Mahleah drummed her fingers on the counter until her phone rang. She grabbed and impatiently said, "Yes."

Michael's voice told her, "He's coming out the door now."

Relief washed over her. "Thank God," she breathed.

"You will tell me what all this is about," Michael warned before he hung up.

Tony looked at her anxiously, "Is your friend okay?"

"Yeah," she told him. "He's fine. Now, where the hell's Joe?"

On cue, the bearded Watcher walked through the door and made his way toward them. "This better be pretty damn important," he growled, "to get me out of bed at this hour."

Mahleah grinned at him, "What's the matter Joe, late hours finally getting to you? I thought you bluesmen loved the wee hours of the morning."

"Only if we're playing or loving, sugar," he told her as he sat down.

"This doesn't qualify as either unless there's something you need to tell me."

She chuckled, "I don't think I need any more complications in my love life, thank you."

"So what's so important," he asked.

She sobered up quickly, "Didn't Tony tell you?"

"He just said that you'd figured him out and needed info on Claire. What's the big rush?"

"I met her tonight," she informed him.

He raised an eyebrow, "Hardly anything to worry about, I should think."

She was puzzled. "Nothing to worry about? Joe, I killed her teacher and now she's dating a friend of mine."

Now he saw where the concern came from. He touched her arm reassuringly, "He's perfectly safe. I doubt Claire would hurt a butterfly."

Her eyebrow raised skeptically, and he laughed, "Don't give me that look. Surely your instincts told you that Claire's harmless. It's true you took Jean's head, but really you did her a favor."

"A favor?"

"Yeah, Jean was a real bastard. He kept her completely under his thumb. The poor girl hasn't been Immortal for very long and until recently really hasn't been able to enjoy any of the benefits."

Mahleah sighed, "So you're telling me that she wouldn't want to avenge Jean's death?"

He shook his head, "I find that very unlikely. All the reports I've had lately indicate that she's turning her life around. Since you sent Jesley packing, I've had her watching Claire as a nice change of pace. She says that Claire is in love with this guy she's dating. He's your friend, huh? I didn't know. I've been relying on Tony here to keep me up-to-date with you. It seemed the safest thing to do."

Mahleah groaned, "If Claire's on the level, Birkoff's going to kill me!"

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

The next day Mahleah made her way into Section knowing that if she didn't she would get a "kensei" call from Michael to come in and explain herself. She saw Walter in Munitions and hesitated. She hadn't seen him since he had returned from his month of downtime. She saw him look up and decided to walk over to him.

He smiled upon her approach, "Hello Mahleah, darlin'."

She returned the smile, "Hi Walter honey, did you enjoy your vacation?"

"Heavenly," he pronounced. "Sun, sand, and senoritas - doesn't get any better than that."

"No, I guess not," she said.

He looked at her, "Not a one of them held a candle to you, darlin'."

She swallowed, "I missed you too."

He waved a hand, "Ah, you can replace me anytime, gorgeous. There's lots of young studs running around Section."

She gave him a hug, "Maybe so, but there's only one of you."

He hugged her back, then let go, "Thanks for noticing. Yes, well," he cleared his throat. "What's up with Birkoff today? He seems rather ticked off."

She bit her lip, "I'll go see if I can cheer him up."

Birkoff was indeed scowling at his computer screen when she approached him.

"What's your problem?" she asked, as if she didn't already know. "You seemed to be having a great time last night."

He rolled his eyes. "I was," he agreed. "Until I got to Claire's place. Samantha was gone for the first time since I've known them, but before I could enjoy the situation Michael called me in."

She winced, "I'm sorry, that's terrible. What did he want?"

"Nothing," Birkoff pronounced. "He wanted me to run the sims again for Sarah's mission today. Nothing had changed, I don't know why he thought the results would be any different."

"Well, he'd just spent the evening with her, maybe he wanted to make sure she returns safely," she offered.

His scowl softened, "Maybe. I guess I've been here long enough to know that Section comes first and social lives last." He glanced at her, "Thanks for pointing that out. I was about to accuse him of getting a little revenge on me."

"Revenge? For what?"

He gave a crooked grin, "Well, over the years I've inadvertently interrupted some interesting scenes between Michael and Nikita. I thought maybe he was getting a little payback."

She patted him on the shoulder, "Maybe a small part of him was, but I think his main concern was the safety of someone he's come to regard as a friend."

His brow unknitted as he considered her words, not knowing they had a more personal aspect. She rose to head toward Michael's office when she saw Nikita and Sarah coming toward her.

Sarah looked a little trepidatious, but spoke first, "Wish me luck, Mahleah."

"Absolutely," the Immortal responded cheerfully.

"Any advice you could give me about acting? Nikita tells me you have a lot of experience."

Mahleah considered what to say to this frail, shy woman who was being thrown into the lion's den. "Remember that while you're out there, you're not Sarah you're Jan. That gives you an enormous amount of freedom. You're not bound by the inhibitions that Sarah possesses. Jan is confident, determined, and devil-may-care. You may not be any of those things, but for a few hours you get to pretend that you are."

Sarah looked thoughtful, "Thanks, Mahleah. I'll try to keep that in mind."

"Good luck," the operative repeated, as Nikita and her charge moved away.

"Now to brave the lion's den myself," she thought as she knocked on Michael's door.

When he saw her enter, he punched in the code that would give them privacy.

"I'm glad you came in," he said. Unspoken, she heard the words, now what is going on?

She sighed and sat down, "I'll try to explain Michael, but it will be tricky. Why don't you ask me specific questions and I'll try to answer them."

He raised an eyebrow then asked, "Claire is one of your 'people', isn't she?"

"Yes."

"How can you tell?"

"I just can. Fish got to swim, birds got to fly, and my people have got to be able to identify each other in a crowd."

He took that in and realized that was one of the areas she was close-mouthed about. He moved on, "Is she dangerous?"

"No, I don't think so." At his look of surprise, she added, "I thought so when I called you."

"What changed?"

"My information. A new source tells me she's as harmless as a kitten. I'm sorry, I didn't know that when I asked you to go get him."

"Why did you sound so panicked last night?"

She licked her lips, "I had just been informed that she was connected to someone I'd known briefly in the past."

"Someone you killed?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why did I kill him, or why was she connected to him?"

"Why did you kill him?"

She looked at him with sad eyes, "I had no choice. He stalked me and forced me to fight him. I told you before it is the way of my kind. I don't like it, but in order to live, I sometimes have to kill."

This was a concept that he understood better than most. The requirements of a level five operative were strict and often deadly. It left him with uneasy choices to make.

