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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stared at him with horror. When her voice once again returned, she asked, "Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was still uncertain, "Are you sure?"

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

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

"I love you, Mahleah," he said in her ear.

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

"There's something else I want to tell you," he ventured.

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

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

"I thought your first teacher was Connor?"

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

"Did you kill Morgan?"

"No."

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

Her cellphone chose that moment to buzz. At first she didn't realize what it was, and then she groaned, "Oh hell, why do they always have to pick the worst time?"

"Ignore it," he suggested.

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

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

She finally found the phone and answered, "Hello."

"Kensei," Michael's voice lilted into her ear.

She sighed, "How soon?"

"Twenty minutes."

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

"So, I hear. Was that Michael?"

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

"Did he mention I talked to him in the park?"

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

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

Part Thirteen

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

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

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

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

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

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

********

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

She was singing along with the blaring rock music, "Listen here, baby and stop acting so crazy. You say your mum ain't home, it ain't my concern. Just play with me and you won't get burned."

"Make yourself at home," he commented dryly.

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

"Jimi Hendrix?" he inquired.

She nodded, smiling broadly.

"How?"

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

"Why?"

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

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

After all the jacks are in their boxes, And the clowns have all gone to bed, You can hear happiness staggering on down the street, Footprints dressed in red. And the wind whispers Mary.

"Not why Jimi Hendrix, why music at all?"

She peered at him over her sunglasses.

A broom is drearily sweeping Up the broken pieces of yesterday's life. Somewhere a Queen is weeping, Somewhere a King has no wife. And the wind it cries Mary.

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

The traffic lights they turn blue tomorrow And shine their emptiness down on my bed, The tiny island sags downstream 'Cause the life that they lived is dead, And the wind screams Mary.

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

"Leave it to me, Michael. I'll see you get straightened out," she promised huskily.

Will the wind ever remember The names it has blown in the past, And with this crutch, its old age and its wisdom It whispers, "No, this will be the last." And the wind cries Mary.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief, "There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief. Businessmen, they drink my wine. Plowmen dig my earth, None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."

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

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

"Which is?"

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

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

"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke. "There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke, But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate. So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shrugged, "The only person who knows is you."

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

She leaned forward, "And if you're in charge of Section?"

"As long as he doesn't become a security risk, I don't care."

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you," he said simply.

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

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

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

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.

Outside in the cold distance a wildcat did growl, Two riders were approaching, and the wind began to howl.

Part Fourteen

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

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

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

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

"Check your panel. I've made some changes," he said softly.

*******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, well, you've been into more than teasing tonight," he told her.

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

She turned back to him grinning, "Eric Clapton?"

"Hey, what can I say? It's entirely your influence."

"I hope so. Is the whole tape Clapton?"

"Nope, it's a mix. There's a little bit of everything on there."

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

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

"Why Walter, I don't know what you're referring to," she said coyly batting her eyes.

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

"Walter!"

His look got more serious, "Is he in Section?"

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

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

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

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

"You think so?"

"I know so," she said firmly.

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

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

"One of these days I'm going to make it out to one of your shows," he said.

"Please do," she said absently.

"Hey, where did you disappear to?"

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

"Do what?" he asked with genuine puzzlement. "You're a fabulous singer."

She gave him a small smile, "Thanks. I don't know about fabulous but I know that's one of my gifts. No, I was listening to the guitar."

He still didn't get it, "I thought you played guitar?"

"Oh, I can play, but it's not one of my gifts."

"How do you mean?"

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

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

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

"At least you realize that," he said softly.

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

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

"Good boy," she murmured, a little grimly. "Hail, hail the gang's all here, so let the games begin."

Part Fifteen

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

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

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

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

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

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

Birkoff swallowed, "Operations is not going to like that."

"Operations isn't here," Walter pointed out.

"But Madeline is," Birkoff responded, "and she'll make sure that Operations is contacted at Center."

"No, she won't," Mahleah said grimly, "because it's our job to stop her."

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

Walter finally broke the silence, "What's the plan?"

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

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

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

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

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

********

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

"So far, the only problem we've discovered is a man named Mintz," she informed him.

"From DRV?"

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

"She knows then?"

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

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

"Obviously Mintz cannot be trusted," he said softly. "I'll need you to take care of him."

"Fine," she started to leave.

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

She turned and looked at him, "No."

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

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

"What will you do?" he inquired.

She studied him, "What would you like done?"

"He should be transferred," Michael decided, "to a substation where he's no longer a threat."

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

"I'll see to it he leaves immediately," she told him, and left.

