PART THIRTY

Liz hiked quickly behind Anna, who followed Devon through the dark woods. Several times she’d caught herself on the steep, slippery path, her hands grazing the muddy trail that wound ever upwards into blackness. Now, they slowed and she saw Anna’s shoulders heave as she rushed forward, kneeling quickly.

That’s when Liz glimpsed Riley, lying on his back, his jacket and shirt soaked with rain and mud…and deeply saturated with his own blood.

His eyes were shut, and as Liz knelt quickly beside him, she saw just how pale he was. Anna’s hands wandered over him quickly, checking his vital signs, as she stroked his matted, wet hair off of his face. Anna bit down on her lip, but clearly couldn’t stop the tears from welling up again, as she knelt beside her beloved.

"He’s still breathing," Anna informed her quickly, glancing up from his still form. "His pulse is weak, but it’s there."

"Good," Liz nodded, staring down at his lifeless features as she slowly tore open his sweater and covered his chest with her palms, right over the entry point of the wound. His blood was sticky and warm, yet icy like the rain all at once.

"Riley," Liz whispered softly, settling her hands against his exposed flesh. "You must live." And with that statement, she closed her eyes and concentrated on wholeness. That’s how I healed you, Max’s voice echoed in her head. We can change molecular structures.

She felt energy bank first in her core, then quickly find its exit point beneath her palms, her fingers.

"Riley, live," she insisted again and pictured his skin repairing, his heart, vital tissue knitting back into wholeness. Through her visualization and her words, she willed his healing, commanded it. Fire now leapt from her fingertips and there was a noise like a freight train in her head, all around them, but she refused to open her eyes.

"Be whole," she whispered fervently, feeling his flesh change beneath her palms, movement and modulation etching her fingers.

Then coughing and a sputtering of breath…Anna’s hand on her arm, pulling at her…her eyes opening, the tunnel closing as she roared back into the moment.

Riley lay beneath her hands, staring up at them all in weak confusion. "Wh-what happened?" he coughed, gazing up at Anna.

She pressed kisses to his dirty face, his forehead, murmuring through soft tears. "You’re okay, Riley," Anna cried, pressing her face against his neck. "Thank, God, you’re okay."

"I don’t…remember anything."

"You were shot," Liz explained gently, rocking back on her heels.

Anna lay across his chest, just holding him for a brief moment. "Liz healed you, Riley," she explained in a hushed voice.

"Thank you, Liz," Riley whispered intently.

"You’ve done so much for us, both of you," Liz whispered in reply, her eyes searching all around them nervously. "How could I have done any less?"

Anna turned from where she’d been ministering to Riley, so that she knelt before Liz. "Now more than ever," she vowed hoarsely, "You are my queen…for only a queen would have risked so much tonight." And with that, Anna bowed low to the ground right in front of her.

Liz’s mouth worked, but no sound came out, as her gaze snapped to where Riley wrestled to an upright position, seemingly with the intent of joining Anna in her gesture of gratitude and loyalty.

Devon coughed softly. "Your queen must be taken to the bunker now," he reminded them gently, and Anna rose quickly to her feet.

"Yes, of course," she agreed. "The battle is still on."

Her words sent a shiver of apprehension down Liz’s spine, because they reminded her of Max, and his uncertain whereabouts. She reached her energy toward him, felt for their connection, grasping forcefully this time, but her spirit came back with an empty answer…nothing but black void.

What did it mean? She wondered.

***

"Max, come on," Tess urged, tugging on Max’s arm as they wound their way through the black night toward the bunker. He was so weakened from Nicholas’s mind warp and the horrible beating he’d suffered, that he kept stumbling and had collapsed several times now.

Each instance left Tess feeling increasingly vulnerable for him because he seemed so affected by his mistreatment. Not only did she worry that she might not be able to get him to the bunker safely, but she’d begun to fear that he might have been injured in some more permanent way. Even now, as she held him close by the waist, guiding him down the path, he hung his head, shoulders slumped forward weakly.