"How was she connected to him?"

"She was his lover."

His eyes widened slightly. He was beginning to understand her fervor last night. "Yet, you say now that she is harmless."

"Yes, my source says that he treated her shamelessly and I, in effect, freed her from a sort of slavery."

He nodded, then asked one last question, "That's all you're going to tell me, isn't it?"

She nodded in return, "That's about all I can tell you, Michael. Other things either aren't my secrets to tell, or would put your life in danger to know."

She rose to leave, but his voice stopped her, "May I call in my favor?"

She turned around, "Of course, what do you need?"

He looked down at his desk, "Some help with Nikita," he reluctantly admitted.

She repressed a laugh, "So, you're finally coming clean about being in love with her?"

He remained silent.

"All right, Musashi, all right. You know I'll help any way I can. Do you have a plan?"

"Yes."

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

Mahleah sat watching children sailing toy boats on a pond. Around her life in the Gardens flourished. Elderly men played chess, and workers on their breaks strolled by refreshing their souls with sunshine and fresh air before returning to their duties. Students ate their lunches and fed lots of bread to the ducks while lovers strolled by hand-in-hand, ignoring everything but the beauty in each other's eyes, and tourists with guidebooks wandered through for a relaxing excursion before embarking on another museum journey.

She sighed softly, seeing herself in years gone by. Once she had been one of those children sailing a boat, had learned chess at one of those tables, had walked those paths oblivious to everything but the man she loved. She'd had adventures in the Gardens both good and bad. One had started unpleasantly but ultimately brought her closer to Tessa and the aftermath of another had brought her and Duncan to a blissful six-week idyll on his barge.

She was tempting fate by being here. It was dangerous, in fact, for her to go very many places in Paris while he was here. She was seeking solace in the familiar but it was a hazardous road if she wished to avoid meeting Duncan.

He had brought her here for the first time - had introduced her to nearly everything in Paris actually - back in the days when he was her mentor. She honestly didn't want to meet him now. It would be far too painful. She preferred to be separated from him until she was free of Section. Anything less would be unthinkable. They would have to hide their relationship for fear her superiors would find out. He would be considered by them to be a weakness that could be used against her, totally underestimating his strength.

No, she wanted him completely, or not at all, she decided. Yet a small nagging voice inside her head called her a coward. When she had refused to reconcile with him, she had declared she wanted to be independent, to discover what life was like without him, and to become her own person. Well, the world was different when he wasn't there. There had been highs and lows, joys and pains, loves and hates in the days since their parting but none of them were as sharply bitter or as sweetly ecstatic as the time they had shared together. With him, life was more vivid; without him, she felt as if she wore a veil between herself and the world which filtered every experience.

Was she simply afraid to let her protective camouflage drop once again? Love of that intensity required a sharing of the self on its most intimate level. After the hurt her most vulnerable parts had suffered before, was she now unable to lower the barriers she had erected for protection?

She watched the children, marveling at their freedom and innocence: truly two concepts that life in Section was barren of. She stayed in Section because there were people there who needed her help. Without nurturing, the fragile spark of humanity that existed in people like Michael and Nikita, Walter and Birkoff would be extinguished forever.

When Madeline had given her an ultimatum to break up with Walter, Mahleah had found her true battleground. She would fight tooth and nail with every skill and resource available to her until she saw that she had won this war: the rewards of victory were far too precious: not power but souls.

Unfortunately, one gentle life was rapidly going beyond her reach, and Mahleah recalled the reason she sat here in the Luxembourg seeking the soothing balm of past memories: Sarah was dying.

Incredibly, she had taken Mahleah's acting advice to heart. When she met Marco Ashe, she had let him seduce her in an attempt to allow herself, for a few hours, to experience all the things she had shut herself off from previously. Sarah also had discovered that in life, especially Section life, pain accompanies pleasure. Ashe had been canceled, yet Nikita's fierce dedication to this woman who was never meant to be an operative, made Sarah realize that in her last days she had achieved something she had denied herself previously: friendship.

Mahleah recognized with a start that for quite some time now she had unconsciously felt a pair of eyes watching her. She glanced around quickly and felt the tingle of an Immortal approaching. To her right, she saw a tall, dark figure approach and relaxed.

"Claire," she said warmly.

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

Claire carried an open sketchbook with her and Mahleah now recalled she was an art student.

"What are you up to?" she asked curiously.

Claire looked a little hesitant, "Actually, I was trying to draw you."

Mahleah groaned and put her hands over her face, "Oh no, not again. Tell me something. Why do people want to sketch me on the sly all the time? You'd think I was the Venus de Milo or something. I know some people think I'm kind of pretty, but I know I'm not all that."

Claire studied her with interest, "You don't think you're beautiful? Why not?"

"Oh, don't get me started. I'm too tall, my hips are too wide, my bottom lip sticks out, and I have entirely too much hair."

"You don't sound too broken up about it," Claire laughed softly.

Mahleah shrugged, "They're my faults...they're a part of me...make up who I am. I wouldn't know myself without them."

"Besides some people might argue that your height is graceful and commanding, your figure is slightly voluptuous (there's certainly nothing fat about you!), your lower lip is sensuously pouty, and your hair is your crowning glory," Claire pointed out.

"Some people might," Mahleah agreed with a twinkle in her eye, "but they wouldn't be me. It still doesn't explain the surreptitious sketches. Surely there's plenty of commandingly tall, voluptuous, pouty-lipped women with glorified hair to go around?"

Claire laughed again, "I won't argue with you because despite its pull, your beauty wasn't what drew me."

"What was?" she had Mahleah's interest now.

"It's seeing you in one place for any period of time. You have a restless spirit that always seems to be in motion. Even in repose you suggest activity. Hundreds of thoughts and emotions steal across your face when you're deep in thought. It's as if your body's at rest, but your brain has taken flight. There's an irresistible challenge in it for any artist near you."

"What a lovely compliment," Mahleah was touched. "I'll take that over pretty any day."

"Your name fits you know," Claire observed. "You are unusual, even for an Immortal."

"Why do you say that?"

Claire looked away as she spoke, "When I look at you I see things I'd never thought possible in one of our kind. Warmth, humor, kindness, compassion, friendliness - I've never met an Immortal who had those before."

"Hey," Mahleah touched her hand. "There's a lot more of us out there than you think."

When Claire turned back, her face was wet, "I want to believe that, but it goes against everything I've known."

"How do you truly feel about Birkoff?" Mahleah asked. "He possesses all of those qualities and more."

"I know," she wiped at her face. "I've never been with anyone like Seymour. I love him, I think."

