The Power to Hurt

 

Michelle Fields

 

Copyright September 2000

 

Revised August 2004

 

 

This story contains dialogue and spoilers from the LFN episode “All Good Things.”

 

 

Sonnet 94

 

They that have the pow’r to hurt, and will do none,

That do not do the thing they most do show,

Who moving others, are themselves as stone,

Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow,

They rightly do inherit heaven’s graces,

And husband nature’s riches from expense;

They are the lords and owners of their faces,

Others but stewards of their excellence.

The summer’s flow’r is to the summer sweet,

Though to itself it only live and die,

But if that flow’r with base infection meet,

The basest weed outbraves his dignity:

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;

Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.

 

---William Shakespeare

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

You’re an X-Ray man,

You got white wall tires,

Iodine tan, cheap unpleasant desires.

You’re an X-Ray man.

You got an X-Ray in mind.

You’re not satisfied with looking at me,

You’re always checking out the girl behind.

You’re an X-Ray man.

You got secret plans for me…

 

 Mahleah sang along with her Walkman as she jogged. God, she loved Liz Phair. She was definitely going to work a number into the show.

 

Across the gardens she saw Michael on a bench and waved. He raised a hand in acknowledgement. He was meeting her for a game of chess before they had to go into Section. Word had gotten to her that he was the reigning chess champion among her new companions and so she’d challenged him. Unfortunately for him, she was enjoying her run too much to quit yet.

 

****

 

Michael sighed as he saw her dart down a side path. He didn’t mind playing chess with Mahleah; in fact, he looked forward to it. Considering her background, the match should prove to be an intriguing challenge, yet he couldn’t help being skeptical, not of Mahleah as it happened, but of Nikita and Walter who seemed quite interested in setting up this game. No doubt, a wager was involved. He rather suspected Birkoff and Mick were mixed up in the plot as well. From her comments, he assumed Nikita had taken his part. Walter would have put his money on Mahleah. That only left Birkoff and Mick. He had no clue who they were rooting for.

 

He glanced up as a figure sat down at the end of his bench. He restrained himself from showing any signs of surprise or recognition. The tall figure in the leather jacket was the person he had seen Mahleah watching on a barge one night. Later the same man had in turn watched Mahleah perform at “The Copperhead.” She had come home late the next morning dressed in the same clothes she’d worn at the club, serenading the streets of Paris. Nikita had informed him the man’s name was Duncan.

 

What was he doing here?  Surely, Mahleah wasn’t crazy enough to be seeing him again. She had to know that eventually this relationship would come to the attention of Madeline. If, as he thought, Duncan were a man from her past, there would be hell to pay.

 

He examined his bench mate surreptitiously. Thick dark hair, dark brown eyes, long legs and broad shoulders – Mahleah’s secret lover was a very handsome man.  Michael had seen for himself that Duncan was both graceful and lethal while working out. Actually, in the few minutes he had observed the other man’s katas, he had recognized some of the movements from Mahleah’s own training sessions.  He remembered her saying that her teacher had been the standard by which she judged all other men and though she’d been speaking facetiously about his sex appeal, he realized she meant that statement on another, more serious, level.  If this was the man of whom she’d been speaking, Duncan was the person who had shaped her personality more than any other. He wondered about the age difference, but perhaps the man hid his years well, and Mahleah liked older men anyway.

 

********

 

Duncan saw Michael subtly observing him.  He expected no less from any man who would be Mahleah’s backup when she faced terrorists.  He wondered where the blonde beauty was that Michael had been so absorbed in the last time he’d seen the operative. Mahleah had reassured him that her connection to Musashi, as she affectionately referred to Michael, was strictly platonic.

 

The concern now with “Musashi” was whether the operative could be trusted. Duncan was unsure if Michael had spotted him at “The Copperhead”, or if this scrutiny was just an automatic reflex. Assuming he made the connection to Mahleah, would he report this liaison to his superiors?  Mahleah considered him a friend, but when it came down to choosing between Section security protocols and her safety, on which side would Michael come down?

 

One thing was certainly true: Duncan did not intend to just let her go.  She was no longer his student, it was true, and was certainly capable of making her own decisions. Yet, he wouldn’t support the one she had made regarding him.  He had always been a part of her life and would continue to be so. She had complained once that her existence had always centered on him and that her own life was continually set aside to accommodate whatever emergencies he encountered. Well, this time it would be different.

 

**********

 

Mahleah was recalling a recent visit from Joe at “The Copperhead.” He had inquired when she planned to see MacLeod again and was annoyed when she informed him she didn’t plan to do so anytime soon.

 

“Are you trying to tell me the two of you didn’t get together the other night? I don’t believe you,” he had stated categorically. “I saw the way you looked at each other – I’ve been burnt by flames cooler than that.”

 

She had tried to appear nonchalant, but couldn’t help grinning widely.  At his knowing look, she had even blushed a little.

 

“Uh huh, yeah,” he had nodded, “nothing happened. Right, and that’s why you look like the proverbial cat who’s had the cream thoroughly licked from her whiskers.”

 

“Joe!” she had exclaimed. She cleared her throat, “I think that’s supposed to be the cat that licked the cream off her whiskers.”

 

He had raised an eyebrow, “Really, well I have no doubt that happened too.”

 

She smiled at the memory. Oh, it had certainly been a glorious night. She didn’t know where she would find the willpower to resist if he tracked her down again.

 

She darted back out onto the main path just as a pain shot through her leg.  She’d added a little burst of speed thinking of the night she’d spent with Mac and overstrained her muscles a little.  She stopped for a moment to let them relax and heal.

 

As her leg began to feel better, she began stretching the muscles, still singing along with the music coming from her headphones.

 

I’m gonna tell my son to grow up pretty as the grass is green

And whip-smart as the English Channel’s white...

When they do the double-Dutch that’s them dancing….

 

She was near the edge of the pond, and she noticed a young girl sitting on the bank crying.  Walking over to her, she saw the problem. Her little toy boat had floated out of the reach of her short arms. Smiling, Mahleah went to rescue the little mademoiselle in distress.

 

*******

 

Duncan saw her retrieving the little sailboat and his heart ached.  Mahleah was so good with children.  He knew the facts of Immortal life were still sinking in and wondered if the loss of motherhood had hit her yet. There were times like these when he wondered if four hundred years of life, or even four thousand for that matter, was enough compensation for such a void. Immortals could adopt children, it was true, but then they were forced to accept the harsh reality that they would most likely outlive those sons and daughters by hundreds of years. Most Immortals preferred not to pursue such a painful course of action.

 

He saw Michael follow his gaze and decided to speak, “Striking woman.”

 

********

 

Michael looked at him, then back at Mahleah who was receiving a grateful hug. “Yes, she is,” he replied, deliberately misunderstanding the comment, “Especially if she catches someone staring at her.”

 

He saw Duncan look startled as if not expecting him to know such an intimate detail. His response, however, was non-committal, “I meant she’s very beautiful.” 

 

They both studied her closely and saw the brief, wistful expression that crossed her face as the girl walked away to her mother.

 

“She doesn’t look so dangerous now,” Duncan added.

 

Michael took his eyes from the sight of Mahleah transfixed by this family reunion to examine Duncan’s face. From it, he read emotions that both relieved and worried him. He recognized the gleam in those dark eyes – his own held it when he looked at Nikita – which spoke of a fierce commitment -- a bond that Section wouldn’t be able to break

 

Mahleah started running again as Michael spoke. “Would you like to meet her?”

 

Duncan smiled. “You could introduce me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Duncan felt the beginning of the tingle announcing her presence, as he answered, “Not today, I’m afraid.  There’s something I have to do first.”

 

He rose, and looked back at the level five operative and said, “You’re a lucky man.”

 

Michael could hear Mahleah singing as she approached.

 

Imagining behind your eyes

What’d I see?

I saw hips; I saw thighs,

I saw secret positions that we’d never tried.

I saw jealousy…

 

He looked back but the other man was gone.  Mahleah stopped when she reached him and looked around her suspiciously.

 

“Who was just here?” she asked sharply.

 

“No one important,” he said, “Just a man sharing my bench.”

 

She frowned and her eyes scanned the area, arousing his curiosity.  Was Duncan one of her “people”? She seemed to feel his presence.  He cleared his throat and she glanced at him.

 

“Are you ready for our game?” he inquired.

 

Mahleah pulled her attention back to him, “Oh yeah, and you’d better be too.”

 

Just then, his cell-phone rang.  She waited patiently as he answered and replied, “Yes.”

 

“I have to go in,” he told her.

 

She sighed, “You just got lucky, my friend.”

 

“So I’ve been told,” he said enigmatically.

 

********

 

Mahleah returned to her apartment to take a shower and change before heading into Section herself.  She came to an abrupt stop in front of her door where a small basket containing strawberries was nestled in the corner.  Lying in the center was a red rose.

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

 

Earlier, in Madeline’s office, she and Operations had met to discuss the arrangements for his coming absence from Section. 

 

“So we’re agreed then that Michael is the best choice to replace me while I’m at Center?” he asked.

 

“Of course,” Madeline agreed smoothly. She’d noticed that he brushed aside the possibility of her taking control even temporarily. A part of her was annoyed, but the rest of her was amused. Was Paul worried that once she possessed the reins of power she’d never relinquish them?

 

“This will be an excellent opportunity for me to gauge Michael’s fitness for the position,” she added.

 

He frowned, “You expect to have problems from him?”

 

She shook her head, “No, but the decisions he makes will tell us more about him than anything else he’s said or done in years.”

 

He began to smile, “Leave it to you, Madeline, to see this scenario as a psychological test. Anything specific you’ll be watching for?”

 

She returned his smile, “It will be interesting to see how the group dynamic changes in general during his tenure as Operations, but more specifically I’ll be looking at the choices he makes.  Who will he choose to replace himself for instance?”

 

Operations looked thoughtful, “Well, he should probably pick Wallace, but something tells me he’ll go with either Nikita or Mahleah.”

 

She agreed, “Considering the fact that he and Nikita have recently established a closer personal relationship, she will probably be his first choice.”

 

“Well, there’s something to be said for a lover protecting your flank,” he laughed.  “Nikita does have more experience than Mahleah.”

 

“Mahleah would be the better candidate,” Madeline pointed out. “Despite Nikita’s experience, she lacks emotional control and aside from the Zalman incident Mahleah’s demonstrated an admirable calmness. She’s liked and respected almost as much as Nikita but I suspect she possesses a degree of ruthlessness that we’ve so far been unsuccessful in cultivating in Nikita.”

 

“You’ve convinced me, but will Michael see things your way?”

 

“Possibly, I think he will be aware that promoting Nikita could lead to accusations of favoritism. He and Mahleah seem close as well.”

 

“They make a good team,” Operations commented.

 

“So do Michael and Nikita,” she countered, “but Nikita appeals to the aspects of Michael’s personality that we’ve tried to eradicate over the years. Mahleah is similar to him in ways that could be beneficial to us, and they have become friends recently.”

 

He considered the situation, and then told her, “I look forward to reading your report when I return.”

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

 

As Nikita strolled over to talk to Walter, he asked, “So has Mahleah whipped Michael yet?”

 

She shook her head, “I think they got interrupted; besides Michael’s going to win, Walter. How could you have any doubts?”

 

He looked at her knowingly, “Oh, but you’ve never played her, and I have. Mind you, I’m not a champion player but I’ve won more than a few games in my day. She checkmated me in ten moves and I’m convinced she could have had me at least five moves before but she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. I think Michael will be more challenging, but she will win.”

 

Nikita laughed confidently, “I think my twenty bucks are safe.”

 

His earrings swung as he shook his head at her, “Why do you think Mick bet for her? He knows a sure thing.”

 

“Well, Birkoff thinks Michael will win and he’s probably run a sim on the possibilities,” she countered.

 

He stepped closer to her, “Speaking of possibilities, what do you think the brass are doing with him? He’s been in Madeline’s office for a while now and that can’t be too healthy for anyone.”

 

She would have smiled, but his remark cut too close to the truth. She was a little concerned about Michael. Had Madeline discovered the change in their personal relationship? Was he being called on the carpet for breaking some Section code?  Their superiors had seen to it that Walter and Mahleah had broken off their romance. Did that now lie in wait for her and her lover?

 

Walter nudged her and she broke off her reverie to see Michael walking in their direction with Operations. The two men stopped and in full view of everyone, Operations handed over control of Section to Michael.

 

Nikita watched in shock as Operations left flanked by two burly bodyguards, and Michael strode toward the perch where Madeline already awaited him. She saw Walter watching her as if evaluating her response to these new arrangements. She hardly knew what to think.

 

Michael was the new Operations.  This development had never entered her mind, which had focused instead on punishment for their defiance of protocol.  She’d often heard it mentioned as a matter of course that he was the frontrunner to replace Paul Wolfe, but had never really given it much consideration. Such an event had seemed far off in the distant future. Now it was reality, for a time at least.

 

*******

 

Operations and his small posse were waiting for the elevator when its doors opened and Mahleah stepped out. Instead of her usual braid, her hair was swept up on top of her head and was crowned by a lovely red rose.  Her cheeks were slightly flushed and a small secretive smile was curving her lips upward when she saw him.

 

He smiled at her and she nodded cautiously back at him. His eyes swept her tall, curvy figure. She was one of the loveliest women he’d ever seen with her creamy, flawless skin and fabulous bone structure – a rarity just for that quality. Yet, she was much more than that it seemed. Her beauty only served to hide a mind as sharp, from all he could tell, as a razor’s edge and skills as deadly as a cobra. On top of all that, the woman could sing her ass off (he’d had Birkoff use a satellite to listen to parts of her concerts). Mahleah was indeed, unique.

