Page 55 of The Alien's Private Redemption

"Hello, Zoric, thank you for saving my life."

"It was my pleasure."

Angela laughed quietly and considered arguing. Instead, she relaxed more into the cot with her eyes closed.

"They did not think you were awake when I asked to come speak to you."

"They were right," she told him. "I'm still asleep. Why did they let you come back?"

"I said I wanted to check on you. That I had a responsibility to you."

"What kind of responsibility?" She wondered out loud. It wasn't exactly a question but he answered anyway.

"To speak to you when you were not in crisis. In the flesh and face to face, so to speak."

Angela snorted. "It's going to be a while before I can manage face to face."

"I can feel your fatigue in my bones," he told her. "I would ease it if I could."

"The company is enough," she said softly. "I can't ask for anything beyond that. Will you stay long?"

"As long as I am permitted," he answered. "Please, do not feel you must entertain me."

They sat in silence for a while, neither certain what to say but enjoying the proximity.

Angela could feel her body trying to pull her into a real sleep. "Why did you save me?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because I couldn't do anything else," he answered.

"I don't understand," she said.

"I will explain it when you wake up," Zoric said. "But now, you must truly sleep."

I don't want to." She mumbled.

"Your exhaustion beats at me. You will be safe and I will watch over you."

She wanted to ask him what he meant but there wasn't anything in her willing to fight him.

When she woke, it was from the best sleep she could ever remember. There were no alarms or announcements to force her to her feet, only her body reminding her that it had needs.

There were no guards to watch her stumble out of her cot to the other side of the cell. Instead, there was a stool next to the bars with a stack of clothes on it.

She washed the best she could in the sink and reached out to take the new clothes.

Angela couldn't be certain but, somehow, she knew Zoric was responsible for the clothes. They were a tunic and loose pants in a soft, gray fabric. Not a prison uniform and much better than the hospital gown she had been wearing.

Was the stool what Zoric had been sitting on? Who was he that he had been allowed to break protocol like that?

What had changed?

Angela waited for the panic that unexpected change always brought but it didn't come. Instead, she felt the same way shehad when Zoric visited her. A foreign sense of calm that was more pleasant than she'd ever imagined settled in her chest.

When the door to the cellblock opened, she didn't leap to her feet to stand for an inspection. Instead, she stayed sitting on her cot, acknowledging to herself how exhausted she was. Besides, she got the feeling that the person entering would prefer her to take care of herself.

Zoric looked her over and nodded before sitting on the stool. He wore a kilt and a white button down shirt that pulled across his chest while he moved. She noted small repairs near the buttons and wondered if he had difficulty getting dressed with his claws.

"Yes," he said. "Though less since I've been able to practice."

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