Madeline and Operations were having their usual power breakfast and had just finished discussing the effectiveness of the Cairo mission, as well as the carelessness displayed by an operative named Stephen Combs, who had given unsatisfactory results in Beijing. The decision to add him to the abeyance pool easily agreed upon, they turned to other items on their agenda.

"So, it seems that Michael and Nikita have repaired their professional relationship," Operations commented. "They've worked well together lately."

Madeline frowned just a little. "Yes, they have." She agreed.

He studied her expression, "Is there a problem I'm unaware of?"

"I was a little disturbed by the lengths Michael was willing to go to in order to protect Nikita during the Crachek situation."

Operations chuckled, "Why should that be surprising, Madeline? Michael has always protected Nikita. I sometimes think he took that warning I gave him, when I didn't think she should be promoted to full-operative, to heart: if she fails, he fails."

"True," Madeline conceded, "but I think he's getting dangerously close to putting her before Section."

"Yes, but that perception of him could be invaluable on the profile we've been discussing."

She nodded in agreement.

"When will we be ready to put this scenario into place?" he asked.

"Fairly soon, I think."

He leaned back in his chair content that most of the serious business was out of the way. There was still one matter he wanted to know about, however: "How's our rising star performing?"

"Mahleah's progress is exceptional. Now that we've gotten past her reluctance to use her full skills, her numbers have soared."

"And you're still recommending that we give her provisional operative status?"

"Yes, I think that she's getting rather bored and there's no reason that her talents shouldn't be utilized."

"I concur, but I'm not as certain as you are about letting her leave Section unsupervised."

"She'll be monitored," Madeline said serenely. "Nikita's choosing a residence for her now."

*********************************

Nikita was huddled over a monitor when Walter walked up behind her.

"Hey, sugar," he greeted.

"Hi Walter," she smiled at him.

"Looking for a new pad?" he gestured to the screen in front of her.

"No, looking for a place for Mahleah to live," she informed him.

He grinned, "I have plenty of room for her."

She rolled her eyes. "Putting aside for a moment the fact that Section would never approve, I think that Mahleah would want a place of her own, don't you?"

He nodded. "So, any likely candidates?"

"Well, I've looked at a lot of places, but I think I've decided to go with an empty apartment in my building. Unfortunately, it's next to Mick."

Walter chuckled, "I don't think Mahleah will have any problems with Mick. She can take care of herself."

Nikita laughed as well. "You've got a point. Actually, I'm rather looking forward to their first meeting. It should prove entertaining."

At that moment, the woman in question strolled up beside them. "Hello Walter honey, hey Nick - what's going on?"

"I've found you a place to live," Nikita announced.

Mahleah blinked, "You mean I actually get to leave this place?"

"Yep," Walter said gleefully, "and you're going to living near Nikita. You gals will have to have a sleepover and invite me."

"You're incorrigible," Mahleah told him, then looked at her blonde friend, "Is that true? I'm going to be living next to you?"

"Yeah, I hope you like that arrangement. I just thought I'd like to have you as a neighbor. There's not a lot of people in my building I feel comfortable socializing with, so it'll be nice to have someone to hang out and do stuff with. If you don't mind," she added hastily.

"Not at all," Mahleah was all smiles. "It sounds like fun."

Nikita lowered her voice, "I figure it will also please Madeline. It will be easier for her to keep an eye on you."

Mahleah nodded, "I figured as much."

"Well, you definitely have to have me over for a celebration, darlin'," Walter told Nikita's newest neighbor. "I'll bring the bubbly and we can toast your new status and living arrangements."

Mahleah laughed, "I don't mind having you over Walter, but don't bother to bring any champagne. I'm pretty much a teetotaler when it comes to alcohol. I rarely if ever drink."

"Really, I would have picked you as having a sophisticated palate, and being a wine connoisseur," he said.

She shook her head, "I know something about wines, but I don't really like to drink. It has a little something to do with my dad being a recovering alcoholic. I tried drinking some this year when I was going through some tough times, but it didn't help and I gave it up without hesitation. I've gotten drunk one time in my life, so I'm afraid Walter, that plan is out."

He raised an eyebrow, "Oh, I have plans within plans, don't worry about me. So, what happened that one time? Did you wake up naked in some strange man's bed and not remember what happened the night before?"

To Walter and Nikita's amazement, Mahleah blushed.

"Apparently so, Walter," Nikita marveled.

Mahleah covered her face with her hands, "Oh Lord, let's not go there."

"Why not, it looks like an interesting place," Walter teased.

"Just for clarification, he wasn't a stranger, I still had some clothes on, and I do remember what happened...mostly."

"Uh huh," he was still smiling. "Whatever you say, darlin'."

She cleared her throat and changed the subject, "So, outside of Section, you say? Where would that be exactly, anyway? Where are we?"

"Paris," Nikita informed her. There was no need to hide that information, she'd find out soon enough.

Mahleah's eyes sparkled. "Paris? Paris is good."

Paris is very, very good, she thought.

******************************************

Seacouver, Washington

Duncan listened to the sound of his elevator going down with a smile. His old friends Gina and Robert de Valicourt had just paid him a surprise visit. The couple had just returned from their third honeymoon. They had been married for over three centuries. He was still amazed at the longevity of their relationship. True, on their three hundredth anniversary they had nearly split up, but it was a temporary lapse in a healthy relationship.

His smile got wistful as he recalled telling Mahleah about his efforts to keep Robert and Gina together.

"And where did you get your credentials as a marriage counselor?" Mahleah inquired.

"Well somebody had to point out the obvious," he weakly defended himself. "There'll never be anyone else for those two."

"Be that as it may, what do you know about long term relationships?" she laughed. "You've never been married."

He scowled, "It's not been for lack of trying. I was going to ask Gina to marry me once."

"I guess she had a better offer. Seriously, though, didn't you feel strange trying to help them knowing that the longest lasting relationship you ever had was thirteen years?"

He stiffened, "That one should have been longer."

She softened, "I know. Tessa should be here with us now, but still she was mortal. That's completely different."

"Says the newborn Immortal who died for the first time less than a year ago," he pointed out.

"True, but I am Immortal, and I've been around our kind all my life. I've given ideas like this a lot of thought. Our connection with mortals by very definition has to go by a different set of rules. We have no guarantees that we'll live past tomorrow, but there are excellent chances that we'll live for centuries. It's one thing to promise that you'll be with a mortal until they die, but another proposition altogether to make that oath to one of us. Putting The Game entirely aside, how do you stay with the same person for three hundred years?"

"Do you think you'd get tired of him?" he asked.

She gave it some thought. "Not necessarily tired of him, but used to him maybe. After the first hundred years or so, wouldn't you be companions more than lovers?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Perhaps those bonds, like all other Immortal relationships, get very complex. Speaking of complicated Immortal relationships," he handed her a box, "Merry Christmas."

She gaped, "Oh Mac, you really shouldn't have. I wasn't expecting to see you, so I don't have anything for you."

"That's okay."

She gingerly pulled the ribbon loose and pulled the lid from the box. Inside was an antique book. She lifted it to read the title, "Songs by Robert Burns. Thank you, Duncan."

"My pleasure, mhuirnin," he told her.

Duncan pulled himself from the memory with a sigh. It certainly did not appear that this Christmas would be spent with Mahleah. There had still been no word from her or about her. The Watchers had been searching diligently, but so far there had been no trace.

"It's like she hasn't been outside at all," he thought. "Who could have her?"

His mind idly ran through a list of contacts until it encountered Special Agent Renee Delaney. She had married a politician, but maybe she could help.

