AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey all! Thanks to Roswell26 and frances2 for your awesome feedback!! Sorry I took so long. The chapter was giving me hell. Apparently I cannot do the drama thing. *shrugs* Oh well. Anyway, it's here now, so onward through the pages.

CHAPTER TWO

"So how's he doing?" Michael asked, looking at Max worriedly. His expression was blank and he didn't so much as blink in the five minutes they'd been standing there. From the looks of it, he hadn't even moved from the spot they left him in when they went on the rescue mission. He was just sitting there, staring at his hands. Catatonic.

"There's no change," Maria said sadly. Michael wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. "What if he never gets better? I mean, he hasn't moved since Liz…" She still couldn't bring herself to say it. How could you admit to yourself that your best friend was dead? That the person you spent your entire childhood with was never coming back? A single tear descended down her cheek.

"I guess it's just his way of dealing," Michael said. "Once he works it all out in his head, he'll snap out of it."

"And what about Ava?"

Michael sighed and shook his head, closing his eyes. She took it harder and in a far different way than any of them expected.

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The rebels in the base let out a cheer as the Saviours walked through the front door unscathed. Maria ran up to Michael jumping into his arms and smothering him with kisses as she ran her hands over him, checking him for injuries. After handing over the rescued woman from the dungeons, Isabel went off with Alex into another corner preferring only a tight hug and whispered greetings instead of giving the whole base a show.

Ava's gaze flitted over the flurry of activity, and a wide grin graced her features. She was glad to be home, with her own people. That visit to the palace dungeons was an eye opener. It made her appreciate what she had at the rebel base more. She appreciated her freedom more. Back at the dungeons she felt as if a part of her was ripped away from her. She was away from her friends, her family and her followers. She was away from Zan, and although it was only for a day and barely across town, it felt like she was incomplete and it made her stay seem longer. Now she was back and she felt better, but there was still a small pit of emptiness in her heart that she couldn't figure out.

Frowning, she scanned the crowd, blue eyes searching out for the dark brown pools she so longed to drown in. She began to get frantic as she did her fifth sweep of the room, still not finding Zan.

"Where's Zan?" Her voice was soft, but somehow the whole room heard her and froze. The rebels all took a silent cue and hustled out of the room. Isabel's eyes welled up and she looked away guiltily, burying her head in Alex's chest. Maria stared up at her sadly. Oz coughed a little and looked away. "Wh-where is he? I-is he hurt? Guys?"

Rath sighed and walked up to her slowly, pulling her into his arms. "Av…" he started, not knowing how to break it to her. "He, uh, Zan…he's dead." Ava shook her head in disbelief. "I'm sorry," Rath whispered, rubbing her back.

"No. Nonono. You're lying," she said, pulling away from him, tears flowing freely. Her eyes darted frantically from one face to the other. Searching for something, anything that would tell her they were joking. A snicker. A smile. Something. "No, this is a joke. You're joking. It isn't funny! Rath, it's not funny!" She was screaming then, backing away from him. He calmly stepped forward and pulled her into a hug, despite her struggles and rocked her gently as she sobbed against his chest and tears of grief soaking into his shirt.

Finally, she pulled away, sniffling and wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands. She huffed in frustration as her face refused to dry. "I want to see him," she said quietly.

"Ava, maybe…" Isabel started.

"No. I need to see him." Rath nodded and led her through the base towards the morgue.

The room was still, the only movement coming from the two royals that just entered. The plain white walls and stainless steel furniture made the room look cold and heartless. Empty, though there were many bodies lying on silver tables, covered in white sheets. Rath led Ava past the fallen soldiers through a white door, leading into a small room. This one was also white, but there was a blood red stripe across the top, a sign that this was a royal room. A part of the morgue reserved especially for the royals. Inside, there were two beds set up on either side of the room.

There, on the bed on the left lay Zan. Ava stepped closer to him, resting a hand on his chest; feeling for the heartbeat she knew wouldn't be there. She sighed. He looked so peaceful laying there, his head rested on a soft white pillow on white silk sheets. He was covered up to the neck in a heavy red blanket. If she didn't know any better, she would swear he was just sleeping. She bent over and placed a soft kiss on the top of his head, then on his cold lips, squeezing her eyes shut as she did so. Her breath came out in a shudder as she pulled away. It was then she glanced at the other bed.

"Liz too?" she asked. Rath just nodded. She returned her gaze to her fallen lover.

"What happened?"

