The Power to Hurt II By Michelle Fields Copyright September 2000

This story contains dialogue and spoilers for the LFN episode "Third Party Ripoff."

Part One

There were days when Chris Davenport hated Section One more than others. Today was one of those bad times. To say he disliked his new assignment was putting it mildly. It was one thing to spy on terrorists and criminals but quite another to be forced into spying on one's comrades, especially when you happened to be fond of the target of your scrutiny.

Davenport had liked Mahleah after the first conversation he'd had with her and when a few days later he heard her teasing Michael and be rewarded for her efforts with a half-smile she gained his admiration as well. Then there were the sing-alongs she held whenever they were returning from a mission on a long, boring flight. He smiled now at the memory of her infectious version of "Every Breath You Take" - truly an inspired choice from her Section's Greatest Hits list.

Now he was forced to keep an eye on her at Madeline's request. It had seemed like such a waste of time. She spent most of her time either performing or rehearsing at "The Copperhead" when she wasn't at Section itself. Of course she was seeing a man after her shows. They were very discreet and he'd only been able to catch them together a few times, and he had yet to see the man clearly. As it turned out this was what Madeline found the most interesting item in his reports. He had been told in explicit detail that he was to discover the identity of this mysterious lover.

He watched her now as she talked and laughed with Walter. It was interesting that they remained on such good terms after their breakup. Of course, it seemed that Madeline had been behind that split as well. He rubbed his temples wearily. Anytime Madeline took that much interest in an operative it meant she had personal plans for that person - never a good thing. As he looked up, he noticed with a start that Michael was watching him. He swallowed. If he weren't careful he'd end up between Scylla and Charybdis.

*******

Walter looked across the table at the man that had been introduced as Joe. When Mahleah had invited him to the club tonight, she had promised him surprises and Joe was one of them. It was obvious the two of them knew each other well, an opinion confirmed when Joe leaned in over the music to say about the woman on stage, "She wears you out just watching her sometimes, doesn't she?"

Walter chuckled, "She does indeed. So, how long have you known her?"

Joe studied him for a long moment before replying, "Mahleah says I shouldn't admit this to many people but that I can trust you - we're very old friends. In fact, I remember watching her on stage when she was a little girl."

Walter nodded. He had expected something like that. What on earth possessed Mahleah to allow this man back into her life? Did she not realize how incredibly dangerous it was for him to be here? What lay between them that was so important that she refused to give him up in her new life?

He cleared his throat, "Well Joe, were you and Mahleah ever romantically involved?"

Joe laughed long and heartily. "No," he finally answered, wiping tears from his eyes. "Never. I think you have me confused with a mutual friend."

"Obviously," Walter muttered, feeling a little embarrassed. "Tell me what she was like growing up. She tends to keep details pretty secret."

Joe looked thoughtful, "That's understandable. Was there something in particular you wanted to know about?"

Walter frowned. It appeared Joe wasn't going to just start sharing intimate stories either. He wondered what skeletons Mahleah had in her closet that would require her friends to be so guarded. He glanced up at the stage. Seth, the lead guitarist was trying to coax Mahleah into playing on the next song.

She shook her head, "Not tonight."

He looked back at her old friend and asked, "What's the deal with Mahleah and guitars? She obviously loves the music, but she's convinced she doesn't play very well. Frankly, I find that difficult to believe."

Joe's face lightened. This was a topic he felt safe in discussing. "Well, I doubt she'll ever play as well as she sings, but since she has one of the most extraordinary voices I've ever heard that's not an insult. She constantly amazes me with the way she pulls emotional layers out of a song that make it completely fresh. As for the guitar, though, it's true she rarely manages to pull out that spark of 'divine fire', if you will. She's very sensitive to the fact that, in her mind, she never manages to live up to her own standards."

"Why is that?" Walter asked. He had a hard time believing that any of Mahleah's music could be considered mediocre. One look at her on that stage should be enough to convince anyone that she poured out her heart and soul in every note.

"A mental block," came the honest answer. "One that frankly I don't know if she'll ever fully overcome. Has she ever mentioned her father to you?"

"Yes, a little. She mostly just mentioned that after her mom died he drank a lot."

Joe nodded, "David had a miserable time letting go of Catriona. Has Mahleah mentioned that he was a guitar player, and a damn good one?"

