. I am getting really busy with college visits, interviews, etc, and need to spend some time on that. I also need to raise some scholarship money, because I am poor, therefore, cannot buy my way into 40k dollar per year colleges. :P

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**BEN POV**

It burned. I woke to a blinding sensation in my skull, flames racing from my head to the base of my neck. I held as still as possible, trying to ignore the pain in hopes that it would go away. It didn't. Instead, it increased steadily until I was about to pass out. Only then did it begin to fade. I opened my eyes and found myself in a dark, small room. I couldn't see very well at first. Then my eyes began to adjust and I saw Maggie and Hal, their hands bound behind their backs. What the heck had happened? I couldn't remember a thing. Not since we had tried leaving the ambush. Had we gotten hit again? My vision swam for a moment. I squinted in the darkness, but other than my brother and Maggie, there was nothing else in the room. Without an idea of where we were or what whoever had taken us wanted, I rolled onto my side only to find that my own hands were bound behind me. Hah.

I twisted my wrists and pulled to the point the zip ties broke without much of a problem. Apparently whoever planned this hadn't done all their homework. I moved over to Hal and Maggie, easily snapping their zip tie cuff as well, and when neither of them woke, I felt a pang of alarm. Rolling my brother on his back I saw a deep bruising across his face just above his eye, and a similar mark on Maggie. I must have one too. Touching the area, I felt a sharp ripple of pain. Ouch.

"Hal, wake up," I hissed. Nothing. I heaved a sigh, closing my eyes and trying to think. Where were we? I had to listen. The silence in the cell would help me use my extrasensory abilities to pick up something else, farther away. Just as I began to circulate my hearing, a loud slamming from close by nearly deafened me, and I jumped back. Two skitters stared down at me, one hissing.

Without a weapon I felt useless. One of them reached for me and suddenly my world went black again.

I woke with a burning feeling in my chest and throat, being held down by several powerful arms, and all I could do was remember being at the harnessing facility, pinned to the table, forced to watch as other children were being harnessed before I felt it slide down on my back, a skitter trying to soothe my fear and then – _I'm screaming._ I stopped the moment I realized it, but fought back as hard as I could until I felt a prick in my arm and my body began to grow weak. My eyes were shut. I forced them open, and saw my dad and Anne looking flustered as they tried to stop my flailing. Immediately I stropped trying to break free, as the illusion of being re-harnessed was removed from my thoughts and imagination. Would it even work a second time, I wondered? My spikes remained. The bug wouldn't be able to latch on to those, would it? They aren't its own.

"What happened?" I asked, gasping for air, because the screaming had left me winded. I managed to turn my head and saw Maggie and Hal, each on their own cot, but something didn't seem right. I couldn't think, because my heart was racing violently.

"We got bombed by a mech, and you three disappeared. We found you in a warehouse, about to be brought to a harnessing facility," Tom explained quickly. "Or, that's what we thought. They did something to Hal."

**HAL POV**

I felt like crap. My head was pounding, my body weak, everything cold. Shivers ran down my spine, and every time I swallowed, it felt like a bucket of nails was being poured down my throat, making me cough, which sent daggers digging into my chest. I felt sick. Was I sick? I felt like I was missing something. How long had I been asleep? I began to open my eyes, but lights seared into them, blinding me, sending pain lancing through my head. I could hear voices but they were long and distorted, some place far away, yet loud at the same time. I didn't understand how or why. All I knew was that I felt like I was being torn apart, and I wondered if I should simply just... die. Right now, not later.

Eventually I dared to open my eyes again, and I could see my dad looking worriedly at me. I did my best to bite back a strong groan of pain, dragging in a suffocated breath and releasing it slowly, choppily. He laid his hand on my forehead and I was distinctly aware of how hot it was, and I flinched away.

"How are you feeling, Hal?" He asked, and suddenly I felt a horrible, sick feeling in the centre of my stomach. I couldn't fight it.

"I'm going to.." I didn't get to finish my sentence. My dad, perhaps reading the look in my eyes and expression on my face, grabbed a bucket and placed it next to me just as I leaned over and threw up, fire burning from my stomach and throat and mouth. When it was finally done, I gasped for air, then stared down at the contents of my stomach, and thought I was going to be sick again. Tiny red bugs were squirming around in the mix of usual things that came with being sick. I don't know what they were. All I knew was that I was coughing and choking, spiting out bile and another of the red bugs. Struggling for air, I was pretty sure I was going to pass out. I was shaking so hard I couldn't remind sitting up, and fell back limp against the cot. My vision blurred as I stared up at the ceiling, feeling sick and disgusted with myself? What were those things? My stomach throbbed violently. The feeling to be sick came suddenly and quickly again, and I was rolling onto one side, throwing up again, and this time I couldn't stop myself into the world went swirling black.


	22. Death and Rivival

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Oooh that episode last night! 3 I loved it! But... at the same time. Ben, how can you be so stupid? D Anyway. next chapter up!

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**HAL POV**

I woke again, this time in sheer panic and shocking pain. I couldn't breathe. I tried to gasp in a breath but it as as though my chest was frozen, lungs refusing to obey me, my throat blocked. I panicked, kicking and thrashing, my hands going immediately for my throat. I was gagging but something was blocking the air, the noise... everything. I was suffocating, surely. Yet I didn't feel like I was dying. Not quite. My lungs expanded in and out. But I wasn't breathing. It was blocked. My eyes shot open as several hands held me down, and I saw a tube rising up into a machine that I didn't recognize. I knew what the tube was. I had seen enough episodes of House and Grey's Anatomy before the invasion to know what the breathing tube was for. I would never have wanted to experience what it was like to have one shoved down my throat, but now I know. It was like suffocating, yet not being able to pass out or die. I stared up in panic and desperation at my dad, gagging reflexively against the foreign object shoved down my throat. My dad looked back at me with a similar expression and then turned away.

"Anne, can we take this out now? I think he can breathe on his own now," he called, and suddenly I realized that doctor Glass was there, somewhere off in a blurry, half noticeable background.

"Yes we can."

I wasn't sure which was worse. The feeling of suffocating, or the painful terror of it sliding out of my throat, making me cough and gag to the point I thought I was going to throw up. I then remembered what had happened before I had passed out. That's when the odd numbness in the rest of my body went away, and I was aware of sharp pains rippling through the muscles of my midsection. Then the tube was finally out and I gasped for air, reveling the feeling of being in control of my own breathing.

"Wha... ?" I managed to stutter out, just barely. I coughed again, trying to clear my throat of the strange feeling behind. Anne put a glass of water to my lips and made me take a few sips, which surprisingly made my throat feel a bit better. I can't quite figure out what had happened between the time I had passed out and woken up. No idea made the least bit of sense. My chest was aching violently, along with my stomach, and I felt weak and shaky.

Anne and Tom shared a secretive glance. I hated when they did that, and then never told me what was going on. Of course, I didn't want to know the stories of some of their glances, but... this was important, right?

"After you passed out, you stopped breathing and your heart stopped. We didn't get it started again for several minutes," Tom said, sitting on the bed beside me and half-consciously dragging his fingers through my hair. Despite the fact that it was something done to little kids, I couldn't help but feel comforted. I felt surprised. I had died? The teenager part of me couldn't help but think that was pretty cool. The survivalist part of me realized that was not good... what the hell had been done to kill me? I had no idea. I remembered the bugs. The red, ugly, huge bugs. Where had they come from?