 

He knew Madeline had expressed the thought that Mahleah could be her replacement. Whenever he moved to Oversight, Madeline fully expected to be promoted as well. Mahleah would, no doubt, make an excellent successor to his second-in-command. In fact, he was counting on it in ways that Madeline was unaware of yet.

 

“Goodbye,” he told her.

 

She looked at him with curiosity, “You’re leaving?”

 

“Yes, I’ll be at Center for a while, but meantime I’m leaving Section in good hands. You’ll probably need to see if he has any special plans for you,” he told her, entering the elevator. As the doors closed, he watched her walk away thinking, “Regardless of Michael’s agenda, I have one of my own.”

 

 

Chapter Four

 

 

Michael looked down at his new domain feeling Madeline watching him.  He knew she would be analyzing everything he said or did while he was in charge. No doubt, her first line of questioning would be about Nikita.

 

Sure enough, she asked who was to replace him.  He had given this considerable thought from the moment Operations had sprung his little surprise. He wanted someone who was not only capable of doing the job, but capable of retaining his trust...someone furthermore who would be willing to ungrudgingly relinquish the position when Operations returned. He thought that eliminated Wallace who was ambitious and had no especial ties or reasons to show loyalty to him.

 

That left him with two valid candidates: Nikita and Mahleah. Either woman would be perfect for the position and he knew he could trust them both: not something that he could say about many people in Section. Nikita had been an operative longer and he couldn’t envision her betraying him. Mahleah, on the other hand, possessed a more subtle nature than Nikita, when she chose to utilize it. That could be useful to him, yet he hadn’t fully made up his mind until he saw the details of the Odessa mission.

 

Instantly he knew what he would do.  Wallace would lead the Odessa team, and Nikita would be temporarily promoted. He could not and would not order Nikita to her death again.  It had twisted his heart into knots on the Shays Mission knowing that she was not expected to survive. He had done everything in his power to ensure her safety then, and now that they finally had overcome all their mental blocks to come together, he assuredly wouldn’t send her to an almost certain death now.

 

Mahleah would be safe as well, since she was considered too valuable in her long-term undercover assignment to risk on this hazardous profile. She would not be expecting to succeed him anyway. The only one doing that was probably Wallace. It was a shame to lose him, for he was an excellent operative despite his hot temper, but better him than either of the women who, between them, kept the keys to the remnants of his heart and humanity.

 

His decision made, Michael saw Mahleah walk over to Munitions.  He sensed Madeline was a trifle disappointed that Mahleah wasn’t chosen instead of Nikita.  Inwardly he wondered how the woman would feel if she fully understood his friend. Perhaps, though, she perceived more than he realized, and had finally found an adversary worthy of her steel. There was an old saying about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.

 

He saw the bright red of the flower in the unsuspecting operative’s hair and frowned slightly. He had a job for Mahleah but first they would have to have a little chat.

 

*******

 

When Walter saw Mahleah, she was frowning.

 

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” he inquired. “Heard the news already?”

 

She blinked, jostled out of her thoughts, “What news?  Oh, you mean about Operations going on a vacation?  Yeah, I met him in the elevator.”

 

“I seriously doubt his visit to Center will be quite that pleasant, but he’s gone.  Isn’t that reason to celebrate?”

 

“Definitely,” she said rather vehemently. “He just looked at me like he had been on a month long fast and I was a steak dinner. There are just times when a girl would like to hide behind a blanket and a raincoat and that was one of them.”

 

“Well, maybe you’ll have better luck with his replacement,” Walter said sympathetically.

 

“I hope so. One more leer today and I swear I’ll get violent,” she declared.

 

He waggled his eyebrows comically, “Oh please, by all means, get rough with me.”

 

She laughed feeling better already.

 

“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “This Operations will be too busy watching Nikita.”

 

“I hope Michael doesn’t catch him,” she chuckled, then realization dawned, “oh, it is Michael.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

Her face brightened immediately, “That’s wonderful. Could we possibly make this a permanent arrangement?”

 

“Let’s wait and see if the power goes to his head first,” Walter suggested.

 

“Oh, I’d kick him in the butt long before that could happen,” she said half jokingly.

 

Birkoff came over to them and told her, “Mahleah, Michael wants to see you in the perch. He says he needs to have a talk with you.”

 

She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, “Well, that sounds interesting.”

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

As Mahleah stepped into the perch, her hands stuck in her jacket pockets, Michael darkened the windows.  Let people talk. For this meeting, he preferred privacy. Knowing Mahleah as well as he did, he predicted she’d react in one of two ways: coolly, even eerily calm; or, fiercely, possibly even violently, passionate. If she picked the later, he’d rather no one witness her outburst.

 

She glanced at the tinted windows and smiled mischievously, “Planning on holding a private celebration, Musashi?  Whatever will Nikita think?”

 

He frowned for a moment at her use of the nickname, and then got down to brass tacks, “Madeline is keeping a file on a man named Duncan MacLeod.”

 

She froze, her eyes widening for a moment, and then she said calmly, “Yes, she’s mentioned the name to me before.”

 

“So far she only appears to know about your past connection with him. There’s no mention of your recent rendezvous.”

 

“How do you know I met with him?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

 

“He came to the club several days ago and you spent the night with him,” he stated.

 

She didn’t bother to deny the obvious. “So are you going to forbid me to see him?” she asked sardonically.

 

“I have the authority to,” he informed her. “I could also put you in abeyance if you refuse to cooperate.”

 

Her dark eyes flashed and she stepped closer to him, her hands coming out of her pockets and resting lightly by her sides.

 

“Yes, you could,” she said in a low voice. “By all means, begin your reign by canceling one of your only friends. That will certainly inspire confidence in your leadership.”

 

He stood his ground, “If Madeline discovers you’ve been seeing someone from your previous life, I might not have many options.”

 

“Oh,” she said, “I thought you were left in charge, not Madeline. My mistake, I suppose.”

 

He blinked, but then pointed out, “I only have temporary control of Section.”

 

“Yes,” she agreed, “but it’s up to you to set the tone of your stay in the perch.  If you’re smart you’ll keep the respect that the other operatives have toward you.”

 

“I intend to try.”

 

She paused, struck by a thought, “Is it really my relationship that you’re concerned about, or its discovery?”

 

He let his silence speak for him.

 

She smiled warmly, and stepped closer to him.  “Since you’re only worried about me, I’ll tell you the truth: I haven’t seen Mac since that night at ‘The Copperhead.’  Someone left me a flower at my door, but I don’t know for certain it was him.”

 

He could read her sincerity in her face, but his fears weren’t allayed.  She leaned in and kissed his cheek, “Don’t worry Musashi, I won’t do anything you wouldn’t.”

 

As she walked out, he thought, “That’s what concerns me.”  He knew the lengths he would and had gone to in order to keep Nikita in his life and he judged that Mahleah would be no different.  He wasn’t only worried for her well being though.  MacLeod could put Mahleah in a compromising position and he needed her to be invulnerable for the assignment he was almost sure he would have to give her.

 

As he mused, his eye caught sight of a scrap of paper lying on the floor. He frowned and bent to pick it up. It was a piece of stationery folded several times.  He remembered Mahleah pulling her hands out of her coat pockets when she began to get upset with him. This must have fallen out and she didn’t notice it was gone. He hesitated before he opened it.  Inside he read:

 

“My heart is too full to find the words I want to say, and I’ve never possessed any delusions of my poetic abilities so I’ll use the work of someone much more able to express the emotions I’ve felt since you left.

 

Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because –

because—I don’t know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

 

Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because

then the little drops of anguish will all run together,

the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift

into me, choking my lost heart.

 

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;

may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.

Don’t leave me for a second, my dearest,

 

Because in that moment you’ll have gone so far

I’ll wonder mazily over all the earth, asking,

will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?”

 

The letter was unsigned, but Michael had no doubts who it was from. His question was if Mahleah were able to resist such a plea.

 

 

Chapter Six

 

 

 

Mahleah was halfway to the club before she missed her letter. When her fingers didn’t feel its weight in her pocket, she pulled out the linings of both trying to locate it to no avail.  She too remembered pulling out her hands and being upset in the perch.

 

Oh God, she thought, I’ve left it right there for Michael to find. Good going, girlfriend, now he’ll be even more paranoid about the whole situation.

 

She had been very touched by the basket of her favorite food in the world, the rose and the letter tucked inside, yet she was also shocked by the fact that Duncan knew where she lived.  He was too intelligent to be seen with her there, but she hadn’t even sensed him around.  If she really wanted to stay away from him, she was going to have to think up some strategies soon.

 

When she walked into “The Copperhead” Tony waved her on over to the bar.  “This arrived for you today,” he announced, holding up another rose and an envelope.

 

Her heart sped up.  Obviously, Mac was going to pursue her.  She took a deep breath and opened the envelope with fingers that were not entirely steady. While she read, Tony poured a bottle of Clearly Canadian over ice for her.

 

The letter contained another poem in Mac’s bold handwriting:

 

You sing, and your voice peels the husk

of the day’s grain, your song with the sun and sky,

the pine trees speak with their green tongue:

all the birds of the winter whistle.

 

The sea fills its cellar with footfalls,

with bells, chains, whimpers,

the tools and the metals jangle,

wheels of the caravan creak.

 

But I hear only your voice, your voice

soars with the zing and precision of an arrow,

it drops with the gravity of rain,

 

your voice scatters the highest swords

and returns with its cargo of violets:

It accompanies me through the sky.

 

 

She sighed. Maybe MacLeod didn’t have the gift of poetic expression himself, but there was nothing wrong with either his taste or his knowledge of literature.  His hundreds of years of experience with women weren’t hurting him any either, or the fact that he’d known her all her life. She was susceptible to the beauty of words and he was using that weakness to seduce her without even appearing.

 

She smiled ruefully.  It was an effective plan: soften her up with Pablo Neruda, and then add his considerable powers of persuasion personally.  Unfortunately, it was working.  Her cheeks were flushed, her palms were moist, and she was breathing heavily. If he were to walk in the door right now, he would find an easy job lay before him.

 

She swallowed, and took a drink of her water. One taste and she sat it back down and demanded, “What flavor is this, Tony?”

 

He grinned as he said, “Strawberry/Watermelon.”

 

********

 

Nikita found herself bored beyond belief in DRV.  She couldn’t believe Michael had stuck her here in the most monotonous job in Section.  If he pulled many shifts in this place, it was no wonder he kept a blank look on his face sometimes. She seriously doubted he did, though.  How could the top field man keep his edge by sitting on his rear staring at little dots on a screen for twelve hours?

 

When she heard the team had returned from the Odessa mission, it gave her an excuse to stretch her legs, but the excursion was not as pleasant as she would have imagined. Her comrades turned their backs on her and refused to speak.  She had no idea what was going on until she spoke to Birkoff and discovered Wallace was dead.

 

An unpleasant explanation had already crossed her mind about her recent promotion, but she had thought that surely Michael wouldn’t have given her the position just because she was his lover.  Madeline wouldn’t have stood for it. Now, she feared he had an ulterior motive, and that worried her.  How was she supposed to work with people who perceived her as nothing but Michael’s mistress? She’d never be respected again. Hell, she wouldn’t be able to look herself in the mirror.  Danger was a part of her job description, and she refused to be wrapped up in cotton balls and put on a shelf somewhere.  If their relationship were going to survive, he would have to see that.

 

 

********

There were no flowers, notes, or strawberries waiting on Mahleah’s doorstep when she arrived home. Part of her was relieved and another part was disappointed. Had he already given up, just when he was doing so well?  She had enjoyed the turnabout in their relationship.  Years before she had been the one to pursue him.  It was now nice to be the wooed instead of the wooer for a change.

 

Shrugging her shoulders, she climbed her stairs and went into her bathroom. She brushed her teeth, cleaned her face, and combed out her braid, then donned a nightgown and returned to her bedroom. When she turned on the bedside lamp, though, she spotted a piece of paper lying on her pillow. She bowed her head for a moment, letting her hair hang forward to hide her face.  Obviously, he was getting bolder all the time.

 

Sweeping her hair back with one arm, she picked up his latest missive and moving to the window, read:

 

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.

Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day

I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

 

I hunger for your sleek laugh,

your hands the color of a savage harvest,

hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,

I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

 

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,

the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,

I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

 

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,

hunting for you, for your hot heart,

like a puma in the barrens of Quitratúe.

 

*******

Outside and across the street, Duncan MacLeod looked up at the window where Mahleah stood silhouetted in the lamplight, reading his letter.  He could tell that her hair was down and falling over her shoulders, covering her breasts. He smiled thinking he was glad because he wouldn’t want just anyone onlooker to notice what a spectacular view she was providing. Her thin gown was translucent in the soft light and her long legs were clearly outlined.

 

As he watched, she extinguished the lamp, but he could still see her faintly at the window. She pressed her hand once to the glass, and then disappeared. 

 

“Good night, m’annsachd,” he whispered before beginning the walk home.

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

 

Full of trepidation, Nikita walked into the perch, half expecting Michael to chastise her for intruding on his new territory. It didn’t matter; she had to speak to him. She didn’t like the feeling that she had slept her way into a safer position and she was going to make him see that.