Rath sighed and scratched his eyebrow. "It was when you were taken." Ava was stroking Zan's hair. "Zan saw you get knocked out and-and he tried to save you. He rushed the guy. Straight up football tackle. You should've seen him."

Ava smiled affectionately. "Big idiot. He probably forgot he had a gun in his hand."

"Yeah, well, he remembered soon enough. He just started pistol whippin' the guy, yelling at him, he was so pissed off." Rath shook his head. "I tried to get to him. I really did." He ran a hand through his hair. "But it was all in, like slow mo, instant replay mode. He was bent over you trying to wake you up and this guy, that bastard just shot him. Right in the back."

"Is he dead?"

"The guy? Yeah, Izzy must've emptied a whole clip in his head. There wasn't much left of it when she was done."

She smiled sadly and sniffled. "Good." She started nodding her head. "Then its my fault," she mumbled so low Rath didn't hear her. She slowly turned to leave the room, her head bent. Rath put an arm around her shoulder in comfort as they made their way back to her room.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked as they stopped in front of her door.

"Yeah, I'll be fine…I'm just-I'm fine."

"You sure?" She nodded, giving him a watery smile. "Okay. If you need anything, me and Faith are right next door, okay?"

"Okay."

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They'd assumed that she'd spend the rest of the night, perhaps the rest of the week in her room crying and moping. What she actually did was a surprise. When Isabel and Maria went to check on her ten minutes later, she was gone. All she left was a note on her bed saying: I had to. This ends now.

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Isabel and Maria sprinted to the communications room, knocking over a few limping rebels on the way. They each paged their significant others in their special way, instructing them to meet them there.

They were already hunched over the tracking system when the last of the Saviours finally showed up.

"What's going on?" Serena asked.

"Ava's gone," Isabel stated, shoving the note in her hand. Alex shoved past them and sat in front of the computer, pulling up Ava's own personal tracking signal.

"She's at the palace," he said, slowly, "right smack in the middle of the battlefield."

They didn't even hesitate before arming themselves and heading out into the fray to find their wayward queen.

It was a bloodbath. Bodies littered the land before the palace like a deadly carpet of flesh, blood and bone. The ranks had thinned as the battle waged on, and there, leading the massacre was the petite form of Ava, hacking away at her sorrow and taking her revenge as one by one Khivar's soldiers fell. And it was hers. In the twenty minutes she'd been out there, she'd moved the ranks forward, leading them in a storm of the palace gates. It was something they would not have braved on their own without the orders of the higher ups.

Michael, Maria, Isabel and Alex stormed through the fight, making their way to assist their irate friend. If the castle was to be taken tonight, then they would all fight. It would be difficult, but the victory would be won.

Seeing that Khivar's men were about to retreat, Ava thought she'd beat them to it, a better, easier plan forming in her head. "Retreat!" she called to her soldiers. They weren't accustomed to taking orders from her so they turned to the two generals. They glanced at her in confusion, then shrugged and repeated the order. As one, the rebel army moved back a few hundred feet. Khivar's army stood by, confused. The rebels were winning, why the retreat?

"Ava, what are you doing?" Rath asked her quietly as he watched them give up all the ground they'd worked for.

"The exact opposite of what they expect," she replied. She began to talk into her comm. link. "Bomb units. Prepare to fire." She waited for the right moment. The moment when the last few of her men were out of firing range and, if she was lucky, the moment when the last few coward stragglers from the enemy's side to returned to the fight now that it was seemingly less dismal. "Fire!"

The rebel army watched in amazement as several black boxes were launched from various rooftops, courtesy of the snipers. They all instinctively got down as the boxes simultaneously exploded, creating a boom as loud as an atomic bomb and a billow of smoke that clouded the skies, and a fire that warmed the entire city. There was no doubt that Khivar's army was done. They couldn't have possibly survived that explosion. Nevertheless, the rebels stood by, their guns cocked as the smoke dissipated. When it was clear, the only thing left was body parts.

They'd won.

Antar was finally theirs again.

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After her stint as warlord, Ava collapsed in a sobbing heap, the adrenalin from her raging anger gone, leaving only the grief of a shattered soul. They could do nothing but watch as the conqueror of this fight, the queen of this planet, broke down under the weight of her King's death, and it broke their hearts. All they could do was hoist her up and carry her back to the base to mourn in peace. They'd put her in her room three hours ago and she had yet to come out.

