PART FOUR

Serena brushed her hair, with long quick strokes, then drew it into a neat ponytail. She watched Marco silently eating his cereal, staring into the bowl. He was so quiet this morning, absolutely lost in thought. They’d talked for hours last night, and he’d shared every detail about his encounter with Max and Liz. The letter had upset him terribly, and he’d looked at her with such anguish in his dark eyes.

Could I have really betrayed them? He’d asked. I don’t understand.

She didn’t understand either, and it had left her worried--for all of them.

But especially for Marco.

He was ready for this, she knew it, but as she stared at him from across the room, she feared that somehow it was still too soon. He was like a son to her—which was funny since now she appeared to be only an older sister—yet she’d raised him practically from infancy. She knew his incredible strength, the warrior within him, but she also knew that despite the tough exterior, he was still so innocent. Even with everything they’d been through together in the past twenty-five years, nothing had prepared him for dealing with a man like Khivar.

Marco’s heart was good and pure, and she worried that if he ever fell into enemy hands, they might corrupt it… damage it somehow.

All he wanted was to serve Max and Liz, because it was what he’d been bred for--what she’d trained him for. And now that the moment had arrived, she was terrified to release him into it.

No, Marco wasn’t her son, but he might as well be. And he was the only thing like it she had left in this life.

She closed her eyes, grimacing as pain flashed through her… she wouldn’t think about that today. Humans were fortunate to live a more reasonable span of time than their own race, without the added years to lose so many people, to know such dreadful anguish.

Like watching the horrible murder of your king and queen, she thought. Seeing the noblest leader your people had known in centuries struck down in the most brutal and public of ways. She shut her eyes again, and thought of how much Marco already admired Max, and he didn’t even remember—couldn’t really know-- what Zan had meant to their people.

No wonder she was nervous, she thought, as she chewed on her lip and stared at Marco from across the room. He sifted his spoon absently through the cereal, and she realized he wasn’t really eating, just playing with his food in distraction.

What was going on in his head today? She felt suddenly so separate from him…and realized she’d been letting him go for months.

Maybe she was the one who wasn’t ready for this. She closed her eyes, and raked a hand across her face, sighing heavily.

"Serena?"

She saw him staring at her, concern in his dark eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She stood, nodding her head mutely, reaching for her denim jacket. She shrugged into it, grabbing her keys from where they lay on the kitchen counter.

"Where are you going?" he pressed, his eyes following her as she crossed the room.

"Out," she answered simply, just like so many times before. She had to get out, had to breathe, because the emotions coursing through her today were suffocating.

****

Liz spread cheese and crackers on a large tray, arranging them neatly. She could hear Max’s soft voice carrying from the living room, answering the group’s many questions. Everyone was stunned—as she’d known they would be—by the revelation that they’d discovered Marco right at the university. They were even more shocked by Max’s simple statement that Khivar was ready to kill him—and that they were all in imminent danger.

Michael had sprung to his feet, and begun pacing, asking why they should wait to go underground. That if Max and Liz were in danger—if any of them were—it didn’t make sense to wait. Liz had felt a rush of love for Michael in that moment, as she’d glimpsed how protective he felt, not just about Max, but her as well. He’d become a dear friend in recent years, and even though he was often so blustery, she’d grown accustomed to the way he communicated. Besides that fact, he made Maria incredibly happy, and that earned him huge points in her book.

Liz pulled some grapes and Tabasco sauce out of the refrigerator, and glanced at her watch. It was almost eight o’clock, which meant Marco would be here any moment. Her stomach gave a nervous flutter at the thought. It had been one thing for the two of them to meet him yesterday, but this group gathering would change all of their dynamics permanently.

Liz arranged the grapes on the tray, and poured the sauce into a little bowl. She heard Michael arguing with Max, asking again how they were supposed to just continue with their lives, pretending they were all normal.

"Michael, you know the drill," Max answered calmly. "It’s what we’ve always done."

"That’s not going to cut it this time, Maxwell," he countered, his eyes meeting Liz’s as she entered the living room, and she saw fear flicker within their depths. "This is different. The stakes have just been raised."

Liz placed the platter on their coffee table, and settled close to Max on the sofa. His hand slipped gently around her lower back, his thumb stroking her softly along her hip.

"Liz, how do you feel about this?" Isabel asked, shifting where she sat on a giant throw pillow. Alex lay on the floor in front of her, and she was absently rubbing his back.

Liz was silent a long moment, chewing on her lip. She knew what she was supposed to say, what Max wanted to hear--but her heart spoke something entirely different. She stared at the floor for a long moment, and felt Max’s gentle stroking still—he was waiting for her answer, too.

What Liz wanted was to shout at the top of her lungs about everything. About how scared she was that Max’s life was on the line—yet again. That he should be able to finish the English degree that had meant so much to him. That Michael could be king for all she cared…or that Tess could be queen for that matter.