*******************

Michael had just finished reviewing his profile for the mission going out the next day, actually the same day since it was 3 am, and was on his way out when he spotted a light on in the gym. Curious, he strode in and saw Mahleah running through katas with Tora.

She stopped when she saw him and smiled. "Working late or couldn't sleep?" she inquired.

"Working late," he replied, "and you?"

She shrugged, "Wasn't ready to go to bed yet. Today's a big day for me."

He nodded, "You're scheduled for your first mission."

"Don't forget I'm getting my own apartment too. As I said it's a big day. Do I get a code name, too?"

He nodded again. "Nikita and I have been discussing what it's to be, but there's a little controversy."

"Why, what do you think it should be?"

He looked at her with a dead-pan expression, "Xena, Warrior Princess."

She stared at him for a second, startled, then laughed heartily. "I love it when a person shows unexpected wit. Very good, Michael, by all means, call me Xena. I'd take it as a compliment."

She strode in closer to him, "Now, what shall I call you - Spyboy?"

He winced, "I think I like Musashi better."

This earned him another chuckle. "Who wouldn't?" she pointed out. "But, if you want to be nicknamed after the greatest swordsman who ever lived you'll have to prove it. Spar with me."

He looked a little nervous, "With a real sword?"

She shook her head to his relief, "Of course not. Wouldn't want to take a chance on marring that fine face, now would we? Nikita would have my fingers for pincushions. No steel, but there are a couple of shinai in the corner. What do you say?"

He eyed the bamboo training blades dubiously.

She raised her eyebrows, "If you beat me I'll call you kensei."

He actually permitted himself to smile, "You're on."

Her eyes gleamed, "Wonderful."

They retrieved the shinai, and she allowed him to stretch and warm up his muscles, particularly his wrist and shoulders. They faced off, bowed, raised their blades and crossed the tips.

She winked at him, "Are you ready?"

He nodded and she tapped his blade. He pushed hers back and she slipped under his guard and caught the top of his wrist. He winced involuntarily.

"Kote," she said calmly.

"Are we going to be calling strikes?" he inquired.

"Nah, we don't have to. It's fine by me," she was quite pleasant and very annoying.

They faced off again. This time she indulged him with a little banter, backing him up across the gym. He got tired of being on the defensive and went after her. She allowed him to back her up a little while, but then when she caught his shinai up in the air, she got a sharp blow into his ribs.

"I owed you that one," she told him.

Undaunted, he persevered, and succeeding in smacking her upper thigh. Boom! He reeled back after getting bamboo across the cheek.

"Oh! I'm sorry," she said, a little embarrassed. "You've got to watch for those defensive lady reflexes."

What could he say? He stiffened his backbone and tried again. He managed to nab her fingers twice and her wrist once, while she grazed his nose, his left ear, his wrist again, his fingers multiple times, and finally a stinging blow on the rear.

He looked at her indignantly, and she bit her lip trying hard not to laugh, "I'm sorry, but I couldn't resist. Here, I'll give you a free shot." She lowered her blade.

He was extremely tempted, but his many years of Section training allowed him to resist. He lowered his own blade and bowed to her.

"Kensei," he saluted.

She smiled, and her face flushed a little. She returned his bow, and told him with sympathy, "Come on, I've got this marvelous stuff that will take all the stings out of those bruises. It's made out of bugs, I think."

***************

Thousands of miles and several time zones later, Mahleah found herself a sniper. She was placed in the windowsill of a building opposite an embassy waiting for a dignitary and his bodyguards to depart.

Her assignment was to shoot the target with a tranq dart and then help Team One by taking out as many guards as possible, preferably without drawing attention to the little kidnapping taking place.

It seemed straightforward enough. It was even an honor for her to be assigned to her position. She also knew that if she screwed up, she would lose some of the privileges she was hoping to enjoy upon her return: foremost being an apartment of her own.

Through the scope of her rifle, she spotted movement at the doors. She tensed, preparing herself for action. The VIP, wearing an Armani suit and surrounded by six bodyguards, came into view. As they edged into her sight, she felt an abrupt tingle throughout her body. She brushed away the familiar sensation with annoyance and alarm, cursing in several languages under her breath. She tried to pinpoint the source of the problem and spotted a tall, dark-skinned man with a beard rapidly surveying the vicinity. Damn, it was one of the bodyguards.

She heard Birkoff giving her the go-ahead and sighing, knowing the outcome of this situation could only be messy, she fired. Just as the tranq found its target, the bodyguard saw her. She rapidly fired regular ammo at him, knowing she needed to take him down before the team exposed itself.

She hit him twice in the chest, and he dropped. The other five bodyguards were alternately trying to protect their employer and spot her. She took out another. The rest had just located her, when Team One arrived. Nikita secured their target while Michael and another operative made short work of the four remaining men.

Mahleah quickly gathered her supplies and made her escape from the building.

In the debrief, she was asked why she had found it necessary to shoot Bodyguard Number One twice. She calmly explained that he seemed the most dangerous of the six. He had actually discovered her hiding place, and so she had not hesitated to take him out. This seemed satisfactory, so she left for Munitions.

She found Walter updating his inventory. She crept up behind him and kissed his cheek. He jumped, nearly upsetting his stool.

"Lord, Mahleah, don't think I'm complaining, but you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Oh, no," she said serenely, "I can think of much better ways than that to put your heart into overdrive."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he said dryly. "First mission was a success, huh?"

She shrugged, "So, I'm told."

He raised an eyebrow, "You have doubts?"

She shook her head, "Not really. I was wondering Walter honey, if you could do something for me?"

"What's that?" he asked warily.

"It's just I don't like relying solely on weapons that require reloading. Do you think I could get some knives I could throw, or at least a couple to tuck in my boots? I'd feel a lot safer."

He turned the idea over in his mind. "I don't see why not. It wouldn't be standard, but then most operatives don't have your familiarity with blades. I'll see what I can do."

She smiled, "Thanks, and speaking of blades, there's one other thing..." she leaned in and whispered a request in his ear.

His eyes widened, "I could do that."

Her smile broadened, "Thanks. I promise to return the favor."

At that moment, Nikita walked up to them. "Are you ready to see your new place?" she inquired.

Mahleah was glowing, "Absolutely." She began singing, in a husky alto voice, "I love Paris in the springtime, I love Paris in the fall. I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles, I love Paris in the summer when it sizzles.... Bye Walter."

"Bye, darlin'," he listened as her voice floated away: "I love Paris every moment, every moment of the year. I love Paris, why oh why, do I love Paris - because my love is near."

Author's note: The lyrics come from Cole Porter's "I love Paris." I hope I got them right since I was pulling them straight from my head.

************

Mac had nearly forgotten how big a crush Renee had on him. He shook his head in disbelief. The last time he had seen her it had been in Paris and she was on her way back to the States to get married. She had lunged at him for a kiss, knocking them both off balance and into the Seine.

He'd hoped that time, and marriage, would cool her ardor. Unfortunately, when he'd succeeded in contacting her, she was in California and insisted it would be no trouble to come by Seacouver. Now, she was here in the loft having a cup of coffee, and looking at him with those earnest eyes and he was left wondering where her husband was.

"So, what dire catastrophe caused you to call me?" she finally asked. "I know that there's a reason, Duncan."

"Maybe I wanted to get thrown in the river again," he offered gallantly, but at her look he got down to business.

"I'm looking for a friend of mine," he told her. "She's been missing for several months now, and no one can find a trace. I was wondering if you still had your international connections."

She pursed her lips, "There are a few people I've kept in touch with. Who's the friend?"

