PART TWENTY-FOUR

The four of them stood squared off in the bedroom, and Tess could hardly breathe, as she watched Marco desperately trying to explain his actions. He was so frantic and upset, that he wasn’t making much sense at all—Tess wasn’t even sure she understood, but she trusted him completely when he said he’d been confused for a moment. That when he’d kissed Liz, it had been a mistake.

It made perfect sense to Tess…because she knew about his problem with the connection. Because she felt his blinding headache pounding right behind her own eyes, the one he’d explained had made him momentarily crazy. Yet he still didn’t confess how he’d been intercepting their bond, and Tess didn’t understand why not—except perhaps he was afraid it would upset Max even more. That they might both feel even more violated somehow.

Max had initially demanded that Marco leave, and Tess had felt hot tears burn her eyes, as she watched Marco’s lovely dark eyes fill with unspeakable anguish. And such anger had roiled within her, it had caused her entire body to shake.

Max was oblivious to what Marco had sacrificed for them both…what he’d been willing to give up, all because of his loyalty to them both. And he had no idea the toll his connection with Liz had been taking on Marco for months now. Tess wasn’t even sure she did, but she was certain of one thing.

Marco had never intended to kiss Liz, had felt no desire for her—which made Max’s possessive anger all the more infuriating and inappropriate.

Marco stood now, staring at all of them silently, his chest heaving with quick pants as he pressed a hand against his eyes. Tess’s own head had begun throbbing even more intently moments before, and she guessed she was feeling more than just his headache, but his gash now, too.

"Max, I’m begging you," Marco pleaded quietly, raking a distraught hand through his damp hair. "Please don’t do this. Let me explain."

Yes, tell them about the connection. They must know…he’ll understand. Just tell them, she urged silently.

Max shook his head firmly, crossing his arms across his chest. "No, I want you to leave tonight," Max demanded again in a tight voice. His behavior was so uncharacteristic, even at a moment like this one, that Tess couldn’t help staring at him aghast.

"Max, won’t you even hear him out?" Tess demanded hotly.

"I’ve heard everything I need to know," Max nearly roared. "Apparently Liz drove him crazy, and then he had to kiss her."

"That’s not what he said, and you know it!" Tess yelled, getting right up in Max’s face. "God, you’re being impossible about this. I’m your second in command, and you’re not even listening to me."

Tess spun toward Marco, staring up into his tortured dark eyes. "Tell them," she urged fiercely. "They need to know."

But he only shook his head almost imperceptibly, and turned quickly on his heel, leaving them all staring after them.

"Tell us what?" Liz demanded, her voice broken with anguish. Tess ignored her question, and turned desperately to face Max.

"Max," Tess cried, grabbing his arm forcefully. "You’ve got to stop him!"

"He kissed Liz," Max shouted angrily.

Tess watched through the bedroom door, as Marco hurriedly left the cabin, stepping out into the night.

"Max!" Tess cried again. "Now I’m begging you…please stop him!"

"Tess, are you not listening to me? He kissed Liz," Max repeated gruffly. "I’d think you of all people would be more upset by that."

"I understand what’s been happening to him, where as you wouldn’t even let him explain." she argued angrily. "That’s the difference."

"Max," Liz begged, grabbing his hand. "Tess is absolutely right. Don’t you remember the letter? This is that moment, Max."

Tess hadn’t even thought about the letter until Liz mentioned it, she was too fearful of another possibility-- that if Max banished Marco tonight, then he would never return again.

Unless someone stopped him from leaving tonight. And if Max wouldn’t do it, then she would.

Max groaned loudly, wiping his hand across his eyes. "God, you’re right," he confessed quietly, meeting her intent gaze with a tortured expression.

"He asked for your forgiveness in advance, Max," Liz reminded him. "This was what he knew might happen. You’ve got to stop him."

"There’s a lot you two don’t know," Tess explained quickly. "If Max had been willing to listen…" Her voice trailed off and she shook her head angrily. "I can’t believe you just did this to him." She stared at him, her hands forming tight fists by her side.

Max stared at both of them, breathing heavily, and Tess saw countless emotions flash in his amber eyes…anger, shock, shame. But she couldn’t wait for his decision, because she had to go to Marco now, before it was too late. She brushed past them both, and headed toward the kitchen counter.

"Where are you going?" Max called after her, his voice tight with emotion.

"If you’re not going after him, then I am," she cried over her shoulder, as she scooped up a set of car keys from the counter.

And she didn’t even look back as she ran from the cabin.