"You think?"

Claire swallowed, "Jean nearly killed any feelings in me besides fear and passivity."

"How did you meet him?" Mahleah asked.

Claire was silent for a long time and Mahleah was worried that she had begun to close herself off, but eventually she drew a breath and began speaking.

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

"My parents were rich and desired a large family, so when Mother was told after the birth of Henry and Emma, my older brother and sister, that she would have no more children, they adopted me. Ironically, she got pregnant three years later and had my brother Jonathan.

"For some reason the twins always resented me. They never wanted me to forget that I wasn't a real Westcott - I only became one through a piece of paper. Fortunately, Jonathan and I bonded and for years he was my closest friend.

"When I was old enough, I was sent to the boarding school that Emma also attended and her hatred of me doubled. She was athletic while I was artistic. She hated the fact that I performed more strongly than she did academically while the school resented me because I was shy with no talent for sports.

"My teenage years were mostly an amplification of everything I'd already been through until I turned eighteen. I wanted to study art, but my parents insisted that I major in pre-law at Columbia. One day I was returning to my apartment when I was mugged. I was dragged into an alley and left for dead. Jean found me."

Claire's hands were shaking as she spoke and Mahleah put an arm around her shoulder to remind her she was safe now.

"I wasn't quite dead then, but since I was nearly there, he helped me on my way. When I revived, he told me what we were and took me with him. We traveled across the country and he did teach me the basics of swordplay, but I wasn't the greatest student in the world. I became dependent on him to protect me and he began to feel that I was his property."

Her breath was catching in her chest and Mahleah could tell that she was struggling to go on.

"It's okay," she tried to provide some comfort for what were obviously overwhelmingly painful memories.

Claire sniffed, "He desperately wanted to be respected by other Immortals and thought the only way to gain that was to make a reputation for himself as a fighter. He challenged younger Immortals since he was only about fifty himself, but he tried to make them the best he could find. That's why he was so obsessed with you. You were MacLeod's student and had already taken a few heads. If he could defeat you, he would gain a lot of power as well as prestige."

"Unfortunately, it backfired on him," Mahleah softly said.

"Yes."

"What happened then? How did you wind up in Paris?"

"After Jean's death, I went back home. My parents had thought I was kidnapped which wasn't far from the truth. They hired counselors and therapists to help me through my 'shock'. When my brother Jonathan learned that I really wanted to study art, he talked our parents into sending me here to the Sorbonne." She smiled briefly, "I think they believe Paris will eventually heal me enough to return to the law, but that's not going to happen."

Mahleah studied her intently, "Claire, did your fighting ever improve?"

"I've studied fencing some since I arrived, but I'm afraid other things seemed to get in the way."

Mahleah frowned, "Survival takes precedence over other things. You don't have a sword with you now, do you?" When the younger woman shook her head, Mahleah's frown became a scowl, "Lesson number one: never ever leave yourself unprotected. How would you like to train with me?"

Claire's face brightened, "That would be wonderful."

"Consider it done. We'll work it in between the time I get up and rehearsals."

Mahleah's cellphone rang and she answered it expecting to hear Michael's voice saying, "Kensei." Instead, it was Nikita on the other end asking her to come over as soon as she could. "Of course, Nick, but what's wrong?"

"Sarah passed away an hour ago."

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

Nikita stood in the cemetery in front of Sarah's small tombstone. She felt so empty inside. Up until the last moment she had refused to give up hope that one of the Section doctors might miraculously discover something that would send the cancer into remission.

"I've been watching the X-Files too much," she thought with grim humor. "It's a wonder I didn't ask Madeline for a chip to implant in Sarah's neck."

It seemed so unfair that just when Sarah's life had opened up, she would lose it. She had a small consolation in the fact that every friend the dying woman had made was now gathered at her graveside.

Section gave no funerals, only burials, and so the little band of mourners constituted the entire memorial service. With red-rimmed eyes Nikita looked over at her neighbor. For lack of any other ceremony she had asked Mahleah to sing a couple of songs. She nodded now to indicate the other woman should begin.

Mahleah cleared her throat as the others looked at her, "This is a song I always associate with the death of a close friend. I hadn't known Sarah long, but in that time, she grew dear to my heart."

She paused and then began singing softly,

"I close my eyes only for a moment and the moment's gone.
All my dreams pass before my eyes a curiosity.
Dust in the wind - all they are is dust in the wind.
Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea.
All we do crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see.
Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind..."

Nikita trembled and Michael gently rubbed her arm. She saw his worried look and knew he thought the song too depressing for her but she found it appropriate. If Sarah's death had taught her anything it was that the sweetness of life should be savored while you had the opportunity. If only she didn't feel so numb.

"Now don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky.
It slips away and all your money won't another minute buy."

Mahleah finished the Kansas song and the little group shifted uneasily to discover her last choice.

She gave them a faint smile before she said, "In a time of grief we need songs of healing, and this song possesses more power than any I know."

She cleared her mind of all thought and let the music pour through her,

"Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now I'm found.
Was blind, but now I see."

"Dust in the Wind" had been performed almost in a hushed whisper but on this most familiar of hymns Mahleah's voice rang out strong and clear. The sounds of her childhood flowed through the notes combining the mountains and the south powerfully. The Sundays when she attended the local Baptist churches, both white and black, cried out in her tone.

Nikita began sobbing both from the pain and the beauty she felt around her. Michael pulled her to him and she buried her head on his chest, emptying her soul of the grief.

The others cried as well, including Mahleah who had tears streaming down her cheeks but kept singing,

"Through many danger, toil and snare I have already come.
'Twas grace that brought me safe thus far and grace will lead me home."

She sang all the verses of the song that she knew and fell silent. Through a silent consent, they moved away from the grave. Michael kept an arm around Nikita, Claire and Birkoff clutched each other's hands tightly and Walter wordlessly offered Mahleah his arm. She accepted it and they walked away.

***********

"Mac, you really ought to go to her," Joe told the Highlander.

They had spent the better part of an hour arguing about this very topic.

"She doesn't need me right now, Joe. She's got her own life."

"Doesn't need you? She lost a friend the other day MacLeod. She could have used..."

"A shoulder to cry on? She's got that already."

"Oh for...that shoulder was a little preoccupied consoling a very pretty blonde in case you're interested." Joe told him.

"What?"

"Yeah, her so-called boyfriend is strictly platonic. He was just a good friend who was worried about her and stepped in when he saw she was upset."

"It doesn't matter," Duncan told him.

"What do you mean, it doesn't matter?"

