PART TWENTY-ONE
AUGUST 2006—NEW TIMELINE

Marco wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand, raising his night vision binoculars to survey the landscape below him. He lay propped on his elbows, staring right down into the enemy’s camp from where he was hidden on a rocky outcropping high above. Almost a week ago, Khivar’s army had created a base in the middle of a small, desolate canyon, erecting a series of large army-style tents--and thanks to the tracking device that Riley had covertly planted on one of their vehicles, they’d been able to trace them right here.

So Max had been sending scouting parties for the past week, in order to determine when he could hit their enemies at the point of maximum weakness. Once they’d gathered that information, Max would order another attack, just as he’d been doing consistently for the past six months.

Under his sure guidance, they’d managed to reduce Khivar’s army by a third of its original size, without losing a single member of their own ranks. Months ago, Max had announced that the best way to impact the situation on Antar, was to begin a ruthless campaign against Khivar right here on Earth—and ultimately use that as leverage for negotiations. The fighting had been arduous…even treacherous at times, yet their efforts had certainly paid off.

Marco raked a hand through his hair, surprised at how damp with perspiration it had become. Tonight was hotter than average for August, even by New Mexico standards, and he wished the recent heat wave would abate. Even in his thin t-shirt and khakis he was absolutely sweltering—despite the sun having set at least an hour before--and it only made him more anxious about his current proximity to the enemy.

Almost as if in response to his thoughts, he heard her muffled movements from where she sat crouching behind him. He’d groaned inwardly when she’d been assigned as his reconnaissance partner tonight, knowing exactly how tense the atmosphere would be between them. Lately he’d prayed to be apart from her as often as possible, because even though they’d rarely spoken since that day he’d been shot months ago, his attraction to her had only continued to escalate.

Anytime she was even remotely near him, his senses came fully aware of her—just like right now--and it often required every ounce of his willpower to resist her effect on him. He’d felt his resolve faltering lately, especially when she’d been so damned beautiful in her shorts and halter-tops, and with the way he’d constantly felt her energy swirling around him whenever she was nearby.

Tonight’s surveillance watch had proved nearly unbearable, and the quiet atmosphere had been awkward and tense.

Especially when he’d asked her to study the area below—sought her confirmation of what he was seeing. She’d slid up beside him on her stomach, her hip brushing right against his. He’d passed the binoculars to her, and she’d peered through them, her lips just a breath away from his own. He’s almost leaned over and kissed her right then, her pull had been that powerful. The fact that they were in potential danger had only intensified the eroticism of the moment.

Now, as she huddled behind him in the darkness, he felt his body begin to burn inexplicably…all along his shoulders and lower back. It was one reason he tried to focus on the enemy’s movements below, even though nothing had changed in almost an hour. He couldn’t face her, not with the way he felt his skin growing so heated—and he could only wonder why.

He decided to risk a glance back at her, and dropped the binoculars a moment. He sought her with his gaze, and found her sitting against a large rock, studying him silently. Her face was in shadow, yet he couldn’t miss how boldly she met his eyes, even in the moonlit darkness--as if she were challenging him somehow, and he realized that the burning of his skin had merely been the effect of her gaze falling upon him.

He flushed deeply, and quickly turned away from her, staring down into the encampment below them. At least he could be grateful they were almost finished for the night, which would only leave the hike to the Suburban, then the long, torturous drive back to their own camp. They’d barely spoken the whole way here, and he’d turned the stereo up loudly to cover the silence.

As he studied the minimal movements below, he had to admit that Tess wasn’t his only problem. Lately, there’d been another element to the equation, one that confused him even more considerably than Tess did—his reception to Max and Liz’s bond. He wasn’t even sure what had precipitated it, but recently he’d become much more aware of it, and the emotions were becoming overpowering.

He was definitely crossing into dangerous territory.

Somewhere along the line, he’d wandered perilously closer toward their connection, had begun savoring the emotions he felt whenever their bond bled over to him. Not that he didn’t try to block it, for he used every bit of his power to create a wall against them …but what he sensed was so beautiful, so beyond his comprehension, that it was beginning to drive him slightly crazy.

Their incredible love for one another had spun his mind in so many disparate directions, he’d been left utterly confused, except on one point. They’d left him aching for a mate of his own.

They’d left him craving Tess.