****

Marco raked a hand through his hair, and willed the bar to stop spinning. The room swirled with cigarette smoke, and a man one booth over was dragging languidly on a cigar. Not the kind of place he’d ever frequented in his life, yet tonight it seemed the perfect location for him—nowhere, dead-center of nothing.

He’d only tasted alcohol one other time in his life, when he’d been seventeen, and he and Riley had bought a six-pack of beer on a crazy lark. They hadn’t realized it would affect them so strongly, and by the time they’d both chugged a beer apiece, had nearly been ready to pass out from the affects of their folly. He’d never forget the way Serena had scowled down at them both when she returned to their small apartment in Santa Fe, finding them sprawled ridiculously on the floor. Riley had grinned up at her, in his usual charming fashion, and her tight expression had eventually melted, transforming into one of appreciative humor.

But nothing was funny about tonight, or about the reason he was even in this nameless roadside dive somewhere on highway 285. He’d betrayed everyone this night—most especially Max and Liz…Serena, and of course, his beloved Tess. How could he ever explain his actions to her, not that he’d see her again--he had no doubt that they’d parted ways permanently this evening. And yet, he’d seen how she believed in him, had been unable to fathom the way she’d fought with Max on his behalf.

She loved him, of that much he was certain now. Not that he’d doubted it before, because he’d felt her heart so many times.

And he loved her more than she’d ever know, or ever believe for that matter, given the way he’d kissed Liz. He couldn’t describe the madness to her, the way this thing from his childhood was upon him again, the thing that made him irrational and more than slightly crazy.

He could never explain that when he’d kissed Liz, in some twisted way, he’d believed he was kissing her--could never make her understand that she was all he’d ever wanted.

How could she believe that, when he’d just kissed her dear friend and beloved queen? To account for his behavior in more intimate detail, would mean exposing the one final secret he’d never shared with her, and the shame of that would be too great.

He lifted the bottle of Heineken to his lips and took a long drag on the bottle, and felt it burn slightly as it swilled down his throat. Instantly, the bar began swimming even more wildly, and several of the dim lights over the pool tables appeared in duplicate form before his eyes. He buried his face in his hands, willing the gyrating images to still, and rested against his propped elbows like that for a long moment.

He sensed a gentle movement just beside him, and slowly raised his head to see a very familiar figure. Yet her appearance made no sense whatsoever because he couldn’t imagine how she might have possibly found him.

****

Max slumped on the living room sofa, cupping his hands around the coffee mug Liz had just pressed toward him. He could think of few times when he’d felt more miserable in the past few years—for that matter in all his time of leading them all.

He had just dismally failed the one man who was utterly worthy of his respect, had acted out of anger and jealousy, rather than with his mind. He’d allowed Liz to become his weakness in that moment, something he’d never thought could happen.

Marco had begged him to listen, but all he could hear was a loud roar in his ears, it was as if he’d been temporarily blinded by something. All common sense had utterly departed--just as Marco had described his own actions toward Liz.

And now he sat with her, staring at the open letter, at the familiar scrawling handwriting and the words leapt painfully out at him.

Max sighed heavily, realizing that he truly had served Marco miserably—a man who’d given them so much, been willing to die for them on numerous occasions. But as he glanced at Liz, who sat silently beside him on the sofa, chewing her lip nervously, he determined to make it right.

And if Tess couldn’t find him tonight, Max was certain of one thing. He’d bring Marco back at all costs.

***

Marco lolled his head back against the wooden booth, amazed by her angelic appearance. Maybe that’s actually what she was, his own guardian angel—his protector—sent to watch over him tonight. She stood in front of him, and turned her head slightly sideways to match his own skewed angle.

"Marco?" She questioned gently, stepping closer and he widened his eyes in reply. She sounded a lot like Tess, so that pretty much shot the angel theory.

"Hey, baby," he slurred and stared up at her. He suddenly felt as if Serena had just discovered him drunk on the apartment floor with Riley again—yet he couldn’t even seem to lift his head from where he’d rested it sideways against the wooden seat.

She smiled faintly, knitting her blonde eyebrows together. "I see you didn’t waste any time tonight," she observed, slipping into the booth right beside him.

"Nah…I’m drunk," he announced, sitting up more straight in the booth. "Best thing for me about now, don’t you guess?"

"No, not really," she answered, stilling his hand as he reached for the beer bottle again. She slid it across the table, far away from him. "The best thing for you is to sober up and come back with me to camp."