At Walter's nod, he continued, "David could have been one of the greats, except for two things: Catriona didn't like the road and after the accident that killed her he tried to drink himself to death. When Mahleah was a little girl, she desperately tried to please David any way she could. She discovered that her next door neighbor was an old blues man himself and convinced him to give her guitar lessons."

"Did her dad appreciate it?"

Joe sighed, "Yes and no. From all I can tell, David didn't know what he wanted in those days other than to be numb enough to feel no pain. I saw her reveal her little surprise for him. She walked up on stage and played 'Crossroads' with all the heart in her. I've never seen anything like it. David was flabbergasted, but then he decided if that's what she wanted he would teach her himself."

"A mistake?" Walter guessed.

"That's putting it lightly. He didn't have the patience or the temperament to teach a dog to howl at the moon at that point in his life. He made her practice until her fingers would bleed. It's really a long story, but to get to the point, he made sure her technique was flawless but she's never been the same since. Every now and then I see flashes of that moment when she stalked onto that stage for the first time fearless and confident, but usually what I hear is divorced from the soul she pours so effortlessly into her singing."

Walter looked back to the stage where Mahleah stood clutching a mike, her eyes tightly closed and her head falling back. "Do you think there's a chance she'll conquer the past?"

Joe looked thoughtful, "As I said, she does manage occasionally, but I don't know if she'll get over it in this lifetime."

"That's terrible," Walter said softly. "She can sing anything, but it seems like she'd give that up to play like her dad."

"She can't sing anything," Joe corrected. "She has to have a connection to the song. If she doesn't like it, she's like anyone else struggling to make something come to life. I heard her at her first recital in grad school. She'd been taking voice lessons to improve her range and her teacher had picked most of the selections. I hate to admit it, but most of those songs sounded like any run-of-the-mile pretty voice were performing them. There were a couple that you could tell she really liked and they were fabulous, but overall that concert definitely got mixed reviews. The next weekend she dropped by my club, and I convinced her to jam with me that night." He shook his head in remembrance, "You wouldn't have believed it was the same woman. No, Mahleah has to have the right material. She told me her voice teacher was going to kill her for belting out rock and blues numbers all night. I gave her a few good suggestions about what her teacher could do with himself."

At that moment, Mahleah walked over to their corner table and grabbed Walter by the hand. The band was playing "Walk This Way" under Seth's leadership.

"Come on," she winked at him, "we need to dance."

A little startled, he let her pull him to the floor.

Joe watched with amusement as Mahleah and her pony-tailed friend cavorted around the wooden floor. He glanced up as a man seated himself next to him, in the shadowy nook.

"It's about time you showed up, Mac," he scolded. "I think Mahleah's gotten tired of waiting on you."

Part Two

MacLeod watched Mahleah and Walter spinning around the floor together. "They've been lovers," he commented.

Joe nearly choked on his beer. "Mahleah and Walter?" he sputtered.

When MacLeod nodded, Joe looked at him skeptically, "Why do you say that? Has she said something?"

"No, it's the way they dance together."

Joe studied the couple for a moment, then shook his head, "Mahleah always dances a little flirty if she likes the guy and the song. It doesn't mean anything."

"It's not just the flirtatiousness, it's how physically comfortable she is with him." Mac explained. He looked at his friend, and smiled. "It's just an observation, Joe. I'm fine with it."

"Well, he did ask me if I'd ever been involved with her. I thought that was kind of odd at the time. I mean, I've never thought of her that way. Guess I always figured I was too old." He caught Mac's ironic look and laughed with him. "Or not old enough as the case may be. Sure you're okay with it?"

Duncan shrugged, "Mahleah's a very physical person and always has been. I'm glad she had someone to find comfort with in this new life."

Joe took another sip of his beer thinking, "Yeah, you were just glad it wasn't Michael, weren't you? What is it with this guy that makes you so jittery, Mac?"

Outwardly, he replied, "I think it's great that she's so comfortable with herself and her sexuality. Things could have been so different considering her past."

MacLeod frowned momentarily in remembrance of Kenneth, then smiled wryly, "Well, Tessa and I may have had something to do with that while she was growing up. When you live for six years with a couple who are not shy about public displays of affection, it kind of becomes second nature to you."