"It doesn't matter if he's romantically involved with her or not. She's moved on. She told me she wanted to live without me and she is. I can't go to her now."

Joe stared at him, "This is all about hurt pride, isn't it?"

"What? No," MacLeod sputtered.

"You're afraid that if you go to her, she'll turn you away again and your ego couldn't take it. The great Duncan MacLeod, beloved of ladies for hundreds of years, has met his match."

"Joe, don't be ridiculous," Mac snapped. "This has nothing to do with ego and everything to do with respecting her wishes."

"If you love somebody set them free and see if they come back to you, huh? You know, the two of you were made for each other. I've never seen two people who are more stubborn, pig-headed, short-sighted, and self-defeating!"

"Are you done?" Mac asked with a lifted eyebrow.

"No, I think I might need to knock both of you in the head or kick you in the rear. Maybe then your brains would catch up with your hearts."

MacLeod sighed, "I'll think about it, Joe. I can't promise anything else."

Joe turned to leave, but paused at the door to the barge's cabin. He wasn't leaving without a parting shot.

"Have you realized yet that the reason she was sobbing her heart out when you saw her was because she'd seen you with Amanda?"

He walked out leaving behind a brooding Scot.

***********

Claire gazed at herself in the mirror. Normally, she didn't care what she wore but tonight was special. She'd found a midnight-blue slip dress that complemented her long dark hair. She'd left the hair loose and brushed it until it glowed almost as much as her eyes.

Finally approving of her reflection, she checked her overnight bag. It seemed she was forgetting something important, but couldn't for the life of her think what it was. She had all the staples: toothbrush, comb, deodorant, a change of clothes for their departure...she wasn't really planning on leaving the room until checkout time. Shrugging she zipped it and headed for the door.

She was running a little late but Seymour knew to expect that. It was a delayed reaction from her days with Jean who had always been on time wherever he went. She figured she was unconsciously rebelling and that was fine.

She had for the first time in her life found a man who treated her with respect. Seymour was passionate but gentle. He had never lost his temper with her although she knew that he had wanted to make love to her for some time. She had always found Samantha's presence comforting. She allowed it to limit her romantic options so she didn't have to sleep with anyone she went out with.

It was only lately that she regretted the arrangement, and realized that her days of hiding behind her roommate were over. She had booked their room herself and asked Seymour to join her for the weekend. Finally she would be able to say the words I love you out of passion and not fear.

She wondered how he would react if she told him about her Immortality. It was far too soon to spring a surprise like that on him, but she knew that if she were to have the relationship she dreamed of, she would have to tell him the truth eventually. She had seen many lives based on lies and that was not for her.

Picking up the bag and her purse, she surveyed the room once more. Well, whatever she'd forgotten would have to wait until she returned she decided, and walked out the door.

**********

Mahleah had let Teresa cajole the boys in the band to try some different material and tonight they were presenting the results. Michael sat at a table near the band enjoying the spectacle but wishing Nikita were here as well. The sight of Teresa and Seth performing backup vocals to TLC's song "No Scrubs" would have certainly cheered her up. The trio made an unusual but oddly pleasing harmony together.

At a separate table, Joe shook his head over the odd team. Still when Mahleah began the Madonna song, "Power of Goodbye" he paid attention.

"Your heart is not open so I must go.
The spell has been broken I loved you so..."

To him the words were for an absent party that had stubbornly refused to come.

"There's nothing left to lose.
There's no more heart to bruise.
There's no greater power than the power of goodbye."

He hoped that the words remained inside the club and stayed out of her real life. He noticed Michael sitting near her drinking in the music in his own quiet way. Joe wondered where the blonde was. Maybe it was just as well Mac hadn't come. He still regarded the other man with suspicion and jealousy.

He chuckled as Mahleah and Teresa traded off verses on Bare Naked Ladies' song "One Week." The band was more comfortable with the music, but Tony was obviously flabbergasted by the rap-style delivery of much of the lyric.

When Mahleah concluded with a wink and a nod to her handsome friend, making the comment, "That was for you Musashi. You're in worse need of a rug burn than anyone I know," Joe pursed his lips. Yep, maybe it was a damn good thing that Duncan MacLeod hadn't been here for that little banter.

Teresa went over to the bar and her father gave her water to drink. Mahleah smiled at Tony and said, "I know tonight hasn't been easy for you boss, but you like this one."

She began singing "Waterfalls." Tony smiled and relaxed.

Joe, too, let his mind drift away until the sound of his the phone behind the bar broke his reverie.

On stage, Mahleah saw her boss answer the ring and call over to Joe. Her old friend took the call, then spoke softly to Tony. He slowly made his way to the stage as she finished the last chorus.

"Don't go chasing waterfalls.
Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you're used to.
I know that you're gonna have it your way or nothing at all,
but I think you're moving too fast...."

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

Birkoff was feeling a little dizzy. He really should have waited to open the bottle of champagne he'd brought until Claire arrived; however, she was running late as usual and he was getting nervous. The later she became the more jittery he got, so one glass became two, then three, and soon the bottle was empty.

His apprehensions increased with the alcohol. What if she changed her mind? What if Mahleah was wrong and she'd lured him here only to send a message saying, "Sorry, this isn't working for me." A hundred possible disasters flooded his brain and he decided he needed to lie down for a few minutes. Within seconds he was asleep.

He awoke to find the last of the candles he had romantically arranged around the room being blown out. In the darkness he felt soft hands gently caress his face.

"Claire?" he asked softly. "You're awfully late."

She whispered, "Sorry," then leaned in and gave him a long kiss.

He chuckled, "You're forgiven."

Her hair fell around him and he breathed in the wonderful scents of vanilla and peaches as well as a faint but clean smell of sweat as if she were as nervous as he was. He tangled his hands in the silky tresses and pulled her down to his mouth again.

Finding no end in sight to the locks of hair, he removed his fingers and felt the satin of her slip, or was it her dress, under them. He slipped the straps off her shoulders and with her aid pushed the garment down her body.

His hands slid slowly up from her waist until they were cupping her breasts. He was a little surprised at what he had discovered beneath the clothes. She was a little curvier, more voluptuous, than he'd imagined. He softly outlined her full breasts, then rolled her under him.

He began kissing her again as his hands found long, shapely thighs to caress. His lips left her mouth and began tracing across her chin, her throat, and her collarbone. When his tongue made its way even lower, he heard her moan softly and call out his name.

The dawn saw Seymour Birkoff in the deep sleep of the truly happy and satisfied. The woman beside him slipped out of bed and pulled on the clothes she'd arrived in. Going to the desk in the corner of the room, she soundlessly opened drawers until she located some hotel stationery. She wrote steadily for ten or fifteen minutes, then folded the letter and brought it to her lips.

