The more time I spend around Addison, the more time I want to spend around her. Each time I see her, I can feel that initial attraction deepening, my affection for her growing. Perhaps I am making myself too vulnerable without knowing if she returns even a portion of my own feelings, but I cannot seem to help myself when she is the subject.

I know that she might be noticing that I am around her as much as I can be, attempting to do everything I can to be helpful whenever the need presents itself, whether she needs me to lift a heavy item or she needs me to escort her to the dining area.

Not that she needs an escort to the dining area—she is more than capable of going alone.

I just want to be around her as much as I can and being helpful seems like a good excuse. Perhaps a thin one at times, but it is the best I can come up with. I am not ready to reveal my feelings quite yet.

Addison is not only supremely independent, she is also deeply vulnerable. Perhaps it is odd to find those two qualities in such strength in the same person, but I know I am correct. I have spent much time with her at this point.

With my growing emotions comes an intense calling to protect her, heal whatever wounds she carries. The problem is, I am as of yet still uncertain exactly how much attention would be too much for this complex woman. I am still agonizing over the next step I should take as I hover in the lab, ready to lend a pair of helping hands. When she goes to pick up a bin full of glass, I am there before she can get a full grip on the thing.

"Allow me," I murmur. "Where would you like it moved?"

"Oh. Over there," she directs, smiling at me. "Thank you, Melchior."

I nod, hefting the box.

"Would you like these two moved there as well?" I ask, gesturing with my chin to the other two that were on the table next to the bin I already have.

"Oh, you don't have to get all of—"

"It is no trouble," I insist, walking over to deposit the bin, already coming back to pick up the others.

When an alien invader's body is dropped off in the lab, I pick it up and move it to where she wants it. I know this is not the first such body she has seen, but she still wrinkles her nose, obvious distaste in her expression as she nears it.

Textured blue skin shows where the body is unprotected—only the head, hands, and feet remain uncovered by the armor they wear. The eyes currently open and staring are completely black, with thick brow ridges above. The lipless mouth contains sharp teeth and a pair of tusks that curve out, almost touching in the front. It has six arms, three on either side of its torso, though only the ones in the center are large. They are the most functional, ending as they do with clawed three-fingered hands. The other four arms are smaller and thinner, ending in small pincers, most likely the reason for the emblem they wear, a stylized yellow pincer on a brown background. The matte brown carapace armor is a point of interest. Anything we can learn about their technology and defenses is knowledge that might aid us in the future.

"I know it's hot out there, but I wish they'd be able to get bodies to me faster," Addison mutters, her frown already fading as she studies the body. "They always have that smell of rotting fish..."

"The smell is...unpleasant," I agree.

"Hmm."

I watch as she cuts into the carapace, muttering to herself while she uses tweezers to pick up a small piece. When she tries to move the body, I am there to help.

"Would you like me to hold it on its side?" I ask politely, taking a firm two handed grip.

"Uh, yes. That would be great."

So I do just that.

And move some more heavy boxes.

And another body that comes in.

Perhaps it does not sound like the most exciting afternoon, but I am quite content simply spending time with Addison. She straightens from the machinery she went back to after working on the body, stretching with her hands pressing at the small of her back. I would love to rub out any knots or soreness she might have.

"I think it's time for a lunch break," she announces, turning towards the door.

"Take your time," Errol calls out, still focused on the part he is tinkering with. "You need the break."

"You're right," she agrees, taking a deep breath.

And stopping abruptly as I step into her path.

"I can escort you to the dining area," I offer, moving to her side.

She appears somewhat startled, blinking up at me for a moment in silence.

"Oh...uh...yeah, sure," she stammers out.

Perhaps not the best reaction, but I am happy to be at her side as we continue out and down to eat.

Eating with her has quickly become one of my favorite things to do. I have more time to simply speak with her, unlike in the lab where she often requires concentration to work. And that lunch is no exception.

"Have you learned anything more of the alien writs?" I ask, curious.

Her face grows animated, and she sets down the bite she was about to eat.