He shook his head vigorously and felt suddenly incredibly morose. Somehow, for a brief moment when he’d seen her, the world had become all lightness and beauty—he’d momentarily set aside the weight of his betrayal.

Tess turned to face him in the darkened booth, her thigh brushing right against his. "Marco, you must come back," she urged. "You simply must."

"Max kicked me out," he explained, uncertain if she really knew that fact.

"I know that," she answered gently. "I was there."

"Yeah, well see," he offered, raising a finger to punctuate his point. "I may be drunk as hell, but I know that he kicked me out, and I can’t go back, Tess. I can never go back."

He didn’t miss how distressed her delicate features became, the fear that suddenly shadowed her water blue eyes. And he wanted to take that look away…had to do it. He cupped her face within his hands, and drew her lips to his own. "Sweetheart, I’m so sorry," he whispered, kissing her deeply. There was nothing tentative or gentle about the way he took her now, he wanted her to see inside his heart, and to know that at least there, he belonged to her completely.

She didn’t resist him at all, and in fact, threaded her fingers roughly through his hair, deepening their kiss heatedly. Her tongue danced with his, warring for position and as she melded with him like that, he felt his body gain clarity again. She’d brought him back in balance again, just that quickly.

Tess Harding held the key to his soul, he’d known it practically from the moment they’d first met.

Slowly, he broke the kiss and just stared into her eyes. The fear was gone from her blue depths, replaced now by the specter of uncertainty. He stroked her cheek gently with his thumb, and pressed a soft kiss against her forehead.

"You’re still not going to come back," she stated quietly.

"No."

"What if I asked you to come for me?"

He fell silent a long moment, just letting his lips linger against her forehead, and thought of all the many ways he wanted to answer that question. But decided on a question of his own instead.

"How can you ask that, knowing that I kissed another woman tonight? Your friend?"

He pulled back, so that he might study her expression as she answered. She glanced away a moment, casting her eyes around the smoke-filled bar, then her gaze returned to him, measured and sure.

"Because I know you love me." So simple, yet so very certain.

"Don’t you wonder why I kissed her?"

"You told us," she explained softly. "And I know more than they do. Their connection was making you crazy…and I know something else. You thought Liz was me."

He sucked in a tight breath, shocked that she’d actually known that—that she’d seen straight into his heart.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I sensed it when we kissed," she offered gently, stroking his hair away from his forehead. He flinched because her fingers grazed his deep gash, and he saw her grimace at the sight. "Here, I’ll heal this," she explained, placing her fingertips lightly on the wound.

He felt a light burning sensation beneath her touch, as heat banked within his abdomen. And then the pain was completely gone—his angel had healed him instantly.

"Thank you," he murmured, dropping his head in sudden shame at the remembrance of what he’d done to Liz. She stroked his hair gently, soothingly beneath her fingers. Another question continued to surface within his mind, like a bouy caught in the ocean waves.

"Don’t you wonder what might be wrong with me, that I could become so confused on such a simple point? Mistake Liz for you?"

"Nothing is wrong with you," she exclaimed. "You have a beautiful gift that…"

"Is a curse," he finished solemnly.

"No," she shook her head vehemently. "That’s not true. It’s the same gift Max has and Riley and Anna."

"It’s not."

"Of course it is," she argued, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

"Tess, trust me. It isn’t. None of them are what I am."

"You’re frightening me," she breathed.

"I should be. With our people, what I am is the worst kind of curse."

"No," she shook her head. "I don’t believe that. I don’t believe you."

"Tess, I’m telling you the truth. Feel inside yourself and you’ll know it."

Tess grew silent and stared up into his eyes intently. He saw understanding flicker in her azure depths as her eyes widened.

"Tell me what you are then," she whispered and he saw apprehension line her features. He had thought he’d never share with her this most private secret, his propensity for insanity and how it had awakened again. Yet he found that with this woman, he could hold nothing back, not even his true nature.

"Tess, intuition is actually my secondary gifting," he explained, glancing away from her. He couldn’t look at her when he revealed this, even though she’d have no context for understanding what a blight it was within the Antarian race.

"But, you’ve always said it was your primary gift," she stated in quiet confusion.

"No, Tess, I killed my primary gift at age ten because I had to. Because it was killing me."

"What…is it then?" She asked gently, taking his hands within her own tiny ones.

He drew in a sharp breath, pressing his eyes closed. She had to know tonight…he needed her to understand exactly what he was. Why he could never return with her.

"I’m an Empath," he explained simply.

Yet he was anything but simple, because of how that one word had defined him from birth.