Going to the bed she left it on her pillow and then as softly as she'd entered the room, she left.

When daylight hit the windows, Birkoff twitched and reached out for Claire. Finding the space beside him empty, he opened his eyes groggily and fumbled on the nightstand for his glasses.

"Claire," he called with no response. He saw the note and grabbed it to read the following:

Seymour,

Please, please forgive me. I didn't have the heart to tell you that circumstances have forced me to return to America. I only learned late today that my family has suffered a personal crisis. My youngest brother, Jonathan, was involved in a car crash and may not live. My parents have begged me to return to New York to be with them. I don't know when I shall return to Paris.

I want you to know that last night was the most magical of my life. I've never been with a man as sensitive and thoughtful as you. You have restored both my faith in men and my faith in myself. This is not the message I had planned to give you this weekend. I confess I wanted to tell you how much I love you but it seems selfish of me now to say this when I am going.

I leave this beside you in my place. 'Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!'

Love,
Claire

A subdued man gathered his things and prepared to return to Section while on the pillow, unnoticed, a long hair shone in the sunlight.

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

Monday, Nikita was moving through Section when she saw the gloomy look on Birkoff's face. She came over beside him, "Hey, what's wrong Birkoff?"

He licked his lips, "Nothing, I just got dumped again."

"Oh no," she sat down beside him. "What happened with Claire?"

He shrugged, "She said her brother was in the hospital back in New York."

"How do you know he wasn't?" came a voice behind him.

Swiveling in his chair he saw Mahleah. "I don't think she would have lied to me but she also said she didn't know if she'd ever be back."

Mahleah looked at him with empathy, "I'm sorry. I hoped you'd have a fabulous weekend."

Involuntarily his mouth curled upward, "Well Friday night was pretty spectacular, but she disappeared Saturday morning. I mean she didn't even wake me up to say goodbye. I found a note on the pillow."

"Maybe she thought it would be easier that way," Mahleah suggested softly.

"Yeah, maybe so. It was a pretty nice letter," he admitted.

"So maybe she'll come back," Nikita told him.

"Do you think so?" he asked them both.

"Sure," Nikita responded.

"I think Claire would like nothing in the world better than to return to Paris and you," Mahleah told him.

At that moment Operations came over. "What's Madeline learned from Tyco?" he asked Birkoff who frowned.

"She's still in with him," came the response.

Operations didn't like the sound of that and walked over to monitor the interrogation. What he saw made his blood chill in his veins: Madeline was lying on the floor of the White Room unconscious. Pandemonium broke out.

When Mahleah was sent home during Section's evacuation she found herself pacing the floor until she heard a knock at the door. Opening it she discovered Mick Schtoppel who brazenly walked in without being invited.

"Why am I always the last one to hear about these things?" he demanded. "I mean I provide Section with valuable intel. You'd think they would at least give me a call to say 'Mick old chap, we're incinerating Section and as we speak someone may have cracked the code on our directory.' You tell me, would that be too much to ask?"

She slammed the door, "Come in Mick and make yourself comfortable."

"Thanks, do you have anything to eat? I'm starved and you're such a marvelous cook."

At first Mahleah's nerves found Mick very grating, but eventually she was glad he invited himself over. He was company of sorts, and distracted her from thinking too hard about her friends and their possible fates. She suggested they play a game of chess to pass the time. He'd stared at her incredulously but agreed.

She listened to his stories, grateful for the diversion. At one point he looked at her and said, "Do you know that your hair is the exact shade as..."

She interrupted him by finishing his sentence, "...a jar of honey, yes I know. I've been told that many times. What I want to know, and no one ever bothers to get that specific about, is what kind of honey? Lynn? Sourwood? Poplar?"

He looked at her with puzzlement, "Huh? Honey is honey."

"Oh no," she shook her head. "I'm no expert but the color and flavor of honey depends on the type of pollen the bee gathers. Back home the three most common are lynn, sourwood and poplar. Poplar honey is dark, kind of like molasses, with a stronger taste. The way people gush about my hair, I figure it must be about lynn honey color. What do you think?"

He closed his mouth and looked at the board, "I think your king's in check," he announced.

Her chin nearly hit the table. She couldn't remember the last time she'd lost a game of chess to a mortal. She sat back recalling her own words to Nikita the first time she'd met Mick, "There's more to him than there seems." He was certainly proving that. She rescued her king and prepared to enjoy the rest of the evening.

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

When Mahleah stepped into "The Copperhead" Teresa ran up to give her a hug. "Oh, I've been worried about you!" she exclaimed. "Where have you been?"

"Here and there," Mahleah cheerfully evaded the question. It had taken several days for Section to recover from its forced relocation. She had not had time to call in and make her excuses for missing performances. With surprise, she saw Joe, guitar in hand, sitting on the small stage next to Seth.

She sat down in front of Tony, "It seems you found a good replacement for me."

"Yes, I did," he said evenly.

"So, does that mean I don't work here anymore?"

"Well, it would be nice if I had a singer who I knew would be here every night," he told her lightly.

"No one can guarantee that," she responded, "and especially not me. You knew that when I walked in the door."

"True," he agreed. "Next time it would be nice to get a warning before you disappeared, but I know that's not always possible. Still," he teased her, "tell me again why I should keep you?"

She tilted her head, studying him with amusement, then walked over to the stage. "Hey guys," she greeted them. They all looked at her a little dubiously except for Joe who was visibly relieved by her presence.

"I'm glad to see you," he said. "I was afraid there'd been some sort of crisis."

She smiled at him, knowing he had been worried, "Nope, crisis averted. It seems I have to refresh the boss's memory about why he can't do without me. Care to join in?"

"Absolutely," he instantly agreed. "It's been a long time since we've jammed together."

She picked up an electric guitar and began warming up her fingers.

"What are we playing?" he asked her.

She gave him an evil smile, "What was the first song you ever heard me play?"

He paused, "It was a Sam Cooke song wasn't it?"

"Was it? Think back, Joe, to our younger days."

Suddenly the memory clicked, and he chuckled, "How could I have forgotten?"

The first time he had ever heard her sing or play she'd been a girl, desperately trying to show her father she could hold her own and she had mesmerized the small crowd at "The Pink Room," the gyp-joint David used to frequent every night.

She saw in his eyes that he had figured it out, and looked back at the band, "Feel free to join us if you can keep up boys."