 

He surprised her though by his approachable demeanor. He appeared glad to see her and willing to listen, so she began:

 

“Wallace’s death on the Odessa mission – you had to know the profile was skewed.”

 

“Yes,” he responded calmly.

 

“I don’t want special treatment,” she said firmly.

 

He hesitated for a moment then inquired, “Would you prefer to be dead?”

 

Her heart sank.  He was confirming her worst fears.

 

“So it’s true. You promoted me to keep me off the mission.”

 

He sensed the hidden anxiety behind the statement and told her what she needed to know, “I promoted you because you’re qualified and I need someone in that position I can trust.”

 

She began to feel relief but wanted to ensure that he saw her point. “If you treat me differently it’s unfair to others and to me.”

 

He knew where this was headed, but asked anyway, “What do you want?”

 

“Whether I take your place or not, I want to be back in the field.”

 

“All right,” he agreed. He’d known he wouldn’t be able to keep Nikita in DRV long.

 

She smiled as a weight was lifted from her shoulders, but realized that because of her conflicting feelings on the subject, she had yet to comment on his newfound fortune. She’d correct that oversight now.

 

“I haven’t officially congratulated you yet, so I’ll do it now… congratulations.”

 

He looked pleased, “Thank you.”

 

“How’s life at the top?”

 

He glanced down at the main floor before answering, “I have a lot to learn.”

 

She took this as her cue to leave, “Well, I’ll let you get back to work then.”

 

She started to walk away until she heard his voice calling her back.

 

“Kita…”

 

He walked toward her and she swallowed, recognizing the look. He’d darkened the windows, but she still couldn’t believe he would kiss her in the perch. She wondered absently what Operations would say if he knew.

 

His lips were so soft and inviting and his kisses so sweet.  She responded, but had to open her eyes to see if it was for real. Was this Mr. “Be Patient”? What she saw convinced her. Michael, she had observed in the past, had a habit of keeping his eyes open when kissing a target. It was his way of evaluating a seduction. When she looked at him now, though, his eyes were closed and he was giving himself completely in his touch. For him, this moment was as real as it got. She closed her eyes again and surrendered to the almost alien emotion she felt emanating from him – hope.

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

Tonight there had been another note waiting for her in the bar, but this time she tucked it into her jacket pocket unopened. Tony said nothing but grinned at her.  She licked her dry lips and began her routine warm-ups.

 

As she walked home much later, she could sense someone watching her.  Not sense in the very tangible warning way that announced an Immortal had moved too close, but she could still feel a distinct presence nonetheless. Eyes were following her every movement. She became self-conscious about every swing of an arm or leg, every turn of her head. The usually unnoticeable weight of her braid solidified and each time it brushed her back, her skin tingled.

 

The air enveloped her, moist and humid in the way only the last remnants of summer could be. She could feel its heat creeping into her clothes and small beads of sweat were forming on her skin. The warm gaze following her made her aware of every time fabric rubbed across her body and the way her silk blouse softly caressed her upper torso. Once a breeze, so light it was like a butterfly kiss, danced across her flesh, through the thin material, and tickled the small hairs on the back of her neck. She shivered and walked faster before she ended up a melted puddle on the sidewalk.

 

Reaching the sanctity of her apartment, she drew in its cool air with relief. Yet, even now she remained acutely self-aware of her body’s responses to outside stimuli. The chillier air molecules seemed to be insinuating themselves into the layers of her clothing and rapidly penetrating to her inner core. She shivered again.

 

“This is crazy,” she said aloud. “I’m doing all his work for him. I’m seducing myself.”

 

Oh, but wasn’t anticipation half the battle and half the pleasure? She pulled the letter out of her pocket and scowled at it before deciding it was a useless gesture. She slipped off her jacket and stood, envelope in hand, biting her lip.

 

Finally, she went to her stereo and turned on the CD player, letting the machine pick the disk to play. She headed upstairs as the soulful strains of Sam Cooke followed her.

 

She laid the letter on the sink in the bathroom and began filling her tub and lighting candles around the room. She added her favorite vanilla-scented oil to the water as well as bubble bath.

 

She slipped off her clothes and pinned her braid to the top of her head, then grabbing the letter, sank into the hot, soapy water with a sigh of contentment. She closed her eyes and relaxed for a few moments sensing the delicious contrast between the temperature of the water and the coolness of the rest of the room.

 

She knew too well that her resistance to Mac was down to token gestures only at this point. Frankly, she was ready to give in whenever he wanted her. Michael had been worried about her, but he didn’t know about her Immortality. So what if they canceled her? Granted she wasn’t ready to leave Section yet – she wanted to see it become a better place than the one she’d entered – but if meeting with Duncan carried that price, why shouldn’t she take it?

 

She opened her eyes and gazed at the paper in her hand. Sam Cooke’s singing “That’s Where It’s At” came floating in to her, and she smiled remembering another occasion when the music had been used to set a romantic mood.

 

Finally she tore open the envelope and discovered that Duncan was escalating the eroticism of his poetical choices:

 

Full woman, flesh-apple, hot moon,

thick smell of seaweed, mud and light in masquerade,

what secret clarity opens through your columns?

What ancient night does a man touch with his senses?

 

Oh, love is a journey with water and stars,

with drowning air and storms of flour;

love is a clash of lightnings,

two bodies subdued by one honey.

 

Kiss by kiss I travel your little infinity,

your borders, your rivers, your tiny villages;

and a genital fire – transformed, delicious –

 

slips through the narrow roadways of the blood

till it pours itself, quick, like a night carnation, till it is:

and is nothing, in shadow, and a flimmer of light.

 

At the bottom, he’d added a postscript, “The moonlight’s lovely, m’annsachd. Won’t you come join me?”

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

 

Michael left the Oversight meeting and his various conversations with a new agenda. From George, he’d learned that Paul Wolfe would have no part in the decision of when he was replaced or who his successor would be. It was an obvious ploy, but rather effective. George wanted Bergomi and he was willing to play hardball to get him.

 

The incredibly sweet moment with Nikita, before the meeting, had reinforced Michael’s desire to have a little more control over their destiny. If Bergomi would get him one step closer to that freedom, he would obtain him.

 

It wouldn’t be easy, he knew.  He had confidence in Nikita and the rest of his people, though.  If it could be done, this group would succeed, with Nikita in charge.

 

That left one other problem: Madeline.  She, no doubt, would not be eager to have him succeed in a task she had declared impossible. She would bring all of her formidable talents to stopping him and, if that failed, to reporting him. He had to see that she was unsuccessful on all counts and he thought he knew just the ally to assist him…

 

 

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

 

Mahleah let the note slip from her hand and leaned back, deep in thought. Closing her eyes, she could feel steam from the water rising up to flush her cheeks, or were they blushing for another reason?  A memory was beginning to creep irresistibly from her subconscious and she let it wash over her, flowing through her mind as the soft, sudsy water caressed her bare flesh.

 

She had been living in Paris on Mac’s barge and the day had begun in the most pleasant way possible as he woke her with a kiss and made her terribly late for all her appointments. The rest of the day had not gone as well. Her unstable and fractious first student Philip Johnson had gotten out of control and she’d broken off their training. She’d been late for rehearsal at Joe’s and been forced to reveal her secret tutorship of Philip to Mac on the way home.

 

To her surprise, his chiding was light and his lecture short. He was relieved to know what she’d been hiding from him and promised to help her resolve the whole situation later.

 

########

 

Mahleah stood on the deck of the barge gazing out at the stars but not really noticing their beauty.  Her mind was still racing with the outrageous behavior of her student and her own stupidity for agreeing to teach him in the first place.

 

Granted she’d felt sorry for Philip, who had lost everything: money, position and prestige – once he’d become Immortal. Yet, she’d known that his interest in her had never been healthy and keeping their sessions a secret from Duncan had been a strain on their burgeoning relationship.

 

Lately it seemed that she had spent more time with her problematic pupil than with her lover. She couldn’t believe that after the long wait she’d had to be with this man in such an intimate way, that she’d risked ruining it all with Philip, who couldn’t appreciate her sacrifice and expected more from her than she had to give.

 

Yesterday she’d spent a wonderful fun-filled afternoon with Mac and Richie and she’d never been happier. This morning, well actually this afternoon, Duncan had woken her with sweet kisses and languorous caresses that soon developed into a lively hour of love making until she’d dashed away to train with Philip before going to rehearsal. His insanely jealous behavior had pushed her too far and his violence was the one-drop of lava too much for Mt. Vesuvius.

 

She’d stormed out and would never return.  Things were out in the open between her and Mac and they would stay that way.

 

She absently straightened the skirt of her silk evening gown. After rehearsal, she’d returned to the barge and finding it empty decided to cheer up by wearing this brilliant red dress to sing in tonight. It was off the shoulder, exposing some flesh and had a wraparound skirt that subtly showed off her legs. The bright color had improved her mood but not as much as the look in Mac’s eyes when he saw her in it at the end of the evening.

 

When they arrived home, he’d asked her to stay above deck for a while as he had a surprise to arrange. She’d gone along with the plan, wondering exactly what he had in mind. In the car, she’d promised to start making up the time she’d been missing with him and she was looking forward to fulfilling that vow.

 

She heard him coming up behind her and turned. He was smiling widely and wearing a robe. She raised an eyebrow.

 

“Are you ready for me now?”

 

“Always,” he chuckled, “but the surprise is ready, too. Are you ready?”

 

“Absolutely,” she declared and leaned in to kiss him.

 

He returned the kiss fully, but pulled away after only a few delicious seconds. She made a small noise of protest and reached for him again, but he put a hand on her lips.

 

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

 

She looked into those dark eyes and saw nothing but devotion with a small glint of mischief there.

 

“Of course,” she told him.

 

“Close your eyes,” he instructed.

 

She did and felt him turn her body away from him. Then he wrapped a smooth silky fabric across her eyes.

 

“Mac?”

 

“Ssh, mhurninn, it will be okay. Just trust me.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He took her arm and led her inside.  She wasn’t used to moving around the barge in complete darkness. They were in the bedroom, she thought, when he stopped her and began unzipping her dress.

 

“No fair,” she began protesting. “I want to undress you too.”

 

“Later, Mahleah,” he promised. “This is all for you. I know how stressful the past few weeks have been and today was certainly no picnic. So just relax and enjoy it. Listen to the music. I had Richie make me a disk of your favorite songs.”

 

She smiled, thinking how lucky can one woman get?  She allowed herself to become uncharacteristically passive, being soothed by the feel of Duncan’s hands slipping her clothes away piece by piece and the sounds of Bono coming from the speakers.

 

Oh sugar, don’t you cry.

Oh child, wipe the tears from your eyes.

You know I need you to be strong

And the day is as dark as the night is long.

 

 Feel like trash, you make me feel clean.

 I’m in the black, can’t see or be seen.

 Baby, baby, baby light my way.

 

Once she stood naked before him, he took her arm again. Leading her a few feet away, he told her to take a step. He held onto her arm as she lowered her leg and discovered warm water.

 

“What?” she exclaimed, a little startled.

 

“It’s okay. I’ve drawn you a bath. I know how you like to soak after a rough day.”  His voice was soft and gentle and she allowed him to help her into the water, stretching herself to the length of the antique tub.

 

She could feel the liquid rippling, resettling itself around her body.  The odor of vanilla was easily detectable and something else as well. She inhaled deeply and identified it as roses. Her fingers brushed through the foamy masses surrounding her and found something floating in the water. She brought it to her nose – a flower petal.  She leaned her head back against the edge of the tub, smiling.

 

“You’ll spoil me,” she laughed throatily.

 

“I certainly intend to try to this evening,” he told her.

 

She could hear him moving beside the tub, but was losing herself in the delightful serenity of the bubble bath. Before she could completely succumb however, he lifted her arm.

 

“What are you doing?” she inquired.

 

“What does it feel like?” he countered.

 

Something wet and textured was running smoothly up her arm.

 

“You’re bathing me?” she exclaimed.

 

“Yes, mo luaidh.  Don’t worry, you can return the favor some other day. Now, just let yourself enjoy it.”

 

Her neck followed her arms and then he made her lean forward to reach her back.  The sensation of the slightly rough cloth and his powerful fingers combining was melting her skin from the bones.  She expected at any moment for her flesh to slide off her skeleton. When the cloth reached her breasts, she bit her lip to prevent herself from calling out.

 

He paused for a moment to say, “Don’t do that. There’s no one but me to hear you.” His lips brushed hers lightly and his tongue teased hers before he moved away.

 

He resumed his self-imposed ablutions and she moaned. No one had ever done anything like this for her before and the blindfold only enhanced the experience. By taking away her sight, he’d multiplied her other senses infinitely.

 

After gently cleansing her stomach, he reached into the water, pulled out a foot, and carefully cleaned each toe.  When he finished it, he placed a kiss on her inner ankle, and then moved up to her calf.

 

It was becoming harder and harder for her to breathe, especially when he moved up her thigh.  He only washed her leg, though, then moved back down to the other foot.

 

She was disappointed, “Duncan?”

 

“Don’t worry, cariad,” he said soothingly. “I’ll be back.”

 

He slowly worked his way up her other leg and this time didn’t stop at her thigh.  She cried out blissfully and felt his mouth come down to ravish hers again in a series of long kisses.  His hands never ceased moving and in the middle of a kiss, she grabbed his shoulders as her back arched.

 

Lost to the shocks coursing through her body, she was dazzled when he removed the blindfold. He maneuvered her to a strategic position, and unbound her hair from the braid that had been coiled up at the back of her neck. She was nearly limp as he poured water over her hair then began to lather it with her favorite peach shampoo.