For she was the only cure for this deep yearning…the only remedy for these emotions their union had caused him to contemplate--the only one who could save him from these treacherous feelings birthing within him.

****

Max crept along the dark trail, away from the cabin where the others lay sleeping. He’d cleared this mission with Serena, not because he needed her permission, but rather to determine if it really was safe enough. He’d been deliberately vague, yet she’d given her assurances, and revealed the precise moment he should launch his offensive, based on their own security patrols.

They would be alone, unhindered by any of the unit making their rounds—no one would sweep the area again for another hour.

It was a vigorous descent to the small lake at the bottom of the trail, but worth it. Definitely worth it, he thought with a wicked smile, and reached behind him for Liz’s hand. He paused, turning back toward her, and spun her right into his arms. He couldn’t wait, not with the way his blood was boiling so madly for her.

Not with the way their season had come upon them again, bringing near madness for one another with it.

It was why they’d come away together into the woods, so they could lose one another as desperately as they needed to, as privately, without worrying that some of the others in the small, thin-walled cabin might hear. By sheer necessity their lovemaking had been terribly restrained ever since they’d gone into hiding —well, at least their physical joining, Max thought wryly, remembering how beautiful and wild their spiritual mating had been lately.

"Baby," he breathed as he pulled her tight within his arms. "My sweet, sweet, wife." His heart was already beating crazily, but feeling her so close caused it to pound even more quickly.

"Max," she purred, as their lips met. "Oh, it’s been too long," she moaned. "I thought I’d never make it."

"Too long," he murmured in agreement. It had been more than forty-eight hours, which was an eternity given the way their cycle had escalated during that span of time. They were nearing the peak, he could sense it, because it reminded him of that night months ago…the night of their awakening. Their aching need for one another had begun spiraling in just the past few days, just as madly as the last time months before.

Liz slipped her hands under his shirt, stroking the planes of his chest, caressing his nipples, which instantly aroused beneath her touch. Their kisses were deepening, as their tongues entwined, flicking deliriously together.

Maybe they’d forget the lake idea…maybe right here on the path, under the moonlight. Liz’s chest was heaving against his, as he cupped her face within his hands, his fingers slipping through her silky tresses. Oh, how he needed her, right now, right here. His erection throbbed painfully within his khakis, and as if in answer, her hand found it’s way right to it, rubbing firmly.

"Max," she gasped, drawing in a ragged breath. "Please just don’t ever…"

He nodded vigorously, interrupting her with a fevered kiss. There was no need for her to beg, for surely he would never repeat this mistake--stay gone on a mission so long during one of these cycles. He felt the great toll it had taken on her, by the way she was shaking softly within his arms, shuddering at their sudden proximity.

Or from the lack of it these past days.

"No, sweetheart," he assured her quietly, as he broke the kiss. "I won’t ever do this to you again." He dropped to his knees right in front of her, his eyes begging her to join him.

Liz could see how flushed Max’s face had become, even in the silvery moonlight. So quickly, his cheeks had stained a deep red, and he’d begun panting softly, as he knelt in front of her. She knew exactly what he wanted—to make love to her right here on the leaf-strewn path, not in the lake as they’d planned. He eased her halter-top up slightly, so that her mid-drift was exposed, and began kissing her abdomen, pressing the waistband of her shorts downward with his thumbs, trailing his lips dangerously low.

He lathed her bellybutton with his tongue, suggesting flirtatiously where else he might explore. A moan escaped her lips, as his hands cupped her from behind, caressing her bottom firmly. She’d begun to feel his energy pooling within her belly, right beneath where he trailed his tongue. She answered, by unfolding her own energy rapidly across his body, and his mouth stilled as he gasped in response.

"Liz," he groaned helplessly. "What are you trying to do to me?" His voice was husky, almost unrecognizable in the darkness.

She felt a fiery shimmer of lightning shoot across her back, and his own blazing energy began nipping at her skin, her neck, while he simply knelt before her. He kissed her abdomen lower and lower, unzipping her shorts with shaky hands.

Liz had to have more of him, so she opened to their connection, and he rushed inside her with such force, it drove her to her knees unsteadily. She’d forgotten how his energy blazed during their cycles, how overpowering it could be. It was more heady…and even more raw in its maleness, as he surrounded her with it.

Sweetheart, he moaned quietly, catching her in his arms. His chest heaved, as he drew in labored breaths, and his fevered lips met her own. Sorry…I can’t get to the lake, he managed to force out, though she felt how very unsettled and erratic his thoughts had become.