After a soft countdown, they launched into a blazing version of "Crossroads." Tony and Teresa listened with wide eyes as Mahleah tore into the song with ferocity. She made no hesitations in playing as she belted out the lyrics, and Joe matched her lick for lick. After a few bars of stunned appreciation, the band kicked in wanting to be a part of the magic. In the middle, she and Joe had a bit of a duel and he actually one-upped her. When the song came to a crashing end, she walked back over to Tony, leaving the boys awed and exhausted.

"So, are you keeping me?" she asked.

"Well, I think our old guitar player may have a bit of an edge on you, but you're better looking than he is," he teased. "I guess I'll have to let you stay."

"Great, now I need to talk to you about someone renting this whole place including the services of the band tomorrow night...."

***********

Michael looked at Nikita from across the table in her apartment. He didn't want to admit it, but he was nervous. All of his plans were in order, but everything was up to her now. After the chaos of the last few day she might once again have decided to pull back from him. God knew his mind was whirling from encountering Errol Sparks again. It took everything he had to maintain his composure and bring the man in, but when Sparks was being interrogated he made sure to be present.

It gave the condemned man one last moment of pleasure to tell Michael that although he had survived the explosion at their last encounter, Simone had not. Michael bowed his head now remembering the incredibly mixed emotions he had felt upon hearing this news. He really wished she was still alive even if it would have put him in a strange position. Everything in him yearned to be with Nikita now, but he would have rejoiced to know that Simone wasn't completely lost to him. Fate had spared him that decision it seemed, and it was time to leave the past behind. Simone, Elena, Adam - they were no longer his and he had finally come to terms with those losses. Now, his heart was free to begin again.

Looking up again he said, "It's been a strange week."

"That's one way to put it. I don't know what was more unusual: Operations blowing up Section or you coming for dinner again," she responded.

"I didn't choose to stay away," he told her.

"But you did. So what's changed?"

"Maybe enough time has passed."

"Maybe too much time has passed, Michael," she countered, and his heart sank for a moment. Had he waited too long? He knew she had loved him once, but maybe she had lost those feelings and what he was mistaking for romantic feelings was merely friendship.

"I hope not," he refilled her wine glass.

"Thank you," she said but didn't drink. "So why are you here now?"

"I missed you," he said as simply and as warmly as he could.

She stared back at him, then looked down, and back up.

He decided it was time to put the plan in motion. If she had no feelings for him, he would find out tonight.

"I'd like to take you somewhere," he told her.

"Where?"

"It's a surprise." He looked at the severe, dark-blue outfit she was wearing, and added, "You might want to change clothes."

She studied him for a long moment, then came to a decision, "Okay, what do you suggest?"

A twinkle appeared in his eye as he said, "Something a little more fun."

Nikita smiled at the way he said "fun." From his lips it sounded more like the word "romantic." Tonight might well be the strangest day this week, but she had a feeling it could also be the most pleasant.

***********

Inside "The Copperhead" Teresa had stationed herself at the door as a lookout for the expected couple. The lighting was softer, most of the tables had been moved off the floor, and candles and flowers placed on the few left. Roses decorated the one strategically located near the band, but in the shadows.

Mahleah was ready. Wearing a soft velvet, strawberry red, ankle length dress with spaghetti straps, she stood near the stage. Instead of her usual braid, her hair was swept up in a myriad of curls that were caught on top of her head and cascaded downwards. For once she was actually wearing makeup and her lipstick matched the berry color of her dress. She glowed with anticipation.

Suddenly Teresa called, "Here they come!"

Everyone took their places as Michael and Nikita entered the club. Nikita had pulled the hitherto neglected little red dress out of her closet in hopes that Michael would like it. She and Mahleah smiled to see they were both wearing red, although Nikita's was a brighter shade.

Mahleah stepped onto the stage as the band began playing,

"Tonight the moon is playing tricks again.
I'm feeling seasick again and the whole world could just dissolve into a glass of water.
I've been good, 'cause I know you don't want me to.
Do you really want me to be as blue as you.
It's her daylight that gets me through."

Michael took Nikita by the hand and led her out on the floor. His green eyes burned into her blue ones as he pulled her to him in a slow dance.

"We've been here before.
Last time you scratched at my door.
The moon was naked and cold,
I was like a two year old just wanting more.
If you wear that velvet dress,"

Mahleah crooned.

"If you wear that velvet dress..."

Michael's fingers trailed softly down Nikita's arm, but she was lost in his gaze. She'd never seen it look as open before. Love, longing, and lust were all present, but so was a bit of fear. She realized that he was uncertain of her reaction to him and lifted a hand to slowly caress his jaw.

"Tonight the moon has drawn its curtains.
It's a private show.
No one else gonna know.
I'm wanting."

Mahleah saw with satisfaction that her first song had been an unqualified success. Her favorite couple was dancing ever closer and their looks were growing tenderer.

Tucked away as unobtrusively as possible Tony, Joe, and Teresa watched the proceedings with interest and approval. While they didn't know the back-history, Mahleah had told them that she was helping out a couple of friends who needed a serious romantic push. Joe thought that description fit Mahleah herself as well as anyone.

The strains of a new song began as Mahleah began to scold the lovers a little,

"You only see what your eyes want to see.
How can life be what you want it to be?
You're frozen when your heart's not open.
You're so consumed with how much you get,
you waste your time with hate and regret.
You're broken when your heart's not open."

She began the refrain,

"If I could melt your heart, we'd never be apart.
Give yourself to me, you hold the key."

Nikita felt as if the secrets of her soul lay exposed to Michael's eyes. Their bodies were swaying together without conscious thought. She moved forward until their faces were touching, closed her eyes and lost herself to the overwhelming sensations of the music, Mahleah's voice, and the proximity of his body. As he turned her around at the end of the first chorus, she happened to glance up at the singer and was surprised to see a strange expression come over Mahleah's face.

A figure slipped into "The Copperhead" unnoticed by the dancing couple, and for several minutes by Joe and his companions as well. It was the expression on Mahleah's face that tipped the Watcher off that something unusual was happening. As she sang,

"Now there's no point in placing the blame,
and you should know I suffer the same
- if I lose you, my heart will be broken,"

she seemed to be directing it to a corner of the room instead of her dancing friends.

"Love is a bird, she needs to fly.
Let all the hurt inside of you die.
You're frozen when your heart's not open."

Joe peered across the room, and his breath caught. "Tony, my friend," he said softly. "Pay close attention for the chronicles. Tonight is history in the making."

"You only see what your eyes want to see.
How can life be what you want it to be?
You're frozen when your heart's not open. Mmmm, if I could melt your heart."