Michael sighed and shook his head as his thoughts returned to the scene before him. Max. There was nothing they could do to help him now. He had to come out and face reality first. He nudged Maria towards the door. "Come on. Let's go." Maria nodded, casting one final glance at Max before following him out the door.

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All he could do was watch. Watch her die. Over and over. And he didn't save her. Not once in the 918 times he watched the same scene. Again and again.

He was completely useless.

A total waste of space.

He didn't deserve her. And she didn't deserve to die. Not for him. Never for him.

Max Evans sat in his chair and watched the scene unfold again before him, his eyes unable to tear themselves away from the horrific sight, to even blink the images away, his ears unable to block out the sounds.

He heard the sounds of the gunshots. The screaming. The crumbling of the walls that were hit by explosives. He remembered concentrating on the men coming from the right as Liz covered the left.

He watched the screen projected on the blank wall of his mind as the images moved in slow motion.

"Max!" Liz had cried. He spun around seeing a knife slicing through the dusty air, spinning menacingly as it headed for its intended target. His heart. He barely had time to process it before she dove in front of him, taking the knife in her own heart. Her body slammed back against him, knocking them both over.

He could still feel the blood seeping through her shirt onto his hands, her wide brown eyes staring trustingly into his. But she forgot. He couldn't heal her this time. Not here. Not on Antar. The red sun was cruel in stripping him of the powers he'd grown so accustomed to and now…then…all he could do was watch the light fade out of her eyes as she let out her final breath.

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Meanwhile, Michael and Maria headed over to the infirmary where many of their troops lay attached to machines of all shapes and sizes. They made their way past dozens of beds before finally getting to the back of the room where all the critical cases were held. There, at the very end of the room, they saw two figures sitting next to a bed.

It had been another slap in the face of the Saviours when Major Haess hobbled into the base a few hours ago carrying a limp Kaylanna in his arms, blood covering his clothes and skin. Her skin was pale as her life force slowly oozed out of the bullet hole in her stomach. Dirt covered her face where she fell face first to the ground. Khivar's army had discovered their camp on the hill and launched an attack, destroying a lot of their equipment and killing many. The rebels, however had managed to take them out eventually. Kaylanna was the first to go down. They went straight for the head of the group, but weren't prepared for the strong body that refused to go down with a fight. If they hadn't fought so hard, Kaylanna would surely be lying dead in a pool of her own blood out on that hill right now.

Her twin sister, Cortenia stood constant vigil at her bedside, refusing to leave until she woke up. Surprisingly, Major Haess was also watching over her at her bedside. Maria took mental note of that fact as she moved to stand next to her grandmother. It was strange to even think of her as a grandmother since technically, by Antarian years, she was only 34 and she looked it, too. When they'd stepped through the portal a year ago all the shifting Kaylanna and Cortenia had done on Earth undid itself in what looked like a very painful manner.

She remembered how Cortenia and Kaylanna convulsed as their bodies forcefully and painfully shifted themselves into their original forms, or at least the forms they would have been in had they stayed on Antar. Light emanated from Cortenia's skin as her older body tightened and reformed. Her hair grew longer and changed colour to its natural blonde shade. A lot of her wrinkles smoothed over making her look years younger. Kaylanna's body did the opposite, instead expanding slightly and gaining a few age marks. Her transformation looked a lot less painful considering she didn't have much to change. When they finally stilled, they were in the form of two identical 33-year-old women. It seemed that returning to their home planet and atmosphere took away their shape-shifting powers and thus their ability to live in an unnatural form. It was Mother Nature's way of restoring the balance.

She was yanked out of her reverie by a crash and a cry from the next room. Max's room. Maria immediately turned and ran to the room they'd temporarily given to Max until his catatonia wore off.

He was storming about screaming incoherently as he ransacked the room, knocking over tables, ripping the sheets off the bed, ripping the red curtains off the wall. The room was a complete mess and so was Max. His face was beet red with anger and grief, tears streaking down his chiselled cheeks in torrents, and his hair lay plastered to his sweat soaked skin. When he finished overturning every single piece of furniture in the room, he took to punching the walls. Maria rushed to stop him as his fists became bloody under the punishment he was inflicting on them.

"Max, stop it! This isn't the way!" she yelled, putting a hand on his arm to stop the movement. He stared at her with a pain filled gaze, then sighed defeatedly, his shoulders drooping and his head hung low in infinite sadness. She tried to pull him into a hug, but he weakly pulled away and stiffly walked out of the room, looking much like a zombie. Michael and Maria exchanged a look before following him out.