He handed her a stack of pictures. "Her name is Mahleah Brennan. She supposedly killed herself, but the authorities could not produce a body. I believe that not only is she alive, she's in some sort of trouble."

Renee studied the pictures carefully. "She's pretty. Any idea who could have taken her? An old enemy, maybe?"

He frowned, "I don't think she has any."

"Maybe not, but how about you? I seem to recall that you have plenty. Could any of them be behind this?"

"I've actually given that a lot of thought, and I don't believe so. If someone took her as some sort of revenge against me they would have wanted me to know about it."

"Unless they prefer to keep you on edge through uncertainty. You have to admit, Duncan, it's a pretty effective torture technique. When was the last time you got a decent night's sleep?"

"I don't remember," he admitted. "I agree that it could be someone's plan to make me worry, but it just doesn't feel right. There's something more going on here, I know it."

Renee paused at a certain picture. He knew which one. It was a snapshot taken by Richie, a few weeks before his death, of himself and Mahleah. It was a beautiful, sunny time in Paris and the three of them had spent the day together. She and Richie had wanted to do some fun, touristy things and so they had gone to the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame, ate lunch at a café and walked down the Champs Elysee.

Mahleah decided she wanted to visit the former house of Edith Wharton, one of her favorite authors, which she had never seen. Duncan had let her go with Richie while he made a detour to the jewelry store owned by an old friend. When he met up with them later, he had a jewelry case in his jacket pocket containing the bracelet he'd had made for her.

She had been more serious after the tour, telling Richie about Wharton's accomplishments and her struggle to be taken seriously among American intellectuals (mostly male). Duncan knew it was a topic dear to her heart, but he was really enjoying a frivolous day without weighty concerns, so he swept her off her feet and spun her around and around until she was breathless with giggling and vertigo. Richie's camera had caught the two of them mid-spin.

Renee looked up at him, "She was important to you."

"No," he disagreed, "She is important to me."

*************

Nikita unlocked the door to an empty apartment. As Mahleah gazed about her, Nikita explained, "When I was first given my apartment, it was already furnished, but I thought you might like to decorate it yourself."

Mahleah smiled, "That would be nice, but I might need some help."

Nikita brightened, "Oh, just let me know what you want. I even have experience knocking down walls."

Mahleah walked to the far end of the room where a huge picture window displayed a view of the city. Nikita followed her, "My place has a balcony, but I couldn't find another vacancy in the building with one as well."

Mahleah stared out the glass. In the distance, she could see the spires of Notre Dame. "This is fine," she said softly.

Nikita looked around frowning, "I really expected us to get here sooner. I'm afraid you don't even have a bed yet. You're welcome to crash with me for the night, if that's okay."

Mahleah looked back at the other operative, touched by the concern her new friend was showing. "That would be nice, thank you."

Reassured, Nikita gestured to the door, "I'll make us something to eat, and we can take another look at this place in the morning. I prefer to judge things in natural light."

Mahleah agreed, and they left the room. At the door, Nikita handed her new neighbor a key, "It's all yours. Oh, and I nearly forgot, so is this," she handed Mahleah a cell phone. "It's a necessary evil with us. You must keep this with you at all times. If we need you, you'll get a call from someone who will address you by your code name."

"Which is?"

Nikita laughed, "I'm not sure why, but Michael insisted that it had to be Kensei. I told him that was too bizarre, but he wouldn't back down."

Mahleah smiled in delight, "I guess that's his way of saying uncle." Nikita looked confused so she added, "I'll explain it to you over dinner."

She locked her new door, and they started down the hall but were stopped by a male voice saying, "Did I hear someone mention dinner?"

Nikita groaned. She'd really hoped to spare Mahleah this meeting until tomorrow. "Go away Mick, we're tired and we're hungry."

"What, aren't you even going to introduce me to your lovely companion? That's not very neighborly," Mick protested.

He held out a hand, "Mick Schtoppel, at your service."

Mahleah smiled pleasantly, "Mahleah, pleased to meet you."

He kissed her hand and Mahleah saw Nikita rolling her eyes. Obviously, the newcomer annoyed her friend, but Mahleah found him amusing.

"I've heard a rumor that you used to be a singer," he announced, trying to prolong the conversation, as Nikita unlocked her own apartment door. "What kind of singing do you do?"

Mahleah moved toward her friend, but answered him, "Actually, I perform a variety of music. I've been trained to sing soprano, if the situation calls for it, but my natural voice leans more toward the alto side."

She was nearly inside the door. He tried one more desperate gambit, "Yeah, training can be a bit overrated."

She smiled at him over Nikita's shoulder and just as the blonde woman shut the door, Mick heard her reply, "Oh, training has its uses. After all, the first thing they teach you is to hum properly." She winked at him and added, "Nice meeting you."

He stood in the hallway, spellbound.

Nikita turned to Mahleah. "Sorry about that. Mick's okay in small doses."

Mahleah held out her left hand and smacked it with her right. "I'm trying to break bad habits, like teasing strange men, but sometimes I just can't help myself."

"I'm not sure why you'd bother with Mick," Nikita told her moving to the kitchen. "He's rather annoying."

Mahleah looked thoughtful, "Hmm, I don't know. I think there's more to him than meets the eye."

Nikita found that hard to believe, but decided to change the subject.

***********

In the White Room, Madeline approached the prisoner - a handsome man in his mid-twenties.

"Hello, Mr. De Longis," she greeted him.

"Who are you? Why am I here?" he demanded.

Inwardly Madeline sighed, if she could have a day of downtime for every instance she'd heard those questions, she'd be free for the rest of her life. People really were unoriginal.

"You've recently discovered a long-lost relative, Mr. De Longis. Your grandmother originally came from the Middle East, but she eloped with a European businessman. You were unaware of her family until last year because she refused to tell you anything about them. After her death, your cousin effected a family reunion. Correct?"

"Yes," he agreed, astonished at her detailed knowledge of the details of his life. "But what does my cousin have to do with anything?"

"Your cousin Hamad's older brother used to be the dictator of their country; however, he died under mysterious circumstances. The younger brother thought to assume the reigns of power, but was ousted by a political rival who gained control of the military. Hamad still wants to replace his brother, and is sponsoring terrorist activities to further those ambitions. We plan to prevent him and want your assistance."

He gaped at her, "Hamad is a terrorist?"

She gave another inward sigh, and said, "I'll allow you ten minutes before you give me an answer."

She started to leave the room.

Edward De Longis hastily asked, "What if I decide not to help you?"

Madeline turned and smiled at him briefly. "You will," she promised, and left.

Kassim was beginning to question the universe's sense of humor. In 1460, he had promised his master, Boadin Al Deneb, to protect his family from harm. He had succeeded in doing that for over five hundred years. Unfortunately, the last member of his master's clan, Nasir Al Deneb, was murdered by a petty dictator, Hamad. Kassim had attempted to protect Nasir from Hamad's machinations but had failed.

He had relied on the sworn word of a fellow Immortal to put an end to Hamad, before the man could have Nasir slain, but MacLeod had broken his oath. Duncan MacLeod had the man in his sights and failed to pull the trigger, and Nasir had paid the penalty. When he confronted the Scot, the other Immortal had first refused to fight him, and then when he forced him into a duel had refused to take his head although he had won the match. In the end, MacLeod had kept his word. Hamad had mysteriously fallen out of a window, and Kasim knew that his so-called friend was trying to make amends for his earlier mistake.