"Max," she whispered. "Please, we’ve got to move, okay?"

"Trying."

"A little faster," she begged.

"Best…I…can," he mumbled, his head hanging even lower.

His answers came in short, broken phrases, even as his breaths fell in quick pants, and Tess nearly dragged him along with her, determined to get him to safety. But suddenly there was a peculiar aroma on the path just below them, an alien scent that she didn’t recognize…yet then again, maybe she did.

****

"What the hell do you mean?" Nicholas roared, closing the distance between Marco and himself. "How could you not know?"

"She was here, and I was mind raping her," Marco explained hoarsely. "And then she was just gone…nothing but air right in front of me."

"She couldn’t have mind warped us," Nathan argued bitterly. "I used the disruptor on her."

"Tell us what really happened, McKinley," Nicholas insisted, staring up at him with black, lifeless eyes. "Or I’ll mind rape you to find out."

Marco worked to steady his thoughts, knew his game was probably up…that he’d be branded the double agent that he was. "I’m telling you, she did something to me," he explained earnestly. "I hate that little bitch, why would I have helped her?"

"Because you want in her pants, like Lonnie’s always said."

"How would releasing her have served that purpose?"

"I’m not sure," Nicholas answered, tugging on his lower lip, as he continued to study Marco thoughtfully. "But I’m going to find out. Kneel, McKinley." His voice was commanding, and Marco realized that he obviously enjoyed wielding that kind of power over him.

"I better not find out you were behind this," Nicholas threatened.

"I have every confidence that you will learn only of my loyalty," Marco promised, meeting Nicholas’s gaze as boldly as he could.

"Then kneel," Nicholas ordered coldly.

Marco’s spirit bucked a bit, for there was only one man he ever intended to kneel in front of, one king or leader. Yet he dropped slowly to his knees as Nicholas had ordered, aware that a mind rape would follow.

But then he had an idea, as he saw Nathan examining his Disruptor, clearly curious if it might have misfired earlier. Nicholas leaned toward him, hands extended and as Marco’s eyes drifted shut, he called upon the power he’d received from Tess. He pressed deep within his spirit for his virgin gifting, his hands trembling slightly as he sought the gift they now shared—and felt her heat answer along the nape of his neck, spreading down his spine. The projected image that he’d envisioned locked into place, gaining permanency.

"Damn," Marco heard Nathan exclaim loudly, right as Nicholas hands tightened around his face. "I think I know what the problem might have been," Nathan suddenly volunteered, and Marco opened his eyes to find him fingering his Disruptor. "It looks like this thing has malfunctioned…no power in it at all. Probably misfired, which means Tess still had her powers intact after all."

"The bitch didn’t let on," Marco cursed as Nicholas’s hands dropped from his head, and he strode to examine the weapon. Marco experienced a burst of light behind his eyes, and the mind warp wavered, the image shivering weakly where he’d laid claim to it. So, he pressed harder, latched onto Tess’s power and energy, drafted off of it because his life depended on this—all of their lives did.

Nicholas stood, turning the Disruptor over in his palm, then tossed it on the counter. "Useless," he declared with a shake of his head, studying Marco so intently that the hair on his nape rose. Marco met his gaze without wavering, realizing his fate hung in the balance. Finally, Nicholas turned away.

"Looks like McKinley was right," he said, slamming his fist against the counter. "She pulled a mind warp on us all."

"We can still get them," Aaron promised, narrowing his gray eyes. "Easy enough, they were both in lousy condition."

Nicholas thought a moment, pacing the length of the cabin until he stopped in front of the dining room table. There he clasped an apple from a bowl of fresh fruit, and tossed it lightly into the air, then caught it, taking a swift bite.

"I’m not sure I care about getting Max back just yet," Nicholas reflected with a smirk. "I’ve put something in his mind that will serve as ample motivation to reveal the granolith’s location."