They found him kneeling next to Liz's bed in the Royal section of the morgue. He had his hand resting over the spot he knew the wound was, he should know, he'd seen her get stabbed enough times in his head. His eyes were screwed shut in painful concentration as he tried to access powers he very well knew weren't there.

"Max," Michael said softly, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. Max wrenched away from his touch and tried again to heal her. "Max. Come on. You know you can't. Don't do this to yourself."

"No, Michael. I have to try," he said determinedly.

Max remained in that position long moments after before sighing in defeat and falling back on his heels, burying his head in his knees.

"Oh Max," said Isabel, who'd just joined them a few minutes before. She shook her head sadly as she took in the shaking form of her brother. "I'm so sorry." She crouched down next to him and stoked his hair gently.

"I miss her so much, Izzy," he whispered.

"I know. I understand," she said soothingly.

He pulled away. "No. You can't understand. None of you can."

"Max, of course we understand," Isabel insisted. "Me, Ava, Michael, we all know how it feels when the one you love is killed. We know." She rubbed his back. "We've all been there. But beating yourself up isn't gonna help. It's not gonna bring her back, Max. You know Liz wouldn't blame you for this."

"But it's my fault that…"

"Max, stop it. It's not your fault."

He was silent for a while. "I keep seeing it. And she always dies. And-and it's always my fault." He was rambling now, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Isabel looked up at Michael helplessly as she watched her brother fall apart. He just shrugged. He didn't have a clue what to do. Max was acting like a complete nutcase and he didn't know what to do about it.

"Sh-she wanted me to save her. She was waiting and I didn't do anything…" His voice was shaking. "I did it before…why couldn't I do it now? Why? Why?"

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Jienne Nykheb frowned as she wrote on her clipboard. She was doing a borderline medical check-up on the prisoner the Princess had brought in from the rescue mission. Through the whole time she had been examining her she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd seen this woman before. Perhaps when she was a child, before the war. No, it was definitely before the war because the scars all over her body dated back more than ten years. This woman had likely been locked in that dungeon since the war began. She doubted they came from before she was locked up because they definitely weren't properly treated.

Jienne had seen a lot since she became a doctor with the Rebels, but nothing could prepare her for what she saw when she cut open the ragged gown their mystery patient had been wearing. Hundreds of scars trailed up and down her body. Her torso. Her legs. Her back. There was even a long jagged scar down the middle of her face. The scars were made in smooth lines that should have healed cleanly, but the skin around them were stretched and warped, like they were aggravated further after being made. Those were definitely torture signs if she'd ever see them. And that was just on her stomach and legs. Her left arm was bent at an odd angle, like it'd been broken and they'd left it to heal in any random position. She had thick grooves of scab, criss-crossing haphazardly across her pale back. It looked like she was whipped. Often. And from the bloody state of her dress, her captors never bothered to cover her wounds. Fortunately, or maybe not, none of the wounds seemed to be fresh, like they'd just left her to die of infection from the gashes or maybe just plain starvation, if her gross lack of weight was any indication of how often she was fed. In her opinion, this woman was extremely strong to have survived those conditions for as long she had. Put in the same position, Jienne was sure that she would have killed herself by now.

Shaking her head sadly, she adjusted the woman's blanket, tucking it around her snugly, before turning to leave the room. A soft groan made her pause as she moved to shut off the lights. She moved closer to hear what the mystery woman was saying.

"…Leave…" she groaned.

"Did you want me to leave you?" she asked, leaning closer.

The woman shifted her head to the side, her eyes fluttering. "Don't…"

"You want me to stay?"

She nodded slightly, finally managing to open her eyes. She winced as the bright lights in the room made themselves known, giving her an instant headache. The doctor hurried over to the light switch, turning the knob to dim the lights.

"Is that better?" The woman ventured to open her eyes again and sighed in relief. She looked around the small room a bit before returning her gaze to the young doctor.

"Who…?" she asked hoarsely, her throat straining from lack of use.

"I'm Dr. Jienne Nykheb," she answered smiling reassuringly at her patient. "You're at the Eastern Rebel base." The woman looked confused. "Do you know where you are? Which planet?"

