As the weeks passed, Marek found himself more and more absorbed in the requirements of running the dig. Professor Johnston had been absent quite frequently as he dealt with all of the behind-the-scenes minutia: the French politicians, the meddling moneylenders from ITC, and the new students. As a result, Marek hadn't practiced his medieval weaponry skills in a few weeks. Marek had decided to start using his lunch break to brush up on his archery skills in the field beside the monastery. He didn't want to get rusty.

Marek drew an arrow from his quiver and placed it in the bow. He pulled the string, aimed at the target and released, hitting the bull's-eye again. As he bent to get another arrow, he could hear a motorcycle racing his way, gravel spitting as it rounded the curved roads that led to the monastery. It could only be Chris. Marek drew and aimed again.

They had almost become like brothers the last few weeks during the Professor's absence and Chris had confided in Marek about his feelings for Kate. Kate, a former architectural student who had turned to history instead, was leaps and bounds out of Chris' league, though Marek would never tell him so. Although she was still a grad student, Kate was just like Professor Johnston and Marek: she loved history and would be consumed by it forever. Chris could barely stand the subject matter. He usually visited his father for a couple of weeks during the summer each year before he would get bored and leave, but this time his stay had long since passed that mark.

Marek's last shot went into one of the outer rings on the bulls-eye as Chris spun his motorcycle to a stop at the edge of the field a few feet away. Marek guessed that Chris' plan to talk to Kate last night hadn't gone over very well. Chris strode over in his direction. Marek groaned as he put his bow down on a sawhorse table nearby.

"Haven't been practicing have you?" Chris asked with a grin.

"Well you know," Marek put his hand on his lower back in mock pain, "I'm not getting any younger."

Chris plucked Marek's broadsword out of the ground and began to swing it around. Marek had been hoping to practice that too. "But man, you love this stuff." Chris' movements were getting dangerous to both himself and Marek.

"It's a habit I can't quite kick. Let me take that from you," Marek grabbed the sword from Chris when he swung it in the opposite direction, "before you cut something off you'll need later on. So…" Marek wasn't really good at this sort of thing. He didn't have a lot of experience giving this kind of advice. "Talking about love, how'd it go last night?"

Chris spun away from him and kicked the dirt. "It didn't."

"So how does it feel to be passed over for 600 year old ruins?" he asked.

"It sucks. It sucks big time. I don't understand you guys. You all live in the past," Chris griped.

Marek was stunned. What was so wrong about loving history? And if Chris was in love with someone that loved history, what hope did he ever have of getting close to her if he didn't at least understand her interest. "What?"

"You know what the past is to me?" Chris ground his teeth in anger.

"What? What is the past to you?" Marek asked, suspecting what was coming. Marek had noticed that Chris seemed to be repeating his parents' mistake, letting chemistry do all the talking. But Chris had to find this out for himself. Chris' parents had divorced when he was very young, as his mother had become quickly disenchanted with the lifestyle of an archeologist. And Professor Johnston, given the choice between his two loves—family or history—had chosen history. Marek had always understood that choice, as hard as it was to make. You can't give up your passions; they are a part of you. But Chris didn't realize how lucky he was. His father had remained a part of his life and they actually had a very close relationship.

"The past is why my parents split up," Chris said, "the past is practically what I've been force fed since I was a little kid. None of you archeologists look to the future," Chris practically spat.

Broken-hearted or no, that was going too far for Marek's sense of pride. "What are you talking about? What is the future but more of the same? More bloody gadgets and more machines like the one you rode up on. It's the past that's where it's at. I mean, people cared about each other back then. Men had honor."

"No, no. You know what that is to me?" Chris asked becoming jovial once again. "That's more of that romantic warrior crap."

Marek rolled his eyes. Maybe Chris was more like a bratty little brother. "Romantic? You want to see romantic? Follow me. Come on." Marek led Chris to his favorite find so far. He'd been chasing people away from it for weeks now. He had wanted to keep this one to himself for some reason, for as long as he could.

"What have you got? Oh no, not another stone sticking out of the ground," Chris pretended to tremble in terror. He was getting more annoying by the minute.

"Stones sticking out of the ground?" Marek said in disgust. "No, it's a 600 year old sarcophagus with a French knight and his Lady. Look. Isn't she beautiful?" Marek had been extra careful as he'd uncovered her face, finding himself strangely drawn to the artwork. It was unlike anything he'd seen from this period before.

"Yeah, she's a real knock-out," Chris laughed.

Marek sighed. "Now look," he pointed at the figures, "do you see down here? They're holding hands, now that's incredibly unusual for the time period." Marek thought that they must have loved each other a lot. A moment of loneliness overwhelmed him as he looked at the sarcophagus. He had never really loved someone like that and he probably never would. He had dated, but the women always got exasperated with his obsession with history. They never understood how much it meant to him.

"Yeah," Chris said with genuine interest, "that is kind of unusual, huh?"

"Yeah." Marek would've have given his right arm to trade places with the knight. He probably hadn't lived very long due to the war, but he had almost certainly lived a full life. For the first time in a long time, Marek felt something lacking in his life again. He went for long periods of time where he was just fine with his life being the way it was. He had a lot more freedom to dicker with being single. But then he would have a moment like today. Someday, he would tell himself on those occasions, he would meet an amazing woman who was perfect for him. "Oh God," Marek exclaimed with enough fake exuberance to cover up his momentary soberness. "Over here," he pointed at the sarcophagus again, "now this knight, he only has one ear. I mean, what happened there?"

"What are you talking about, one ear? It's probably just—a piece is missing. It's probably somewhere in the dirt."

"What are you talking about, a piece is missing? I'm the archeologist here, okay? It was carved that way. Trust me."

"All right. Fair enough," Chris raised his hands to fend Marek off. "So who do you think they were anyway?"

"So why would someone who doesn't care about the past be concerned with that?" Marek asked with a smirk.

Chris rolled his eyes this time. "Because I'm intrigued."

Marek laughed with glee. "See!"

"That's what you wanted to hear?" Chris lightly punched him.

"Absolutely. And it's true! We're all intrigued by this. It's why we're all here." They walked over to a rock wall and sat down. Marek wanted to explain what Chris would never understand. This love, this obsession overtakes everything else. If you didn't understand that it was as much a part of the person as the color of their eyes, all the love and all the chemistry in the world wouldn't work. "It's not just about the rocks and rubble, it's about these people. Who were they and what were their stories? It helps us to understand where we came from or where we're going. You know what I like to say?"

Chris held up his hand. "I know, I know, I know. 'You make your own history.'"

"Do I say it that often?" Marek asked with a grin.

"Yeah, all the time," Chris grinned back.

"Well, whoever they were," Marek motioned back at the sarcophagus, "they made theirs. Together." He looked longingly at the pair. Someday he would make his own history as well.

Disclaimer: these characters are not my own. I borrowed them from Michael Crichton. Any dialogue is taken directly from the movie version.