"What did you do?" Marco queried, aware that his voice sounded too thick and wavering. Nicholas turned to him, his smug grin widening, yet his dark eyes remained mirthless.

"Nothing that wasn’t in his mind already," he offered cryptically. "Max will find out soon enough."

"So we don’t go scouting for them at all?" Nathan demanded, pacing restlessly. "We’ve got them right here…defenseless, and all we have to do is rope them back in."

Nicholas thought a long moment, walking to the front door of the cabin. He opened it and stared out into the thick darkness, and only the sound of the rain pounding on the porch roof punctuated the silence. "No," he finally answered. "Let’s let them make their little run. I’m banking on Max coming back within the week."

****

Tess sniffed the wintry air again, wishing fervently that the dampness wasn’t masking the nearly familiar scent wafting from just below them on the trail. She halted, steadying Max beside her. He raised his head and her breath hitched at the pained look in his eyes. She rubbed her hand softly along his arm, trying to soothe him any way she could--and as she did, felt a wave of excruciating pain that eclipsed her own powerfully…just from touching him.

She shook her head in confusion, trying to clear it until the moment suddenly stood in stark relief.

Empathy, she realized with a start. That’s what she’d just felt because she now walked in Marco’s gifts and callings, not just her own.

This is what Marco lives with, she thought. What it’s like for him, just a simple touch can elicit such strong, unbidden emotions.

And that meant the blinding pain that had just shuddered through her entire body had been Max’s. No wonder he could hardly walk, she realized, and again rubbed his arm softly, anything to offer comfort as she tried to identify the alien scent wafting from below them.

Max glanced at her, raising his eyebrow in question, and she pointed first to her nose, then below. His gaze snapped in that direction of the path, as he cocked his head slightly, also inhaling. He stood like that a moment, then turned to her, frowning in frustration, indicating that he’d also been unsuccessful.

She held up four fingers and again pointed below, as he repeated his inhalations, only this time he nodded quickly in agreement. There were four aliens on the path below.

Then Max’s eyes widened and he smiled faintly, spinning toward her as he nodded in the direction below them. Tess remained still as a statue, unsure what he’d detected, as she watched his smile broaden-- and then she understood. Only one person ever made Max Evans smile like that, especially in his present condition.

What she didn’t understand was why a look of disbelief so quickly overcame his features, how the infinite joy transformed to horror, as his face literally twisted in agony before he began stumbling desperately down the path.

****

Liz fell on the slippery embankment, but Anna caught her by the elbow, gently admonishing her to be careful.

"Are we almost there?" Liz whispered. "It seems…"

Her words were interrupted by the loud sound of a snapping branch just behind them, and before Liz could even think, Anna had shoved her onto the ground and was covering her body with her own.

"Wh…" Liz started to question, but Anna covered her mouth swiftly with her hand, meeting her eyes with a desperate shake of her head. Anna’s face hovered just over hers like that, her breath forming small puffs in the coldness.

Liz saw Riley and Devon quickly step in front of them both, forming a shield and prepared to fight if necessary as they raised their weapons. Liz heard the muted clicking of the safety latches on their weapons, and knew they were ready to fire—to do whatever necessary to protect her, their queen.

Once Anna was certain Liz would remain quiet, she eased her hand off of her mouth, and kept her palm lightly against her chest as she observed Riley and Devon’s battle stance in front of them. It was almost as if Anna was prepared to restrain her, keep her there on the ground if necessary.

And then Riley relaxed, his shoulders dropping a bit, and Devon followed suit. Riley glanced back at them both, as he and Devon parted—and at that precise moment Liz caught Max’s scent. She sighed, suddenly content just to allow his aroma envelop her, even as softened as it was by the damp night.

She jumped to her feet, and instantly Max was embracing her, whispering in her ear, holding onto her fiercely.