My gaze seemed to ask that question, because my dad sighed and immediately got up and started pacing around, as though stressed.

"We don't really know why those bugs were there... but here's the thing. They aren't bugs," Anne said, looking into my eyes. I stared back at her, not quite understanding. Of course they were bugs. They looked like bugs, they acted like bugs... what else could they be? "They are mechanical in nature."

Oh.

I stared in blank surprise at Anne. Mechanical? Did that mean... were the skitters using me as some kind of camera? Tracking me? If they were, why hadn't they found us yet? Surely they would have attacked by now if they were tracking me. So what were the bugs supposed to do? I wondered, in a vague sense, if they were simply meant to scare the hell out of everyone. If they were... then they had succeeded.

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**TOM POV**

I lay in bed, feeling completely, utterly haunted. The best couple days have been, literally, hell. What am I talking about? Days? More like the past couple of weeks – months, even. Everything had gone wrong when the aliens invaded, but it was as though we were living a different plane of existence now, from even then. And this. This was all too much. I needed to sleep, to lay down, to run away from the entire world. I wasn't sure how much longer I could take this.

My eldest had fallen back unconscious, Ben had gone to find and talk to Matt, who hadn't really been given much attention for the past couple of days. I couldn't keep track of them all. Ben and Hal were becoming regulars in the medical bus. Matt was always off doing his own thing while I was trying to take care of my older two. I know I should go visit Matt and just have a father-to-son bonding talk with him, but I simply didn't have the energy. I looked at Anne, who looked just as worn out as I did. She had been the one keeping my sons alive after all.

I knew I couldn't leave the room. Not after seeing Hal die and get revived... Anne went to take a walk outside, probably to get some fresh air and clear out the memories of today's struggles. The mechanical bugs had been taken away to get "looked over", so that we may have an understanding of what they were. I had an urge to follow her and walk with her. Instead, I sat on the corner of my son's cot, leaning back against the wall, until exhaustion got the best of me and I managed to fall asleep.


	23. Missionary

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Holy cow, major writer's block! I had to input a flashback (one that was almost introduced in a previous chapter) just to write this! I'm having huge issues just... writing. Not sure why. Hopefully I can get over it!

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**BEN POV**

My dad was going to be furious. But I didn't quite care. I was doing this for Hal, and if it meant putting myself in danger, that was perfectly okay. I moved slowly, carefully, looking in every direction and putting 100% focus on everything. I couldn't risk losing my focus for even a moment. I wasn't in friendly territory anymore. I had already passed several mech patrols. I had to be getting close to the main area. And there I would find the 'person' I was looking for. Rage and determination had stolen me over. There was no way I would be turning back until I reached my goal.

Even the weather was foul for this trip. The sky was nothing but rolling black clouds, spitting buckets of rain that not only made it difficult to see, but made the ground slippery with mud. The only good thing was that it masked the sound of me moving through the undergrowth. Strangely, I felt no fear. Not a single bit. My mind was completely made up, and if I died in the process of going through with this... well, so be it. It would be worth it in the end if I found out what I had come to know. Some part of me was curious about what I would be doing now if all of this... stuff... hadn't happened. Some part of me told me it wouldn't be that much better. Hal and I had been growing apart, almost aggressively, until that day. I knew, however selfishly, that if those things hadn't happened then we would probably... not be brothers anymore. We had never been closer before. Not once, in any part of our lives. I liked how we were now. When we were little, I had a little brother hero complex on him. It had come mostly from his protecting me for almost everything.

_FLASHBACK – 9 years old._

Blood was gushing from my nose, streaming over my lips, down to my chin. Blood trickled into my mouth, making me gag reflexively at the bad taste. It was salty, warm. I was lying on my back, staring up at the seemingly enormous high school boy sneering down at me. Tears of pain pricked at my eyes. It was the forth time this week. Suddenly, Hal came out of nowhere, probably six inches shorter than the bully and fifty pounds lighter, and slammed his fist right into the boy's face. I didn't want him to be here. He was going to get himself hurt! I scrambled to my feet, wiping blood from my nose. Next thing I knew, he was on the ground with a sickening crack, and I saw his arm break. He cried out in pain but simply threw himself at the bully again.

Two people actually had to come and hold him back, and when I ran over to him, I saw the bruising and bleeding across his face. I knew he would always stick up for me. No matter how much we fought or how many times we argued.

He had my back.

_END FLASHBACK_

I reached the city. In front of me, two skitters were "talking" in their hisses and growls. Most would speak through their radio signals, but I knew that if they wanted to speak together, without any eavesdropping from an overlord or child, they would speak in their own "language". If it could be called that. They didn't see me coming. I raised my gun, took aim, and fired a full force at their heads. In took only a few seconds for both the skitters to drop the ground, dead, their brains blown out. I smirked. The gun fire had to alert everyone else in the area to my presence. And it did. From all around came the sounds of mechs and skitters, alerts going off everything. The annoying buss of the radio signals in the air increased to a rate that was almost painful. I didn't move, even as the lights of the mechs came on me.

"Stop!" A familiar voice said, and I felt myself smile. This is exactly who I wanted to see. I turned to face Karen, who moved slowly towards me with a blank expression on her face. I had never met her before being harnessed. I didn't like her, despite the fact that I "knew" it wasn't really her. All I would ever remember her for now is shooting my brother. I eyed her coldly. Behind her, was a fish-face. Or an overlord, as they liked to call themselves. Their arrogance was outstanding.

"You are both very brave and very foolish to come here alone, Ben Mason," Karen said in a voice that I knew must be the fish-face's. I ignored the open threat and challenge and kept my gun trained on Karen.

"I want to know what you did to my brother," I said sharply, noticing out of the corner of my eye as two skitters began to move closer to me. I would kill them both too, if I had to. They were rats. The mechs were rabid wolves. The overlords were lions. There was little else to their hierarchy.

"Why should we care what you want?" Karen responded, with the same emptiness in her voice. I still felt no fear, even as the fish-face stared down at me with cold eyes.

"Because if you don't answer me... I'll just kill you both," I hissed back, half expecting to be blasted from the spot by the mechs. When nothing happened, I realized that they were actually taking head to my question. Which was a good thing, so far. I just wanted the answers so I could help Hal. I didn't have any other interest in them. If they didn't help me, I would kill them. If they helped me...

"We have no interest in your games, human. Hal Mason is a part of our experiments. Nothing more. Further harm will continue to come to him if you do not stand down," Karen said. I felt a small pang.

Experiment?

"What do you mean?" I asked. The skitters were coming just a little bit closer.

"Our game is simple. Hurt us, we hurt you."

And it made sense. For just a moment I realized what they were saying. They weren't trying to detroy every single one of us... yet.

I made up my mind. In a split second, I turned my gun on the fish head and pulled the trigger.


	24. Experiments

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Still writer's block... I had a college visit yesterday that I had to get up at 4:30 in the morning for - I got two hours of sleep even though I went to bed at 9 that night. It was worth it. Amazing college! Top of my list! Anyway, I'm slightly sick at the moment with some kind of bug. Will keep trying though! Kinda short!