Max, it’s okay…I don’t care, she soothed him. I just want all of you. Join with me, she begged urgently.

It’s all that I want…you’re all that I want, he murmured softly. Their souls met in that moment, kissing like sunlight to hot sand, as their two separate selves slipped effortlessly into one beautiful being. Max buried his face in her hair, and Liz felt tears pool in her eyes. As regular as this mating had become for them, the sensation of literally forging her soul to Max’s never ceased to amaze her—the way it felt to literally weave together with him.

If I live to be a hundred years old, there will never be anything more beautiful to me than just this, Max agreed softly, nuzzling her face with his mouth. The tears slipped down her cheeks now, and he kissed each of them away.

They were both so deeply sated, yet Liz marveled at how sharply their driving physical urge for one another had intensified in the wake of their bonding. She felt Max’s erection pressing against her.

I need all of you, he growled in response.

Yes, definitely…not enough, she managed to cry, as he quickly unbuttoned his jeans. She shimmied hurriedly out of her shorts because they needed one another too urgently to linger over this any longer. Max turned back to her, wearing only his t-shirt, which she eased quickly over his head.

This, too, he commanded huskily, pulling at her halter-top. She slipped it off, so that only their bare skin touched now. He eased her backwards, and Liz felt scratchy dry leaves against her back--but she was only dimly aware of them, especially with Max slipping firmly between her legs.

He pressed against her, and entered her easily. She was so slick and wet…so unbelievably warm as he entered. The feel of her all around him, so tight, was more than enough to drive him over the edge—just that quickly. But he held on because he wanted this to last…for both of them.

They rocked gently against one another, her tiny hips bucking up hungrily against him, as her hands drew him desperately closer. She wrapped her legs around him, drawing him deeper within her.

He was vaguely aware of the dry earth just beneath them, the feel of leaves and small rocks, but Liz eclipsed all of that.

Oh, sweetheart, you are so many things to me…my love, my mate, my wife…my queen, he groaned, and felt their connection explode like wildfire at his words. The summer air was already so hot, but now their feverish skin just sizzled, as their chests, abdomens…bodies brushed together, over and over.

And like that time so many months before, he felt something very exotic birthing in their union…something utterly alien and lovely. They were Zan and Zillia once again, he realized with a satisfied moan. Loving one another across lifetimes…driven together just like this for eternity.

The realization of it sent them both over the edge at precisely the same moment, as they screamed one another’s names within their bond, and their moans echoed softly through the quiet woods.

As they lay kissing softly, the crackle of the leaves answering beneath their quaking bodies, Max knew he’d managed to forget the revolution for those moments. Had been able to simply lose himself within the arms of his beloved wife. And that had been the purpose in coming out this far away from the others.

He needed Liz like this more than ever before…their bodies had commanded it, but more than that, his heart had.

****

Tess rode in silence beside Marco, listening to Bob Dylan for perhaps the last time she could tolerate. Why was he so fixated on just this one CD, Blood on the Tracks, she wondered. What secrets did these melancholy lyrics reveal about his guarded heart?

For while she knew he’d been listening to it months ago, he now seemed to play it almost incessantly.

The air conditioning hummed tonelessly inside the darkened cab, only the headlights illuminating the dark road ahead. They’d gotten their necessary reconnaissance information, and hadn’t wasted any time with the long hike back to where they’d hidden the vehicle. In that entire walk, they’d uttered no words between them, and even in the past forty-five minutes, Marco had played the stereo loudly, droning out any attempts at conversation on her part.

Then why did she feel his need for her thrumming so intensely in the darkness? Because you’re sensing his heart, a quiet voice answered her. This was the way it had been between them for months, ever since the day he’d been shot. They’d barely spoken again since that night—except as their positions had demanded--yet the feelings had only intensified awkwardly over these months.

And lately, she felt something strange growing…the sensation that their gifts were trying to join somehow. She found herself knowing things intuitively that she never would have before—especially within Marco. His heart was so open, almost innocent in a way, that it frightened her sometimes. She feared he might be vulnerable to their enemies somehow, and she yearned to protect him in a surprising, unfamiliar way.

She glanced at him in the darkness, and noticed that his dark brows were knit together intently. His face was lined with worry, and she wished he’d just talk to her. She reached to turn down the stereo, and he turned sharply toward her.

