PART TWO

Liz entered the classroom tentatively, her eyes sweeping the neat rows of desks until she spotted him. He sat near the back, listening to his Walkman, head moving slowly to the music, and for the briefest moment she wondered what he was listening to.

They all had so many questions about him, and yet that was the first thought that sprang to Liz’s mind, as she slid into the desk beside him. She felt so strange at his nearness--this specter that they’d anticipated for nearly six years.

She studied his features, and was surprised to note that he was barely older than they were—mid twenties at most. Of course, he might be a shape shifter, and could be eighty years old, for all she knew-- yet somehow she doubted that, though she couldn’t say exactly why.

He looked up at her, his dark eyes meeting her own, and she felt instantly unsettled by his penetrating gaze.

No wonder she’d felt such strange emotions upon first meeting him—his eyes shimmered with quiet energy, and flared slightly whenever he looked at her.

Only now she knew the reason why.

He smiled softly, slipping the headphones around his neck, and she noticed that he had a single dimple, which gave his smile a quirky, offbeat effect.

"Hi, Liz," he said, his voice throaty and rich. There was something odd about how he said her name, as if he wrapped his voice around it somehow.

"Hi…John," she replied, extending his notebook toward him awkwardly. "Thanks for the notes."

"No problem," he answered. He took the spiral book from her, and reached within his backpack to retrieve her own. She caught a glimpse of a Bob Dylan CD sitting on his desk…Blood on the Tracks.

At least that’s one question answered--one out of hundreds, she thought.

"Um," she began as he extended her notebook. "I was wondering if I could talk to you after class?"

He hesitated a moment. "Sure," he answered, and she saw some uncertainty pass across his features.

"Great." She smiled warmly at him. "Then I’ll meet you outside afterward."

***

How could he have made such a huge mistake? Marco wondered, raking his hand absently through his hair.

Serena had lectured him at length after class the other day, reminding him that he had been expressly advised against making contact so soon. But somehow, when he’d actually found himself near Liz, he’d been unable to resist. He had needed to talk to her—to them—to learn firsthand what they were really like. He’d waited such a long time for that moment, and in finding himself in such sudden proximity, the allure of speaking to her had been overwhelming.

But something about the way she’d looked at him a minute ago had been very unnerving. Her expression, her mannerisms…everything had changed since the other day, when she’d been so closed off to him. Although it was impossible, he couldn’t shake the sensation that she knew who he was. But even if she’d somehow known the name Marco McKinley, his alias of John Monroe would have meant nothing to her.

But how could she have known either name? He wondered.

She had no idea that he’d been sent as their protector, anymore than she knew that Serena had been quietly watching over them for years.

Or that all their lives were suddenly at incredible risk.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep, calming breath, as their professor began his lecture. Fortunately, Marco was fluent in French, and he could tune out during this class whenever he wanted. Why couldn’t he shake the impression, almost passing over him like a vibration, that Liz was thinking his name? He swore he could hear it, rolling quietly within his mind.

Marco…Marco. It was almost like she was beckoning him toward her.

Toward all of them.

He shook his head slightly, attempting to clear it, as he opened his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~

Liz rushed into the hallway, and saw Max waiting for her. She stepped immediately toward him, taking his hand within her own, giving it a tight little squeeze. They turned and waited just outside the doorway, and then Marco stepped out.

"Liz," he said with a gentle smile, but then caught sight of Max and his expression became more guarded.

"We need to talk to you," Max said quietly, stepping toward him.

Marco glanced at Liz briefly, raising his eyebrows in question. "Someplace private," she finished.

Marco nodded silently, and Liz swore he paled a bit. "Where?" he asked.

"How about the student lounge?" Max suggested.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max leaned across the table toward Marco, placing his palms flat on the table. "Look," he began quietly. "We know who you are."

Marco stared at him a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then his gaze darted between both of them.

"I’m sorry?" He finally replied, clearing his throat.

"Marco, we know who you are." Max continued firmly, folding his arms across his chest.

Marco’s mouth opened slightly, and his cheeks flushed almost imperceptibly.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," he replied. "I don’t even know your name," he said pointedly to Max. "And my name is John Monroe, not Marco."

"Look, stop playing games," Max said, his usually calm voice tensing slightly. "We do know who you are, and what we want to know is why you didn’t tell Liz your true identity."

Marco stared coolly at Max for a long moment, his gaze wavering briefly as he glanced at Liz. He leaned back in his chair, just studying them, and Liz reflected that he was certainly calm under pressure. He had to be shocked by this turn of events.

Marco blew out a long breath, looking out the window for a moment, and the silence became deafening. Finally, he leaned forward across the table toward both of them again.

"I wouldn’t bandy that name about too easily, if you value your safety," he threatened.

"Explain what you mean," Max answered tightly, leaning closer across the table.

"I mean," he continued. "Did it occur to you that there is a reason I’m going by the name John Monroe? If you’re so sure you know who I am, perhaps you might have considered that possibility." His voice was clipped, almost icy in its insistence.