By the time the band began playing Massive Attack's "Unfinished Sympathy" Mahleah was barely aware of Michael and Nikita's existence. Her attention was completely fixed on the man sitting quietly in the corner. Her eyes drank him in: from head to toe he was, to her, physical perfection. As she'd once said to Michael while in a much more frivolous mood, he was the standard by which she judged all other men.

As she sang the refrain of this song, she felt truer words had never been spoken:

"Like a soul without a mind in a body without a heart,
I'm missing every part."

She followed his gaze as he looked over at the dancing couple with interest and then resumed looking at her. Her eyes laughed at him. He had been jealous. She could tell by the relief on his face. Somehow he'd gotten the mistaken impression that she and Michael were romantically involved.

"Oh Duncan," she thought, "what are you doing here?" Obviously Joe had informed him of her presence here tonight. Her situation was rapidly becoming tenuous.

He kept perfectly still, tranquilly absorbing the room's atmosphere but the looks he gave her were electric. The last notes of "Sympathy" ended and she found herself being nudged back to reality by a discreet throat clearing from the dance floor.

She saw Nikita had finally noticed the newcomer's presence and was a little unnerved because she recognized him from the dress shop. Michael, too, identified the man in the corner as the martial artist living on a barge that Mahleah had watched so carefully.

She returned their pointed looks with an unspoken plea: Please leave this alone. I'll deal with him. Don't report his presence here tonight. She saw that they understood and smiled. It was time for another one of the surprises Michael had planned for Nikita. She nodded to the band. As the music started, Nikita jumped. The song was very familiar to her.

"Hold tight, if I had only known it could rain inside.
Keel over, take a stand, trying to keep my head on my shoulders.
Overflow, undertow, trying to keep my head above water.
Believe me, I'm a fighter 'til the end. Look into my eyes.
It's all on fire.
My life needs fire. I want roses strewn at my feet."

Nikita said Michael's name softly but questioningly. This was the song they had danced to over a year ago when he had amnesia.

"Moving in, moving out, the current pulls me. Stay buoyant.
I tumble doing deep-sea cartwheels.
Outside it's dark, I catch my breath and scream, scream. It's all on fire.
My life needs fire.
I want roses strewn at my feet."

Michael ran his fingers through Nikita's hair. She shivered, but her face still held a question, and he answered it, "Yes, I remember."

She shuddered and he pulled her back into the dance.

"Soundlessly I fade away. I sail, I float far away. A thousand clues and
second thoughts lie deep in the belly of my heart. If I listen so close..."

One of his hands began caressing her bare back. She felt his breath on her face as he whispered into her ear, "No more secrets between us." His lips brushed her ear.

"Meanwhile I float on the sea, sea yeah, sea.
Moving in, moving out, outside it's dark again.
Still I realize what a fine line you walk along.
Tightroping between sink or swim or fall or stand.
I sit here, I stare, and still I see it's raining.
Hard to say, hard to see, hard to know, hard to tell. It's raining..."

Michael's mouth moved from Nikita's ear, nipping the lobe as he went to her cheekbone and down her jaw before reaching her mouth. Here he hesitated for a moment with a scant millimeter between them. Nikita took the plunge, crossing the small space. Their lips met briefly, teasingly, before pulling away again.

This time Michael followed through and kissed her again with a little more pressure. His tongue flicked out briefly to touch her lips, then he pulled back and looked in her eyes. They were a blue deep enough to swim in, and he took the final plunge. When their lips met, they explored each other.

Mahleah smiled at the embracing couple - mission accomplished. She and Tony had used part of Michael's money to rent some extra musicians for the evening and she made full use of them now. They began the beautiful strains of an old Jerome Kern song and Mahleah's eyes involuntarily traveled from the couple before her to the corner where Duncan sat,

"Someday when I'm awfully low and the world is cold I will get a glow just thinking of you and the way you look tonight..."

Nikita unlocked her door and Michael followed her inside. She frowned as he walked away from her. He headed toward her stereo and hit the play button to start the CD Mahleah had made for him. The mood this evening had been both perfect and delicious and he wanted it to continue. Mahleah had promised that the first song was the most sensuous and sacred she could think of. He had planted it earlier this evening while Nikita was changing clothes. Now Marvin Gaye's "Let's Get it On," filled the room. He grinned inwardly.

Leave it to Mahleah to leave them an unsubtle hint.

Nikita listened to the music and watched as Michael walked back toward her.

She lifted an eyebrow, "Are you trying to seduce me?" she asked.

"Yes," he said simply.

She nodded, "Good." Conversation ceased.

"I've been really trying baby, trying to hold back this feeling for so long
and if you feel like I feel, baby, c'mon...let's get it on...."

Mahleah refused to go to the barge for fear that Section might discover Mac's Paris residence. So, instead, they went to the Hôtel Récamier, a quiet place near the Luxembourg Gardens.

After they entered the room, she looked at him and awkwardly said, "You seem to make a habit of walking in on my performances."

He laughed, but his lips promised mischief, "That's because you're the most seductive siren I've ever met."

Five long seconds later they surrendered to their impulses. Michael and Nikita's first kisses of the evening may have been tentative but these were searing. The fire that had been smoldering for many years finally ignited and engulfed them both as he pulled the pins out of her hair and let it fall down between them.

"We're all sensitive people with so much to give - understand me sugar.
Since we've got to be here, let's live.
I love you.
There's nothing wrong with me loving you,
and giving yourself to me could never be wrong if the love is true.
Don't you know how sweet and wonderful life can be?
I'm asking you baby to get it on with me.
I ain't gonna worry.
I ain't gonna push.
I won't push you darlin'."

She decided he was wearing too many clothes and grabbing his sweater yanked it over his head. He groaned as her lips ran over his collarbone and slipped down to lick at one of his nipples. Her fingers slid up his thigh, then unfastened his pants. When her hand dipped into his waistband, he pulled her into a bruising kiss and returned the favor by discarding her dress.

"You don't have to worry that it's wrong. If the spirit moves you, let me groove you. Let your love come down..."

Above their heads their fingers entwined as below the sheets their bodies rocked together. Foreign words lilted softly through the night air as she cried out with joy.

"Girl you give me good feelings, so good. I've been sanctified...."

Finally after hours of passion left them sated, she heard the words she'd waited a lifetime it seemed for, "Mo gràdh ort, mhurninn. I love you."

Epilogue

Nikita sat on her balcony in Michael's sweater, rubbing her lips and thinking. She still couldn't believe the events of the night before. Michael had crossed the boundary he'd set for himself so long ago between being friends and lovers. They'd gone slow dancing for half the night and made love the other half. He'd promised there would be no more secrets between them. It was a fantasy come true, but how long could it last? Even if he was committed to the relationship, how would Section react?