"A-Antar." She moaned as the pain in her throat worsened. Jienne walked over to a desk table in the opposite corner of the room, returning with a glass of water. She set it down on the beside table

"Up," Jienne commanded. The bed automatically obeyed the order, rising at a very slow pace. When it reached a comfortable sitting position she said, "Stop." She fluffed the pillows behind her head and moved one down to support her back. "Are you comfortable?" On receiving a nod, she picked up the glass and lifted it to the woman's lips. "Drink this. It'll make your throat feel better." The woman gulped greedily at the cool red liquid, almost choking in her haste. "Slowly, it's not going anywhere," Jienne admonished as she mopped up some of the spilt water. "Is that better now?" She received another nod. "Good. Could you tell me your name?"

"Siare," she answered shakily.

"Siare. That's a lovely name." She smiled. "Tell me, Siare, are you feeling any pain? Any discomfort?"

"No."

"Any dizziness? Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?"

"Two."

Jienne nodded, jotting something down in her notes. "Good. Now, Siare…"

"Where…the girl…"

"Girl?"

"She…came…for me."

"The Princess? Princess Isabel?"

"Prin…" She looked confused.

"Yes, she's the princess. Would you like me to get her?"

"Y-yes."

Jienne smiled and patted Siare's hand gently. "Okay. I'll be back in a moment. I'm gonna put the bed back down, okay? I want you to try not to move too much. Especially your left arm. It was broken and healed in the wrong position, so it had to be reset. It should feel okay for now, but the pain medication will wear off in a few hours. I should be able to give you another dose before the pain kicks in, though, so you should be fine. Okay?" Siare nodded silently. That pain would probably be nothing compared to what she was used to, anyway. "Good. I'll go tell the Princess you're awake."

With that, she opened the door and stepped out into the busy hallway. She was saved the trip to the Royal quarters at the other end of the base by a glimpse of shiny blonde hair in one of the extra infirmary rooms that could only belong to the Princess. She paused at the door, taking in the scene. Princess Isabel, Lord Alex, Lord Kyle, Lady Maria, and General Michael were all gathered around a bed watching the sleeping form of King Max. Isabel was seated at the edge of his bed, gently stroking his hair as he slept fitfully. She hesitantly knocked on the open door.

"Uh…excuse me, P-princess, I-I'm sorry to i-i-interrupt you," she stuttered uncomfortably, suddenly nervous now that she was under the curious gaze of half of 'The Saviours'.

"No, it's okay, doctor…"

"Nykheb. Jienne Nykheb," she said, bowing her head slightly. "The, um, prisoner…Siare…she's awake. She was asking for you." She blushed and ducked her head. "I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have bothered you with that…"

"No, it's fine, Jienne, thanks for telling me," Isabel said as she stood up, smoothing imaginary creases in her shirt. She cast one last glance at her brother before walking over to the doctor. "Lead the way."

Isabel, Alex, Michael, Maria and Kyle trailed behind Jienne as she led them the short distance to Siare's room.

"Rath?" Michael said into his comm. link.

"Yeah?" came the breathless reply. He'd obviously interrupted something.

"Our guest is up."

"We'll be right there."

"Bring Oz and Serena with you, will ya?"

"On it."

Michael disconnected and looked up as they stopped in front of a door. Jienne opened the door and lead them into a dimly lit room, explaining that the patient needed time to adjust to the new environment and that the light seemed to hurt her. On a small bed in the middle of the room lay a thin woman. Her blonde hair lay limp about her scarred face as she lay there seemingly asleep.

"Siare?" Jienne said softly. "The Royals are here. Are you awake?"

Siare rolled her head to the side and opened her eyes, dull brown eyes startled by all the new faces. Jienne smiled at her and nodded to the Saviours, quickly leaving the room.

"You…you saved me," she said quietly, staring at Isabel. Isabel smiled graciously and nodded her head. "Up," she commanded to her bed, letting it raise her to a sitting position. "C-could we turn on the lights so I can see you properly?"

"Sure," said Kyle, turning the switch to brighten the room a bit. Siare squinted a bit as her eyes fought to readjust to the new light. When they finally adjusted, she studied all their faces, looking especially delighted when she saw Isabel and Michael's faces clearly for the first time.

Michael nudged Isabel in the ribs and whispered, "I know her. How do I know her?"

Isabel just nodded. "I know. She looks familiar to me too."

"My…" Siare was interrupted by a gasp from the doorway.

Everyone turned to find Rath staring at her in shock. "Oh my god…"

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Whoever can she be, huh? *evil grin* Well, you'll just have to wait for Chapter 3. heh heh heh.

PS: Remember, the review button is your friend…well, it's my friend, but it wants to be yours too. ;)