He had cared little for that rectification. The last of his master's race was gone, or so he had thought. When he checked a little closer, he discovered he had made an egregious oversight. A couple of generations earlier, an Al Deneb son fell in love with a daughter of the house of Hamad. The families violently opposed such a match, and they never married, but Kasim discovered that she had borne her lover a daughter. This child was shunned by most of her relatives and ultimately ran away with the first person to show her kindness: a European businessman by the name of De Longis.

It had taken him some time, but he had tracked down Edward De Longis. The young man had just been contacted by Kasim's old enemy's brother. After digging a little further into this new cousin's background, Kasim knew that Edward would need his help just to survive.

Now, he was gone - snatched from Kasim's side. He didn't know who the Immortal was who had shot him, or why she had not stopped to take his head, but he would find her and Edward De Longis, last of the line of Al Deneb.

*************

Seacouver, Washington

Amanda paced back and forth restlessly. MacLeod and Joe Dawson watched as she crossed from one side of the room to the other.

"So what exactly do you think this Renee person will be able to do?" she asked.

Mac crossed his arms, "Renee used to work for military intelligence. She has apparently kept some ties to the community, so I'm hoping that she has access to sources that the police and the FBI don't know about."

Amanda kept pacing, "Okay, I agree that Mahleah did not cut her head off in prison, and I also agree that someone either helped her escape or kidnapped her from the morgue. Have you considered Mac that maybe the reason you haven't heard from her, is that she doesn't want to talk to you?"

Mac shook his head, "It's true that our relationship had been a little rocky, but that all changed after she was arrested. If she was able to, she would get in touch with me."

"Actually, I meant maybe she doesn't want to get you into trouble with the law. She's a lot like you, remember? She might not want to take a chance on getting you thrown in jail for aiding and abetting an escaped convict."

Joe nodded, "The idea has merit, but why haven't the Watchers spotted her? She's one of our top priorities right now, but no one has seen or heard anything."

Amanda sighed and came close to Duncan, "Then I hate to be the one to point this out, Mac, but maybe she is dead. She could have faked her suicide, escaped from the morgue, but been weaponless. She would have been easy prey for another Immortal."

"Why hasn't the body been found?" he demanded.

She gave him a sharp look, "Like you've never hidden a body so well that it wasn't found until years later? Come on Duncan, admit it. There's a good possibility that she's gone."

"No," he denied vehemently. "Why were Tora and the bracelet stolen? Those were two of the most precious things she owned. If she had to choose two items out of all her possessions that she would want to recover it would be those. It was a message. Besides..." his voice trailed off.

"What?" Amanda prompted.

"I would know if she was dead. I would feel it," he said with a throat gone dry. He stood up. "I'm going for a walk."

"Let me get my coat and I'll come with you," Amanda volunteered.

"No," he smiled at her faintly. "Thanks for the offer, but I need to be alone for a little while."

When he was gone, Amanda sank down in his chair as Joe examined her carefully.

She noticed his scrutiny and demanded, "What?"

"Nothing," he said.

"I'm just trying to get him to face reality. He doesn't know for certain that Mahleah is still alive and even if she is he may not see her for a long time."

Joe gazed at her steadily, "I was just remembering a time when you came to me, convinced that MacLeod was alive even when the evidence pointed to the contrary. You told me that you'd know it if he were dead. As it turned out, you were right."

She frowned but remained silent.

"Maybe you should ask yourself why you want to believe Mahleah's dead so badly."

She looked up sharply, "Joe, that's not true. Mahleah and I have been friends since she was a girl. It would break my heart if she were gone."

He nodded, "I'm not saying it's a conscious wish. Just think about it for a moment: Mahleah is the only serious rival you have for Duncan's affection."

She scoffed at him, "I've never been jealous of Mahleah and she's never been jealous of me."

"No you haven't," he agreed. "I always thought it was odd that you weren't, but it never became an issue with you two - until now."

She frowned, "What do you mean?"

He sighed, "I'm saying that Mac and Mahleah weren't together terribly long as a couple before they split up again. As you pointed out yourself, Mahleah had actually asked Mac to stay out of her life and agreed to marry another man - then she was arrested for killing an Immortal. You're seeing emotions in him that you hadn't noticed before. You've always been a little possessive Amanda, but with women like Tessa you knew you just had to be patient. Mahleah's one of you, though, she's Immortal. She's also much more like Duncan than you are. What's the longest you can stay around him without the two of you having a huge fight. If you were to live together for an extended period of time, you'd kill each other. You've recognized something that I've known for years: Mac and Mahleah complement each other. They have their ups and downs, but in the end, when they are ready, no one else will exist for them."

She stared at him speechless.

"You're trying to deal with the fact that one day you'll have to give him up, and it's not easy. If Mahleah were dead, it would mean things could keep status quo." He rose to leave but left her with some parting advice. "I know you Amanda. At heart, you're a good person. Just think about what I've said."

She watched him go down in the elevator knowing that she wouldn't be able to think about much else for quite some time.

***************

Mahleah had invited Walter, Birkoff, Nikita, and Michael to her new apartment for a small celebration. Birkoff, along with Michael, reluctantly declined because of Section business. Walter and Nikita arrived though and enjoyed dinner immensely.

After the dishes had been cleared away, Mahleah picked out a favorite Cary Grant movie, and the three of them sat back and laughed as he fussed, fought, and fell in love with Katherine Hepburn and a leopard named Baby.

Nikita saw with pleasure how well Walter and Mahleah got along. They had joked and flirted throughout dinner. She knew that Walter would cherish some time alone with the attractive younger woman, so before the movie ended she feigned sleepiness and escaped to her apartment. As she gave Walter a hug goodnight, she whispered, "You owe me one."

Mahleah and her guest finished watching the movie in companionable silence interrupted only by the occasional chuckle. As the tape rewound in the VCR, Mahleah leaned back in the couch cushions and regarded Walter. He grinned back at her, "Alone at last."

She smiled and he took that as an invitation to begin a more intimate conversation, "So, tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know?"

"You said your dad drank, did he ever quit?"

She nodded, "Yeah, he finally began controlling himself, for the most part, about the time I was fifteen."

"Did your relationship improve any?"

"Yes and no. We had to reestablish our relationship, but then I went away to college. While I was getting my Master's, he met Belinda."

"Belinda?" he was a little stunned.

"Yeah, she's my step-mother. Of course, she's only like a year older than me, so we've had a lot of ups and downs."

"I'd say," he said absently

She noticed his abstraction, "What's wrong?"

He swallowed, "You know when I told you I'd been married to an operative who was killed on a mission?" She nodded and he continued, "Well, her name was Belinda, too."

Mahleah leaned over and squeezed his hand, "What an odd coincidence."

He squeezed back, "Yeah, but I'm not really up to talking about her tonight. Tell me about the time you got drunk."

She laughed self-consciously. "There's not much to tell."

He shook his finger at her sternly, "That's not what you said before. I seem to recall you mentioning waking up partly unclothed in some man's bed?"

She licked her lips nervously, "I was trying to deal with the death of an old friend, so I followed his example and got a little plastered. Another friend made sure I got home safely and I made a pass at him. I fell asleep before anything really happened."

He laughed, "Too bad for your friend." His voice got a little huskier than usual, "Guess I'm glad you haven't been drinking tonight."

She gazed at him, debating her actions. "Walter," she warned, "whatever you do, don't fall in love with me, okay? I've already given my heart away."

"Love and Section don't mix very well," he told her. "Look at Michael and Nikita. Don't get me wrong. If we had met under other circumstances I think I would have fallen head over ankles for you. Now, the best I can hope for is a little companionship. And I mean that in its best sense," he hastily added, hoping she wouldn't get the wrong idea.