She tiptoed back into the room, hating to wake him up. If she needed any proof of his sincerity, the fact that he was still in bed asleep spoke volumes. On the few occasions they had made love in the past, he was always so conflicted that he couldn't sleep. Now he looked as peaceful as she'd ever seen him.

When she sat down on the edge of the bed he opened his eyes. He could tell that she was still having doubts: not about him but about the response of their superiors. He didn't know what that response would be and frankly he was tired of caring. He sat up and reminded her why this relationship was worth fighting for.

Mahleah woke with a start and raised her head from MacLeod's chest. He was breathing peacefully and she allowed herself the luxury of watching him at his most vulnerable. The situation reminded her of a poem by one of her favorite writers and she softy whispered:

Wonderful was the long secret night you gave me, my Lover,
Palm to palm, breast to breast to breast in the gloom. The faint red lamp
Flashing with magical shadows the common-place room of the inn,
With its dull impersonal furniture, kindled a mystic flame
In the heart of the swinging mirror, the glass that has seen
Faces innumerous and vague of the endless travelling automata
Whirled down the ways of the world like dust-eddies swept through a street,
Faces indifferent or weary, frowns of impatience or pain,
Smiles (if such there were ever) like your smile and mine when they met
Here, in this self-same glass, while you helped me to loosen my dress,
And the shadow-mouths melted to one, like sea-birds that meet in a wave -
Such smiles, yes, such smiles the mirror has reflected;
And the low wide bed, as rutted and worn as a high-road,
The bed with its soot-ridden chintz, the grime of its brasses,
That has born the weight of fagged bodies, dust-stained, averted in sleep,
The hurried, the restless, the aimless - perchance it has also thrilled
With the pressure of bodies ecstatic, bodies like ours,
Seeking each other's souls in the depths of unfathomed caresses,
And through the long windings of passion emerging again to the stars...
Yes, all this through the room, the passive and featureless room,
Must have flowed with the rise and fall of the human unceasing current,
And lying there hushed in your arms, as the waves of rapture receded,
And far down the margin of being we heard the low beat of the soul,
I was glad of those others, the nameless, the many,
Who perhaps thus had lain and loved for an hour on the brink of the world,
Secret and fast in the heart of the whirlwind of travel,
The shaking and shrieking of trains, the night-long shudder of traffic;
Thus, like us they have lain and felt, breast to breast in the dark,
The fiery rain of possession descend upon their limbs while outside
The black rain of midnight pelted the roof of the station;
And thus some woman like me waking alone before dawn,
While her lover slept, as I woke and heard the calm stir of your breathing,
Some woman has heard as I heard the farewell shriek of the trains
Crying goodbye to the city and staggering out into darkness,
And shaken at heart has thought: "So must we forth in the darkness,
Sped down the fixed rail of habit by the hand of implacable fate -

Mahleah broke off. There was more to the poem, but her normally photographic memory was being clouded by emotion. As much as it was going to rip her apart inside, she couldn't stay. Aside from all the reasons she'd had before, she now had an additional one - she couldn't risk Michael and Nikita's lives for her happiness. They had both seen Duncan and if Operations or Madeline found out about it, they could be in as much trouble as she was.

She knew if he woke up he would never let her leave, and he would use his considerable powers of persuasion to prevent her from doing so. She had no choice but to go now while he was sleeping. The last two lines of the poem returned to her, "Thus may another have thought; thus, as I turned, may have turned to the sleeping lips at her side, to drink, as I drank there, oblivion." She brushed her lips ever so softly over his and murmured, "I swear this isn't over."

Rising she put her clothes back on, and donned her coat. Taking one last long look at her lover, she quietly went out. As soon as the door shut, Duncan's eyes opened.

Nikita and Michael were having breakfast together on her balcony bathed in the rosy bliss of newfound passion. For once, Nikita found herself comfortable with Michael's familiar silence. She was beginning to understand how much lay beneath that cool exterior. They were both a little startled to hear the sounds of a singing voice floating up to them from the street below.

Going to the edge and looking down, they spotted Mahleah coming down the sidewalk slowly, even dreamily. Her hair was spilling messily down her back, and Nikita recognized the dress as the one she'd been wearing the night before. Her voice, husky and low, bubbled uncontrollably out of her throat,

"Oh listen sister, I love my mister man and I can't tell you why.
There ain't no reason why I should love that man.
It must be something that the angels did plan."

Mahleah knew she should be worried, but at the moment all cares seemed irrelevant. There were problems to be faced: reconciling her mission to capture Shawn with her affection for his family, the fate of Claire and her family, the odd looks she'd been getting from Operations lately which made her suspect something was up, and making sure that Section didn't cancel Michael and Nikita for succumbing to their love for each other. All of them dissolved for her temporarily. She could concentrate only on the memories of the night before.

"Fish got to swim and birds got to fly.
I gotta love one man 'til I die.
Can't help loving that man of mine....
When he goes away, that's a rainy day,
and when he comes back that day is fine.
The sun will shine."

I'm in the middle of one of Grandpa's old Technicolor Gene Kelly movies she thought dreamily. This bears no resemblance to real life and I'm acting as much like a moonstruck calf as Kelly's character in Singing in the Rain, but I don't care. She walked into her building.

"He can come home as late as can be.
Home without him ain't no home to me.
Can't help loving that man of mine..."

Across the street, Duncan MacLeod watched her go inside with a smile. He'd known what would happen last night, but the risk had been worth it. Listening to her, he knew that she wouldn't give up on him, and he damn sure wasn't going to give up on her. Gazing at the building he now knew was her home in Paris, he vowed, "I'm not letting you go so easily, mo chridhe, my heart."

Author's Acknowledgments: Lots of song lyrics got used in this one including; 1. Melissa Etheridge's "Bring Me Some Water"
2. Oasis' "Wonderwall"
3. "Even Angels Fall" from the 10 Things I Hate About You
4. Bruce Springsteen's "Promised Land"
5. U2's "If You Wear That Velvet Dress"
6. Madonna's "Power of Goodbye" and "Frozen"
7. TLC's "Waterfalls"
8. Mimi's "Fire and Roses"
9. Massive Attack's "Unfinished Sympathy"
10. Jerome Kern's "The Way You Look Tonight" and "Can't Help Loving That Man"
11. "Amazing Grace"
12. Kansas' "Dust in the Wind"

Also, Edith Wharton's poem "Terminus" is used in the Epilogue.

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