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**MAGGIE POV**

Ben was missing. I had gone by the Mason tent earlier and heard Matt whimpering, and when I went in, Ben wasn't there. I had checked every place I could think of. He was, simply, gone. I couldn't tell anyone. Hal was unconscious, Tom was finally getting some sleep, and if I alerted anyone else, all hell would break loose. Most people didn't even trust Ben to begin with, and if he had wandered off they'd all assume he was going to "join" his "skitter-friends". It was hard to fight against them. Hate was difficult to counter by any logical means. I knew that first hand. So I went out alone to find him. The problem... I had no idea which way he went. So I was walking aimlessly through the woods, gun drawn, listening for any kind of trouble.

It was completely silent, aside from night creatures like crickets. I hated crickets. The noises they made were incredibly annoying and repetitive. It drove me crazy. I was resisting the urge to shoot into the air just to silence them when I heard something. Crunching twigs and undergrowth. I spun towards the sound, gun ready, and then...

The breath was knocked out of me as something strong and heavy slammed into me, knocking me flat on my back. I gasped down a breath, almost pulling the trigger when I recognized that dirty blond hair.

"Ben!" I rolled him off me, looking down, and seeing a long stream of blood dribbling from the bullet hole in his lower stomach. "What the hell?" I snarled, angry only because I was scared. I hated being afraid. Which is why I chose to get angry instead, because at least for the moment, the fear went away.

"I have to get back," he gasped, ignoring me almost completely and scrambling to his feet. His gun was destroyed metal at our feet. What had he done?

"Ben," I started, but suddenly he pulled me up and looked into my eyes, his filled with a terrifying darkness. I froze, half expecting him to attack me. He the same look in his eyes as the time he had fought with Hal that time several months ago.

"We have to get back. No questions."

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**ANNE POV**

I woke to the sound of frantic voices outside that could only mean that someone was hurt. Doing my best to not wake Tom, I hurried out, only to stop dead at the sight of Maggie half-dragging an irritated looking Ben who had a bullet wound just above his waist. His shirt was already bright with blood, and I wondered how he wasn't unconscious yet. In fact, he looked quite aware, struggling fully against Maggie and trying to protest that he was fine. They had gathered quite a crowd.

I weaved my way through it, and as I came closer I could see the amount of blood that was still dribbling from the wound. "No, you're not okay," I said loudly, getting the attention of both of them. "I have to get the bullet out and stop the bleeding."

Ignoring his further protests, I pulled him back through the crowd and onto the med bus. "Don't tell my dad, he has enough to think about," Ben growled, and I assured him that I wouldn't. He'd tell his dad himself. Tom needed to sleep for now. I could take care of this wound easily, and seeing as Ben was – somehow – conscious and thoughtful. Perhaps that resilience was part of the harness mutation. Whatever the case, it made my job a whole lot easier. I just wish there was a way to remove the spikes, and stop whatever was happening to his back.

A few snips to his shirt allowed me to see the wound.

"What happened?"

There was a moment of silence. Then, "you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone else." I hesitated. How could I promise that without knowing what he was going to say? I had to though, otherwise he wouldn't tell me. I might be something important.

"Okay, I promise," I said, giving in.

"I went out to find the skitters to get information on what they were doing to Hal... but all they would tell me was that he was an experiment. I killed the fish-head that was controlling Karen and ran, but I guess one of the bullets hit me in my side. Then I ran into Maggie," he said. He flinched, ad I realized my hand had tensed up while trying to pull out the bullet, and I immediately relaxed. I felt a sense of anger. What if he had gotten himself killed? Berating him wouldn't get me anywhere, though.

"Experiment?" I asked, feeling cold inside?

"They didn't explain. So I killed it."

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**OTHER POV**

A small red bug moved swiftly across the ground, its metal legs clicking against the stone. What it had been made for had not been accomplished. The human body was too adept at spotting foreign substances to allow the simple larvae to grow. It, and the other bugs, would have to go to plan two. Two wings, made of some kind of metal, flapped weakly on its back. They suddenly changed, forming a little bit of a horn in front of its face. Then, just outside of the medical bus, it dove up and back down, the horn actually a drill, digging its way deep into the dirt. There it waited, its orders to stay put and grow into its proper form. All around it, the other red bugs followed, making their temporary homes nearby. The humans wouldn't know what hit them.

Our mechanical card went into hibernation mode. Everything that happened above us would be recorded – movement, mainly, as we could neither see or hear what was happening. We could only feel the vibrations of their movement. Our sensors received information from the Mothership. One of the Overlords had been killed. Our plan would be made to act out as quickly as possible.


	25. A Normal Day?

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Well, finally got back around to Hal... and I decided to make a very low key, quiet fiction for once. However, you should be able to spot the tension growing! Ahem! I am aware I have barely put Matt in this at all... I find it hard to. D: Anyway. I haven't seen tonight's episode yet. It's on right now but someone is hogging the TV... meanies. :( Anyway. Shall force myself not to read any of this episode's fictions! (and why is this site loading so slowly?)

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**HAL POV**

Three days later, I found myself watching Ben limp around. I wasn't sure how he had gotten hurt but he wouldn't say anything other than having twisted his ankle. This was the first time I had seen him in days. My dad didn't really know what Ben was up to either. My brother would walk off and not come back for hours, then return looking just as dejected and uncertain as before. I would sometimes catch him staring at me like he expected me to drop dead at any moment but he wouldn't talk to me. I wasn't sure why. Was he mad at me? Did he not trust me? I wasn't sure if I trusted myself anymore. The thing with the red bugs had been kept a secret between my dad, Anne, Maggie, Ben and Weaver. No one else had to know, and it would only spread further panic and distrust around the camp. That was probably a good thing, otherwise people would be looking at me like I was about to betray them at any moment and go run back to my "skitter friends" like they said to Ben a lot. As long as I didn't find any more of those "bugs" anywhere, I'd be all set. I'd be happy to never hear about them again.

Maggie called to me. I looked up and over, and she walked towards me with her scouting clothes on and her guns ready. "Hey, Hal. We're setting up at an ambush. Weaver wants you to come," she said, hanging me a gun. I looked at it with mild interest for a moment, feeling uncertain. What if I did something to expose us all? But I wouldn't, would I? This would be just like old times, except for the fact that I could hardly run, crouch, or jump. I had reached the end of my healing with my leg injury. That would stay the same, unless I could somehow get used to the pain enough to force myself to do any of those. If I lived long enough, I probably would.

"Great. That sounds nice," I tried to say, as excitedly as possible. It did, really. The idea of putting a few bullets in the heads of some of the skitters who had done all this crap to them would be really satisfying. Seeing as mechs weren't alive, the only satisfaction I could get from that was the knowledge that the specific mech killed wouldn't be taking down some of our people any time later. There was another thing I had since learned. If the aliens were reacting so aggressively towards us, then it was probably because we _had_ made a significant dent in their line of defense... or offense, I supposed. Which would explain why they were so angry, but at the same time, didn't justify it. They attacked us. They had no right to get pissed off just because we managed to put up more of a fight than they expected. Not after murdering all of our friends, families, and taking away the most important parts of us.