"Baby," he murmured, running his hands desperately over her hair. "Haven’t been… able to feel you."

"Me, neither," Liz answered softly, pulling back to stare into his eyes, because his voice had sounded thick, and his words utterly labored. And that’s when she saw how badly he’d been beaten. His nose was certainly broken, his eyes bruised and growing darker, and his mouth terribly swollen. Liz sucked in a tight breath, cupping his face and his eyes fluttered closed. But something else wasn’t quite right, because his eyes looked haunted in a way that caused her to shiver.

"God, Max," she cried, feeling his body tremble against her own. "What have they done to you, sweetheart?"

He just shook his head, lowering his eyes away from her, as Riley began urging them on. "We’ve got to keep moving," he reminded them. "Almost there."

Max held her against his side in a vice-like grip, clutching at her sweater as they began moving down the path together. Something about his demeanor and this moment struck a familiar chord that Liz couldn’t quite place, it lay just beyond her grasp.

And then she realized what this moment reminded her of—the night Max had escaped from the White Room.

****

Marco stood in the middle of his former bedroom, just staring around him, cherishing the familiar surroundings. For so many years, this one cabin had been his most beloved haven, the sanctuary where he found peace whenever they stayed there. Now, the enemy had ripped the belly of their safest hideaway wide open, exposing it permanently--robbing him of one of the few homes he’d ever known. They would never come back now, not until Khivar was deposed and eliminated—and that meant he was saying goodbye tonight.

Not that a mere place should mean anything to him, but somehow on this particular mountaintop his soul always became attuned to the world surrounding it, like a musical note humming right through his center. Kind of like when he’d been a boy and would pluck a note on Riley’s acoustic guitar, and it would vibrate beneath his fingertip.

That’s what he felt like on this mountain, and it was no wonder that this was where he’d first kissed Tess—had fallen in love with her.

He gazed around the room, etching the details into his memory; the way the quilt was frayed in one particular spot in the middle, and how it smelled permanently damp, but was so soft to his touch. His piles of books lining the shelves in disarray, and his old, vinyl record albums-- something he’d found in the attic years ago, and had dusted them off and played them on the abandoned turn-table he’d found boxed up with them.

That was when he’d fallen in love with music, sitting on the wooden floor of the living room for days on end with Riley, listening to Jefferson Airplane, Cream, Derek and the Dominoes…the Who. The list went on and on, and Serena had just shaken her head at him, unable to comprehend his fascination. But she’d known one thing—that it was healing him somehow. Because at age eleven, he’d just been coming out of his painful struggles with his Empathy, and the music had been like a sponge, something that absorbed all the excess emotion, an outlet in a sense.

"McKinley," Aaron shouted, staring in through the doorway at him. Marco came back to the moment. "You gonna help us, or just stand there like an idiot, man?"

Marco focused on him, and shook his head. "Yeah, just getting some of my stuff. Be right there in a minute."

Marco began moving purposefully, ready to collect a few essentials, and as he walked around the room, he marveled that most of his things were right where he’d left them—the books, the clothes, the CD’s. Only a few items were missing, not quite as he remembered them.

He could hear the others ransacking the cabin, but he was still so transfixed by the simple sight of his own belongings. He’d explained to Nicholas that he wanted to grab a few items, but had been fully prepared to find them dispersed throughout their safe house. Yet, unbelievably his room had not been reassigned, and stood now almost like a silent monument to him—and he realized they’d held it this way all these months, hoping he’d return.

Marco stepped quietly toward his closet, opening the wooden door, and found only his limited wardrobe hanging inside, just as he’d last left it.

Except one critical item was missing…his parka. He frowned at the realization because that and a few CD’s had been all he’d really wanted to carry away tonight. He spun on his heel, staring around the room, just studying it for clues, and then on impulse headed quickly to Tess’s room down the hallway.