"Sort of a best friends with benefits arrangement?" she inquired.

He was relieved. She hadn't been offended. "I don't want to rush you into anything, darlin'. You're the most intriguing person I've met in a long time, and I'm happy discovering your secrets one at a time."

She smiled and leaned in closer to him, "I'm really not sure how someone as sweet as you has managed to survive in Section all these years."

He growled at her, "I'm not that sweet."

"Really," her eyebrow went up. "I'll have to test that hypothesis."

She brushed her lips gently against his. When she pulled away, eyes sparkling and declared, "Tasted pretty good to me," he tugged her back down to him. This kiss was much less innocent although still an introduction. They were busily exploring each other's mouths when Mahleah's new cellphone rang.

"Damn," they both said at the same time, then laughed.

She picked up the phone and answered, "Hello."

"Kensei," she heard on the other end.

**************

As Walter and Mahleah strode into Section they spotted Michael. Walter growled under his breath, "One of these days I'm going to have a long talk with that guy about bad timing."

Mahleah hushed him, as the guy in question approached them. "Michael," she greeted him. "What's going on?"

"There's a briefing in ten minutes," he informed her. "A follow-up to the De Longis mission is being planned."

Mahleah's heart sped up. There would be a good chance that she might once again encounter the unknown Immortal, and no doubt he was displeased by their last confrontation.

Walter grumbled, "You know Michael, you guys really need to schedule these things better."

Michael gave him a quizzical glance, and Walter flushed. "Yeah, I know. Section doesn't care about the personal lives of its operatives. Forget I mentioned it."

He and Mahleah moved to the table to await Operations and Madeline. Michael stared after them with a keen eye. If he didn't know better... He dismissed his conclusion as he saw Nikita entering the room with Birkoff. She smiled at him and he felt his heart sink. The atmosphere between the two of them had vastly improved, but with the recent briefing he had been given by Madeline, he was afraid that would not last long.

Madeline and Operations made their entrance and business officially began. Operations pulled up a picture they all recognized, Hamad. Beside it was another photo, this one of Edward De Longis.

"As you know, we recently abducted Edward De Longis in order to gain his assistance with our plans to eliminate his cousin Hamad. He agreed to cooperate and we have returned him."

Mahleah raised an eyebrow, but it was Nikita who asked, "How did he explain being forcibly kidnapped?"

Operations answered her easily, "We sent Hamad a ransom demand, which he promptly paid. It seem he wishes to groom his young cousin to be his right hand. We will be sending a couple of operatives undercover as new bodyguards since most of De Longis' old ones were eliminated in the first strike."

"Most?" Michael inquired.

"Yes," Operations pulled up another photo. Mahleah froze.

"That guy's dead," Walter commented, "Mahleah put two bullets in his heart."

Operation shook his head, "No, he's alive. It seems the bullets were stopped by kevlar. I suggest, Mahleah, that next time you put a bullet in the head as well as the heart. This man, Kassim, is in charge of De Longis' security: a position which seems to grant him a number of privileges not accorded to other bodyguards. According to Mr. De Longis, aside from his cousin, Kassim will be the most dangerous individual we have to deal with. It is essential that he believe in your cover."

"Kassim will be the most dangerous person in the whole mission," Mahleah thought. "I wonder who's going in as new guards."

Operations answered her question, "Michael, you and Mahleah will be infiltrating the inner ranks of Hamad's fortress. Nikita, you will be in charge of putting together a team to retrieve them. Further details are on your panels."

Mahleah was stunned. The whole mission, not to mention Michael's life, could be endangered by her very presence. It was quite possible that Kassim had seen her, but even if he didn't clearly see her face the very fact that she was Immortal would be enough to cause severe problems with this plan.

She walked away with Walter, turning the scenario over and over in her mind, trying to find a way out. She could inform Madeline that Kassim had spotted her, but if she disqualified herself Nikita would be the most likely choice to replace her. She couldn't bear to think of her sweet young friend going up against an unknown Immortal. She was aware that Nikita could protect herself in normal situations, but this was far from normal. What about Michael? Well, he was pretty lethal, but could he handle Kassim? No, she shook her head. She would have to go as planned. She could keep Nikita out of most of the danger, and she would be around to protect Michael. It was the only alternative.

Walter saw her head shake and said, "Don't beat yourself up because one survived, darlin'. You had no way of knowing he was wearing a vest."

She glanced up startled but realized that was the perfect cover for her self-absorption. "I should never have taken the chance," she replied. "Like Operations said, I should have aimed at the head, not the heart."

He reached out and cupped her cheek, "Look, Mahleah, under other circumstances what you did could have worked out for the best. I mean, if you didn't have to go undercover you might have wanted all those men to survive anyway."

She smiled at him and he took a chance and kissed her forehead.

Across the room, four sets of eyes were watching and different emotions were kindled at the sight.

************

Nikita saw the couple and smiled. She had grown very fond of Mahleah during the time they had spent decorating her new apartment. It gave her a small glow to see how happy Walter seemed to be around her neighbor. She gave a sigh and hoped it would last.

Michael was a little stunned by the sight of Walter kissing Mahleah in plain view of Section. This action confirmed his earlier conclusion, but it still surprised him that Mahleah would become involved with such an older man. Digging a little deeper, he discovered he was jealous. Walter and Mahleah were taking the path he longed for with Nikita. He decided to watch events unfold. He would be fascinated to discover Section's response to this budding affair.

Birkoff, looking up from his computers momentarily, was dismayed. He had hoped to ask Mahleah out himself, but if his best friend was already seeing her that plan would have to be scrapped. He mentally kicked himself for waiting so long. He should have known that a woman like Mahleah would be actively sought after. Once again the old man was teaching him a lesson, albeit inadvertently. He resolved to take it to heart.

Madeline was amused at the sight of the two would-be lovers. She knew that Operations would be pleased that Walter was finding a little happiness with an agent who held such promise. It reduced the likelihood of the past repeating itself. Personally, she had no quarrels with the budding romance, provided of course, that it did not interfere with Section goals. From her observations of the newest female operative that was improbable. She smiled. If only Michael and Nikita could learn such a lesson.

Walter straightened and wagged a finger at the woman before him, "You stay close to Michael now, and he'll see you come back safe and sound."

"I intend to," she promised placidly, then stroking his cheek added, "Now, before I go: what about that favor I requested?"

*************

The moment of truth had arrived. Michael and Mahleah, with Edward De Longis' cooperation, had easily been hired. Now, they awaited the arrival of Kassim, who was supposed to welcome them and assign their new duties. Mahleah was anxious to see if Kassim would challenge her immediately or if he would be more discreet in this first meeting.

She felt the warning tingle telling of his approach and tensed. Michael sensed her trepidation and reassuringly touched her arm. She smiled at him to allay his concerns about her performance.

Kassim entered the room and scrutinized her carefully. "I am Kassim," he announced in traditional fashion, and added, "And you are?"

"Michael," her fellow operative replied.

Kassim's eyes never wavered from her face. "Greetings, Michael." He stopped, obviously waiting for her to introduce herself.

"Mahleah," she responded.

"Mahleah," he repeated, obviously processing the name. "Well, Mahleah, I'll begin with you. Come with me, please."

She started. Was he going to challenge her now? Her heart pounding, she heard Michael inquire, "Why the need for separate meetings?"

Kassim finally shifted his gaze to the Class Five operative. "It is customary for me to meet individually with the new employees under my supervision. It is protocol, nothing more."

Mahleah rose and Michael followed suit. She turned to face him, "Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it."

