by Li Hill
Tom yelped at the display of strength. He sat atop Iilo, vulnerable and more than excited. He let his fingers trace over Iilo's exoskull, pads of his fingers feeling the grooves where the ID glowed. Lights danced out from it, caressing Tom's painted walls.
Tom had thought it impractical once, the bone outside of skin. There was a strange, foreign beauty to it. What once appeared monstrous now was a marvel of the universe's ingenuity.
Tom kept kissing, his tongue numb. He liked the way Iilo's fingers rested at his hips. How their bodies ebbed and flowed into one another. A whole galaxy, a whole universe, and they'd found a way to each other. They kissed until they were both panting, hard, and unsure of where to go next.
With a grimace, Tom pulled himself off Iilo, returning to his cross-legged posture from before.
Iilo immediately grabbed the blanket again. "We've got skinny veins. I get cold easy."
"Skinny veins." Tom laughed. "That's precious." He hid his erection. It wasn't that he didn't want to; he did. It was just he didn't know if it was okay. They said they'd go slow and then they kissed like that and Tom didn't know what he wanted anymore. The world had knocked Tom off and he was falling through the air, desperate to figure out where he stood with Iilo. Dating. Kissing. But what was the plan? Where did it go from here when this was all over and Iilo got his answers, good or bad? Tom didn't want this to be a fleeting fancy or something to satiate Iilo's curiosity. He wanted this to be real. He felt like it was real.
Iilo's skin was blotchy with pink. He tried and failed to meet Tom's eyes several times. Maybe he was thinking the same thing.
They'd jumped into this, and now together they were soaring. The present was all they had. Tom wasn't guaranteed a future. But he did have now. The past's shackles around his throat were finally loosening. Iilo having done so much more than he could ever know. He'd accepted Tom. They'd built a relationship from the disaster around them.
Tom would never get over his fear. He'd never fully recover; that was a process that would take a lifetime. But he would welcome Iilo into his life, for however long Iilo chose to stay.
When they went to bed that night, Tom to one side of the bed and Iilo to the other, nothing felt out of place. Everything somehow belonged. Like Tom's bedroom had been waiting for Iilo all along.
Chapter Seventeen
Tom walked into the Outreach Center, his gaze searching for Nenen. He found her where he had last time, curled up on a bench with a book under her nose. It hurt, knowing the I'na had to give up books and art first. He hoped what they'd lost in those books, humans had been able to replace, if at least until a new generation of artists and I'na novelists came about.
"Nenen." He sat by her, smiling wide. "You look better. You're glowing."
"I feel much better." She reached her hand out, taking his. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist—long, spindly things that felt like ice. Her skin was soft as silk. "What favor will you ask?"
"I'm not sure. Gotta think that over now."
"When we first heard about Earth, we wondered if you knew about us, but didn't know how to reach us. We thought Earth was an advanced hub of intergalactic life," Nenen said.
"Wait. Is there—more? Out there?" Tom pictured wild aliens with long necks or tentacles. People had loved Star Wars once. Tom's dad still had some copies on an old Blu-ray player. As a kid, Tom had marveled at the cheesy graphics and the stories about Finn, Rey, and Poe. Now, those stories didn't seem so unreal. When the I'na came, people speculated that there'd be more.
Nenen smiled, her wrinkles tugging at the corners of her mouth like someone pulling back drapes. She pat Tom's knee. "Why don't you humans find out?"
"Ha! Believe me, we're trying. We've put so much junk into space trying to find more. Nothing yet, so if you want to give us some tips?" Tom leaned forward. "It'd be pretty cool to be a spaceman." Flying through the deep black of space. To see clouds as bright and colorful as Iilo's skin. To boldly go…
"A spaceman." Nenen chuckled. "Humans are the most expressive things I've ever seen, and yet there's something holding you back. Your curiosities are paired with fears. Hinders your species so much. But there was a man I met back in Atlanta. Curiosities were paired with power. Fear may not be so bad when the alternative is what he did to some of our people."
Tom leaned forward. He was too afraid to speak, lest he accidently derail her train of thought. Tom played a dangerous game with her conversations; she never did quite pick up where she left off when he asked a question.