Liz gazed down at the table, chewing her lip. This was far from the dreamy reunion she’d thought they would all share. As crazy as it was, she’d fantasized about Marco McKinley for years--he’d been such an enigma, almost mythical. Their only proof of his existence had been a bizarre artifact from the future, delivered to them in a totally mysterious manner. Naturally, she’d spent countless hours wondering what he would be to them.

But she’d hardly imagined that their first real encounter would include him scolding them like small children.

"Cut the crap," Max said sternly. "You’re the one with the explaining to do."

Nor had she dreamed that his first meeting with Max would be some kind of territorial power play, with each asserting their boundaries and manhood.

She rubbed at her eyes, suddenly feeling very tired.

"Max," he began quietly. "I’m sorry it’s gone like this."

"I never told you my name was Max," he answered firmly.

"I know that."

They stared at one another for a long moment.

"Then we’re right," Liz finished quietly.

Marco looked at her, then down at his hands. "I don’t understand how you knew," he answered, his voice surprisingly quiet.

"That much you’d never believe," Max answered with a heavy sigh. "It’s a very long story."

Marco nodded thoughtfully, his eyes still cast downward. They all fell silent for several long moments, until Marco met Max’s gaze intently. "You’re all in a great deal of danger," he said. "You in particular, Max. It’s why I’m here."

Liz’s chest tightened, remembering Max’s premonition.

Oh, God. How could she have ever thought Marco’s coming would be a good thing? He was their protector, and that could mean he was here for only one reason. She closed her eyes, a shudder sweeping her body, and she had to suppress a small sob.

"What kind of danger?" Max asked, softly closing his hand over Liz’s. He’d sensed her instant terror, and she could feel him comforting her. Their connection gave a little lurch, and she felt his energy shimmer over her. How could he worry about her at a moment like this?

Marco glanced around them, ensuring that their perimeter was indeed still private. Then he leaned close across the table toward both of them. His eyes fell on their hands, where Max had covered her own, and then quickly darted away.

"We have informants within the enemy camp," he began.

"We?" Max questioned.

"There are many of us supporting you, Max," Marco continued. "More than you could possibly know right now."

The partial bond between them gave a quick leap, as Liz reached for Max now, yearning to be more connected. This was all so surreal.

"Khivar is ready to end your life," he stated quietly. "He believes he has found the granolith, but he doesn’t really care. He knows your supporters are mounting a quiet revolution."

Max glanced quickly around them. The student center was nearly empty, yet Liz sensed he suddenly felt very exposed, even as quiet as their voices were.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, and Liz heard a mixture of awe and terror in his gentle voice.

"You will have to go underground very shortly Max," Marco answered meaningfully. "All of you."

Marco tossed a quick glance at Liz again, and she sensed concern in his dark eyes. "But the two of you in particular. I’m here to make sure that nothing goes wrong before then."

They all fell silent for a moment, and Max shifted in his seat, settling Liz’s hand on his thigh.

"How long do we have?" Max asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

And Liz was suddenly incredibly proud of him, of the strength always so resident within him, even when she felt shaky and uncertain.

"We’re not sure," Marco answered. "The word could come any day now."

Liz found herself thinking of all their dreams for the future—not just hers and Max’s—but all of their hopes. How could she have been lulled into believing they could lead normal lives?

She had a sudden vision of Max studying in the library, working so hard on his thesis, and felt tears well within her eyes.

"What about graduation?" she asked in a small voice, knowing how silly it would sound.

The funny thing was, when she glanced up at Marco, his eyes were full of compassion.

"Liz, I don’t know," he hesitated. "But I don’t think you’ll make it that long."

The tears spilled down her cheeks. All their hard work, all that effort.

"I’m sorry," he finished quietly.

She shook her head, wiping at the tears with the back of her hand. She knew she must seem ridiculous, but it wasn’t really about graduation. It was about the illusion that they could all just be normal. That Max could become a doctor one day, that she could be a molecular biologist. She’d always known they were living a fantasy, yet nothing had prepared her for this moment, when it would all be exposed as a mere child’s dream—ripped away from her in one swift instant.

"Liz," Marco reassured her. "There’s nothing wrong with wanting those things."

"It’s just that the two of you have a more important destiny."

Max rubbed his hand along her leg, so gentle yet full of incredible strength. She’d never admired him more. Their bond opened a bit, his energy enveloping her, soothing her.

"Tell us what to do next," Max replied.

"That’s the hardest part," he answered, staring out the window again. "Because right now, there’s nothing you can do, except continue with your lives. It’s why you weren’t meant to know who I was just yet."

"If Liz is in danger…" Max began, but Marco quickly interrupted him.

"If you hide too soon, there could be terrible repercussions for you," he explained. "For Liz and others… people who are supporting you within the enemy camp."

Max nodded. "We’ll do whatever is necessary."