"You'd better," he warned lightly, "or I'll come looking for you."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. Madeline, with her trademark smile, had taken pleasure in informing them, in front of Nikita no less, that they were profiled as lovers. Mahleah was almost glad of this cover, as it gave her convincing motives for sticking close to the mortal and assuring that he returned to her neighbor in one piece.

Kassim had taken in this entire exchange with interest. Now he repeated, "Come, Mahleah, we have much to discuss."

She followed along, but couldn't help but feel like a fly being reluctantly coaxed into the spider's web.

*************

Mahleah followed the Immortal down the corridor and across the hall into what was, she presumed, his office. A guard stood at the entrance, and Kassim instructed him that they were not to be disturbed for any reason.

Not liking the sound of that order, but having no choice, Mahleah preceded him into the room beyond. The door closed, and she forced herself to appear calm although her nerves were screaming.

Kassim crossed to a desk and gracefully leaned against it. He repeated his formal introduction, "I am Kassim, loyal servant to the house of Al Deneb."

"I am Mahleah Brennan."

His eyebrows raised. "Your name is strange to me, but your face is not. You are the one that shot me when my master was abducted."

She felt no particular desire to debate the obvious. "I am."

"I thought the ransom was a convenient excuse for his return and now I am convinced of it. Why are you here?"

Mahleah had actually hoped the conversation might head in this direction. Hamad's security was so tight that she and Michael were not actively wired for sound. She could speak openly to the Immortal without fear of Section's reprisals. De Longis had indicated that Kassim was fanatically devoted to his well-being. She was willing to bet that he was a member of the Al Deneb family in some way. She planned to use this to her advantage.

"I assure you we mean no harm to your master," she said calmly. "We are under orders to bring in Hamad. If your loyalty lies with De Longis rather than Hamad, you will side with us."

He studied her closely. She returned his scrutiny placidly, refusing to give way to her fears for the safety of the mission.

"Hamad is a butcher from a long line of butchers," he responded. "As long as you restrict your activities to his downfall we have no quarrel. If, however, Edward De Longis is harmed in any way, I will have not only your head but your colleague's as well." He nodded at her reaction, "I see this would not please you. You seem close. I propose a bargain: your lover's life and my master's are linked. Whatever happens to one will be repeated upon the other. As long as the last of the Al Deneb's walks away from this endeavor unscathed, Michael will survive his assignment to grace your bed for years to come. Do we understand each other?"

She ruthlessly repressed the image of Nikita's indignant face, knowing that as long as Kassim assumed Michael was her lover, he would be reassured of the validity of their pact. "Of course," she assured him, "but may I add that if a hair of Michael's head is disturbed, the relationship between the two of us will immediately become less...cordial."

"My word is my bond, Ms. Brennan. I hope that you feel the same way about yours."

The rest of the discussion revolved around schedules and security arrangements. Before she left, she requested that he not reveal to Michael that he knew of their mission since their superiors would be quite angry if they learned of her revelation.

He smiled in agreement, "What mortals don't know, can only benefit us."

*************

After her meeting with Kassim, Mahleah had been given a tour of the building then shown to her new quarters. Both her and Michael's bags were there and she thought with amusement, "How generous of you, Kassim."

She began unpacking her things when Michael entered the room. He glanced at his baggage and raised an eyebrow.

"It seems they've found our cover convincing," she said wryly.

He looked startled, but she answered his frown with an explanation, "Oh, I've already swept the room for bugs. It's clean."

He relaxed and following her example, began to unpack his clothes. "I'll sleep on the couch," he volunteered.

"And how would we explain that if anyone happened to come in? It's all right. We can share the bed, I trust you. So, if you grope me in the middle of the night, you've been warned - I'll kick your butt out on the floor."

Michael found his tension easing away in her company. Her gaily tongue-in-cheek manner smoothed over what could have been an awkward moment. "What guarantees do I have that you'll behave yourself?" he quietly asked.

She laughed, "Oh, don't worry about me. You're safe as houses. I'm hunk-proof, you might say."

"What?" he couldn't stifle a chuckle.

"Hunk-proof...I've been inoculated, vaccinated, and immunized. So, don't worry Musashi, while I still notice a pretty face and a fine physique, it's more of an appreciation for fine art - like 'David'."

"David?"

She never missed a beat, but continued her work as she spoke, "Yeah, you know: famous statue in Florence by Michelangelo?"

"I've seen it," he replied.

"Good. That's what you're like to me - beautiful as a Greek god but not something I'm going to snuggle up to."

This was intriguing to him. Personally, he hated his face because it had been the lure for many betrayals in his lifetime, yet it was a bit odd to have a woman tell him up front he was good looking but she didn't desire him. Behind all her banter, he sensed that she meant it as well. Still, he couldn't resist saying, "Well, maybe once you get to know me..."

She interrupted, holding her hand up to him, "Whoa, back up Romeo. Let's not start feeling challenged here." She rolled her eyes in the classic "men!" expression. "Just be glad I didn't take that remark seriously or you wouldn't be sleeping on the couch - you'd be in the bathtub!"

He couldn't help himself and started laughing. She stared at him in delight and said, "You should do that more often."

"I should," he agreed. "So, how did you acquire this interesting immunity?"

"Experience," she informed him. "Lots and lots of experience. Good boys, bad boys, really bad boys, I've had them all. You might say I've been fortunate enough to have maxed out my stud quota for a couple of lifetimes at least."

He sat on the floor, leaning his back against the bed. "Tell me about them," he suggested.

She cocked her head to one side in thought and then proceeded merrily, "Well, to begin with there was my benefactor - you've heard me mention him? Good. He was, no offense, hands down, the most gorgeous man I've ever seen. He is the standard by which all other men are compared."

She stopped herself for a moment, and then sighed, "I really shouldn't speak of him like that. I'll move on. There was my first boyfriend. Oh, he was a baby doll and so sweet you wanted to lick your fingers after touching him. When I got to college I met his opposite: a bad boy who really lived up to the term. He was only interested in one thing and after he got it, it was 'so long, sister.' Then in Grad School, I dated a professor."

Her voice adopted an upper-class British accent, "Very, very charming, very very English. Oh, so Lord Byron-ish. And by the way, oh so looney-tunes with bats-in-the-belfry: a regular homicidal maniac."

Her voice returned to its normal cadence, "He nearly made me swear off men altogether. Fortunately, the love of my life stepped in."

She paused, "He's too precious to mention in this frivolous monologue, so I'll just continue. Who's next? Mmm, oh yes, my ex-fiancé. He had the sexiest grin I've ever seen. I swear when he smiled, your stockings would unsnap themselves from their garters and slide down your legs."

He chuckled again and asked, "Doesn't your file mention you were seeing someone when you were arrested?"

She nodded, "Yeah, and I'd have to say he was scrumptious."

"When does the immunity come in?" he inquired. "Sounds to me like you are quite susceptible."

"Oh no," she shook her finger at him. "You don't know the full story on these guys. They have much more than looks going for them. They happen to be kind, compassionate, interesting, and complex people." She frowned, "I'm actually attracted to complexity, I think."

He gave her an ironic smile. She gave a shrug, conceding his point and went on, "After the fiascoes I had with Mr. I'm-Here-To-Collect-Trophies-College-Guy and Professor Hannibal the Cannibal, I had a tough time being with men. Believe me, the last two I was involved with could tell you lots of stories about the horrendous time they had getting me to trust them."

She'd finished hanging up, re-folding, and tucking away. She stretched out diagonally on the bed, her head facing him. "But for all that, I'll tell you in four letters the perfect antidote for any lustfulness your beauty might inspire."

"What's that?" he asked, intrigued.