"I’m sorry, but I just can’t handle Bob Dylan yet again tonight," she laughed, but despite her attempt, knew her words had fallen flat.

"You don’t like Dylan?" He asked, sounding surprisingly disappointed.

"No, no…I love Dylan," she rushed to explain awkwardly, studying his features. "It’s just, geez, I mean Neil Young, Dylan, Donovan…don’t you ever listen to anyone from this millennium?"

He sighed heavily, his gaze never leaving the road. "So you’ve joined them."

"Joined who?" She asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"The others…those who oppose my musical tastes…Riley, Cecilia, Michael," he recited, his voice tinged with heavy disappointment. Yet she didn’t miss the smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "And now you, lovely Tess… a traitor to my cause? I’d never have dreamed it."

Somehow his playful words struck her as quite flirtatious in the darkness. "Well, now I wouldn’t place me so quickly in the enemy camp," she argued, aware of how breathy her words suddenly sounded.

"No?" he questioned, raising a dark eyebrow curiously. "Explain what you mean, or I might have to take you right to my leader."

"And that would be?" She questioned in mock suspicion.

He glanced at her quickly, his dark eyes dancing with mischief. "The man you maligned so easily…Mr. Dylan."

Tess giggled nervously at his words. They’d probably just spoken more in this ridiculous interchange than they had in months, and she felt something releasing—some tension giving way between them.

"Yeah, just don’t let Max find out about that," Tess teased lightly, but was instantly sorry for her words, when Marco’s eyes narrowed sharply. He stared straight ahead at the road, yet she knew his mind had instantly closed to her again, as she’d just reminded him of all the reasons their playful conversation was so wrong.

Of the forbidden desire between them…something that in Marco’s mind Max must never learn about.

Now as they rode again in silence, and he turned up the stereo, she yearned to talk freely with him again. In some ways, she hardly knew him at all, longed to learn what exactly did draw him to the somber, classic rock that he always listened to. If the conversation would ever flow openly between them, she’d ask what growing up with Serena had been like—oddly, they had that in common, each having been raised by protectors from the ’47 crash. There were so many things they were never allowed to share or explore, all because of Marco’s intense refusal to acknowledge his feelings for her.

But hadn’t he acknowledged what he felt…on several occasions? She wondered. And really, he had—the problem was more his vehement denial of any potential relationship between the two of them. Suddenly, the wistful refrain of the Dylan song struck her profoundly…and as she listened to the lyrics, she wondered if his fixation on the one song might have something to do with her.

"So is that me?" Tess asked softly, surprised that she’d found the boldness to ask the question haunting her thoughts. Yet it had been there, begging for acknowledgment.

"What?" He choked, and she didn’t miss the panic in his expression, even with his eyes trained intently on the road ahead.

"In the song?" She explained in a tight voice. Her heart was beating rapidly, but despite how much this frightened her, she needed to press him tonight. "I mean, do you see that as me?"

****

Warm lake water surrounded their naked bodies, as Max and Liz swam in the darkness, moonlight shimmering on the lake’s still surface. The feel of the water against them pulled at them erotically, yet they simply treaded together, staring deeply into one another’s eyes.

"I don’t know how I ever thought we could make this work," Max laughed huskily, realizing the logistics for lovemaking would be nearly impossible.

"Good thing we stopped where we did earlier," Liz agreed huskily, and he stroked damp hair out of her eyes.

"No kidding," he laughed softly, kissing her very softly. Their earlier driving passion had eased a bit, and now they were free to share a different moment together, something carefree and foreign to their lives these days.

That’s what tonight had been all about…leaving their burdens behind and simply savoring one another. Just this once.

"Max," Liz began quietly, and he saw her dark eyes narrow. "You know…"

"What?" He prompted gently, sensing her retiscence.

"Well, just that obviously I’m not on the pill anymore, since it’s not like I can run to the drugstore every month."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly, wondering where this conversation was headed, as they tread water slowly.

Where was this conversation going? He suddenly wondered, in quiet alarm.

No, no…I’m not pregnant or anything, she reassured him quickly.

Not that I’d mind, he rushed to clarify. I mean, I’d worry…with everything, but…

"I know you’d be thrilled," she finished for him, slipping her arms around his neck. He felt her press up against his lower body, and a thrill shot through their connection at the sudden intimacy.