We headed out, taking a truck with a mounted .45 cal and several bikes. The group consisted of Maggie, Ben, Tom, Weaver, Anthony, Dai, the Berserkers and I. We would eventually split up into two teams – one to draw the fire of any nearby skitters and mechs, and the other to take down everything that came once they brought them out into our line of fire, usually a building. I was always put on the latter, with Maggie, Ben, and usually one other person. Today was no different.

We found a nice, stable building with several stories and made our way to the top, careful to check for guarding skitters and mechs in the process. It had a nice view, displaying the enormous city of wreckage and dirt and mayhem. I had no idea where we were. All I could do was try to imagine this city before the invasion. The buildings were all probably pristine and unspoiled, trees blossoming, green grass lawns being mowed by early rising families. People would drive, walk, or bike to their destinations, sometimes stopping for food or a chat with a friend or family member. The sky would be gentle – or perhaps stormy – and offer some relief from the usual everyday sights. For those people, all of whom were either dead, dying, or wishing they were dead, we fought. There was no fairness.

"Here we go!" Weaver's shout jolted me from my thoughts, forcing me to focus on what was happening. A thick line of skitters was moving down the road, chasing back Weaver's team. Two mechs were following suit. I put my targets on one of the mechs and fired, feeling the kick, watching as the bullet of the rifle – reinforced with the "special" mech bullets – shot a hole in the head of the mech. Another three followed, and it crumpled to the ground, just another useless heap of metal.

The other carried on, indifferent of its fallen comrade, and the bodies of already dead skitters, as it continued blasting away at where Weaver and his team were ducking. Ben took a few shots, and I followed. The mech dropped. The skitters no longer stood a chance. I watched in quiet satisfaction as the dropped, one after the other, into motionless heaps on the ground.

"You're right, Ben. It does feel good to kill every single one of them." I said, though I didn't share the same excitement or amusement that he had on his face every time he killed one. It wasn't... exciting for me... it was simply justified. Like a mother watching as the killer of her child was put away once and for all.

_Later that day..._

We set up one more ambush that day, which went just as well as the first, surprisingly. These things never tended to come without consequences. The fact that they had was surprising to me. Usually someone got hurt or shot or killed. Anne was pleased when we came back with zero casualties. She seemed tired of being the one to take care of the dead or ease the death of the mortally wounded. I would be too. I would never have made a good doctor.

I was walking out of the med bus when I felt it. The ground shifting and shaking beneath my feet. Puzzled, I looked down. There didn't seem to be anything. Perhaps someone had just blown up something, started a car, or did something else to make the ground tremble. Perhaps it was something as simple as an earthquake. Whatever the case, I ignored it and went on my way.

I found Matt sleeping in bed already. I was about to go to my own when I heard him whimper quietly in his sleep, and I saw his face contorted into an expression of fear and pain. He was having a nightmare. I walked quietly over to his bed, sinking slowly down in beside him, and wrapped my arms around him. After a little while, he quieted, then snuggled up close to me, laying his head against my shoulder. I lay there, holding him and thinking, until I fell asleep, reveling in the fact that I had finally had a normal day.

As I slept, I was unaware of the small tremours moving underneath us throughout the night.


	26. Rebirth

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Muah! Time to kick it up a notch! Everyone ready? Gotta get some pretty serious war in soon. :)

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**BEN POV**

There it was. An entire company of mechs, skitters and fish-heads moving our way. It was clear they knew where we were, and clear they were planning on wiping us off the face of the earth. Perhaps me murdering one of their overlords had pissed them off. Good and bad. It was satisfying to know that, but at the same time, we had to get the hell out of here as soon as possible. I ran back to camp as fast as possible, dodging around the guards who seemed a bit startled by my sudden appearance. "Captain Weaver!" I screamed, trying to get his attention from the middle of a large group of people. Everyone turned to look at me, surprised. Ignoring them, I weaved through the crowd to reach Weaver, who, interrupted, turned to look at me with an expression somewhere between annoyance and curiosity.

"What is it, Ben?" He asked, with his 'I'm busy' tone falling from his voice.

"There's an army of skitters and mechs heading our way. Dozens of them," I said, and all annoyance faded from the group. People began to move towards the buses and trucks to get them loaded even before Weaver spoke.

"Everyone get prepared to move out! We need every available fighter to get ready to hold them off until the civilians make it out!" I got lost in the crowd for a moment before running forward and catching up to my dad and Hal. Somewhere up ahead, Maggie and Jimmy were pushing civilians to hurry up. In the far distance, I could hear the echo of mechs moving closer. I hoped they didn't bring in air support. There was no way we could hold that off.

"Where's Matt?" I asked, looking around and realizing I couldn't see him.

"He's with Anne helping to move the wounded so we can transport them better," Tom said, grabbing several weapons from the cache. We all lined up at the edge of the camp, where a barricade had been rapidly constructed. It wouldn't last very long. It might just give us a few more seconds of defense before they broke through. In the back of my mind I wondered how many people would be lost in this battle.

The evacuation was going smoothly. I lay behind the barricade in between Hal and Tom, guns sighted on the distance where I could see flashes of silver through the trees. "Hold your fire," Tom ordered, and there was a collective build-up of anticipation. We would wait until they were all gathered up right in front of us... and then...

"Now!"

Grenades went first, to take out as many mechs as possible. It went surprisingly well, taking out nearly seven of the ten mechs that had arrived. The Berserkers were the only ones who had mech bullets, so they would be firing at the three remaining mechs. We took aim at the skitters, dropping as many as possible. A missile landed right in front of me, blowing dirt in my face and I ducked down as another followed, pulling Hal down beside me. The second hit with enough force to blow both of us back, and I grunted as dirt flew on top of me. A split second later we scrambled back up and began to attack again. I saw a fish-face behind the crowd of skitters, and I couldn't help but adjust my aim. A split second later, the creature went down. The skitters continued to run forward with furious speed, hissing in rage. Again and again they went down. That's when another line of mechs came forward. Over a dozen of them. My eyes widened in disbelief.

"Pull back! Now!" Tom yelled as a series of explosions rocked the barricade, knocking several people back. We took off at a run, and I was relieved that the civilians had gotten out of sight. I looked back to see Hal straggling at an almost-run. Behind him was a wounded fighter being supported by two others. I was surprised to see that the army of mechs and skitters had stopped and were drawing back. Why weren't they pursuing us? The bad feeling I had increased exponentially. Something was wrong.

"Dad, we have to go-"

I broke off to a violent rumbling beneath my feet, so strong that I would have toppled over if my dad hadn't reached out and caught me first. What was going on? I looked back. Hal had fallen over, stumbling on his hands and knees in a way that made me cringe.

"Hal!" I screamed, running towards him. My ears were ringing, a static echoing through my head. It pounded violently, almost bringing me to my knees too. The ground in front of me crackled and split, a long crevice appearing in the earth. Part of it lifted upwards, and smoke poured from the slit. I stumbled backwards as the ground continued to crumble at my feet, and the ground raised further, large sections of the earth falling away. From the collapsing of the earth, a long metal leg appeared. Then another. And another. All red. The metalloid slithered from the earth; huge, with six long legs moving at its sides. It was like a spider, yet it had a wolf-like snout and long, curling wings around its back. Two sharp, powerful pincers appeared from its muzzle, entire body smoking and steaming. A low snarl – or growl – reverberated through its shaking frame. All around me were the sounds of more creatures rising from the earth.