"Not yet, but I have to say, the more I dig into what we've found here in the city, the more fascinated I am..."

I watch her as she speaks. The expressions that cross her face, the way her eyebrows lift and lower, the movement of her hands. I really enjoy seeing her speak about something she is passionate about. And I also notice she is more relaxed around me now than she was in the beginning, especially if we speak about something she is working on. Perhaps we can move to more personal topics at some point, but I am happy to hear her views on her work as well.

"And how is the Tribe doing?" she asks halfway into our meal.

I sigh, turning my mind to the more serious topic.

"There are problems we are going to have to address," I admit. "Things have changed with the influx of more people and with the threat of off-worlders we are all worried about."

She nods, her expression turning sympathetic.

"Yeah, it feels like if it isn't one thing it's another," she sighs. "And I worry...that things might get worse before they get better."

I nod. I understand what she means. There are not so many of us that every possible casualty will not be felt. If we are attacked and we lose people, yes, we would need fewer resources.

But we would be heartsick.

Every person we have is valuable, contributing in his or her own way.

When I excuse myself after lunch to go meet with Commander Visidion, I am still thinking of the threat we must prepare for.

"Melchior," he greets me warmly, clasping my arm and gesturing to the table. "Please, have a seat."

As the city has slowly become more of a home, small tables and chairs have begun appearing in various areas, places to sit outside. I appreciate the addition. Just as I appreciate being able to sit down indoors.

Visidion takes a seat across from me, his strong demeanor something I have always admired. He also has a way of focusing on a person that makes one believe you are the center of his universe, at least in that moment in time.

I will forever be grateful to have won a place among his most trusted, thankful to escape the fate of wandering the sands, lost to the bijass. The thought makes me shudder even now, even as we settle into our first topic.

The patrol routes.

"I want to make certain I am not overburdening anyone too much," Visidion remarks as we plan them. "I would like to have multiple patrol routes, reaching farther out into the desert, but that would require more Zmaj than I want to devote to the task with everything else we need to accomplish."

"We need more defenses for the Tribe," I agree. "Ones that do not necessarily require our physical prowess."

"Yes," Visidion agrees grimly. "Especially since the shields Errol has come up with are not yet guaranteed to work. We cannot depend on them, though I hope that changes in the future."

We discuss using different types of weapons—the sharpened poles the females came up with proved to be quite effective when the cave system was attacked.

We also discuss the possibility of another wall, creating a thicker buffer between the living spaces and the outside, among other possibilities.

"We will continue to discuss our defenses later, but we have to continue on to an equally pressing matter. The issue of the food supplies," Visidion continues. "We do not have enough stored. I do not like knowing that we are so close to disaster if there is an emergency of some sort."

I nod, sobering at the thought.

"Yes," I agree. "We have even more people now we need to feed and over hunting has reduced the game we can easily access." As a hunter for the Tribe, this is an issue that I am well versed on. "Perhaps we should put rules into place for the short term that only allow hunting farther away, so game may travel back to us. Hunting parties would need more time because more traveling would be required, but perhaps the burden of at least carrying the meat back can be eased using carts and other means of transport..."

I trail off as I see Addison walk by, speaking with another female.

I adore how she walks, the feminine sway of her hips, the way her shorter legs travel distance faster than she appears to be moving...

"Melchior." I jerk my attention back to Visidion to find him grinning at me, glancing over at Addison's figure before looking back at me. I feel the warm rush of embarrassment. I was not at all discreet about watching her. And Visidion is no fool. "I have not given you a night off of patrols in months. Why do you not take tonight to...pursue your own desires."

I stare back at him, stunned at both the time off and the odd directive tacked onto the end. This is unusual. I feel as though Visidion might be communicating something without saying it outright, and he appears much...warmer than usual.

Odd. Very odd.

"Uh...yes, that is very kind of you," I say, standing, ready to create some distance between myself and this alternate version of Visidion. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

I can hear him chuckling behind me when I turn awkwardly and walk away quickly, as if he is savoring something particularly humorous.