Joe couldn't resist asking a question for the chronicles, something he had often wondered about, "Mac, when you and Tessa moved after Mahleah turned sixteen...was that entirely for her benefit or for yours as well?"

Mac understood the delicate subject Joe was tiptoeing around but wasn't offended, "Had I started to realize what a beautiful young woman Mahleah was coming? Yeah, if I'm completely honest I did. It wasn't the main reason we left, which as you know was to allow her and her dad to get on with the business of repairing their own relationship, but I did think it might be better if there was some distance between us. When she was around fourteen or fifteen, Mahleah suddenly started acting shy around me. It made me realize that she was starting to become more aware of herself sexually and I didn't want to complicate our relationship even further."

Joe leaned forward, "So just when did it hit you that she wasn't a little girl anymore?"

Mac laughed, "Mahleah grew so fast that she wasn't a little girl very long, actually, but that doesn't really answer your question. Well, it's such a gradual thing that it didn't really dawn on me exactly how mature she was becoming until I choreographed that gypsy dance for her to perform at the talent contest. Those dances tend to be passionate by their very nature and in our last rehearsal things went a little too smoothly. It was a little too easy, during the course of the number, to forget exactly how old she was. It made both of us uncomfortable for a while. When she turned sixteen, I decided it would be best for all concerned if Tessa and I just left."

"So when did you start seeing her the way you do now?"

Mac's face grew soft with reminiscence, "That's not an easy thing to pinpoint, but the beginnings of our present relationship began I think, after Tessa's death, when I looked at her in a hospital bed after the attack by Kenneth and later when I stayed with her at night to help her sleep. She was so tormented by his viciousness that I could have easily torn him apart with my bare hands. No one should ever be subjected to the kind of wounds he inflicted on her, but I think her mental scars were even worse. She used me as a security blanket to chase away the nightmares. I remember waking up one morning - I'd been dreaming about Tessa - to find myself kissing her. She just looked at me and felt more concern for my grief than for her own pain. I think I lost my heart then, and didn't even realize it."

He snapped out of his reverie to realize whom he was talking to, and looked sheepish, "I guess you have plenty of material for your journals, Joe."

Joe tried to lighten the moment, "Oh, well I thought seeing the way she danced to Led Zeppelin songs might have had something to do with it."

Duncan laughed, "They do seem to bring out the wild child in her, don't they?"

Mahleah plopped down at the table, slightly out of breath, "Wild child in who?"

"Mac was just mentioning it seems he has a rival," Joe teased her. "Now surely you aren't cheating on him?"

She rolled her eyes, "He knows better." She leaned in and gave MacLeod a long, lingering kiss that had Joe looking away and clearing his throat.

Walter walked up, a couple of drinks in hand, "Am I interrupting?"

"Nah," she declared, "I hope one of those is for me."

"Yep, Tony sent it special," he handed her a glass of fizzy liquid. "So, do I rate an introduction?"

Mahleah looked at him for a long moment, and then said, "Absolutely, Walter honey, this is Duncan MacLeod. Mac, this is Walter."

The two men studied each other and she could see that the name had registered with Walter. Mahleah took a large sip of her drink, wondering what the two would think of each other.

Finally, Walter commented, "So you're the guy she's calling to in Gaelic every night, huh?"

"Walter!" Mahleah exclaimed.

Duncan gave a mock frown as he said, "I guess that would be me, unless you're sleeping with another Highlander as well?"

She nearly choked as she swallowed another large gulp of her Tony special. "It would serve you right if I was," she fumed. "When's Connor coming to town? Maybe he'd show a girl a better time."

"Nah," Duncan dismissed the idea, "He's too old."

"Look, who's talking," she laughed. "Mr. Ancient Bones....." She broke off as he had pulled her into his lap and was quite effectively preventing her from making further comments on his age.

Joe frowned. It wasn't like Mahleah to be so indiscreet about something as important as how old Mac really was. What was going on?

When their kiss ended, Mahleah raised an eyebrow, "You still haven't told me what you were talking about as I walked up - who was the wild child you two were talking about?"

"Oh, we were just commenting on your youthful preferences for a certain band," Joe said cheerfully.

She was puzzled, "I liked a lot of bands then, I still do."