 

“Now you’re going in for the kill,” she said dreamily. She could hear Marvin Gaye singing, “Sexual Healing” in the next room.

 

He chuckled, and then said in a low voice, “I know all your weaknesses.”

 

#########

 

Indeed, he does, Mahleah thought with amusement.  Her hair was her Achilles’ heel and having him wash it for her was one of the most pleasurable experiences she could recall.

 

After she was all rinsed, he’d dried her off with a fluffy towel. Thinking the surprises of the evening were all revealed, she was preparing to reciprocate his attack on her senses, when he’d given her one more.

 

Leaving her for a moment, he’d reappeared with a box in his hand. Opening it, he’d taken out the most gorgeous diamond bracelet she’d ever seen.  As he fastened it around her wrist, she saw the double hearts: one sapphire and one ruby.

 

“Mac!” she yelped in alarm.

 

He’d smiled in amusement, “Don’t worry, I didn’t have to sell anything to buy it. It’s yours m’annsachd, to always remind you of us.”

 

“As if I’d ever forget,” she’d told him as he’d kissed her stomach and gazed up at her with his soulful brown eyes.

 

“Come here,” she’d commanded.

 

Mahleah stood now and reached for a towel. She dried off and wrapped it around herself, then padded to her bedroom where she had a small safe.  Opening it, she took out her bracelet. Madeline had returned it while playing a mind game, but at least she had it again.

 

She turned it over and read the inscription, “M’annsachd.” He had called her that for the first time on the night he’d given it to her. It meant best beloved.  Occasionally he called her cariad, which was the strongest endearment in the Welsh language, but usually it was mhurninn or luaidh…words that meant things like darling or sweetheart in his native tongue. Mhurninn was practically a pet name for her it seemed, but m’annsachd…it was special.  It was the closest he’d ever came to telling her he loved her before their recent reconciliation.

 

True, he’d tried to tell her that when he came to see her in Virginia a couple of years ago, but she was still hurt by the loss of Richie and Duncan’s disappearance.  She had found Mark and so flown into a rage when Mac had begun bearing his heart to her. By that count then, it was only recently that the two of them were secure enough in their relationship to admit such things openly.

 

She snapped the bracelet in place on her wrist and studied it and its symbolic hearts.  She knew what she had to do.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Eleven

 

 

 

Mahleah walked onto the street outside her building keeping all of her senses alert for signs of her Immortal lover.  She couldn’t detect anything, but that same feeling of being watched by friendly eyes remained.  She kept strolling.

 

It wasn’t until she stopped outside Darius’ chapel that he made his presence known. She didn’t go through the gate but was clasping the bars of the fence when he walked up behind her.

 

“What kept you?” she asked without turning around.

 

She heard him make a sound of disapproval. “It might not have been me.”

 

“You think after all these years I couldn’t recognize your step, mo saighdear-bàrd?” She smiled. A part of him had trouble relinquishing the job of mentor.

 

“You could have been wrong.”

 

She turned to face him. “But I wasn’t. You know sometimes it seems like I’ve known you for several centuries instead of several decades, besides you’re the one that invited me into the moonlight, remember?”

 

“Yes, I did,” he agreed. “Will you walk with me?”

 

They moved off at a comfortable pace in a companionable silence. After a few minutes, Mahleah tucked her arm into his, pulling herself closer. He smiled.

 

 

“So, what brought you to the chapel?”

 

“In a way it felt like home,” she smiled. “It was the first place you brought me in Paris, and it’s always good to remember old friends.”

 

“Darius loved you too. If he could see you now, he’d be proud.”

 

She stared at him for a second, “I don’t know about that, Mac. Darius always advocated peace and nonviolence. I hardly fit into either category – especially considering my recent past.”

 

“Darius was no saint, Mahleah. None of us are. He went through a dark period too. At least you managed to avoid killing anyone.”

 

They were silent for a while, both remembering Mac’s actions while under the influence of a Dark Quickening. He had killed a friend and even years later, had trouble accepting that fact.

 

“Barely,” she finally responded, “and it took an awful lot of help. As far as Darius’ ideals are concerned, how far have I actually come? I work for an anti-terrorist agency that deals with death and mayhem on a daily basis.”

 

“True, but while I worry about you, I respect your reasons for staying. It’s not easy to influence such people, but I have every confidence that eventually you’ll have some impact.”

 

She felt a warm glow flow through her body from her hairline to her toes. Her eyes sparkled in the bright moonlight.

 

“So, where are we going?” she asked.

 

“What, you aren’t enjoying exploring the streets with me?” he teased.

 

She stopped walking and ran a hot, caressing look over his body. He felt a chill of anticipation run down his back, as he recognized the almost predatory hungriness filling her face.

 

In a split second, she had backed him up against the stone wall they’d been passing. She kissed him fiercely, sending red-hot tendrils of desire shooting through his nerves. She gave him one last possessive lick, then pulled away.

 

“I suggest you find somewhere to go soon, or I’m going to attack you right here,” she told him in a husky voice.

 

He chuckled, “I think you just did.”

 

She made a noise that was half growl, half groan, and began to lean in towards him again.

 

He put a finger across her lips in a mock self-defense.

 

“Actually, this is as good a place as any,” he said. “Once we get over the wall.”

 

“The wall?” her eyebrows shot up.

 

“Yeah, there’s a good spot right down here,” she followed him about five hundred feet.

 

She couldn’t tell the wall was any lower at this point than it had been earlier, and said so.

 

His eyes twinkled as he said, “it’s over the wall that counts. Come on.”

 

She eyed him doubtfully as he began scrambling up the stones, and then looked down at her straight skirt and dress shoes.

 

“You can’t be serious,” she protested. “You really expect me to scale a wall? I think you have me confused with Ms. ‘I really am a cat burglar’ Amanda.”

 

He was already sliding his legs over the top, but paused to look back at her.

 

“Meow,” he said mildly, and then teased, “you mean you’ve forgotten how? What kind of country girl are you? If your dad ever heard that, he’d boot you up himself.”

 

Before the words had finished coming out of his mouth, two shoes came whizzing past his head. She hiked her skirt up and began climbing as fast as she could. Unfortunately, in her haste, she dislodged them both and they fell onto the ground beneath them.

 

Mahleah felt most of the wind leave her lungs and as it returned, she felt weight on top of her. She opened her eyes to discover that she and Mac were practically nose-to-nose. His body was pinning her firmly to the grass beneath them.

 

“Very graceful,” he complimented.

 

“Well, at least we fell on the right side,” she pointed out as she wiggled slightly trying to find a more comfortable position. As she did so, her skirt pushed up to her waist and the friction re-ignited the sparks between them.

 

She looked him in the eye and began to ask the age-old question, “So did you land on your katana, or are you just happy….”

 

His mouth descended to claim hers but she refused to give over control of the kiss and their tongues battled in a reciprocal assault of erotic possession. When she could breathe again, she panted, “Well, I guess I know the answer to that.”

 

She drew him in again, and as they kissed, she drew her heel lightly up the back of his leg. She could feel him moan just before he pulled away.

 

“You don’t play fair,” he accused.

 

“Why should I? You don’t either.”

 

He got up suddenly to her dismay and offered her a hand. Confused, she found herself back on her feet, inching her skirt back down. She looked around for the first time and saw they were in a garden full of roses and other beautiful flowers, including a bush that baffled her. She walked closer, examining the leaves and delicate orange blossoms.

 

“Do you like it?” Mac asked from behind her.

 

“I swear it looks like a wild mountain honeysuckle from back home, but that’s impossible surely?”

 

“Not completely,” he was enjoying her surprise. “It took a lot of nurturing in a hothouse, but you now have a little piece of home right here in the middle of Paris. I’m afraid, though it won’t last long – this isn’t the season for honeysuckle.”

 

She turned to him in astonishment, “Duncan, where are we?”

 

“Our own little fairyland where we can make believe that the outside world doesn’t exist,” he told her.

 

She looked around and saw a pretty cottage. “What’s in there?”

 

“The solution to our problem, I hope.”

 

He led her to a set of French doors, unlocked them, and walked inside. As she stood in the doorway amazed, he began lighting candles. She saw in the flickering light a bare room except for a bed at one end, a stereo at the other and a dozen or so candles.

 

“Excuse the rather Spartan decorating plan. I thought you might like some input, and besides I’ve got the basics covered.”

 

“A bed and a stereo?” she grinned widely.

 

“Oh, I know you,” he grinned back. “Any house without music is completely unfurnished in your mind.”

 

He walked over and started the CD player. As he came back towards her the sounds of Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl” followed him.

 

She gave a little nod to indicate she was impressed, “Hey not bad. I lost my virginity to this song.”

 

At his expression she laughed, “Gotcha, but I bet a lot of girls have. It’s a classic backseat-of-a-car make-out tune.”

 

“Well, I hope to do a little better than that,” he said wryly, “and I don’t think the two of us would fit very well in a back seat.”

 

“No,” she agreed, “Too much leg and not enough space. Yeah, your plan is better.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

She chuckled, “Am I taking all the romance out of it, Mac?”

 

He moved behind her, “I’m used to your sense of humor, mhurninn.”

 

He began nuzzling the back of her neck, sliding her jacket to the floor.

 

“I saved a poem just for this occasion,” he whispered, one of his hands coming to rest on her belly. “Would you like to hear it?”

 

“Yes,” she answered softly.

 

“Naked you are as simple as one of your hands,

smooth, earthy, small transparent, round:

you have moon-lines, apple-pathways:

naked, you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.

 

“Naked, you are blue as a night in Cuba;

you have vines and stars in your hair;

naked, you are spacious and yellow

as summer in a golden church.

 

Naked, you are tiny as one of your nails –

Curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born

And you withdraw to the underground world,

 

As if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores:

Your clear light dims, gets dressed – drops its leaves –

And becomes a naked hand again.”

 

As he recited, his voice warm and sonorous, his hands were busily discarding articles of clothing. Occasionally, a line would be lost as he murmured it into her skin before laying claim to it and her mind filled in the gaps from memory. When he finished speaking, she took a shuddery breath in order to say, “I’m ordering you spectacles. Your four hundred years are finally catching up with you, Mac. There’s nothing tiny about me.”

 

He turned her to face him and kissed her before responding, “You’re a perfect fit for me. God made us to match.”

 

She could feel the slippery silk of his shirt, the hard roundness of its buttons, and the cool metal of his belt buckle against her bare skin.

 

“Why are you still dressed?” she inquired, her fingers flying over said buttons. Dropping to her knees, she worked on his buckle and fly. Her mouth, hot and moist as the night air, hovered above his newly uncovered flesh.

 

He saw her eyes gleaming with expectation. Mahleah was very much a creature of moods and her lovemaking was a direct reflection of that fact. Tonight she was nearly wild with passion and he fully intended to match her bite for bite and scratch for scratch.

 

“Later,” he growled and pulled her from the floor, heading for the bed.

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

Michael stood beside Nikita as she slept with her head on one of Walter’s workbenches.  The older man had cautioned him about waking her up as “sugar could use some rest.” Although he would have loved to have her join him for the last few hours of sleep they could get tonight, she looked so peaceful that he couldn’t disturb her.

 

The course of action that he was about to initiate was risky and would require him to entrust his life and career in Section to the capabilities of others.  Was it sensible to pursue this plan?  If he carried it out, he would quite possibly make Paul Wolfe and Madeline into enemies – not a situation to be taken lightly. Perhaps he should just maintain the status quo until the time came for a new Operations to be appointed.

 

He reached down and swept a long lock of pale hair that was covering her face back behind an ear.  She stirred and he held his breath hoping he hadn’t woken her. She snuggled her face into the crook of her arm as she murmured his name. His heart nearly stopped, and he swallowed.

 

No, he decided, no matter the cost to himself he would see the scheme through.  If there was a chance that he could ensure a safer future for her…for them both, he had to take it.  It was about time to place a telephone call.

 

*********

 

Mahleah yawned as she laid her head on Mac’s chest. He was absently running his hands through her hair, and his expression indicated he was deep in thought.

 

She looked up and said, “A franc for your thoughts.”

 

He smiled at her, “Sorry, I was just reflecting on our earlier conversation.”

 

“Really,” She began running her nails lightly down his chest.

 

“Not that conversation,” he chuckled, “Although you were quite articulate.”

 

“What then?”

 

She saw him hesitate, before making the decision to speak, “I said that none of us were saints.”

 

The corners of her mouth twitched as she replied, “I think we just proved that.”

 

Tempting as it was, he didn’t let himself be sidetracked. “Well, there are some things you don’t know about me – things about my past.”

 

She frowned, “I thought you’d already filled me in on all the gruesome details. What else is there?”

 

He evaded the question for a moment to ask one of his own, “Do you ever regret becoming Immortal?”

 

She propped herself up on her elbows, surprised by such a serious question, “Yes, sometimes.  I mean, I hate the fact that I’m constantly faced with the decision of kill or be killed.” Her voice dropped a little, “I’m sorry that I can never have children.”

 

He blinked, feeling his eyes get a little moist.  He could envision her as a mother so plainly. She would be loving, protective, and fun as a parent.  She would lavish attention on her children to make up for the neglect she herself had suffered. In his mind, he saw visions of her at every age; only strangely enough, he could see himself in the bones of the child’s face.  Ah, it was never to be.