"I know that," Marco affirmed, then fell silent a long moment, staring out the window again. "Just tell me one thing," he continued, and Liz sensed uncertainty within him.

"What?" Max asked.

"How did you know who I was?"

"That’s easy enough." Max smiled faintly, glancing at Liz. "We recognized your handwriting. You have a very distinctive style."

Marco frowned intently. "When did you ever see my handwriting?"

Liz began laughing, knowing it was inappropriate, but it was the only reaction to this moment.

"Well," she said, pulling a leg up underneath her. "That’s where we’re the ones with a surprise for you, Marco."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his dark brows furrowing.

"We have something to show you," Max explained. "Something that may shock you quite a bit."

Marco met their collective gaze seriously, and Liz wondered how he would respond to the bizarre letter.

But one thing was certain. It would change the balance of their burgeoning relationship forever.

***

Liz dropped a teabag into the boiling water, glancing in the living room of their apartment. Marco sat in their green wicker chair, and had been staring at the open letter for several long minutes, saying nothing. She noticed that their oriental rug was slightly frayed beneath his feet—in fact, their whole apartment seemed so ridiculously modest.

Max sat on the sofa across from him, leaning forward, elbows planted firmly on his knees, studying Marco’s reaction. Liz pulled three teacups from the cabinet, and felt her stomach give an anxious turn, as she watched Marco slowly fold the letter up. He ran a shaky hand through his dark hair.

"Well," he began, blowing out a heavy breath. "I’m not sure what to say about this."

Max nodded silently, and Liz watched him shift uncomfortably on the couch. It wasn’t every day that you announced this kind of thing to someone. Gee, you betrayed us, and then you saved us. Now you’re here—so what?

Marco stood and paced a bit, crossing the small distance of their living room. He was incredibly tall, and their apartment suddenly seemed unable to contain his large frame. His features were unreadable as Liz stared at him from their tiny kitchen. But she was certain that she could detect undeniable pain etched across his face.

"When did you find this?" he asked in a somber voice.

"Six years ago," Max answered, watching Marco’s progression across the living room floor.

He stopped at the window, gazing silently down at the street below.

Max glanced at Liz, and raised his eyebrows uncertainly. She sensed that he was looking to her for strength, and she moved quickly into the living room, settling beside him on the sofa. She slipped her hand within his own, threading her fingers between his.

Marco just stood there, his back to them both, as he stared out the window. They knew so little about him, and had just placed such a heavy burden upon his shoulders.

Finally, he turned to face the two of them, and his expression was determined. Resolute.

"There’s not much I can say about this," he began softly. "Except that… I have prepared for nothing else other than to serve the two of you." He paced a bit across the length of the apartment, and then stopped in front of them. "I am yours, completely and fully. I cannot speak to this other thing."

Max nodded firmly. "We understand."

"There’s something I must show you… both of you." Marco’s voice was reverential and quiet. Then he dropped to his knees, kneeling before them.

He rolled up his long shirtsleeve, exposing his wrist. He raised his other hand, and a piercing ray of blue light fell upon his open wrist, illuminating it. Liz felt her eyes widen, as a shimmering image sprang to life before them—multi-dimensional and not unlike Max’s royal seal. It hovered in the air, just above Marco’s wrist.

"This is my royal brand," he stated softly. "It’s what identifies me as protector to my king and queen."

Max drew in a sharp breath, and Liz felt his hand tighten around her own.

"I am your sworn servant," he continued, his eyes meeting both of theirs with piercing vibrancy. "I do not care what is in that letter. I could never betray you…"

The beautiful seal grew in intensity, the colors shifting quickly as Marco stared down at it. "This is all that I am," he finished, his voice hushed. "Serving you is all that I know."

Liz couldn’t even think of a response, and as she glanced at Max, she saw that his face had flushed. It was the first and only time anyone had ever genuinely acknowledged who he was—had pledged to follow him as king.

Max leaned forward and placed his hand on Marco’s shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered. Marco bowed his head slightly, and Liz realized he was unable to meet Max’s gaze.

The moment was unbelievable. She was so incredibly close to Max, and yet she’d never fully contemplated the idea that there were so many people who recognized him, followed him even, as their king. Not until this moment, in their modest little apartment.

She shivered slightly at the revelation.

And she realized that Marco was not alone. There were others… many who felt just this way about the man she called husband…mate.

Marco slowly raised his eyes to meet her own. "Do not forget, that I also serve you as queen, Liz."

Just like earlier, he had seemed to read her thoughts. All she could do was nod mutely, as his black eyes bore into her own. Then he lowered his hand, and the seal disappeared again, as the beam of light vanished. Marco slowly rolled down his shirtsleeve, rising to his feet.

He walked to the window again, staring down at the empty street below. Max kissed her hand tenderly, his lips so warm as they grazed her skin. How was it that at just this moment, she felt the most incredible rush of desire for him?

Perhaps because for the very first time it was utterly real to her— that her gentle, beautiful husband was a king.