My head was on fire. Practically swimming in lava. The crackling and static and ringing was not going away. It was getting stronger, louder, more powerful. I was sure my head was going to crack open. It reached the point where I was writhing in the dirt, screaming in pain, aware of nothing even as my dad dragged me away from the edge, and the creature that was still getting ready and freeing itself. It was like the time when the radio had been used, the one to interrupt the skitter's signal. I couldn't think or know what was going on around me.

And then, as if a switch had been turned off, everything went silent.


	27. Electricity and Blood

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Not sure about this one... almost forgot about it, to be honest. Was completely distracted today. People are just plain mean (not here). :P Oh well. Good thing I like to write. Is a fun distraction! Anyway. Some more war, and some TOM POV because... I haven't used him in awhile. I think.

* * *

**HAL POV**

I stared up at the red... thing, and watched its head turn towards me. Its pincers snapped shut. A low, groaning hiss shook through its body and I felt fear pulse through me. I didn't know what the hell it was, but something told me... it was the shame shade of red as the bugs I had vomited. Pain was pulsing through my knee from where I had fallen and skidded on it, but suddenly, that didn't seem like such a big problem. I began to scramble backwards, raising my pistol and shooting. The bullet ricocheted off the the metal of the creature, implanting itself in the ground beside my head. I froze, lowering the gun. Shit. What now? The thing hissed at me again, then took a step forward, one of it legs sinking in to the dirt just by my side. Another pierced into the ground on my other side as I tried to roll away, and I shot forward moving under the creature as its pincers tried to close around my head. I heard my brother screaming my name, but all I knew was that I had to get out of the way. It began to crawl backwards, probably trying to find me beneath it, and I gabbed on to one of its legs, scrabbling for a grip on the smooth surface.

I couldn't hang on. Every time the leg moved I was sliding down, falling onto the grass. That's when I had an idea. The belly of the creature looked different from the rest of it. Not as metallic. Was it a weak spot? I grabbed my pistol, pointing it upward at the smooth, dark surface. I slid back down the leg and quickly scrambled back up again as it took a step forward. The other legs were trying to stab into me at every move. When I got a clear shot, I took it. Three bullets, lodging deep in its metal core.

That's when an electrical current passed through the entire creature. It went right through my body, seizing my muscles, snapping my jaw shut, and making me convulse even as I fell to the ground. By the time the electricity passed through me, blood was running from the corners of my mouth where my teeth had gnashed against the sides of my mouth.

I rolled slowly onto my side just in time to see the creature collapse to the ground, half on top of me. Fortunately the electricity had stopped, and I could tell by the silence in the creature that it was dead. Which told me they weren't invincible. However, they were pretty damn heavy, and fast. There were others around. I tried my hardest to push it off, but I only exhausted myself. That's when it shifted. I froze, looking up at the metalloid.

Two pincers were moving down towards my head, and I couldn't get out of the way this time. Trapped, I tried to grab the pincers to keep them from getting too close. Its strength was far greater than mine, which was being rapidly sapped away.

* * *

**TOM POV**

First Ben was in trouble, and now Hal. Ben had finally stopped screaming in pain, so whatever it was that was going on inside his head had stopped. Now I was looking for my eldest son, and just barely saw him, shooting at the machine. To my surprise and horror, the bullet bounced off of it and nearly killed him. Worse than a mech. Bullets split apart on mechs, or made a dent. On this machine, they simply bounced off even at point blank range.

"Hal!" I screamed his name as the creature moved forward. He disappeared for a moment, and I ducked down trying to get around its many flailing legs. I saw Hal, clinging to a leg beneath the belly of the machine, before I lost my field of vision due to the creature moving. I saw him again, with a pistol in his hand. If it went through it would send an electric shock through the entire creature – it's what happened with mechs! I tried to scream his name again to get his attention, but he didn't hear me. I brought up my machine gun to get the creature's to look at me but it was too late. Three gunshots rose through the air already thundering from the fighters trying to take down the other creatures. Just as I suspected, I saw electricity rip across the machine. I was surprised to see it start to buckle and teeter. Perhaps the belly was a soft spot?

The bug collapsed, and I vaguely realized that Hal was still there. I jumped over the creature to see Hal struggling in vain with its pincers which were rapidly trying to close around his head. I hardly thought as I rammed the tip of my rifle into the open jaws of the machine and pulled the trigger. With a shrieking cry, the beast reared away, legs scrambling weakly for purchase on the ground as its insides exploded into small bursts of electricity.

I grabbed Hal and pulled him as far away as possible, quickly. In another few seconds it exploded, and I fell flat on my back, dazed. Around me, the battle raged on. Slowly I sat up, looking at Hal who was moving stiffly into a half standing position. Blood was running down his chin from his mouth, and he looked at me blankly. I jumped to my feet, forcing him to move. It was too dangerous to stand here.

"Aim for the belly!" I screamed, knowing it would be far easier and far safer to do that than shove the tip of the gun down its throat. Just maybe they would listen. Someone threw a grenade. It went off right on top of a machine. It kept walking, its shell unscratched. Damn. We had to get dangerously up close and personal just to take these things down. Perhaps the overlords were learning.

Hal suddenly grabbed on to my sleeve was and pulling, trying to get my attention. There was such an intensity in his eyes that was shocked a little away.

"What did we do with those bugs?" He asked, and what he meant hit me like a wave. We threw them out, thinking them harmless.. the same shade... the same build. Could it be? I looked around me, suddenly feeling dizzy and greatly relieved that my son had thrown them up.


	28. Jaws of Life

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: I think this is my first Weaver POV. anyway. more violence. a bit slow today. sorry! Really busy. Job interview + college tour + grandfather's birthday = no writing time!

* * *

**WEAVER POV**

This isn't what I had been expecting at all. A temporary battle with the mechs and skitters until the civilians had gotten safely out of the way, and then we would have fallen back. That was all. And now everyone was trying to battle a seemingly impossible mechanical creature that simply _came out of the ground_. This was ridiculous! I fired and my bullets merely deflected and smashed into the ground near me, putting everyone around at risk. I could only watch, trying to do whatever possible to slow down the advance of the creatures, as many fighters were driven to the ground. Good fighters. Some of the best I had ever known. This wasn't right. Watching everyone die around me was finally starting to bother me. I didn't want this.

I felt the grenade – my last grenade, in my pocket. Near me, a spider-like creature slowed to a halt and turned to face me, growling so deeply that its entire body shook. I slowly lifted it from my pocket, watching it readjust its body to turn, walking slowly towards me, its six legs making deep grunts into the soil. I watched it, feeling the greatest of disgust for yet another of the enemy's pawns. The curious, interested part of me couldn't help but wonder about its design. How could anything be so powerful, beautiful, yet terrifying all at once?

I thought of jets and bomber planes. They were all that, too.

Shaking the thoughts away, I pulled the pin on the grenade, waited a few seconds, then tossed it. I jumped to the ground. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the creature leap away with a shrill shriek of surprise as the grenade rolled near it. Another creature was nearby and didn't have the time to move. I watched, triumphant, as the second lost one of its legs and tumbled over. Unfortunately, the one I had been aiming to take down to begin with had dodged it completely. I watched as it snarled at me in some kind of anger – if machines could even feel anger – and moved forward. If these were being controlled by the skitters, then they were doing a pretty good job. I had never seen such facial expressions on any kind of robotic creature. If it was any other time, I may have taken a few seconds to continue to marvel at their inventiveness.