Her bedside lamp emitted a low, peaceful glow across her room, spilling over her small bed. Perhaps that’s what drew his gaze to a small stack of CD’s on her nightstand. He stepped closer, and began thumbing through them…yet what he saw was almost unbelievable to him.

Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Elton John, Joni Mitchell…all his most favorite CD’s lay beside her bed, next to his own Walkman. He known she loved him—of that he’d been certain for some time—but that she’d actually treasured his music, drawn it right within her soul, touched him indescribably.

Marco realized in that moment that Tess Harding wanted to take him inside of herself, memorize him in some way. She wanted to love what he loved, wanted to understand it—because that was the measure of her love for him.

He fingered the top CD jewel case, Blood on the Tracks, and reflected on one of their very last conversations, when she’d asked him what Tangled Up in Blue really meant to him. She was the only one to ever care what music meant to him, how deeply it touched him, and now during his long absence she’d tried to understand, had wanted to peer inside his heart, using his beloved CD’s as the keyhole.

And she’d done just that-- without his ever explaining the truth--that an Empath simply perceived music differently than other people did. It was richer, more deeply penetrating, like touching the literal heart of the person singing. His gift affected his musical perception more than she could possibly know—only now she would know because he had transferred his legacy to her. He had transformed her permanently in that one moment when their powers had joined, just as she had changed him. Yet for Tess the transformation would be more profound, he reflected ambivalently, it would affect every aspect of her being because he’d imparted the strongest of all Antarian gifts into her spirit tonight.

Even the next time she heard music, it would be like a blind man, having gained sight, the textures would come that alive to her, the emotion be so addictive. He buried his head in his hands, as fear suddenly crowded his mind, because she needed him more than ever now, needed him to teach her how to temper her new gift. She needed the covering of his own ability to ground her, and he had to believe he’d be able to give her that, that he would return to the resistance shortly.

Marco settled on the edge of her bed, shuffling through the CD’s as he continued to reflect on the way their powers had joined tonight, how unexpectedly erotic that moment had been. His face flushed as he thought of her energy, how intimately it had touched him—and of how it had only tantalized him with a promise of what more could be between them. He now craved a bonding with her more than anything he’d ever wanted in his life.

They’d already come part way tonight, and soon the rest would follow, he thought, glancing up. And that’s when he saw the familiar dark outline of his jacket, hanging just inside her closet, partially obscured by the door.

He leapt from the bed, and jerked her closet fully open. His parka hung there in her closet, like a beloved friend. Just as she’d wanted to drink his music into her soul, she’d wrapped his jacket around her body—she’d draped herself in his coat because she couldn’t lose herself in his arms.

He closed his eyes and had a vision of her, inhaling each time she wore the parka, drinking in what remained of his fading scent as she hugged herself tightly. She’d never given up on him, never stopped loving him…just like in the dreams.

He drew the fabric to his face, and inhaled deeply, his eyes drifting closed. There was his own older, latent scent, but it was masked by something much warmer and more familiar…wildflowers touched by sunlight.

He felt tears burn his eyes—the first time he’d come close to crying in all his months away from his unit, from her, because he realized the scent wasn’t really either of theirs. It was Tess Harding mingling with Marco McKinley…joined in scent, now joined in power, and whenever he made his way back to her again, they’d join souls for life.

And in the process they would create something wholly new and beautiful—something neither of them quite were apart from the other.

****

Tess watched Max and Liz where they huddled together in the far corner of the shelter, sitting close together on the damp earthen floor. She sighed heavily at the way Liz kept her arm around Max, kept whispering to him, as they both shivered visibly. He was beginning to frighten her, how weakened he really seemed. This was Max, their ever-peaceful leader, the one with the voice that could calm them all so quickly. Tess chewed absently on a fingernail when Michael stepped up to her, pulling her quickly aside.

"Tell me," he insisted under his breath, as he lead her by the elbow toward the entrance.

"Tell you what?" she asked in confusion, staring up into his dark eyes.

"What did they do to him?"