 

She continued, “You have to take the bad with the good, though. Everything has its price. Most of the time I’m fine with it, in fact,” she ducked her head, “the thought that I could spend centuries with you makes up for all the sacrifices I have to make in the meantime.”

 

He closed his eyes briefly, and she tugged on his chin, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

 

He sighed, “I’ve just wondered if you’ve ever thought about what your life would have been like if I hadn’t thrown you into that tree.”

 

She thought she understood. “Duncan, I thought we’d been over this, years ago.  It was an accident: you weren’t yourself. Remember? You were suffering from the effects of a Dark Quickening. The part of you that was still left was terrified that the evil inside you would hurt me.  When you pushed me away, you had no way of knowing my head would hit a tree. If I can accept that, why can’t you?”

 

He was silent for a long moment, and then finally said, “Maybe I doubt my motives sometimes.”

 

“Why?”

 

Again, he answered her with a question. “Did you ever wonder why I never warned you that you were a pre-Immortal?”

 

“Not really,” she replied. “I mean I figured you thought I should have as normal a life as possible before it changed forever.”

 

He nodded, “That’s true, I did. Have you realized yet that if you hadn’t died a violent death, you would have lived a normal mortal life?  You would have grown old and died.”

 

She looked at him wondering where all this was going, “It wasn’t meant to be, and I can never have any satisfaction in life by dwelling on what-could-have-beens instead of counting the blessings I’ve been given.”

 

He kissed her forehead, “There are times,” he admitted, “When you seem older than me.”

 

“What’s all this about, Mac?”

 

He was quiet for so long this time that she thought he’d gone into a trance.  At last, he began the explanation she needed, “This isn’t easy for me to talk about. I’ve never admitted this before to anyone and the only person who has any clue other than Kate, is Connor.”

 

“Who’s Kate?” it was a simple question and she received a simple answer in return, but the force of it nearly staggered her with its implications.

 

“My wife.”

 

“Your…” She couldn’t find words. Sentences, questions, shouts, all dried up on the tip of her tongue. She threw back the sheet and sat on the edge of the bed. He put a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off and stood up.  She remained motionless for a moment, but then began to pace the room.

 

“Mahleah?”

 

When he called her name, all her vocal abilities returned in a rush and she managed to ask in a strained voice, “Your wife? Funny, I’ve never heard you mention her before.”

 

He watched her as she stalked across the room. “I haven’t seen her since our wedding night.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“She died,” he said matter-of-factly.

 

“Oh God!” she exclaimed and rushed back to the bed. “I’m sorry, Duncan, but why didn’t you ever mention her before?  I could have sworn that I’d heard you say that you’d never been married.”

 

He looked at her with sad eyes, not feeling as if he deserved her pity. “I was too ashamed to talk about Kate. As I’ve said we’ve all done things in life we’re not proud of and Kate tops my list.”

 

Her brow creased, as she tried to take in all this new information.

 

He licked his lips. “I met Kate in Ireland in the seventeenth century. I hadn’t been Immortal a terribly long time and was a bit unsure what it was that I felt whenever I got around her.”

 

She raised an eyebrow, “I know you’ve described your clan as being a little behind the times, but you’ll never make me believe that you didn’t recognize lust when you felt it.”

 

He gave her a weak smile, “Oh, I recognized that all right, but it took Connor dropping by on our wedding day to clarify matters for me.  Kate was pre-Immortal.”

 

Mahleah drew back a little, “And someone took her head on your wedding night?”

 

“No,” he shook his head. “After we made love, I stabbed her.”

 

She stared at him with horror. When her voice returned, she asked, “Why?”

 

He couldn’t look her in the face, “When Connor told me what she was he also pointed out that I had a choice to make.  If Kate didn’t die a violent death she would age and die like a normal human being. On the other hand, if she died violently she would be Immortal caught in the prime of her life.  He told me how hard it had been watching his own mortal wife, Heather, through the years, knowing that someday she would be taken from him. I thought I’d never be able to do such a thing, but when she went to sleep, I was so full of love for her that the thought that we could be together forever was too overwhelming. So, I made her Immortal.”

 

The full horror of his story struck her, “You made the decision? Didn’t she have a say in her own life?”

 

He managed to look her in the eyes as he answered, “I thought she wouldn’t have understood. So, I made the choice for her.”

 

“Duncan,” to say she was shocked was the understatement of the millennium. “What happened to her?”

 

“When she revived, I tried to explain things to her, but she was too confused and terrified to listen. She ran out and I’ve never been able to find her since.  In my bones I know she hates me.”

 

She tried to assimilate these new facts into her perceptions of Duncan.  She visualized him, young and passionate, trying to make the right choice but knowing there wasn’t really a perfect solution. She could see him with blood on his hands, trembling at his terrible deed, and knew that even now he hadn’t forgiven himself for this tragedy. Suddenly recalling the remarks he’d used to preface this incredible tale, she perceived with an uncanny insight that he feared that some part of himself had repeated history by making her Immortal.  It was no wonder that he couldn’t face her or himself the morning after her change. They’d made love for the first time, and later he had, no doubt, compared the situation to his own private nightmare.

 

She discovered that in the depths of her soul, she felt no anger towards him for his actions or for keeping them a secret from her.  He’d obviously been in agony over the past for a long time. It would have been nice if he could have had some sort of closure, but that didn’t seem possible now. She also realized something important about his relationship with herself: he had admitted to an act that apparently he’d hidden for centuries. He had not even confessed to Amanda or Tessa, possibly fearing they would turn away from him after learning the truth.

 

She looked at him as he was now and felt her heart ache with sadness for all the pain he’d suffered in his life.  There was no way to take it away – it was a part of him, wound up with all of his stubbornness, honor, and compassion, in short everything that made him Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod and she loved him because, not in spite, of it all. At times like this she felt immeasurable older than he, and briefly wondered where the feeling came from.

 

“My poor Duncan,” she said softly. “You’ve been carrying that guilt for a long time. I’m glad you told me.”

 

He was still uncertain, “Are you sure?”

 

She smiled, “The truth shall set you free, mo saighdear-bàrd.  It hurts, but I prefer it to ignorance.”

 

She stroked his hair and softly hugged him. Her eyes were overflowing from emotion and he began wiping her face and kissing the tears away.

 

“I love you, Mahleah,” he said in her ear.

 

“I know,” she answered, and indeed in that moment, she was completely full of the emotions she felt coming from him.

 

“There’s something else I want to tell you,” he ventured.

 

“What?” she groaned, “Can’t it wait?  I think I’ve had all the shocks I can take for one night.”

 

His eyes smiled at her, “Oh, this is nothing like the last little revelation. Just remind me to tell you someday about my first sword master, Morgan MacLeod.”

 

“I thought your first teacher was Connor?”

 

“The first to teach me about the Game, yes. Morgan was the first to teach me to use a sword at all.”

 

“Did you kill Morgan?”

 

“No.”

 

“He can wait,” she declared and began kissing him before he could tell her that Morgan was a woman.

 

Her cell-phone chose that moment to buzz. At first, she didn’t realize what it was, and then she groaned, “Oh hell, why do they always have to pick the worst time?”

 

“Ignore it,” he suggested.

 

“I can’t,” she crawled out of bed, and began searching through her clothes for the offending instrument.

 

“If I don’t answer, they’ll have people out looking for me,” she told him. “Besides, this could actually be important.”

 

She finally found the telephone and answered, “Hello.”

 

“Kensei,” Michael’s voice lilted into her ear.

 

She sighed, “How soon?”

 

“Twenty minutes.”

 

“Fine, I’ll be there.” She hung up and looked with regret at Mac. “I’ve got to go.”

 

“So, I hear. Was that Michael?”

 

“Yeah, and he’s temporarily the guy in charge so I really have to go.” She began scrambling for clothes.

 

“Did he mention I talked to him in the park?”

 

She stared at him for a moment, “No, that was you? Well, that explains the third degree I got later.”

 

In her hurry, she put on his shirt, but he made no comment.  If Michael were questioning their relationship, this would be a good test, while he was in charge, to see exactly where his loyalties lay: with Section or his friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

 

 

Mahleah was very annoyed to discover when she arrived at Section that Michael had left word that she needed to wait for their meeting, as he was tied up at the moment. She stared at Birkoff in disbelief. It had taken forever for her to find a taxi as well as a considerable bribe for the driver to ensure she arrived on time.

 

“Well, you can inform Mr. Big Shot that when he decides he wants to meet, he can find me,” she declared.

 

Birkoff swallowed, “Mahleah, it might not be wise to antagonize Michael right now.”

 

She rolled her eyes, “He needs to descend from his lofty perch before he gets a nosebleed. Don’t worry I’m not going to leave Section, but the mountain is definitely going to have to get off its high horse and come to Muhammad.” 

 

As Birkoff watched, a particularly impish smile crossed her face and she walked off in the direction of Michael’s old office.

 

She let herself in, shut the door behind her and raised her eyebrows.  “Well, this should be fun,” she said aloud.

 

********

 

When Michael walked into the office, a sonic boom of electric guitars assaulted his ears. Where was it coming from? Looking across the room, he saw that Mahleah had appropriated his desk and was lounging in his chair with her back to him. Her hair peeked out over the top of the chair and her legs were crossed and resting with her feet on the wall. Bare flesh stared at him from limbs that went on forever. He pulled his eyes from the tantalizing display. Leave it to Mahleah to use every weapon at her disposal.

 

She was singing along with the blaring rock music.

 

Listen here, baby, and stop acting so crazy.

You say your mum ain’t home, it ain’t my concern.

Just play with me and you won’t get burned.

 

“Make yourself at home,” he commented dryly.

 

“Thank you, I have,” she said pleasantly and swung the chair around. She repositioned her legs across his desk. The light reflected from her dark sunglasses as she continued the lyric, “Oh, move over Rover and let Jimi take over.”

 

“Jimi Hendrix?” he inquired.

 

She nodded, smiling broadly.

 

“How?”

 

Her smile got even wider. “While I was waiting for you I downloaded a few essential files onto your hard drive.”

 

“Why?”

 

She made a dismissive gesture with her hand, as “Fire” segued into “The Wind Cries Mary.” At least this one was a little quieter, he thought.

 

“My father and first boyfriend were guitar players.” She shrugged, “So sue me.”

 

After all the jacks are in their boxes,

And the clowns have all gone to bed,

You can hear happiness staggering on down the street,

Footprints dressed in red.

And the wind whispers Mary.

 

“Not why Jimi Hendrix, why music at all?”

 

She peered at him over her sunglasses.

 

A broom is drearily sweeping

Up the broken pieces of yesterday’s life.

Somewhere a Queen is weeping,

Somewhere a King has no wife.

And the wind it cries Mary.

 

“If you have to ask, my dear Musashi, the answer becomes glaringly obvious.” She pushed the glasses back up her nose.

 

The traffic lights they turn blue tomorrow

And shine their emptiness down on my bed,

The tiny island sags downstream

‘Cause the life that they lived is dead,

And the wind screams Mary.

 

She drew her legs slowly back across the desk, and then hopped on top of it on her knees. The light off the glasses was like her laughter at his uneasiness.

 

“Leave it to me, Michael. I’ll see you get straightened out,” she promised huskily.

 

Will the wind ever remember

The names it has blown in the past,

And with this crutch, its old age and its wisdom

It whispers, “No, this will be the last.”

And the wind cries Mary.

 

He allowed himself to sigh, “Please stop acting like a sex kitten. We have important matters to discuss.”

 

An eyebrow rose above the shades. “You want me to restrain myself?”

 

He just stared at her until she laughed.  She swung her legs out from under her and perched on the edge of his desk.  Pushing the glasses to the top of her head she told him, “Well then, stop making yourself so much damn fun to tease.”

 

Great, she was in a rare mood this morning. He had already noticed a distinctive, musky scent about her and had no illusions about what she’d been doing when he called. No doubt, several hours of passion lay behind her flippant sense of humor.

 

“Excuse me,” he said. He wanted to activate his lockout of the security cameras and microphones in the room.

 

“Allow me,” she offered. Shifting to the side, she tapped a few keys on his laptop and entered a code into the control panel in his drawer. The sounds of “All Along the Watchtower” burst from his speakers with a roar.

 

“If anyone’s interested all they’ll hear is Jimi,” she commented. “Of course if you’re dead serious about disguising our purpose, you could crack the door and I’ll scream your name really loudly. Unfortunately, that might provoke an assassination attempt from your girlfriend so Jimi’ll have to do.  Now, what’s so bloody important Michael, that you called me in here at this ungodly hour.”

 

“There must be some way out of here,” said the joker to the thief,

“There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief.

Businessmen, they drink my wine. Plowmen dig my earth,

None of them along the line know what any of it is worth.”

 

The rapidity with which she could ricochet between layers of her multi-faceted personality nearly gave him whiplash. She was very much in earnest now while two seconds ago she’d been flirty.

 

“I need you to do something for me,” he said as softly as he could over the cacophonous wall of sound.

 

“Which is?”

 

“I’m about to initiate a mission and I’d rather Madeline know as little as possible about it. In fact, if Operations didn’t learn about it until his return that would be perfect,” he informed her.

 

She nodded, obviously evaluating the ramifications of his request. “To quote a higher authority: why?”

 

“No reason to get excited,” the thief, he kindly spoke.

“There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke,

But you and I, we’ve been through that, and this is not our fate.

So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late.”

 

Here he knew that he would have to reveal more of his plan than he could to Nikita.  If his lover thought that any of the risks he would be going through had anything to do with her, she would rebel. Mahleah, on the other hand, would never cooperate unless she saw the seriousness of the situation.