It took only seconds for the creature to reach me, and I had no weapons left to defend myself. My gun was empty. I had no grenades, no knives – as if they would do anything good. Nothing at all to use to protect myself. Realizing how vulnerable I was, I only had seconds to cover my head as it pounced on me. Its legs dug deep into my shoulders, pinning me down. I heard something strong snapping near my ears. I pushed out. Something sunk deep into my chest, snapping shut like a vice around my ribs. I couldn't help but let out an animal-like howl of pain, feeling my body constrict beneath its powerful bite.

* * *

**BEN POV**

When I saw that Hal and my dad were okay, I immediately turned to the rest of the group. My heart fell like a rock in my stomach. Weaver was pinned against the ground by one of the creatures, its pincers closed around his chest. I could see the blood staining his shirt heavily. I ran forward, almost getting hit twice with stray bullets, and slammed into the creature. It didn't budge, but it felt my impact enough to release Weaver and turn to face me. Unlike Weaver, I had a bit of extra strength on my side. I grabbed the pincers and forced them apart, strength wavering slightly under the mechanical power of the creature, and suddenly, I yanked so hard that one snapped off. The creature released a shrieking roll of static and for a moment I haunched over dizzily... then snapped myself out of the daze just enough to ram my gun into the machine's throat, the way I had seen my dad do, and pulled the trigger. The creaking sound of ripping metal filled the air, and I kept firing into the limp machine crumpled to the ground in a heap of shattered wires and frames. Dead. For good. There were more like it – and perhaps more beyond here. I hoped not, but it must be so. Unless we were the only resistance group left, they would likely be using similar tactics against the rest of them. I just hoped they'd figure out how to defeat these things before they all were killed.

I turned to Weaver, who was lying in the dirt, half conscious from blood streaming out of his wounds. _Oh, crap..._ I looked around. I was completely alone. I grabbed Weaver under his arms and lifted him over my shoulder, taking off in the general direction of the civilian convoy. I had to get him to Doctor Glass as quickly as possible. All around me, fighters were going down. Some were still fighting, but most were fleeing from the machines. As that knowledge crossed my mind, something slammed heavily into my side, knocking Weaver off my shoulder and me skidding across the ground.

As soon as I could, I rolled, seeing something lunging for me out of the corner of my eye and dodged to one side. A hooked leg opened a shallow cut in my chest. I hissed in pain, then shook it away as I reached for my gun... only to find it gone. I looked around in stunned amazement to see that it had been tossed several feet away. I looked back at the machine, which shuddered and smoked, moving towards me with careful excitement. I saw one of its legs had been blown off by something, which was good. Perhaps I could run and get the gun before it attacked again. Not a chance. Two light, thin wings flickered on its back. It suddenly launched itself into the air, legs folding inwards, body shifting into an untellable mess.

Then it slammed down in front of me, shaped like a huge metallic wolf. It roared at me, body shifting into an aggressive leaping pose.


	29. Something like Death

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Squeee. Another chapter. I have a college visit this weekend... I'm supposed to leave Friday night and get back Saturday evening... currently, my schedule says that Friday is the next update day, so I hope I remember to get this out in time to post before I leave! Anyway. Next! c:

* * *

**HAL POV**

My limbs were still twitching weakly, but I had managed to recover most of the control for my body. Now I just wished my ears would stop ringing. All around I saw three dead machines, and several more dead or unconscious fighters. There were at least five more machines still working. One of them had a missing leg. And suddenly, I saw Ben. I watched in shock and alarm as he was slammed to the ground – carrying someone who I couldn't see yet – and they both fell. I began to move forward, but stumbled in the process. My dad was still hanging on to me, and my knee was throbbing agonizingly. I spat out another mouthful of blood, trying to ignore the burning on the inside of my mouth; I had bit it too hard into the side of my mouth. I yanked on my dad's arm, trying to get him to turn around and see.

"It has Ben!" I snarled, and finally he turned to see what was going on. We both began to move forward at the same time. Then we both skidded to a halt.

The machine leaped into the air, its wings fluttering to life. It transformed – literally – right in the air. Something told me these things weren't as structured as mechs. When it landed right in front of Ben, I hurried forward, grabbing my dad's gun. Mine was out of bullets. I wasn't sure if this one had any weak parts at all. I just hoped I could get it away from Ben before it tried to kill my brother. I was a bit too late. I couldn't run, could hardly walk. It was on him before I could do anything, knocking him to the ground with a shockingly realistic clawed paw.

My dad ran past me, a grenade in his hand. I felt fear fluttering through my chest as he ran straight for the machine, pulling the pin, and shoving his hand down its throat. For a moment there was a terrifying feeling that they were all going to die. Then my dad managed to pull his arm out, which was soaked with blood, and dove to the ground on top of Ben. A second later the entire creature exploded. Metal parts went everywhere. I fell to the ground to avoid getting struck in the face by... something. I wasn't sure what it was.

I crawled forward, my eyes fixed on my dad and Ben as my heart beat several dozen miles per hour. Were they okay? I felt relieved as I saw them move, and my dad's eyes opened to fall upon me. That's when I crawled up to the body Ben had dropped and recognized Weaver. I looked down in surprise at our captain, and saw the blood soaking his chest. It looked like he had gotten bit, hard enough to leave him unconscious from sheer blood loss. I peeled his shirt back to see several deep wounds on his sides and another on his chest, and I worried if I he didn't get to Anne soon, he would die.

"Dad!" I shouted, and he immediately got up and hurried over to me. I wasn't quite sure how he was still able to move so easily. I hadn't even been close and the blast had fogged my mind completely. I looked towards Ben, and saw him rising uncomfortably to his feet. There was a long gash across his chest, and several cuts across his face, but otherwise, he seemed perfectly alright. I was glad. It looked as though the thing had nearly ripped his head off.

"That's Weaver?" My dad asked, dropping down beside me. He rolled Weaver onto his back simply so he could see him properly. There was a blue tinge to his lips. That couldn't be good. I didn't know very much about the human body and medicine, but blood loss signs were familiar. Especially critical ones.

"We have to get him to Anne," I said as confidently as I could manage to.

Unspoken communication passed between Ben and Tom and they lifted up Weaver's motionless body. That's when I saw a bright flash of red out of the corner of my eye. I turned to see another creature prowling towards me. The spider-legged machine eyed me with with a vicious intent, pincers snapping shut. I began to back away, feeling the hint of a long knife in my pocket. If I aimed well enough... what was I kidding? I'd get my arm chopped off before I could sink it in deep enough. I began to back away, seeing the retreating backs of my dad and Ben who were moving as fast as possible to bring Weaver to Anne. It moved slower than the others, and I saw why. Someone had at least managed to get a bullet or two into its belly, severing a couple of wires and bits of metal and junk. That didn't make me any more likely to get away though.

It made a lurching move forward, and I jumped back. I staggered and fell, brandishing the knife reflexively towards it. That's when bullets began smashing off its back. I looked beyond it to see Maggie standing there, a long line of blood streaming down her face from a small cut. The creature turned with a screeching hiss, lunging dangerous for her. She simply moved out of the way, and kept firing. I watched, confused, because the bullets were all simply bouncing right off its thick shell.