But instead, Liz cleared her throat, steadying her thoughts.

"I’m scared, guys," she answered quietly, folding her arms across her chest protectively. "Of course I am. For Max…for all of you."

Her words were met with brief silence, as it seemed the whole group stared at her. She felt Max tense beside her.

"Thank you, Liz," Michael answered appreciatively, blowing out a heavy breath. "You heard it from your own wife, Max."

"Michael, please don’t try to pit Liz against me in this."

"I’m not, but I figured you’d be the first to agree that Liz’s opinion in this matter is pretty damn important."

Max’s hand dropped away from Liz’s side, and he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands for a moment.

"Michael, all I know is what Marco told me," he answered, and she noticed how tired his voice sounded. "We don’t even know what’s going on… there are people fighting for us…all kinds of issues at hand."

"I think we just need to hear Marco out," Tess stated quietly, reaching for a cracker. She was sitting on the other side of Max, cross-legged on the sofa. It was funny how much the dynamics between Tess and Max had changed over the years. She was always physically near him like that, yet it had stopped threatening Liz years ago. Her motivations were so different now, and every action sprang from deep loyalty.

Liz appreciated that she backed Max up at times when Michael might question things too heatedly—and yet she wasn’t afraid to press Max when necessary. But more than that, Liz knew how hard Tess had worked at cultivating a friendship with her, which had come slowly at first, then had ultimately blossomed into something very satisfying.

"Alright, I can agree with that," Michael answered, and rose to his feet, pacing a bit. He walked to their window, and stared down at the street.

"Max, you’re right," he said quietly. "There’s a lot we don’t know. It’s just that when I hear that Khivar wants you dead…." His voice trailed off, and he remained with his back to them all.

Liz suddenly realized he was more upset than she’d initially guessed. Maria rose slowly and walked to where he stood, placing her hand on his back. She stroked his shoulders softly, and then her hand suddenly stilled.

"Guys!" Maria exclaimed, looking down at the street. "I think he’s here." She turned quickly toward Liz, almost bouncing a bit. "Lizzie, that’s him, isn’t it?"

Everyone sprang to their feet, and Liz had to laugh at the image of all their faces pressed up against the large picture window, straining for a glimpse of the ever-mysterious Marco McKinley.

"Yeah, that’s him," Liz answered, stepping away so the others could see better.

"Oh, good Lord," Maria exclaimed. "Why didn’t you tell us that he’s so damn good looking?"

Michael’s head jerked toward Maria, jealousy instantly flashing across his features.

"Well, Maria," Liz smiled. "I guess because it wasn’t the first thing I noticed or even thought about."

She heard Max laugh quietly from where he sat on the sofa.

"Ah, screw all the intergalactic destiny crap," Maria continued, raising up on tiptoes to follow Marco’s approach below. "He’s one beautiful alien."

Kyle pushed in on the group, "Hey, let me get a look," he laughed. Tess nudged him roughly out of the way, slapping his head lightly.

"Girls only," she laughed. "This isn’t your kind of show."

"Looks like it’s yours though," Kyle said, shoving Tess playfully back toward the window. Though she giggled in response, Liz noticed that she did take an appraising look at the street below.

"Like we need one more ridiculously good looking Alien stalking around New Mexico," Maria chuckled, slipping her arms around Michael’s waist. She leaned up and kissed him fully, and Liz saw a gentle smile spread across his features, all the jealousy fading away.

"Baby, you should know by now that they don’t make us any other way," Michael laughed. "It was planned just to make life hell for you humans."

"Ah, geez, now see I should have figured that out a long time ago," Alex laughed, his eyes meeting Isabel’s playfully. "Not that I would have cared," he finished quietly.

Liz smiled watching them together. They’d only recently gotten back together after many years apart, and they were still slightly awkward and shy together.

And then she glanced around their tiny apartment and thought about all the love that was represented in this room, all the deep bonds they’d forged between themselves over the past seven years.