"I don't know his name. But he looks a bit like you—charming and handsome."
"Sau mentioned he looked like me too, but I haven't heard anything since and the FBI are all over the case now."
"Tom, I'm old. Do you really think I can see that far away? Give me a way to take a picture of him, and the next time I see him, I'll snap it for you."
"He's been here?" Tom's stomach dropped.
She nodded.
"I'd like to call in that favor, Nenen." Tom reached into his pocket, grabbing his phone. He should go home and tell Parker immediately about Nenen, but this felt a little too good to be true. Tom met it with cautious suspicion. And if it was true, he'd rather tell Iilo before anyone else. The moment that made Iilo's suffering worth it. "This is my phone. Please be kind to it. Don't—don't look through my pictures. Here, let me show you how to take them."
"I know how!" She pulled the phone away from Tom when he tried to reach for it. "Don't look at your pictures, hmm?"
Tom went red.
"I may have taken a few shirtless gym pictures." Tom wished he hadn't given her the phone. She absolutely seemed the type of person who'd find a way to broadcast them on live TV.
"Oh." Her brows raised when she tapped through his pictures.
"Hey! That's—okay, whatever, just don't send them to anyone." Tom shook his head. He hardly knew her and yet she stressed him out more than most ever had. "Take a picture when you see him. Do you know how to get to my contacts? There's one called Work Phone, and if you call that, you'll get either me or Carlos. Tell us immediately. Leave a message if you have to. Here, you just hit this icon and then—yeah. Great." Helium inflated Tom's insides. Nenen knew more than any of them could have ever hoped for. And she got antibiotics to help her live. The give and take was a perfect exchange for Tom if it meant saving Iilo's people. Saving Iilo.
"Why didn't you tell me before about this?" Tom asked.
Nenen shrugged. "I needed medicine. Is it really that more complicated? You had something I needed and I have something you need."
"Guess not. How'd you learn to speak English so well?"
"I read your books."
Tom smiled. He wasn't giving Nenen enough credit. Her age made her unassuming, but she was sharp as a tack.
"You were on Inaan. Could you tell me something about it so I could maybe tell Iilo?"
"We don't talk about it much, especially to the children. It's not fair when this is the only planet they've ever known. Inaan translates to 'Rock of I'na'. We're about as clever with our planet as you were with yours. Earth. At least yours isn't Rock of Human. Hah!" She coughed a bit and cleared her throat. "We lived by a smaller blue sun. Our planet further out than yours from it. During the daylight, it was almost too bright. We mostly slept during day and went about our lives when our moons were out."
"So you had more than one moon?"
"Three," she said.
"It sounds beautiful." Tom's heart squeezed. "I'm just sad Iilo never got to see it."
"I am too." Nenen wiped a tear from her eye, her lips trembling. "I always wonder if it was because of our interferences that Inaan died. Or if Iibeebee willed it."
Tom bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn't imagine an existence that didn't include Earth. The ice caps were close to melting entirely away, the polar bear long extinct. What did humanity have to lose before it finally realized Earth wasn't going to recover? The I'na were the precautionary tale and humans weren't listening.
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"Our moons shimmered like our skin. Have Iilo go outside with you when it's bright. We don't glow because of suns. We glow because of moons."
"Thank you for sharing this with me." Tom grabbed her cold fingers, giving a squeeze like Iilo always did. Tom had always assumed it was the sun that gave the I'na their varied markings. To know it was the moon. Tom liked that story better. The moon was quiet and gentle, the sun an angry burning fire.
"Come here," she said.
Tom frowned, but he let her guide his head to hers. She pressed her ID to the side of his face, humming.
"Oh!" Tom had hugged, kissed, and an assortment of other things with people before. Holding his head to hers though? Feeling the way her body hummed and the energy flowed through it—this was intimacy. It left him feeling naked and like he'd been reduced to childhood again. He held onto her because she willed it, and he obeyed.
When she pulled back, she smiled.
"You've never had a proper I'na send-off, have you?" she asked.
"No. Just the hand squeezes. I picked that up from Iilo."