"Hal, move!" She snarled at me, and suddenly I realized what she was doing. Not trying to take it down... yet... but trying to get me out of the way. I rolled and dodged behind a dead metal body as more bullets left craters in the land all around me. I also found the body of a dead fighter lying just beneath it. There was no time to take down names or grievances.

I grabbed his gun, checked it, found it still loaded, and began to move towards Maggie. For a moment, she was standing there, firing away at the slow moving metalloid. The next, her gun had jammed – or run out of bullets – and it slammed her to the ground. I heard a gut-wrenching cry of pain, and before I knew it, I was springing forward with surprising energy, reaching the thing I no time. I scrabbled for purchase on its smooth metal and managed to drag myself on its back. It reared back in surprise, shaking its head and body, but I had one arm wrapped just below its pincers.

I slammed the tip of the gun in between its pincers and pulled the trigger. The semi-auto did its job. I could practically feel the bullets obliterating everything on the inside of the creature as it fell unmoving and dead to the ground.

Another down. The rest to go.


	30. Last one Left

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: Got two requests so I'm going to put both of them in one chapter! :D Well, sort of. I'll continue with them both in further chapters. Anyway. Note that I read all the reviews before I work on the next chapter just in case someone wants something... so if you want me to do something or go a certain way, tell me. I'm flexible! :]

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**HAL POV**

Somehow we managed to take out the rest of them. Casualties was high. At least eight dead, ten more wounded and possibly dying, not counting the minor injuries. It didn't seem that anyone had gotten out of there unscathed. I looked down at the body of a fighter whom I didn't even know and closed his eyes, wondering how the hell we had gotten ourselves into this mess. Another mass extermination of our fighters goes to the skitters. I sighed, wiping a bloodied hand through my hair. By now it was almost night and I was so tired I could hardly stand. The rest of us – Ben, Maggie, Tom, Jimmy and only two other fighters were actually capable of work. The rest were injured too badly or simply mentally or physically incapable of movement. Another body had to be buried. There was no time for funerals. So far the remaining mechs and skitters had not reappeared, but we were all on edge. All we could do was post two people to watch the make-shift border while the rest of us dug. This battle field did not seem like a decent funeral ground, but it was all we had at the moment. It was nothing like the previous meadows with flowers that we had for the previous deceased civilians and fighters. Wreckage was everywhere. We weren't sure what to do with the unmoving shells of the metal creatures, so we simply left them. Perhaps we should have burned them, in case the skitters and mechs could use it to make more enemies, but no one really felt up to doing that. They were dead. That's all we cared about. I only hoped we would never run into _those_ things again. Looking at the motionless heaps of metal, I wondered how those giant creatures could possibly have been those bugs. How could anything metallic in nature even do that?

I caught sight of my dad, wiping his face while digging another grave. I could see the bandage that had been wrapped haphazardly around his arm by a flustered and overwhelmed Anne. I felt bad for her. In a battle that should have taken only a few injuries, we now needed several vans and trucks just to carry all of the wounded. Looking around, I saw five more bodies, and tried to keep myself from collapsing. Ten, fifteen dead. Perhaps twenty. We have lost over thirty percent of our fighters in one day.

I walked over to Ben who out of all of us still seemed very awake. I'm not sure how he could do it. I was stumbling over myself, thinking that the ground was looking quite comfortable. He looked up at me, having just carried the body of a really young looking fighter into the hole my dad had dug. He looked as troubled as I felt, and mentally drained.

"Both of you, relieve the guards, will you?" Tom asked us, nodding at the two guards who seemed to be nodding off themselves. We nodded, and I was relieved to be doing something other than burying people whom I can no longer remember. Weakly, I walked over to the guards. Despite the fact that no one really wanted to help bury people, they seemed more than willing to go help out. They were probably tired of standing there, watching everyone do work. Looking out over the previous barricade, I saw the bodies of skitters and mechs and even fish-heads lying out in the field. I wondered vaguely if they buried their dead too – or if they were just going to leave the bodies there. Did they even care? Sometimes I doubted it.

"Do you think Weaver's going to be okay?" Ben asked, in a half-hearted attempt at making conversation. At least he was trying. I didn't have the energy to even think enough to start a conversation.

"I hope so," I responded, already feeling my eyes trying to force themselves to close.

At that moment, I wondered if a nightmare had suddenly shook through me. I heard someone yell my name. Everything was shaking, and without warning, I fell back, sprawling onto the hard earth. My eyes shot open and I realized this was not a dream. In front of me was another metalloid, different from the rest. It stood on its back legs, and had three sets of long, skinny front legs along its sides. A long spiny tail was wrapped around itself, the tip sticking out of my brother's chest.

For a moment I was frozen, completely confused. What the heck had just happened? I saw the split in the earth, and suddenly, it all fell into place. This one had come up late. Ben's face flashed behind my eyes, making me completely confused. Then scared. Then pissed off.

"No! Ben!" I screamed, lunging forward, not even caring about my gun falling to the ground behind me. I jumped onto the creatures back, which was covered in spines and spikes similar to those I saw on cartoons, and used them as a ladder. I climbed up its back and wrapped an arm the face of the creature, not completely sure whether it had fangs or pincers or something else. I wrenched back as hard as I could, and the metal creature let out a screech of something like rage. It pulled back, pulling its tail from Ben's chest and making me go blank with horror as blood immediately gushed from the wound, and he fell to the ground. _No!_

That was suddenly pushed to the back of my mind. The tip of the tail sunk into my sleeve and then ripped through part of the creature's body. At that moment I was reminded of something I saw on a movie... couldn't remember what it was... where some cartoon man destroyed a machine by letting it take itself out. Clearly, this thing didn't have very many soft spots. I began to climb and duck, collapsing several times when my knee gave out. The thing clearly was not intelligent. Again and again it pierced itself with its own tail.

Then there was a piercing pain in one hand, and I looked in disbelief at the sword-like tail that was pinning it right into the metal. It hurt, surprisingly a lot. When it removed its tail I lost my grip altogether and fell to the ground. It took the chance to advance on me, but I was distracted. Ben was lying unconscious in the dirt. I rolled away from its slash and jumped around it, staggering to my brother's unmoving body.

I felt his pulse thumping weakly against my finger, and woke up to the sight of the machine standing aggressively over me. I waited as it raised its tail again to strike, knowing there was no way I would leave Ben alone.


	31. Slashed

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: More whump? I can do that! I know this is early but I won't have access to a computer around the time I usually update so I wrote this all last night and put it up this morning. Going AFK to a college and won't be back till tomorrow night. Thanks for reading and reviewing! :D

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**HAL POV**

One quick of its tail and I felt my side open up – literally. The air was knocked out of me, and suddenly I was keeling over my brother's body, hand on my side, blood pumping out of the wound. My eyes squeezed shut and I shuddered for air, feeling the warm stream coating and passing my fingers like it was in a river. Weakness passed through all of my limbs. I knew I couldn't pass out yet. I had to save Ben first. He'd been stabbed in the chest, his wound was worse. But when I opened my eyes, my vision was swimming with darkness, and I knew I couldn't fight the fatigue gripping my shaking limbs for long. Vaguely I could see it, a hazy figure that was approaching more, and a long skinny tail rising to strike me again. So be it. I would die protecting my brother. Somehow I couldn't hear the gunshots of the others trying to come to our rescue, and didn't hear them calling my or Ben's name. There was blood rushing through my ears, and a ringing deep in my head, and everything in the outside world was escaping my grasp. Another jolt, and my head spun. I was fading fast. I tried to hold my blood in with my palm but I knew it was no good. Stitches, thread, needles. I sunk down further, my chin on my brother's shoulder – or at least, I thought it was. In truth, I couldn't see clear enough to know where I was. I could have been on the moon for all I knew. Another flash of weakness and I was down completely, my entire body limp. Pain was gone. All I felt was an empty feeling that I knew must be death. I didn't want to die yet. I had to save pain. So I began to struggle, even as the force rolled me onto my back.