 

“We will be increasing our efforts to locate and destroy Luigi Bergomi and his organization.  Operations and Madeline have not been able to complete this directive in the past and would not be pleased if Section, under my control, were to succeed in this task.”

 

“Granted, but why would you risk their wrath at all?  What’s in it for you that would make the gamble worth half as much as you could lose?”

 

He looked her in the eye, “Being chosen to replace Paul Wolfe as Operations permanently.”

 

She thought about this for a moment, then walked back around to his chair and sat down, “Interesting. I assume George has given you a hint about such an appointment.” She looked him dead in the eye, “Why should I care?”

 

“For a woman who has illicitly resumed an affair with a man from her past, you are being incredibly indiscreet.”

 

She shrugged, “The only person who knows is you.”

 

“For now,” he gazed at her quite intently, “but I can’t guarantee that Madeline won’t find out soon.”

 

She leaned forward, “And if you’re in charge of Section?”

 

“As long as he doesn’t become a security risk, I don’t care.”

 

She smiled, “Nice try, but no sell.” She leaned back.  “I have little interest in internal power struggles.”

 

He had thought he was using his ace. His only backup was his most selfish reason: “There would be no one interfering in my own relationship with Nikita.”

 

“Ah,” she smiled, and stood up. “That’s all you had to say, Michael. You can count on me.”

 

He was baffled and she could see it in his eyes.

 

“I had to know your true motivations, Musashi.  You’re fighting to keep her -- I can appreciate that. Since this is about protecting the woman you love, you’ll have all the help I can give you.”

 

“Thank you,” he said simply.

 

She headed toward the door, “Don’t start being grateful, I haven’t managed to pull this little caper off yet.  Madeline’s resources are nothing to sneeze at.”

 

Stopping at the open door, she pulled the shades off the top of her head and placed them in a similar position in his hair.  “I found these in one of your desk drawers – pretty cool. There’s hope for you yet.”

 

As she walked off, the last lines of the Hendrix version of the Bob Dylan song rang in his head.

 

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view

While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.

 

Outside in the cold distance a wildcat did growl,

Two riders were approaching, and the wind began to howl.

 

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

 

Michael had just made sure that Mahleah would have all the tools she needed for this challenging assignment when Nikita caught up with him. He saw her coming, and stopping on the landing beside his office, he called to her, “Good morning.”

 

He saw her blue eyes sparkle as she walked toward him. “Hey,” she returned. When she reached him, she looked up and remarked, “You should have woken me last night.”

 

Obviously, she knew he had been by Munitions.  He felt his face soften as he looked at her.

 

“You looked like you needed rest,” he told her, and started down the stairway. It did his soul good to see how much she cared about him. Unfortunately, a moment was all he could allow himself. It was time to put the other part of his plan into action.

 

“Check your panel. I’ve made some changes,” he said softly.

 

*******

 

Mahleah had seen Nikita leave Munitions looking for Michael, no doubt. She walked on in to find Walter with a wistful expression on his face.

 

“What is it?” she inquired, as she hopped onto the very table Nikita had just vacated.

 

Walter, too, noticed Mahleah’s ever-so-slightly unkempt appearance.  Her hair was down which was highly unusual, and her silk shirt was both suspiciously masculine in cut and style, and buttoned wrong. Like Michael, he detected a faint but telltale scent and then, of course, there was the glow….

 

“What have you been up to?” he quizzed, ignoring her earlier question, “As if I didn’t know.”

 

She laughed, “I have to admit I love messing with Michael’s head, and since he’s the one in charge that makes him even more fun to torment.”

 

Walter cocked an eyebrow. “I hope Michael’s not the one responsible for that rosy complexion or Nikita’s going to come gunning for you.”

 

“Oh no,” she dismissed, “nothing like that. Just a little good-natured teasing.”

 

“Yeah, well, you’ve been into more than teasing tonight,” he told her.

 

“Wow, it’s too quiet in here,” she complained, hopping off the table and heading for his portable tape player. Curious, she hit play and discovered it had been turned off in the middle of “Layla.”

 

She turned back to him grinning, “Eric Clapton?”

 

“Hey, what can I say? It’s entirely your influence.”

 

“I hope so.  Is the whole tape Clapton?”

 

“Nope, it’s a mix. There’s a little bit of everything on there.”

 

“Cool.” She turned the volume up to a tooth-rattling decibel.  “I like the location, too.” He had strategically placed the speakers next to where she knew the surveillance cameras were hidden.

 

She returned to her table and he continued his questions, “Now, that you’ve conveniently drowned out listening ears, how about telling me why you’re looking so smugly satisfied.”

 

“Why Walter, I don’t know what you’re referring to,” she said coyly batting her eyes.

 

“Don’t play Scarlett O’Hara with me,” he growled. “I know that look, remember. All you need to complete the picture is to smoke a cigarette and hum ‘I’ve Got Rhythm,’ ‘cause you’ve certainly had some recently.”

 

“Walter!”

 

His look got more serious, “Is he in Section?”

 

When she shook her head, he frowned, “Be careful, darlin’.  Madeline and Operations tend to frown upon that sort of stuff.”

 

“Oh, what don’t they frown about?” she deliberately dismissed the warning, not wanting to take a chance on getting him into trouble. “So, what was wrong with you when I walked in?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” At her look, he sighed. “Let’s just say that lately this table is seeing more action than I am.”

 

She smiled and kissed his cheek, “Walter, honey, dozens of women around here are interested in you and don’t you dare say there aren’t.”

 

“You think so?”

 

“I know so,” she said firmly.

 

“Well, send a few my way, huh?” he smiled.

 

“The next chance I get,” she promised. He saw her fingers drumming on the table to the beat of the music and she began humming under her breath.

 

“One of these days I’m going to make it out to one of your shows,” he said.

 

“Please do,” she said absently.

 

“Hey, where did you disappear to?”

 

Her eyes snapped back into focus, “Oh, I was just listening to the music – wishing I could do that.”

 

“Do what?” he asked with genuine puzzlement.  “You’re a fabulous singer.”

 

She gave him a small smile, “Thanks. I don’t know about fabulous but I can carry a tune. No, I was listening to the guitar.”

 

He still didn’t get it, “I thought you played guitar?”

 

“Oh, I can play, but it’s not one of my gifts.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Well, I coaxed my next-door neighbor to teach me to play when I was a kid, and then worked on my dad to help me out, but I don’t have the knack for it. There’s nothing wrong with my technique but my playing has no fire to it, no soul.  I’ll never be a great guitarist. I just can’t seem to express with my fingers what I can with my voice.”

 

He listened intently, touched that she would share this with him.

 

“Most people assume that because you’re a musician you can sing or play anything and I’m sure there are people out there who can.” She laughed. “That’s what’s known as genius. No, every now and then I find a spark within me and I can feel the fire in my heart making its way through the strings but usually I’m just competent.” She winked at him, “It might take a real musician to tell it, though. My father made sure I had everything else down. I’ll never be in his league, though, or my other teacher’s or any of the many gifted players I’ve met over the years.  I guess I’ll just have to be grateful to have the voice I’ve been given.”

 

“At least you realize that,” he said softly.

 

She cleared her throat, wanting to change the topic, “Yeah, well, riveting as this conversation is, we have work to do, my friend. We’re going to need some help, I think.”

 

She hopped down again and catching Birkoff’s attention motioned him over. He shook his head, indicating he was busy.  She frowned, and pantomimed whirling a sword around and then making a rather gruesome face, mimicked slitting her throat.  She saw him swallow and nod.

 

“Good boy,” she murmured, a little grimly.  “Hail, hail the gang’s all here, so let the games begin. Heaven help us.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

 

 

 

As Birkoff made his way to them, he was scowling, “Look, I don’t have time to play around,” he grumbled. “Michael has me working on this layered matrix he promised the other Sections.”

 

“I know,” Mahleah nodded, then smiled gently at him and patted his shoulder, “but this takes precedence over even the matrix.”

 

“What do you need?” he asked. He was starting to get a little nervous, she thought, and who could blame him?

 

She dropped the mask of joviality she’d been wearing. This was as serious as business got for them. She had agreed to help Michael because if his plan succeeded and he became Operations permanently she would have no qualms about leaving Section and resuming a life of her own. The risks were as great as the rewards tentative however, especially for a woman with as many secrets as she possessed.  She had been telling herself that her greatest fear was that one of her friends would be hurt or cancelled, and while that was still true if she was completely honest a totally personal nightmare haunted her subconscious: the dread that her Immortality would be discovered. She could imagine what horrific procedures she, or Duncan perhaps, might be subjected to should such a revelation be made.  

 

She was uncertain about another confrontation with Madeline. The memories of the last still made her cheeks burn and there was so much more at stake than her romantic relationship with Walter this time. Still, what choice did she have?  Michael had asked for her help, and she would give him all she had.

 

She sighed, “Well boys, Michael has decided to go after Luigi Bergomi again.”

 

Birkoff swallowed, “Operations is not going to like that.”

 

“Operations isn’t here,” Walter pointed out.

 

“But Madeline is,” Birkoff responded, “and she’ll make sure that Operations is contacted at Center.”

 

“No, she won’t,” Mahleah said grimly, “because it’s our job to stop her.”

 

The three looked at each other, assessing just how dangerous this mission could be.

 

Walter finally broke the silence, “What’s the plan?”

 

“The two of you will help me tap into her communications.  Anytime someone sends her a message, I need to know about it and vice versa. I want to know who she sees and what she does.”

 

“None of us have that kind of access,” Birkoff told her. “Least of all you, Mahleah, you’re still a level one operative.”

 

“I’m aware of that,” she replied with a calmness she didn’t feel inside. “Michael has given me the access and the codes we’ll need. You’ll provide the knowledge and I’ll run interference.  If Madeline decides to retaliate against anyone, I’ll make sure it’s me.”

 

Walter started to protest, but she put a hand over his mouth, “No, any fallout will be on Michael and myself otherwise I’d go back and tell him the whole thing’s impossible.” He recognized the stubborn look in her eyes and nodded.

 

“Good, now let’s get to work.”  She gave them a wolfish grin, “Once more into the breach, dear friends.”

 

********

 

When Mahleah stepped into the perch, Michael noticed that she’d cleaned up. Her hair was now tightly braided, her clothes fit into the dark “Section uniform” most operatives preferred, and she smelled clean.  Obviously, she was ready for whatever conflict was about to arise.

 

“So far, the only problem we’ve discovered is a man named Mintz,” she informed him.

 

“From DRV?”

 

“Yes, as soon as Nikita left him working on the upcoming mission he contacted Madeline.  We were just getting set up and so were able to monitor the call but not to prevent it.”

 

“She knows then?”

 

“Yes, but so far she’s made no attempts to contact Paul Wolfe. What would you like to do?”

 

Madeline probably thought she would be able to influence him into aborting the entire project. She would be unpleasantly surprised once she realized that she had no influence on him.

 

“Obviously Mintz cannot be trusted,” he said softly. “I’ll need you to take care of him.”

 

“Fine,” she started to leave.

 

“Mahleah,” he called after her. “Will you cancel him?”

 

She turned and looked at him, “No.”

 

Inwardly he felt relieved, but he tried to appear stern, “Why not?”

 

“He hasn’t betrayed the Section, only you,” she pointed out. “I daresay, the primary motivation for such behavior is fear. He’s terrified of Madeline, but who isn’t?”

 

“What will you do?” he inquired.

 

She studied him, “What would you like done?”

 

“He should be transferred,” Michael decided, “to a substation where he’s no longer a threat.”

 

And he’ll also be protected from the wrath of Madeline and Operations, she thought with approval.  Nice thinking, Musashi, that’s the reason I’m risking my head to help you.

 

“I’ll see to it he leaves immediately,” she told him, and left.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Sixteen

 

 

 

 

In DRV, Mahleah stood quietly observing Mintz for several moments before he noticed her.  He rather resembled a frightened weasel, she decided, one trying to sneak into the hen house knowing there’s a bloodhound on his scent. Eventually, he straightened from his computer, pushed his glasses up and asked in a rather snide voice, “What’s your problem?”

 

She maintained her casual stance not even raising an eyebrow, “I’m trying to decide if you’re an idiot or a coward.”

 

She saw his face flush with anger and he shot back, “I don’t have to take that from a class one op.”

 

She began walking toward him, “Normally, no, you wouldn’t,” she agreed pleasantly, “but things change.”

 

As she got closer to him, she saw him really take her in -- her height and her build as well as her reputation. She was, after all, the “newbie” who had managed to knock Michael out, the recruit who got through training in a matter of months, the operative who got ticked off at Zalman and… well... He swallowed and glanced back at his monitor, “I don’t have time for this.”

 

She had reached his workstation and leaned in, taking a great interest in the images on his screen as she spoke, “Oh, I think you do. Let me tell you something about myself – I really have a hard time appreciating disloyalty.”

 

From the corner of her eye, she saw a muscle twitch in his cheek, but he continued to protest, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

She looked him in the eye and saw him blink, then look away, “Oh, I’m talking about that little phone call to Madeline you made earlier. I’m afraid she can’t help you now.”

 

“You have no power over me,” he managed to say. “Nikita’s gone on a mission, and she’s Michael’s replacement, among other things.”

 

Mahleah straightened, and folded her arms across her chest, “That’s right, she is.  Think of it this way: if Nikita is Michael’s right-hand, I’m his left.  In other words, she may hold his heart, but I protect his assets.”