"The same reason you're not interested in me: K-i-t-a."

He swallowed, "Shouldn't that be six letters? You left out the 'N' and the first 'I'."

She gave him a mock frown, "Don't get cute with me, Mister. I've heard what you call her. So out with it: what's your problem? Why aren't the two of you together?"

"Aside from Section, you mean?"

She shook her head vehemently, "You can't let other people control your emotions, Michael. Trust me, life's too short for that nonsense." She grinned. "Too short for all of us, a lesson I've learned the hard way."

"How?"

"Oh, there's not time enough to go into the details but the man I referred to earlier as the love of my life wanted to reconcile with me and I refused. You better believe I wish I had that opportunity again. So, I repeat: why aren't you and Nikita together? She loves you, I know."

He blinked. "But she doesn't trust me," he pointed out. "Not that she should."

"Not after the things you've done to her, no," she agreed amiably.

He stared, "How do you..."

"People talk," she replied. "Now let me give you some advice: first you have to laugh and smile more, but if you can't do that remember this: take it slowly, be more open about your feelings, and always, always tell her the truth...."

************

"Section doesn't really allow the option of honesty," Michael began.

"Mmm-hmm," she wasn't agreeing, merely acknowledging his response.

"I've frequently had to lie to Nikita for a mission and for her own good."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Quite frankly it's not been safe for me to reveal my feelings about her, and it still isn't."

"Whatever," she put her hand over his mouth to stop him.

"Musashi, would you like to know the secret to living?" she asked him, removing her fingers from his face.

"Which you've managed to discover in your twenty odd years," he commented.

She was stung, "I'm only a few years younger than you."

"A few years in Section can make a difference."

She sat up on the bed, "Now look, let's not get into a measuring contest. I'm sure you've suffered, but you have no monopoly on it. Believe me, if I had the time 'I could a tale unfold whose lightest word/would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,/make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,/thy knotted and combined locks to part,/and each particular hair to stand an end,/like quills upon the fearful porpentine.'" She drew a deep breath, calming herself, then resumed in a steadier tone, "But enough about me. As I was saying, the most important lesson you can learn is that there are things worth living for, things worth dying for, and things worth fighting for. The tricky part of the deal is to figure out what they are. Only then will you find any true peace, Musashi."

Her words echoed in his head long after they had gone to bed. He had known for years that he considered Nikita worth dying for. Now, he understood for the first time that wasn't enough. Nikita didn't want him to die for her; she wanted him to live for her. He was beginning to see that revelation showed him what he should fight for as well, when he drifted off to sleep.

Michael was never a heavy sleeper, so when the woman on the other side of the bed began thrashing and calling out in her sleep, it woke him instantly.

"No, no!" she cried hoarsely. Then she said something in a foreign tongue: "An e'n fhirinn a th'agad m'annsachd?"

He frowned. He spoke many languages, but he was a bit rusty in Scottish Gaelic. With the on-again, off-again peace talks in Ireland, he was more current with Irish. He thought she said, "Do you tell me the truth, my love?"

She sat up, declaring, "A mhic an diabhoil, bi sāmach!"

"You son of the devil, be quiet?" he thought. That was a strange combination.

He gathered her to him, stroking her braid and saying softly, "Ssh, a charaid. It's only a dream. Hush, mhurninn."

"Charaid" meant friend while "mhurninn" meant my darling, but he hoped the words spoken in the language she was speaking would calm her down.

Something he said caused her to relax. He guided her back down, where still asleep, she laid her head on his chest. After the terrifying dream she'd been having, he didn't have the heart to move her. She seemed to be a person who communicated through touch, so perhaps his physical closeness would ease her fears.

When he'd eased her back down, she had murmured softly, "Mo grādh ort, mo saighdear-bārd."

"I love you, my warrior-poet," he mentally translated, wondering to whom she was talking.

Just as he settled back to sleep himself, he thought he felt her smile and say, "A Mhicheal bheannaichte, dion sinn bho dheamhainnean."

"Blessed Michael, defend us from demons."

He thought he must have dreamed it.

*************

Mahleah wasn't the only one to talk in her sleep. Twenty minutes before the alarm went off, she awoke to find herself cuddled next to Michael - her head on his chest and an arm wrapped around him - as he whispered, "Kita," in her ear.

"What an awkward situation," she thought. It was obvious, being this close to him, that Michael was having a pleasant dream.

She figured that it could only get worse - in both the frustration and embarrassment departments - if he woke up while she was still this near.

She, very carefully, removed his arm and slid out of bed to take her shower. Under the water, she revisited the night before. She'd been having one of those strange dreams again, which was odd. They hadn't recurred in almost a year. She was torn between protecting Duncan and fighting some man who was trying to kill him. She shook her head, feeling the spray against her face. It was probably her words to Michael last night about knowing what was worth fighting for in life that had triggered it.

Returning fifteen minutes later to the bedroom fully dressed but with damp hair, she found him awake and gathering supplies for his own shower. They found security in the minutiae of their own morning routines: showers, shaving, blow-drying, brushing, flossing, braiding...these things were all comfortable and familiar.

They were ready to meet the world when she laid a hand on his arm at the door, stopping him. He looked at her questioningly.

"Thank you," she told him.

"For what?"

"For what?"

"For being a friend."

He was silent and looked away for a moment. She smiled faintly and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, gently touching his face for a moment, "I realize you've let those skills get a bit rusty, but they're still there: in fact, they're your truest instincts."

She drew back and exclaimed more loudly, "Come on, Musashi, time to face the world."

*************

Seacouver, Washington

Joe Dawson hurried into DeSalvo's dojo, eager to disclose his most recent findings to MacLeod. He saw that the Highlander was engaging in a vigorous workout. Sweat glistened from his bare arms and chest as he performed a series of katas with his katana. The blade, so like Mahleah's, danced through the air and Joe thought he could hear it humming as it cut through invisible foes.

The dojo was deserted except for the two of them, and shadows were beginning to creep across the floor. Knowing that Mac had spotted him in one of the mirrors along the dojo wall, Joe sat down on one of the benches at the side of the room to wait. It is not prudent to interrupt an Immortal in the middle of his exercise.

A few minutes later, Duncan sheathed the katana in an invisible scabbard at his side, and assumed the seiza position on the floor. He rested the sword next to him, closed his eyes, and laid his hands on top of his thighs. After concentrating on slowing his breathing for a time, he said, without opening his eyes, "What's going on, Joe?"

Joe stood up and moved closer to the Highlander. "I've heard some interesting things lately. In fact, I may have a paradox for you."

"Is this about Mahleah?"

"Yes, we've received word that she's been spotted."

MacLeod's eyes suddenly opened and he looked with interest at his friend. "Where?"

"That's the puzzle, Mac. We've had conflicting reports. Bryson, one of our men in the Middle East, sent in a report just today that she is working as a bodyguard in his area, yet Jesley in Paris, swears that Mahleah is living there. What do you think?"

"How reliable are the Watchers?"

"Jesley's only been with us for a year, but she's quite capable. Bryson, is a veteran - he's been a Watcher for close to twenty years. Both of them know how important this information is to me. I can't see either of them lying and it would surprise me if Mahleah were mistaken for anyone else. She tends to stand out in a crowd."

Duncan smiled, "Yes, she does."

"So, how can she be in two places at once?"

"Maybe, she's not. Maybe she was living in Paris, but moved because of a job. How recent was Jesley's sighting?"

"Yesterday, and today Bryson called in from the Middle East."

"There was enough time for Mahleah to have flown there," Duncan pointed out.

"True, what do you want to do?"