She chewed on her lip, and could only shake her head, as she fell silent a long moment. "I’m not sure," she finally answered. "But I’m worried."

"Damn straight," Michael agreed. "So am I. They’ve just been sitting over there like that for the past fifteen minutes. Anytime one of us approaches, Liz just waves us off."

"Well, we should trust Liz, then."

"I don’t like it," Michael pressed. "I haven’t seen him like this. Well…at least not in a long time."

"Since Pierce," Tess finished.

Michael nodded solemnly and Tess felt her stomach tighten. "Liz will get through," she repeated. "We have to believe it."

****

Liz kept stroking Max’s wet hair away from his eyes, comforting him as gently as she could. They sat in the far corner of the bunker, away from all the others, yet he’d hardly spoken to her—he was almost in a trance-like state, his knees drawn up to his chest, where he’d propped his chin.

"Max," she asked softly. "Sweetheart, tell me what they did."

He was silent, and drew her hand to his lips, kissing her lightly in the center of her palm. "Can’t explain," he answered simply.

She scooted even closer, so that their legs touched, and pressed her mouth against his ear. "Of course you can," she encouraged him. "Just tell me."

"My ribs are broken…probably my nose." His eyes fluttered closed and he sighed heavily. "You see the damage, sweetheart."

His voice was raw, choked as he spoke and Liz’s breath hitched painfully at the sound. "I can heal it for you," she offered softly. Her words were met with a questioning gaze, as he turned his head slightly toward her.

"I healed Riley’s gunshot wound earlier," she explained further. "Let me heal you."

He nodded slowly, and she saw him swallow hard. "But that’s not the real problem, is it Max?" she pressed.

He shook his head silently, and as his eyes sought her own, pain shimmered in their amber depths. "Don’t you know?" he choked. "Can’t you sense what he did?"

Liz’s heartbeat quickened, nearly matching the rhythm of the rain that hammered on the overhead door, a sudden yet steady explosion. "No," she answered, swallowing hard as she was dimly aware that others stood near them, on the periphery gazing in. "I don’t know what you mean, Max."

Max rotated on the dirt floor, now facing her as he drew his mouth within a mere breath of her own. He clasped her hands frantically within his, his shoulders shaking with small tremors as their eyes locked in a powerful gaze. Something was absolutely not right about the moment, and it frightened Liz to the center of her heart.

"Nicholas," he explained hoarsely. "He…did something in my head, Liz."

"What did he do?" She asked, her voice surprisingly even.

"He broke our bond…he’s robbed us of it."

"No."

"Liz," he cried, and now tears filled his eyes. "It’s dead, don’t you feel it? Just try reaching for me. There’s nothing there at all. He’s taken you from me, that part of you…our most intimate place."

"No," Liz breathed, shaking her head frantically. "I-I don’t believe you."

"Liz, reach for me."

And she did—she closed her eyes and called out to Max with all that resided in her spirit. She felt her energy bank, escalate, as it threaded toward him, but then it met nothing but blackest void, as it spun right back within her chest.

All she felt was a cold emptiness. And all she saw was a steel wall, almost a vault-like structure. None of Max’s warmth, or his energy had met her as she’d reached, nothing at all. Just deadness.

Liz’s hand flew to her mouth, as tears welled in her own eyes. Max stared into her depths, the tears now spilling down his cheeks. "How?" She choked. "All I see is…a steel wall of some kind."

Max nodded slowly, pulling her roughly into his arms. "Yes, that’s what he used. He planted it in my mind…that’s how he broke our bond."

Liz clung to Max’s neck, buried herself against him as she cried hot tears, and wondered how something so terrible could even be repaired. Because as beautiful as their lovemaking always was, the thing she lived for, thrived on, was the way their alien souls mated over and over through their connection.

Yet, it seemed those wires had been permanently cut tonight, and she couldn’t imagine how something so delicate and precious could be restored once it had been lost.