 

He managed to pull out a little backbone and sneered at her, “You’re his enforcer?  What, is he screwing you too?”

 

She smiled, unpleasantly and swung his chair around to face her. Putting her hands on each side of his body and getting in his face, she told him, “Say that again friend Mintz, and the two of us will throw down right here.”  There was a long weighty pause as she stared at him then continued, “Michael doesn’t promote people because he’s sleeping with them. That would be shortsighted and stupid and he’s neither of those things. You, on the other hand, are both and so, I’m afraid, you’ll have to go.” 

 

His eyes were wide with fear as he asked, “You – you’re not going to cancel me?”

 

She held him in suspense for another few seconds then told him, “No, you’re still valuable. You just need to reevaluate your priorities. Once you’re out of Section One, you’ll have plenty of time for that.”

 

She stood as he asked, “Where am I going?”

 

“The substation in the Balkans, I think. By the time you’re ready to return to Section One you’ll have, no doubt, returned to your current status as well.”

 

“I’m being demoted and transferred?” He was outraged. “You can’t. I protest.”

 

Any pleasantness disappeared from her demeanor, as she coldly informed him, “I can, I will, and count yourself lucky you don’t have to face Madeline or Operations after Michael and Nikita succeed where they couldn’t.  Let’s go.”

 

********

 

When Nikita returned from the mission to retrieve LeMaye, who hopefully would lead them to Bergomi, she found Michael waiting for her on a catwalk above van access.

 

“What about the guard?” he asked.

 

She waited until her team had led LeMaye away to respond, “He was hit, but I don’t know how badly.”

 

“Why not?” he wanted to know.

 

“We still haven’t recovered the body,” she told him, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer.

 

“Why is he loose?” he was getting straight to the point.

 

Her loyalties divided. She felt she owed Michael an explanation, but she was responsible for her team and the operative in question lost her life because a stupid piece of hardware had malfunctioned.

 

“A gun jammed,” she explained. “There was no satellite coverage.”

 

Michael looked at her coolly, “Any other excuses?”

 

She felt a little irritated. She lost team members and this was his response? She looked down for a moment to regain her cool, and then raised her head, “No.”

 

“LeMaye will give us the location. Start planning the assault,” he told her.

 

Anger began building back up inside her. She managed to suppress it. Michael had to realize what this meant to any follow-up missions. How many people was he willing to risk in carrying off this self-imposed task?

 

“There’s a significant chance that the bodyguard survived. If he did, Bergomi may trace the attack back to us,” she said, stating the obvious.

 

“Or he may not,” he responded.

 

She nodded her head to indicate that yes, that was also a possibility, but she stuck to her original query.  “We should at least do a decent risk assessment,” she volunteered.

 

“No,” he told her firmly. “Delay only increases the risk. I want a full Debrief on this mission and a preliminary profile of the assault.  You have two hours.”  He walked away.

 

Well, you wanted him to treat you professionally, she told herself. You got your wish.  It wasn’t the demands on her skills that bothered her, however, it was the cool way he could dismiss the risks her team would be taking. Again, she swallowed the anger.  She had a profile to create.

 

 

Chapter Seventeen

 

 

 

At first Madeline was amused at the various rock songs she discovered whenever she attempted to access the surveillance logs.  Someone, and she knew exactly who, was being both creative and impudent in her attempts to camouflage Michael’s activities.  When despite her own efforts she remained unable to discover what the exact plans against Bergomi were, however, she began to find the diversionary tactics less amusing.

 

It still angered her to know that Michael not only allowed George to talk him into this scheme, but that he wouldn’t listen to her attempts to talk him out of it. He had allowed her to counsel him, and then blithely advised her that she should get back to work – effectively dismissing her. Her mouth tightened at the thought.

 

When she learned of Mintz’s abrupt transferal, and realized that her communications were being carefully monitored the situation assumed an intolerable status. It was time for her to act. If Michael was being stubborn perhaps she could make one of his supporters see reason.

 

Nikita would be harder to affect directly. Her loyalty to Michael would preclude any obvious methods of persuasion, but perhaps she could be convinced to cooperate for Michael’s own good. Yet Nikita was not the one behind this campaign of misdirected communications.

 

Mahleah was the person Madeline wanted on her side. Michael was evidently employing her to carry out the subtler portions of his campaign, so if she could be turned his plans would fold up like an accordion. With Mahleah’s help, she could report Michael’s behavior to Operations and Center. Now, if she could only find just the right lever. Scrolling through Mahleah’s personnel file, a name caught her eye. Looking at the file on her screen a slow smile drifted across her face: yes, she thought she had the key to Mahleah’s cooperation in front of her. 

 

*******

 

As Mahleah walked toward Madeline’s office in response to the other woman’s summons, she took deep breaths to prepare herself for the upcoming battle. In this fight, the wounds would, probably, be mental rather than physical but she expected them to be very bloody nonetheless.

 

Stay calm, she told herself. Show no fear. If she senses she’s rattled me she’s won, so I have to maintain my cool no matter how much she threatens, cajoles, seduces, or out and out pisses me off.

 

She rounded the corner thinking, Okay this it. Remember there are many people counting on you here. Don’t let them down. Madeline may have won her last round with you, but you cannot let her take this one as well.

 

She pulled herself to her full height, raised her chin and walked into the spider’s web with her eyes wide open.

 

“Hello, Mahleah,” Madeline greeted her warmly. “Please have a seat.”

 

The young Immortal sat down cautiously. She’d been warned about Madeline smiling – it was almost inevitably a danger signal. “Treat her like you would any other dog that was showing you her teeth,” Walter had advised. Truly, for Walter’s sake alone, she couldn’t afford to screw up this meeting.

 

She smiled pleasantly back at Madeline. “You wanted to see me?”

 

“Yes, I wanted to congratulate you on your recent resourcefulness. I hope Michael is properly appreciative of your special skills.”

 

“What skills are you referring to, Madeline?” Mahleah inquired.

 

“Your ability to block all my attempts at communication,” Madeline replied, with no hint of hostility.

 

Mahleah wondered about her strangely pleased expression, “Someone has been disrupting your communications? You should speak to Michael.”

Madeline laughed lightly, “There’s no need, I know precisely who is responsible. You misunderstand me. I’m commending you. Just one question: how long is this blackout going to last – until Operations returns?”

 

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to comment,” Mahleah said smoothly.

 

“Let’s skip the formalities,” Madeline suggested. “I know you’re normally a very direct woman. I also realize that you value loyalty to your friends. Am I correct?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well, I’m about to pose an interesting question to you: who deserves more of your loyalty – Michael or Duncan MacLeod?”

 

Mahleah continued smiling, but inwardly her heart froze for a split second. What did Madeline know?

 

“What do you mean?” she asked, politely. “MacLeod is a man from my past. Michael needs my help now.”

“True,” Madeline nodded, “but my records indicate that of all the people you’ve ever known, Duncan was closest to you.”

 

Mahleah remained silent.

 

“How would you feel about seeing him again?” Madeline was practically purring.

 

Mahleah blinked. “It would be very pleasant,” she ventured cautiously.

 

“I’m sure it would. I could arrange such a reconciliation for you.”

 

Ah, Mahleah though, that’s her scheme.

 

“Oddly enough, Michael has promised me the same thing,” she told her briber. “I really ought to take a look at those records some day and see exactly what it says about me and Mac.”

 

Frowning slightly, Madeline tried again, “Think carefully Mahleah. Michael’s ability to grant that request is very limited. When Operations returns, he will not be able to protect such a relationship, but I can.”

 

Mahleah’s eyes widened. “In exchange for what?” she inquired. Her soul and her first-born child, she suspected. Too bad, she’d never have a child to bargain with, huh?

 

“Give me access to Michael’s profiles for the upcoming missions and let me contact Operations,” Madeline was smiling broadly now, sensing hesitation in her victim, but not fully understanding its cause.

 

“No,” Mahleah shook her head regretfully. “I’m afraid I just can’t. Even if I never get to see Mac again on this side of the grave, I just couldn’t turn on poor Musashi that way.”

 

The older woman’s eyes narrowed, “You’re making a mistake here, Mahleah. I could advance your position in Section. You could have your choice of assignments.”

 

Mahleah rose. “I’m sorry, Madeline, but I think we’re wasting each other’s time.”

 

“Michael will not succeed,” Madeline’s dark eyes were flashing.

 

Mahleah paused near the door, “I’m sure Nikita will manage to pull off the impossible. She’s well-known around here for her ability to work miracles.” She walked out, not looking to see just how angry Madeline was.

 

She sauntered down the hallway leisurely, and nodded to everyone she saw. Spotting Michael’s old office, she went in, closed the door, and sank to the floor. Now, she allowed her tension to spill through. Her hands were shaking and sweaty, her heart was beating like a drum, and she could feel a throbbing in her head. She laughed mirthlessly. Even Immortals were not immune to stress headaches. At least she’d managed to buy the others some time.

 

 

 

Chapter Eighteen

 

 

It might have surprised Mahleah to know that Madeline hadn’t really expected her to accept the bribe she had offered. Section’s chief psychologist understood quite well that however tempting such an offer might have been, Mahleah would have been incapable of betrayal under those circumstances. Her background indicated an education rooted in concepts like honor with the finer points of ethics emphasized more than etiquette. No, it would have startled Madeline more if Mahleah had agreed to such a deal.

 

Madeline sat back in her chair quite pleased with the interview. Mahleah was now primed for their next encounter. She would be cocky, thinking she had resisted the forbidden fruit offered her, little realizing she had yet to inhale its intoxicating aroma.  There was still a deal to be made, of course, but there was so much more to it than a simple meeting with an old lover.

 

Meanwhile Madeline decided it was now time to work on the next link in the chain – Nikita.

 

*********

 

Nikita was busily planning the assault Michael had requested when Madeline joined her. Standing next to her station she commented, “You look tired.”

 

Nikita glanced across at the other woman before turning back to her work. She sincerely doubted Madeline had any genuine interest in her health and so cut to the chase, “What do you want?”

 

“I want to know whether Michael’s planning an assault.” Madeline told her.

 

“Ask Michael.”

 

“I’m asking you,” came the response. “May I see the profile?”

 

Nikita couldn’t resist needling Madeline. “Mintz is one of your sources, isn’t he? Check with him.”

 

She wasn’t prepared for Madeline’s response. “Mintz is no longer with us.”

 

She looked quickly at Madeline, realized she was giving away her surprise and returned her eyes to her screen as she asked, “Why?”

 

“Ask Michael,” Nikita could hear satisfaction in Madeline’s voice, before the other woman pressed her advantage, “He wants to impress Oversight, but he won’t succeed. The assault will be a bloodbath.”

 

“Well Operations has ordered his share,” Nikita countered.

 

“This one will fail, and failure will destroy Michael’s career. Persuade him to cancel.”

 

Nikita pursed her lips, and then responded, “You overestimate my influence.”

 

Without missing a beat, Madeline continued, “Then sabotage the mission. Those are your two choices, and if you really care about him, you’ll do one or the other.”

 

Having created the havoc she’d intended, Madeline left, leaving Nikita brooding over her words. The poisoned darts had hit several targets. She was worried about the success of this mission. The odds were quite good that Bergomi knew they were coming and he had the resources to wipe their teams off the map. She had no desire to witness, much less lead, a “bloodbath.”

 

There was also the potential fallout for failure.  What would happen to Michael if the assault ended in disaster?  She honestly wasn’t terribly concerned about his career – his life meant much more to her. He would be angering Operations by undertaking this assignment, and if he failed to capture Bergomi he would be angering George. How did one survive in their world with two such powerful enemies?

 

*******

 

Mahleah had observed the encounter from Michael’s office, and felt sympathy for Nikita. She hoped her friend wasn’t left with too many doubts about either herself or Michael. It was Madeline’s modus operandi to leave uncertainty in her wake.

 

It was with a groan then that she realized that Madeline was headed straight for her now. Great, another encounter with an angry Maddy, that was all she needed.

 

The other woman walked in without knocking. “We need to finish our earlier conversation,” she announced.

 

“Oh, but we already did,” Mahleah told her.

 

Madeline gave her a pitying look that said more plainly than any words, “You didn’t think it was over, did you?”

 

Mahleah repressed a sigh. “I’ve already told you I can’t accept your deal. While I would love to see Mac again, I would never betray Michael to do it.”

 

Madeline nodded, “I understand that. What I would like to know now is whose life do you value more: Mac’s or Michael’s?”

 

Mahleah froze in her chair, “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, you have a choice: help me, and save Duncan MacLeod’s life or help Michael and Duncan will die in a matter of days.”

 

Mahleah felt a chill run through her body. It was unlikely that Madeline knew how to kill Duncan, but any possible assault on him could cause problems. If Section killed him, but he popped up later, alive, many questions would be asked.

 

Madeline seemed to sense her quandary, for she pressed on. “It’s not Michael’s life you’re protecting so vigorously – it’s his pride. He has decided that he can succeed where others have failed. It’s unlikely Operations will have him canceled for it.”

 

“And pride goeth before a fall, is that it?” Mahleah asked softly.

 

“I should certainly think that a friend’s arrogant conceit is not nearly as important as an ex-lover’s life. Wouldn’t you agree?”

 

Mahleah swallowed. She had felt the blood rush away from her face with Madeline’s first blow. It was true that Michael’s life might not be in immediate danger, but after this little contretemps, Operations would be keeping a closer eye on him. If George wasn’t there to protect him, mightn’t Section One’s normal leaders decide to eliminate a rival?

