Author's note: I guess it's about time I wrote something new. I'm not telling any secrets about the plot whatsoever, so you'll have to read to find out!


Talk was buzzing around the nurse's station. I knew better than to indulge in the gossip, but this story intrigued the hell out of me.

"Young, about twenty-five, I'd say. Burns and a stab wound. He won't let us touch him." one nurse told me.

Of course, she gave the difficult one to me. I thanked her dryly.

The smell of burnt flesh permeated the room. You don't get that everyday. "Good evening, sir. My name is-" I stopped when I saw him. He was bleeding severely from his left arm and had burns on his palms. No wonder he wouldn't let us touch him. "You're not very good at staying hidden, are you?"

His bright, green eyes pierced through the veil of his black and blue upper body. "Not when I have people trying to kill me everywhere I turn."

"Rough night?"

He scoffed, "I've had worse."

I sat down by his feet and started writing on the clipboard. I attempted to sneak peaks at him, but he was always staring. "Do you mind?" I pointed at the washcloth sitting on the table next to him. "We need to clean you up."

He looked at me for a moment then shrugged and tossed me the rag.

"You look like you've been through hell." I smirked, dabbing the now damp, warm washcloth across his face.

He smiled and scoffed ragged breaths, "I must have made it out 'cause I'm in the presence of an angel."

I pressed the back of my fingers to his forehead and frowned. "You're burning up."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

I rolled my eyes and unwrapped the bandage, revealing his bleeding arm.

"That's a doozy." he huffed, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead.

I placed my hand on the wound. In seconds, his skin was as good as new. "Better?"

"Much!" he flexed. After a few seconds, his eyes moved back to mine. "How did you know?"

"We don't have that many people coming in with burns like these." I rolled his hands over to examine the palms.

"Using your gifts correctly, I see."

I glared at him and made my way to the other side of the room. "I value my life, unlike your kind."

He stood up then, taking three long strides to be inches away from me. "You don't understand. Not all of us were like that, you know. I did nothing wrong, and they're still after me." he whispered loudly.

I locked eye contact with him. The heat from his skin radiated off of him. "Don't stand so close to me," I frowned, wiping off my arm. "You're making me sweat."

"I will also take that as a compliment." he huffed, plopping back down on the bed. "I guess you're going to report me now."

I raised my eyebrows. I hadn't even thought about that. I walked over to the phone and picked it up.

"Welcome to the CIA's automated service. To report an alien, press-"

I sighed and hung up.