"Greet him like that. See what he does next time. I'll snap your picture. You have a good rest of your day, Tom." She waved her fingers and smiled, wrinkles once again filling her face.
Tom couldn't wait to see Iilo again. He delighted in thinking about the kind of reaction he would have when Tom shared part of Iilo's custom with him. All thanks to Nenen.
Chapter Eighteen
Tom was almost finished with the baked eggplant when Iilo walked into the kitchen. He was so quiet that when Tom turned, he jumped nearly out of his skin and knocked into the steamed broccoli. The heat frightened him more than the sound of colliding into a boiling pot.
Iilo leapt to salvage it before it fell to the floor, grabbing the handle. A slosh of water went cascading down the oven, a boiling tidal wave onto faux-wood linoleum the designer had said over and over to not let water damage. Tom got a rag, mopping up the water off the oven and flooring.
"I didn't mean to scare you." Iilo kissed Tom on the cheek, brushing his nose along the bone. Tom's stomach fluttered, his nerves in his hands surging with an electric tingle. He'd wanted to greet Iilo properly, the way Nenen showed him. Now he had to save the linoleum before it buckled up and cost him a few grand to replace. Tom used to be quite cynical, part of him still was, but he knew this wouldn't be his last chance. There was no sense in rushing something that was meant to be slow.
"It's fine. You're just really quiet." Tom tossed the rag into the sink and sat at the breakfast nook. He looked to Iilo and then over to the food. It wouldn't be ready for a few minutes. Tom wanted to bring up Inaan and share what he'd learned from Nenen. But talking about Inaan was half dangerous and half the widest smile on Iilo's face. But Iilo's identity wasn't from Inaan; it was spaceships and Earth. Talking about Inaan only made Iilo remember Earth wasn't where his people belonged, but it's where they were now. To start anew like that, Tom couldn't imagine. It'd be worse than waking up one day in Tokyo without knowing the language.
Tom would be nothing if Gary, Indiana hadn't claimed him from a young age. Its endless train tracks, the howl of the trains at night that had kept him up. The smell when the factories opened for the morning. But Tom was not Gary. Tom was his journey. As was Iilo. Inaan was better as a memory. Iilo wasn't Inaan, but he'd come from it. Both Iilo and Tom journeyed to where they were today. Spaceship. Airplane. They learned, laughed, and cried to create the people they were today. It didn't matter where Iilo came from—only where he was going.
The oven dinged. Eggplant done.
"Have you heard anything from Parker?" Tom asked.
"They've interviewed a dozen or so other I'na at the other two compounds. The artists draw what the I'na describe but we apparently don't recognize human features as well as needed. Sau ended up just describing you."
"Well, that's exceedingly awkward." Tom nearly knocked the eggplant over. As a human with a close relationship to an I'na, Tom could already see how this made him suspicious. He'd been around criminal law enough to hear one too many cops on the stand talking about how criminals tended to always follow their crimes, whether by helping the police or just being right in plain sight. But he'd heard nothing from Parker, so that had to have been good, right? It still left his stomach swirling.
"Makes sense." Tom flicked up his brows. He didn't want to think about being a suspect. "Humans have trouble with that too. Cross-racial identification is an ongoing issue in the criminal justice system."
Iilo smirked. "You're such a lawyer."
"The best!" Tom pulled Iilo in for a hug, giving his nose a little flick.
Iilo squealed in delight. "Human affection gestures!"
"Human affection gestures." Tom didn't want to let go. But the eggplant needed a nice slathering of marinara sauce and Tom had more to say. "Nenen has my phone. She's gonna snap a picture to identify the guy who did the biopsies in Atlanta. Said she's seen him. We'll give it to Parker."
"I knew they weren't just running away." Iilo's face darkened, anger pouring in like ink.
"We'll get him. It'll be okay."
Iilo said nothing. And Tom knew there was a high chance that nothing would be okay.
They prepared their meals, the focus changing from the kidnapper to their shared smiles and soft giggles with each hip bump. It'd become easier, just being with Iilo. They filled their conversations with each other instead of the case. Iilo was always finding ways to touch Tom, which Tom wouldn't admit out loud—but he adored every second Iilo clung to him at night. Their routine hadn't even been two weeks, but it felt like it'd always existed. It'd been too long since Tom had someone like this. His heart felt heavy and his mind was busy, all thoughts on Iilo.