 

Her final decision, indeed the only one she could truly make, would have to rest on the fact that unlike Duncan, Michael and her other friends in Section were mortal. Their lives were so much more fragile than his was. He was a four-hundred-year-old warrior who couldn’t die unless his head was removed – she would have to take the chance that he could protect himself.

 

“I’m sorry, Madeline,” she finally said, and knew the other woman could hear the sadness in her voice. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

 

The pleasant demeanor fell from Madeline’s face, “This is your last chance to reconsider.”

 

Mahleah slowly shook her head, “No.”

 

“That’s too bad,” Madeline said, at the door, “but I’ll make sure that MacLeod knows he’s dying to protect your honor and Michael’s ambition.”

 

After she left, Mahleah turned the blinds so no one could see in, then laid her head on the desk and began beating its surface with her fists.

 

*********

 

Nikita walked into the perch and handed Michael a disk. “Here’s the profile,” she told him.

 

He lay it next to the computer he was working on, “I’ll get to it in a minute.”

 

Nikita pushed her hair back behind her ears, wondering how to approach the subjects she so desperately needed to talk to him about.  She leaned against a back wall as she began with a painful subject, “So, Mintz is no longer in DRV.”

 

Michael continued with his work, not even looking at her, “No, he’s not.”

 

She swallowed and asked the question she feared the answer to, “Did you have him canceled?”

 

“Demoted to a substation. He broke Protocol,” came the cool response.

 

She was relieved. Now, for the other sticky matter she needed to bring up, “There’s been an Intel update – Bergomi’s shown some activity since the attack. Birkoff thinks there’s a sixty percent chance they know we’re coming.”

 

This information didn’t seem to ruffle Michael, who merely told her to, “Increase density. Add backup.”

 

Her agitation was beginning to come through, “Even so Michael, we’ll sustain heavy losses, and our chances of getting Bergomi are no more than fifty percent.”

 

He finally stopped typing, but turned away from her to look out the window at the activity below them.

 

“Sixty percent, fifty – they’re just numbers,” he replied. “We’ll get him.”

 

Nikita knew he wouldn’t like this, but she had to tell him the way she felt about it, “I think we should abort.”

 

This got his attention. He turned back to her, and she could see hurt in his eyes as he said, “I expected betrayal from Mintz, not from you.”

 

This stung her, even as Madeline’s words whispered in her ears. Could the stubborn man not see that she was worried about him?

 

“What kind of loyalty do you want? Blind obedience, or my honest opinion?” she asked him intently.

 

She saw him examine her face, and his own lightened slightly, as he softly said, “Don’t fail me Nikita. You’re the only person in the world I trust.”

 

Nikita stared at him. How dare he say that to her?  It was a partial truth but complete manipulation. She hoped he trusted her more than he did anyone else in the world, but she knew that he trusted at least one other person. She wasn’t blind, deaf, or stupid and she had heard operatives talking about Mahleah carrying out secret tasks for Michael.  She didn’t know the source of the quote, but one of the choice phrases floating around was “Nikita holds his heart, but Mahleah protects his assets.” She had been glad he had someone else he could rely on, but now he looked her straight in the eye and gave her such a blatant half-truth. She walked off knowing she would do what he asked, but her trust in him had taken a blow.

 

*******

 

After Nikita left, Michael returned to his computer but the words before him were a blur. He knew from the expression on Nikita’s face that he had made a mistake. When they had escalated their personal involvement, she had thought he was finished manipulating her, and he had truly believed so as well. Yet, here he was throwing out statements so blatantly orchestrated to win her cooperation.

 

It wasn’t a lie – she was the one person he trusted most. There were others he knew he could depend on, Walter and Birkoff, for instance, but they would never be as reliable as Nikita. Mahleah, he almost distrusted on sheer principle. She had managed to gain his confidence in so short a time that he nearly doubted her, but luckily, he realized how paranoid that was. Mahleah had secrets, but she had been as honest as she could with him – trusting him, in fact, with her life. Like Nikita, she was unwilling to let his position intimidate her or lead him into becoming enamored of life at the top.

 

He knew if Mahleah heard about this little encounter with Nikita that she would probably scold him up one side of the Perch and down the other. He recalled her advice to him: “Show her how you feel and always tell her the truth.” Well, he had violated the spirit, if not quite the letter, of that warning and undoubtedly would pay the price. It would be quite ironic, if in trying to protect his relationship with Nikita he destroyed it in the process.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

 

 

If Nikita’s intention had been to deliberately punish him for his earlier behavior she could have hit upon no better method than her behavior on the assault, Michael reflected. He was standing in the hallway next to van access waiting for her return with the hard drive she had risked her life to obtain for him.

 

He shook his head, mentally berating himself. He should have known better than to send Nikita into the field on this one. She should have stayed in Section and monitored the situation from the security of her seat next to Birkoff instead of being in the van. The only consolation he’d had about her participation in this mission was the fact that she would be confined to the vehicle, viewing the action on a screen and yet she’d completely blown that reassurance out of the water.  He should have known. Nikita was incapable of ordering someone to do something she wouldn’t do herself and when he’d insisted the way was clear for her best two-person team, she’d disobeyed his order and gone herself.

 

When she’d run out of the van and into the danger zone, his heart had constricted in his chest. He was unable to breathe until he’d heard she was safe again. What had ever made him think he could stand knowing the jeopardy she was in and not be there to protect her himself? Intellectually, he knew Nikita was strong and capable of taking care of herself in most situations, but all it took was one stray bullet, one hole to catch a foot and twist an ankle…any number of variables that could get even the best operative killed.  Maybe he wouldn’t be able to save her from every peril, but at least he could share her luck instead of being forced to listen while she tempted fate on his orders.

 

He knew that Nikita would, without a doubt, be in a vicious mood when she returned. Never one for taking the loss of human life lightly, she would strike out at him for being the cause of their pain. He could nearly hear her asking why now. Why had all of this been necessary?  He also understood no answer he could give would be satisfactory.

 

When the doors finally opened, stretchers met his eyes first – the casualties of his offensive. They were followed by the walking-wounded, who helped each other towards medical. The sight of Nikita, who came last with the all-important drive in her hand, finally rewarded his patience.

 

Her eyes followed the remains of her teams down the hall. When they had rounded the corner, she turned her gaze to him and held out the drive.

 

As he accepted it, he told her, “Thank you.”

 

She cocked her head as if he were a zoo specimen she’d never encountered before, “Seven dead, more will die from injuries, a third of the upcoming missions shut down due to lack of resources – was it worth it?”

 

“Yes,” he told her, knowing it wouldn’t be enough.

 

“Why?” She demanded.

 

He looked past her as he spoke. He wouldn’t lie to her, but she wouldn’t like the truth, “This is Section. Missions are carried out, people die, and sometimes the reasons are not always clear.”

 

Her eyes bore into him, “Are you saying there’s more to this than I know?”

 

Please, just accept it Kita, he inwardly pleaded, even as he knew it wasn’t going to happen. “I’m saying the discussion’s over,” he said with more firmness than he really felt.

 

He could see the pain in her eyes before she looked down at the floor. When she raised them again, she was shaking her head. “I don’t know who you are.”

 

“I’m who I’ve always been,” he replied.  Why can’t you see that?  Life in Section is never a matter of black and white, and I’ve tried to make the best decisions I could, both for the others and us.

 

Nikita didn’t look him in the eye again; as if he’d finally pulled off the mask he’d always worn and revealed a monster underneath, “Good night, Michael.”

 

Her tone indicated a note of finality that made his head start to throb.  She walked around him, following the path of her team, leaving him alone holding what he had hoped to be the key to their future in his hands.  He listened until he could no longer hear the sound of her footsteps, and then slowly walked in the opposite direction.

 

********

 

Operations took great pleasure in surprising Michael in the perch. He knew exactly why Madeline hadn’t bothered to inform the younger man of his superior’s return and couldn’t say that he blamed her. He was standing with Madeline now.

 

“We misjudged him very badly,” Operations told her.

 

“I never thought he could be so reckless,” Madeline responded.

 

He turned to look at her. “There’s another possibility. He’s just better than we are.”

 

They both smiled, as if to deny that suggestion.

 

“He’s good,” Madeline agreed. “He and Nikita, together, are quite good. Fortunately, even the best have weaknesses.”

 

“Hmm,” Operations mused. “How about the third leg of the triumvirate? Mahleah, it seems, was very important in the overall scheme of events after I left.”

 

“Yes, she was,” Madeline replied. “In fact, despite Michael and Nikita’s efforts, if Mahleah hadn’t interfered with my attempts to contact you, George’s golden boy would never have succeeded.”

 

“Quite resourceful,” Operations was pleased. The more skills Mahleah demonstrated, the more his admiration for her grew.  “And you’re checking up on Mr. Duncan MacLeod, I take it?”

 

“I have a profile in motion now. What would you like to do about Mahleah herself?”

 

He chuckled, “Well, she was obeying the instructions of the head of Section, and in such a creative way too, that I can’t get terribly angry. I think I’ll promote her.”

 

Madeline contemplated this for a second then made a suggestion, “Raise her to class three status.  She could easily handle the responsibilities.”

 

His smile widened considerably, “She would also outrank Nikita.”

 

 

Birkoff glanced up at the perch. Madeline and Operations were both smiling broadly and laughing. He shivered. That couldn’t bode well for anyone he knew.

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty

 

 

Mahleah stared out into space. Promoted, they had promoted her, of all things!  She was having trouble wrapping her mind around that one and the look Operations had given her after offering his congratulations was enough to send a shiver down her spine even now, hours after the fact.  Madeline had looked very pleased with herself, which scared the Immortal even more.

 

She hadn’t forgotten Madeline’s threat. When the whole business began, she had phoned Tony to let him know that she wouldn’t be in for a few days as well surreptitiously tell him to pass the word along. After her last tête-à-tête with Madeline, she had called again to warn Duncan to leave Paris.  As guardedly as she could, she had explained the circumstances to Joe who had promised to relay the message. In reply she had received the warm, if colorful message, “I’m not leaving you, m’annsachd. Your bosses can go to hell. If someone comes, they’ll find a warm welcome.”

 

Damn the man anyway!  The hardheaded, stubborn as a mule, strong-willed, obstinate, inflexible Highlander was going to get himself hurt, and she’d never forgive herself. She reran the scene in her mind, trying to decide how she could have done anything differently with Madeline. The only other choice though would have been one that Duncan himself wouldn’t have agreed with.

 

She sighed. They would be meeting tonight, and maybe a personal appeal would convince him to lay low for a while.

 

*********

 

Nikita was seated at a terminal in Com when she looked up to see Michael passing by on his way to his office. He stopped when he saw her and they stared at each other for a long moment. His eyes were liquid, but impenetrable to her. She couldn’t tell what he was feeling. He began moving again, and she watched as he shut his door. She closed her eyes for a second, as the sound of the door echoed through her brain.

 

As she opened her eyes again, she found Chris Davenport, standing on the other side of Com, studying Michael’s office door with nearly as much interest as she did.

 

“Now what’s that about?” she asked under her breath.

 

********

 

When Michael let himself into his office, he discovered Mahleah sitting at his desk again. She seemed much more pensive this time though and instead of raucous guitar music she was softly singing along to Smokey Robinson’s “Tracks of My Tears.”

 

“Sorry,” she apologized wanly. “I got used to crashing here while you were in the perch.”

 

“That’s okay,” he said with sincerity. She looked as if she were having about as good a day as him.  He remembered she’d had a meeting with Operations and Madeline not long ago, and wondered if she’d gotten called onto the carpet for helping him.

 

“How angry were they with you?” he asked.

 

She smiled at him but the expression didn’t reach her eyes, “Actually all seems to be forgiven. They promoted me.”

 

“Promoted?” he wasn’t sure what to make of this little development.

 

“Yep, I’m now a level three operative.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at this news, but somehow didn’t think her gloomy expression had anything to do with her sudden rise in status.  “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

 

“About as much as you want to talk about Nikita right now,” she countered. Then with a weak laugh, she rose from his chair, “I appreciate the offer, and I’ll probably take you up on it later. Not just now, though.”

 

They exchanged a look of mutual understanding.

 

“You can do something for me,” she said so softly he barely heard her. “I could use a hug right about now.”

 

Wordlessly he pulled her to him. She clung to him fiercely with her fingers gripping his back and shoulders painfully. He didn’t protest, but found a measure of comfort in her closeness, and hoped she felt the same as they stood there with the music swirling around them in a beautiful bittersweet melody.

 

 

So, take a good look at my face

You’ll see my smile looks out of place.

Look a little bit closer it’s easy to trace

The tracks of my tears.

 

 

 Continue on to The Power to Hurt II

 

 

 

 

 

Author’s Note:

 

Here is a list of the song lyrics used:

 

1.     “X-Ray Man” by Liz Phair

2.     “Whip Smart” by Liz Phair

3.     “Jealousy” by Liz Phair

4.     “Ultraviolet (Light My Way)” by U2

5.     “Fire” by Jimi Hendrix

6.     “The Wind Cries Mary” by Jimi Hendrix

7.     “All Along the Watchtower” by Jimi Hendrix (All right, Bob Dylan wrote it, but this is the version used here)

8.     “Tracks of My Tears” by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles

 

I think all other songs were merely mentioned and not quoted.  You can find the poems Mac uses in his love letters in Pablo Neruda’s book “100 Love Sonnets.”