MacLeod was quiet for several moments. Joe could see that his friend was considering every option. Finally, he said, "Did Jesley say where Mahleah was living in Paris?"

"No, she's not been able to find out yet, but says she expects to soon."

"Tell Jesley, if Mahleah's in Paris, she'll end up at Notre Dame," the Scot decided. "I'll wait until then."

"What if she's half a world away?"

MacLeod sighed, "I'm going to trust that she can take care of herself until I find her. I'd hate to rush to the East if she were actually in Europe. It would take that much longer to reach her."

Joe frowned, "I hope you're right, Mac. If Bryson really has found Mahleah, she's working as Edward De Longis's bodyguard and his head of security is your old friend Kassim."

Duncan bowed his head in silence. Joe hoped he was offering a prayer.

***************

Section One

Nikita was in Munitions talking to Walter when she received the word that Michael and Mahleah had succeeded in infiltrating Hamad's fortress-like mansion. Minutes before Birkoff brought them word, Nikita was saying hesitantly to Walter, "Do you think Mahleah's attractive?"

He gave her a look that made her blush and rephrase the question, "Do you think she's irresistible?"

He grinned, "Sure I do, sugar, but what you want to know is whether Michael finds her irresistible."

Her flush grew even deeper as the older man chuckled, "Well, you know, he does have 20/20 vision."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nikita demanded.

"It means he has eyes that can be dazzled by her brilliance just like the rest of us poor males. Don't worry, though, I don't know if he's capable of appreciating some of her finer qualities."

"Like what?"

He shook his head sadly, "You live next to her, you should know better than anyone. Her sense of humor, her joy for living, her wicked way of teasing: things that Michael's not known for possessing himself."

"I don't know, I was thinking how much they were alike," she admitted. "They both speak a dozen languages or more, are ferocious in combat, and share the ability to hide their emotions when they so desire."

"True," he conceded, "but have you noticed that Mahleah only shuts down when it's necessary? She's learned something that Michael hasn't: you can be a good operative and still act like a human being."

"You're falling for her," Nikita accused.

"Sort of," he replied. "I'm not about to confuse what she feels for me with true love, though. That's for romantics like you and Michael."

"I'm not a romantic," she protested, "and Michael definitely isn't."

"Sugar, you are, without a doubt, the most romantic person I know. Maybe Michael isn't now, but I think he could be."

"With the right incentive?" she responded.

He detected a note of bitterness in her voice and asked with surprise, "What's eating you, sugar?"

"Don't you know?" she stared at him in astonishment.

"Know what?"

"Part of their cover story is that they are lovers, Madeline said so herself."

"No doubt to torment you," he grumbled. "So what? It's just acting."

Nikita was remembering how seriously Michael took his undercover work. He always quite thoroughly in character. She recalled playing Sage to his Peter, young psychic wife to his devoted husband - hell, he was so convincing in his confession of love during their capture by Red Cell that she had betrayed the Section. He would do whatever it took to make Kassim, and Hamad, believe the cover Madeline had prepared for him. The sticky question was: would Mahleah?

She quietly asked her friend, "How far do you think Mahleah could go to maintain a profile?"

He frowned, " She's an actress; she can make any part seem convincing, but could she sleep with someone for Section? I think it would depend upon whether or not she liked whomever Section teamed her with and how desperate the circumstances were. If you're asking me if she would sleep with Michael I would say no, not unless it was absolutely necessary. She'd know how much it would hurt you, and I sense that loyalty is one of her strongest virtues."

Nikita smiled, but Walter went on, "On the other hand, sugar, if the success of the mission or Michael's life were on the line, yeah I think she'd give a passionate performance and apologize to you later."

Her face fell as she wondered what unforeseen circumstances her comrades were facing and much more important than the question of whether they would have to sleep together to protect their masquerade was whether they would actually return at all.

************

Mahleah was scheduled to keep a personal eye on De Longis this morning. She replaced his current monitor in the dining room and discreetly slipped into a chair near the wall. He caught the movement and stared at her over his glass of orange juice. She appeared sedate, if a bit unfathomable, in a pale blue suit and ubiquitous Section-issued black shades. Her hair was pulled back in its usual braid and she wore low-heeled boots rather than pumps, and with her face devoid of any makeup she appeared about twenty.

"Aren't you a little young for this job?" he asked.

"What I lack in years, I make up for in experience," she informed him coolly.

He liked the response. "Perhaps you could give me lessons, some time," he suggested. "I'd hate to be taken unawares as I was several days ago."

She tilted her head, observing him closely, "Perhaps you should let Kassim handle your training."

He stood up and walked nearer, "Oh, but he wouldn't have your gentle touch."

She rose as well, "Somehow I think your chief of security would be easier on you than I would."

He had reached her side, "Quite possible," he agreed. "After all, your people tend to employ dangerous women. Beautiful ones, as well. I seem to recall a blonde beauty who escorted me into my little vacation."

She nodded, "I'm sure you also remember a very attractive brunette. Dark eyes, beatific smile - her name is Madeline?"

He blanched. "Point taken," he said dryly. "I'm headed for the stables. Would you care to join me?"

"That is my assignment," she responded.

They began walking toward the door together, but he couldn't resist one last quip, "I'd bet you're very fond of riding stallions, aren't you?"

"Of course," she said dulcetly. "Only I'm afraid the world is full of geldings. Shall we go, Mr. De Longis?"

Michael's assignment caused him more than a little annoyance. He was asked to patrol the east wing of the house: check the security sensors, keep an eye out for unwanted guests, and generally be a cog in the wheel. That part of the job he didn't mind, even if it was tedious. He could ascertain the layout of the building and examine the security arrangements personally. When the time came to retrieve Hamad, he wanted to know every inch of the property to ensure the mission's success and the safety of Nikita's team, as well as himself and Mahleah.

He was passing through a long corridor when he saw an open door. Peering inside, he was instantly spotted by a thoroughly bored woman receiving a massage.

"Come here," she commanded.

He walked into the room, wondering who she could be.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Michael."

"And what are you doing here, Michael?" her gaze raked him from head to toe.

"I'm a new member of the security team," he replied.

Her eyebrows arched, "Well, Kassim's taste is improving I must say." She waved off the masseuse who was still working away on her back.

"Leave us," she commanded. Waving Michael forward, she inquired, "Are you good with your hands?"

************

Michael suppressed a sigh. Depending upon who this woman was, she could possibly get him closer to Hamad. He would rather not have to seduce her, but he couldn't afford not to be nice, either.

"I'm quite capable of protecting you from attack," he said, willfully misunderstanding her.

"What if I wish to be attacked?" she demurred. "Come, I shall determine your talent myself. I still need a massage."

Inwardly he protested, but outwardly he complied. He walked over to her and, after pouring oil onto his fingers, began to knead her shoulders.

"Mmm," she purred. "Very good, but lower if you please."

"Of course lower," he thought, as his fingers stroked down her back. "Why not? You're pampered and bored and you enjoy having a man at your beck and call to agree to your every demand. I've met hundreds of women like you and unfortunately will probably meet hundreds more."

"Ooh," she squealed breathlessly. "That's heavenly...a little harder please."

He gritted his teeth and complied. What was wrong with him? He had successfully completed dozens of Valentine profiles in the past. Why was his brain rebelling now?

The red-haired woman under his fingertips groaned in ecstasy. Just then, Bryson, Kassim's assistant, walked by and decided to throw a drowning man a rope.

"Michael," he called. "There you are. The big man wants to see you right away."

Section's top Valentine Op straightened in relief. "I'll be right with you," he called.