Part Sixteen

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

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

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

She began walking toward him, "Normally, no, you wouldn't," she agreed pleasantly, "but things change."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His eyes were wide with fear as he asked, "You - you're not going to cancel me?"

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

She stood as he asked, "Where am I going?"

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

"I'm being demoted and transferred?" He was outraged. "You can't. I protest."

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

********

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

"What about the guard?" he asked.

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

"Why not?" he wanted to know.

"We still haven't recovered the body," she told him, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Why is he loose?" he was going straight to the heart of the matter.

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

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

Michael looked at her coolly, "Any other excuses?"

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

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

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

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

"Or he may not," he responded.

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

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

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

Part Seventeen

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

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

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

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

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

*******

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled pleasantly back at Madeline, "You wanted to see me?"

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to comment," Mahleah said smoothly.

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

"Yes."

"Well, I'm about to pose an interesting question to you: who deserves more of your loyalty - Michael or Duncan MacLeod?"

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

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

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

Mahleah remained silent.

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

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

"I'm sure it would. I could arrange such a reconciliation for you."

Ah, Mahleah though, that's her scheme.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mahleah rose. "I'm sorry, Madeline, but I think we're wasting each other's time."

"Michael will not succeed," Madeline's dark eyes were flashing.

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

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

Part Eighteen

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

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

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

*********

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

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

"I want to know whether Michael's planning an assault." Madeline told her.

"Ask Michael."

"I'm asking you," came the response. "May I see the profile?"

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

She wasn't really prepared for Madeline's response, "Mintz is no longer with us."

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

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

"Well Operations has ordered his share," Nikita countered.

"This one will fail, and failure will destroy Michael's career. Persuade him to cancel."

Nikita pursed her lips, then responded, "You overestimate my influence."

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

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

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

*******

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

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

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

"Oh, but we already did," Mahleah told her.

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

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

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

Mahleah froze in her chair, "What do you mean?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All of the pleasant concern dropped from Madeline's face, "This is your last chance to reconsider."

Mahleah slowly shook her head, "No."

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

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

*********

Nikita walked into the perch and handed Michael a disk. "Here's the profile," she told him.

He laid it next to the computer he was working on, "I'll get to it in a minute."

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

Michael continued with his work, not even looking at her, "No, he's not."

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

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

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

This information didn't seem to ruffle Michael, who merely told her to, "Increase density. Add backup."

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

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

"Sixty percent, fifty - they're just numbers," he replied. "We'll get him."

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

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

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

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

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

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

*******

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

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

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

Part Nineteen

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

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

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

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

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

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

As he accepted it, he told her, "Thank you."

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

"Yes," he told her, knowing it wouldn't be enough.

"Why?" she demanded.

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

Her eyes bore into him, "Are you saying there's more to this than I know?"

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

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

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

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

Her tone indicated a note of finality that made his head start to throb.

She walked around him, following the path of her team, leaving him alone holding what he had hoped to be the key to their future in his hands. He listened until he could no longer hear the sound of her footsteps, and then slowly walked in the opposite direction.

********

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

"We misjudged him very badly," Operations told her.

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

He turned to look at her, "There's another possibility. He's just better than we are."

They both smiled, as if to deny that suggestion.

"He's good," Madeline agreed. "He and Nikita, together, are quite good. Fortunately, even the best have weaknesses."

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

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

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

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

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

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

His smile widened considerably, "She would also outrank Nikita."

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

Part Twenty

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

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

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

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

*********

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

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

"Now what's that about?" she asked under her breath.

********

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

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

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

"How angry were they with you?" he asked.

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

"Promoted?" he wasn't sure what to make of this little development.

"Yep, I'm now a level three operative."

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

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

They exchanged a look of mutual understanding.

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

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

So take a good look at my face You'll see my smile looks out of place Look a little bit closer it's easy to trace The tracks of my tears.

**********

Author's Note: This is the end of the first part of the trilogy of stories that make up "The Power to Hurt." I hope you are interested in Hurt II, and Hurt III.

Here is a list of the song lyrics used:

1. "X-Ray Man" by Liz Phair 2. "Whip Smart" by Liz Phair 3. "Jealousy" by Liz Phair 4. "Ultraviolet (Light My Way)" by U2 5. "Fire" by Jimi Hendrix 6. "The Wind Cries Mary" by Jimi Hendrix 7. "All Along the Watchtower" by Jimi Hendrix (All right, Bob Dylan wrote it, but this is the version used here) 8. "Tracks of My Tears" by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles

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

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