She wondered how Marco would fit into all of that—how his arrival would impact their intricately woven relationships, but then a firm knock on their apartment door interrupted her reflections. For a brief moment, she felt incredibly nervous, as if she were waiting for a first date, knowing she’d have to introduce him to her parents. And in a way, this moment was almost like that.

~~~~~~~~

Tess stood off to the side, watching as Marco shook hands with everyone. He was incredibly tall, maybe a couple of inches taller than Michael. And Maria’s assessment had been dead on. His black wavy hair was slightly disheveled, and he had rich, dark eyes. Incredible eyes, actually.

Damn, this is Maria’s fault, Tess laughed quietly to herself.

But he really was amazingly beautiful—something she’d never once guessed in all these years she’d contemplated what he might look like. Probably because when she’d first heard the word protector, she’d thought of Nasedo. Yeah, enough said about that, she thought.

He was stepping toward her now, and she noticed how dark his skin looked against his white button-down shirt--everything about him was rich and lovely. And completely opposite from her, she thought briefly, as he closed the space between them.

"Tess?" he asked, his throaty voice resonating through her.

She nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah…um, Marco," she said, extending her hand to him.

"Nice to meet you," he said, taking her hand firmly. His skin was incredibly warm against her own.

And Tess was completely furious with herself.

She was Max’s second in command, and this moment was critical, yet she stood there like an idiot, absolutely dumbstruck by him. Somehow in all of thirty seconds, Marco McKinley had reduced her to feeling like a silly schoolgirl.

"Nice to meet you, too," she mumbled, stepping quickly aside as he turned toward Maria.

****

Marco’s eyes swept their faces, wondering briefly what they thought of him. They were all so open and eager to hear what he had to say, and he didn’t want to let any of them down.

He settled next to Max and Liz on the sofa, and he observed how everyone in the room waited quietly. It hit him briefly, that more than Max even knew, this core group followed him wholeheartedly and without reservation.

Somehow he sensed that Max occasionally doubted that… that some of their personalities chafed against his own. Max needed to realize that was only a superficial problem.

"We all have a lot of questions," Max began. "As you can imagine."

Marco nodded thoughtfully, staring at his hands. He realized his palms were sweating slightly. As monumental as it had been meeting Max yesterday—being confronted about his identity by both of them—nothing could have prepared him for this moment of simply sitting with the whole group.

"I think our biggest question…" Max coughed briefly. "Mine in particular, is why do we wait? Why don’t we go into hiding right away?"

Marco sensed Max glance sideways at him, even though his eyes were cast downward.

"You’re worried about Liz," he stated quietly.

"Of course…but about all of us, too."

"Marco, I don’t like the idea that Max’s life is so clearly being threatened, yet we’re supposed to wait," Michael interjected.

"I understand," he answered softly. "Completely. I don’t like it either."

He looked up at Michael, and saw surprise dart across his features. Had Michael thought he’d argue with him on that point?

"But nevertheless there are many considerations," Marco continued. "We have a key informant within Khivar’s camp, and if you all go into hiding right now, it will expose her. We will lose a huge strategic advantage if she’s taken out."

Marco turned briefly to Max, "We receive reports daily… several times a day, in fact. We’re confident that we will know the critical moment for movement."

"We need to be ready to go at any point, then," Max stated flatly.

"Yes," Marco nodded. "And while I’m sure you have a good network for communication amongst yourselves, you need to be able to move incredibly quickly."

"I can work on that," Tess noted thoughtfully, glancing at him.

He noticed in passing that her eyes were incredibly blue—perhaps the bluest he’d ever seen. He looked away from her quickly, feeling slightly unsettled by their shimmering depths.

"Good," he answered. "That’s important."

"I’m still not sure that’s good enough," Michael objected quietly.

"Why not?" Marco asked. He instinctively liked Michael, despite all the questions—they told him he was very protective of Max, which suited him just fine.

"Because maybe Max and Liz should disappear for a while," Michael continued, his eyebrows furrowing, as he glanced at Max. "I mean, that wouldn’t be nearly so obvious as if we all just dropped out."

Max shifted on the sofa next to him. "Michael, look," he began, drawing in a tight breath. "You hear what he’s saying. It’s not the right time."

"Give it a few more weeks," Marco offered. "Perhaps then it might make sense for just Max and Liz to go underground…but know this. All of you," Marco’s eyes swept around the room, noting all their tense expressions. "You must be prepared to move in an instant. Things are changing like the wind…"

Everyone fell silent at his words, and Marco heard Max sigh heavily beside him. It suddenly hit him how much their world had changed in the past twenty-four hours.

And he felt a wave of grief shoot through him… something unidentifiable, and wondered what it was about. He was certain he’d felt it from Max—yet Liz had been the one who had wept yesterday.

"Actually, I have a question, too," Isabel interjected quietly.

"Sure."

"Are you a shape shifter?" She asked. "I mean, what are you exactly?"

"I’m a hybrid, just like all of you," Marco answered with a soft smile. Isabel’s eyes were so wide and open, and he liked the honesty he saw reflected in them.

"Actually," Alex interrupted, sitting up tall. "There are some of us in here who are…"

"Of this earth," Liz finished with a laugh.

"Well, yes, of course," Marco nodded quietly. "I meant all of you who were of alien origin."

"I just wanted to be clear on that point," Alex continued. "That some of us are here by choice." He looked at Isabel then, and Marco had no doubt exactly why Alex Whitman was in that room. He smiled softly.

"Thanks for clearing up any confusion," Marco answered with a wry nod.

"No problem," Alex answered, still staring at Isabel. In fact, he hadn’t averted his gaze from her for most of the night.

Marco glanced briefly around the room, and had the passing sensation that with this group—bound in such deep, almost mysterious ways—he’d found something he’d wanted for a long time.

He’d come home.