"Come on Hal, don't die on me," a voice said. Strangely, I could hear it. Nothing else. I blanked in the darkness, thinking I could see a face, and then everything faded swiftly into unconsciousness.

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**BEN POV**

I woke feeling like I was floating on the ocean, water flowing past me, in and out. I wasn't sure why I had the strange feeling, but I didn't quite mind it. In fact, I felt rather comfortable. More so than I had in a long time. I remained in that state for what seemed like hours, and when I came out, I wished I hadn't. My chest burned with fire and felt like I had been ripped through with a sword. When the memories of the past few events came back, I remembered why. I had shoved Hal out of the way just as the thing came up through the earth, but didn't have the time to move. I was pierced right through my chest, and remembered staring in stunned disbelief at the emotionless machine as it shook me like a piece of meat. Nothing more than a human in it skitter controlled mind. Then Hal was there, and I was falling to the ground. Blood replaced air. I hadn't been able to breathe, and I stared at the endless night sky, trying to pull in just one single breath as I coughed up mouthfuls of blood that choked me. And before I knew it, my eyes had closed, and I had slipped away into a dream. Now I could certainly breathe easier, but it hurt. A lot. I realized that it had probably pierced a lung, which resulted in me suffocating on air.

With my eyes completely closed, I waited for the pain to pass. It didn't. Unable to take the darkness any longer, I forced my eyes open. I recognized the ceiling of the med bus, and took in a deep breath. Another flare of pain passed across my chest and I bit back a whimper. Looking to my left I saw my dad completely passed out in two chairs, with a jacket over his shoulders. I knew that must be Anne's doing.

In a bed near to mine I saw Hal, asleep and looking as pale as the sheets that covered him. I tried to sit up immediately and pain flashed across my chest, making me grimace and cough.

"Take it easy, Ben!" Anne crossed the room in three strides making it to my side instantly. "I just fixed up your wounds and don't need you tearing your stitches." She gently pushed me back down, and I let her, only because it hurt. I didn't take my eyes off of Hal, however. I don't remember him getting hurt but he must have. He had attacked the creature without any weapon at all. I just hoped it wasn't fatal. We didn't go through the past couple of months of pain and bloodshed and more pain for nothing.

"What happened to him?" I asked my voice a choked, wet rasp. It felt deeply uncomfortable in my chest and I couldn't wait for when that healed up.

"He saved your life. Tom said he jumped on the back of the alien and when you fell, it turned its attention on Hal. They couldn't shoot it without risk of hitting him. Then he fell off and covered you with his own body. They started shooting then but it didn't do any damage and it ripped into his side. They blew it up with a grenade. You're both lucky," Anne finished, and I felt frozen between heartache and guilt.

Why did he have to get himself hurt to protect _me?_ I didn't want that. He as my injured brother – older, albeit – but I was supposed to protect _him_. Now I knew why he gets so irritated every time I get hurt. It was a protective feeling at not being able to protect me. I knew it now well enough.

"He'll be okay?" I asked.

"He's fine. You both have to take it easy for awhile. I don't want to see either of you up and walking for at least a day – two. Understand? I'll explain to Hal when he gets up," she added after I nodded, annoyance flashing across my features. I hated sitting around. Though it if hurt as much to move as it did moments ago, I guess I could get used to it.

"Thank you," I said, looking at my dad who hadn't woken up yet. We all needed a good rest.


	32. Total Destruction last before sequel!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Falling Skies or the characters... if I did, then I'd be rich. :D Anyway. No slash or other romance, just pure angst and possible violence. Actually, make that probable, because I write violence a lot. Season 2 ish I'd suppose. Anyway. Read & Review...

A/N: I know this is short, but that's because...well, guess who realized that this story was over but it was perfect time for a brand new sequel!? That's right! I realized the "Rehabilitation" part was complete. So it's time to start the next fiction, which will take place perhaps a few days or weeks after this. It shall be put up within a week so keep an eye out! :D

Thanks for reading and I hope you've enjoyed it so far!

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**HAL POV**

Weaver lived. I wasn't sure how because he had lost so much blood but he was still taking bed-rest because he was barely awake most of the time and slightly delirious. Anne said he should get better within a week. As of now, Ben and I were standing in the rain just outside of our new home – a former, gigantic library. The books are either being read or used as fuel for fires do we don't waste more lighter fluid than we have to. There was an all around forest. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary here. There were no cities nearby, which meant we would have to travel a long ways to get supplies. Perhaps someone could learn how to hunt without wasting bullets, and maybe we'd be all set for a little while. The number of people in our resistance had gone down enough that we could do that. Right now my dad was acting leader along with Dai and Anthony while they waited for Weaver to recover. For now we were staying put. Rations were okay and we would last a few weeks on those. I wondered where else we would go after this. We had lost so many people on the way. There were just less than a hundred civilians and fighters left. We probably wouldn't survive another attack like that, so we were going to sit back and wait around until we could afford to keep going. Hopefully we would find more people to join us and help fight, but the number of survivors we found were minimal. Most had died long ago. We couldn't do anything about that. So far we had seen no mechs or skitters. Not a single movement. Though last nigh we heard several loud explosions and a sound like the sky was being ripped apart. It was too dark to see anything other than a strange red ball in the sky.

Whatever it was, we were going to investigate it soon. Once our dad got back from talking with Anne. I wasn't sure what to expect. It had sounded like the entire world had exploded. Maybe it had. I hoped so. We just had to go and see and maybe something would turn out alright. Walking was difficult because to me it felt like I was going to tear the stitches on my side with each step, and Ben was still having trouble breathing properly. Neither of us wanted to stay here though. We wanted to work.

When our dad came back he eyed us with clear disapproval at us coming, but seemed to know he would never be able to persuade us to stay. I looked at the bandage wrapped tightly around his arm and knew that might have had something to do with it – he was injured and was coming, and so could we.

We walked through several miles of trees and then came out on a cliff. We were high up in the mountains and could see for hundreds of miles around. We stopped dead. The cities were gone. Every one had been left as nothing but rubble, completely devoid of any kind of life or movement. On all sides there was practically nothing. Just smoke and flames blazing through trees and what remained of buildings. The alien ships and bases were gone. Either destroyed completely or having escaped. We stared on in amazement as lightning struck down on the burning world below us, illuminating the first life we had seen for a long time. Skitters engaged in battle with each other and mechs shooting their own.

We had no idea what had happened. But something was clear. Looking on in confusion, we realized part of the battle was over. But the next had just begun.


End file.

Falling Skies, Family, Hurt-Comfort