With dinner ready, they crossed over into the living room. It was lit up, painted in a soft yellow from the lamp on the end table. The large window behind the couch allowed the two to look out into the night at the cars passing by. Tom used to find the house too open with the large window, but now with Iilo's face pressed to the glass, his fingers smudging it up where he balanced himself—Tom didn't much mind it. He'd live in his fishbowl if it would give Iilo something to be fascinated by.
"What's your favorite season on Earth?" Tom asked.
"Winter. Yours?"
"Spring." Tom popped a piece of eggplant in his mouth. He didn't much care for it, but Iilo didn't agree with most meat. Tom would probably just meander down in the middle of the night for some sliced ham or something. He set the meal down on the coffee table, much more interested in shooting back and forth questions than a vegetarian meal. "What's your goal in life?"
"To be happy. Yours?"
"Good job, no debt, maybe a wedding and some kids. Not sure yet."
Iilo cringed. "We can't breed."
Tom's whole body flushed red. He shot ramrod straight up, his heart up in his throat. "I didn't mean—I mean—it's just—"
Iilo burst out laughing. He fell into the sofa, pulling a blanket with him. He wrapped it around himself, a tiny burrito, laughter still echoing into the room around them. The bookshelves closed in, their impatience matching Tom's.
Tom hadn't meant to box himself into that, but truth be told, his true goal wasn't anything he could sum up in a single sentence. But then he was sure that Iilo's wasn't that simple either. Asking about a goal was like asking someone to describe what the inside of their eyes looked like. Theoretically, it could be accomplished, but not based on the individual.
"Here, an easier one." Iilo sat up, flicking Tom's nose. "Why do you like me?"
"That's supposed to be easy?"
Iilo just smirked.
"Your passion is infectious. Your hope. And yeah, I think you're gorgeous. Dedication. Loyalty. Just how much you care about things. It's not just 'oh, I like pizza' or something. You really care. With your whole body. So that's why." Tom picked at his cuticles, nervous. "I mean, you changed me. I got so stuck in the routine that I lost sight of who I wanted to be."
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Iilo's skin flushed purple. He looked away with that innocent stature, chin tucked, shoulders back. "Who do you want to be?"
Tom moved across the sofa, pressing his body over Iilo's. "I've spent a lot of my life trying to make plans and follow through with them. I've accomplished a few, but run away from way more. You're the first impulsive thing I've—done? Had?"
Iilo laughed. "Shh, just keep going. I don't know the difference between those words anyway."
"We're gonna find your people, Iilo. I promise. I'm a fighter, just like you said." He kissed Iilo, soft and tender to seal his promise.
"Blood pact," Iilo whispered against Tom's lips.
"Blood pact."
Kissing Iilo, Tom remembered his whole reason for being an attorney. It was to help people, especially people who couldn't help themselves. When Legal Aid jobs had become harder to find, Tom had set up in Seward with his own practice. He'd lost his way—needing to eat had become the priority. Now that he had a roof, food in the refrigerator, and Iilo, it was long overdue that he shifted back to what he'd wanted to be.
Not a hero. Heroes were the fantastical goal that one strove for but never achieved. No, Tom didn't want to be a hero. He just wanted to do something good in someone's life that changed it forever. Iilo had changed Tom's life.
Now Tom would change Iilo's.
Chapter Nineteen
Apparently, the United States was up in arms over the marriage debate. On TV, someone wanted to marry an I'na. That someone wasn't Tom—that would be way too fast for him—but a human did.
Tom sat in front of his TV, popcorn in his lap. He brought it up to his lips, letting the salt sting before ushering the morsel into his mouth with his tongue. He cared about this debate. It wasn't that he wanted to marry Iilo. But his ma always taught him that if he was going to date someone, it was because he should be determining if they'd be worth spending the rest of his life with.
"We can't even breed with them. They're not human. This is like—marrying a pig!" someone on the TV said. The newscaster was taking opinions from below their studio.