"I’m just saying…we should be careful in the future," She explained quietly. "Or, well…"

"Yeah, I see what you mean," he agreed softly. And something about the turn of this conversation left him feeling very melancholy. He wanted babies with her so much, he often ached with it—and he’d felt the same desire from her on countless occasions.

Yet, before there’d always been school and their financial concerns, and now there was just so much uncertainty.

But he wanted those children. The ones he’d seen in his dreams on several occasions in the past few months. Two small children, a boy—slightly older—and a little girl. Both dark headed, looking so much like their parents…well, he had to admit with a wry laugh, perhaps a bit more like himself. He smiled softly, recalling their image.

He had to believe they would have those children one day, when the time was just right.

Of course we will, Liz promised. I’ve been dreaming about them, too.

Really? Max cried in wonder, because they’d never discussed it.

I think we were meant to know about them, because they’re our hope for the future, she explained softly.

He nodded, slipping his hands about her waist. "I have so much hope for our future, sweetheart. Always know that, no matter how intense things may get."

"There’s only one point I must disagree with you about," she argued gently.

"What?"

"They look more like me, not you," she huffed, breaking away from him. They both began laughing giddily, as she swam away from him, and he darted beneath the water’s quiet surface, headed to claim her within his arms again

*****

Is that me? She’d asked. Such a simple and straightforward question, and yet it revealed volumes about their relationship. No one had ever bothered asking what that song meant to him, not even in recent months when it was the only thing he wanted to play. Even Riley had complained in slight irritation, demanding him to advance at least a few decades in his musical selections. One night Michael had shouted that he couldn’t take it any more, and had quickly changed to a Stone Temple Pilots CD.

But no one had ever asked what the song meant to him.

Until now, and she’d asked in such a personal, intimate way—yet he didn’t feel violated at all. Strangely, he wanted her to know.

Longed to tell her that the song was about three people, possibly a fourth…no one had ever been sure. Except that there was a couple, and one man standing outside looking in, wanting something that they had.

And, yes, just as she’d guessed, the song also told of lovers parting in the night…someplace out west. He and Tess that night in the snow, forever turning away from one another.

Only their separation hadn’t worked, and he couldn’t figure out why it hadn’t.

She rode beside him in the darkness, awaiting an explanation, and he knew she was the only one who could sort through all his confusion. About his feelings for her…about Max and Liz’s bond.

The moments ticked by endlessly, and he heard her sigh heavily…knew she’d grown hopeless of his ever responding. All the while, Bob Dylan just kept on crooning, giving life to his emotions.

"Yes," he confessed finally, staring straight ahead at the unfolding road, avoiding her piercing gaze. "Who else could it possibly be?" He asked, his voice throaty with all the emotions he felt.

"And so you just…" She hesitated a moment, and he sensed she was struggling with her next words. "What? Just listen to the song and think all of this between us will go away?"

"No."

"No what?" She cried in confusion, her voice cracking a bit. He hated what he’d been doing to her all these months, despised that he’d hurt her as much as he obviously had.

"No, I don’t think it will just go away," he whispered, turning toward her. She leaned against the door, just staring up at him like a graceful deer finding itself in sudden headlights.

"By now, I doubt that it ever will," he finished, turning his gaze back to the road.

Silence spun out between them for several long moments, the song hammering its painful lyrics in the night.

He wanted to tell her the rest, to confess how confused he was, what he really wanted with her. Not a relationship…from the beginning he’d known that wouldn’t be enough. He wanted her fully, her soul sealed to his for the rest of their lives. Because he knew for sure now that was the only way for him.

And yet, it was impossible. This quandary was more than impossible, and it was slowly eating away at his heart—as was the situation with his king and queen.

Wanted her to know that she haunted his dreams, night after night, and each time he sensed more about what they could truly be together…if only this were a different lifetime, a different situation.

"Tell me," she whispered urgently, startling him beyond comprehension.

"Tell you what?" He asked incredulously. How could she have known his thoughts like that?

"What you’re not saying," she cried softly. "I know there’s more."

He felt his hands shaking on the steering wheel, and knew he had to open up with her—at least on one point. He drew in a sharp breath, gathering all the courage within him, and decided to risk everything tonight…to simply forge ahead.

He needed her to know--not later, not months from now…but tonight. Because without her knowing, he was just too damn tangled up in blue.