"Oh, but there was something about Led Zeppelin that just made you want to dance."

She groaned and put her hands over her face, "Oh God, am I ever going to get to live that down?"

"Nope," Mac told her. "After all, your Dad and I had a rough time getting them not to expel you for that little incident."

"Oh, you missed the warm up to that whole deal," Joe informed him. "You should have seen the hootchie-kootchie she put on for Kevin and his band when they were practicing."

"Oh my God," she was mortified. "You saw that? Why? What were you doing at that rehearsal?"

"Drawn by the music, my dear," he told her. "Kevin was very talented."

"Yes, he was," she agreed, still stunned.

Mac glanced at the two of them. Mahleah had turned bright red. "What's that phrase you like to use, 'needing back story here'?"

Mahleah wet her lips nervously, "I just got carried away at one of the band's practices."

"You didn't do a strip tease?"

"NO!" she protested.

Joe laughed, "No, all her clothes stayed on, which was pretty miraculous really. Those poor boys had smoke coming out of their ears by the time you finished."

"Why haven't I heard about this before?" Mac inquired with curiosity.

"Well...." Mahleah was at a loss for words.

Joe helped her out, "I imagine it never came up, because at the time she didn't want you to know she was sexually active. Later, she probably just didn't think of it."

If anything Mahleah was even more crimson than before, "Joe, you don't know that I was having sex with Kevin. Do you?"

She was asking if he'd watched her that closely before she became Immortal and the answer was no. "That's true, I don't," he replied honestly, "but from my point of view it looked like if you hadn't been you were going to be in the rather near future."

Mahleah hid her face, "Stop it," she pleaded. "I can only take so much torture in one night."

"You guys really must be old friends," Walter said with a chuckle. "I've never seen anyone so thoroughly embarrass her before." He was a little confused about the relationships, but realized no one seemed likely to explain further.

She peeked through her fingers to groan again, "Oh God, here comes someone else to witness my misery."

Michael was walking up to the table. Mahleah lunged for the rest of her Clearly Canadian water in an attempt to cool her flaming cheeks. When he arrived, he looked around the table, plainly expecting an introduction.

"Michael, this reprobate is Joe Dawson, don't let his pleasant innocent demeanor fool you. Duncan you've already met before."

"Not formally," Michael responded. "Good to see you again."

"And you," Duncan politely replied.

Mahleah noticed the intense way Michael was looking into her eyes and hearing Seth and the boys cranking up another familiar Aerosmith song, she began humming "Love in an Elevator." Hopping out of MacLeod's lap, she grabbed Michael, "Hey, they're playing our song, Musashi. Come dance with me."

Before anyone could say a word, she'd pulled him onto the floor. Walter whistled, "Now, there's something I never thought I'd see."

Joe was much more interested in Mahleah's glass. He fixed his stare on Walter, "Okay, what's in the drink you brought her?"

Walter blinked, "What are you talking about?"

"Mahleah's been acting just a little bit off ever since the two of you came back and she downed this glass. What's in it?"

Walter looked at them apologetically, "I asked Tony to put a little something in her water to make her relax." Defensively he explained, "Don't get me wrong, I wasn't trying to get her drunk or anything. It's just she's been so tense the last few days that I thought a few drops of something a little stronger might help her unwind a little."

"Yeah, well it worked," Teresa said, picking up their empty glasses. "She's having a grand time." She looked back admiringly at Michael, "Who could blame her?"

Joe looked nervously at MacLeod. How was the Immortal taking his girlfriend dancing with not one, but two other men? Actually, he looked bemused.

Sensing Joe's scrutiny, he looked over and said, "Like you said earlier, Joe, if Mahleah likes both a guy and a song her dancing gets a bit come-hither. It doesn't mean anything."

"I'm glad you realize that," Walter told him. "Can't say I wasn't a little anxious about meeting you after my own spin around the floor with her."

"I was afraid you'd make some more pronouncements based on body language," Joe joked.

Mac turned his eyes back to the floor, "Well, I can tell you that Mahleah's probably slept with Michael."

"What?" Joe and Walter were both dumbfounded.

Mac shook his head, "No, they haven't had sex, but there's a certain intimacy with them you only get from spending the night next to someone."

"You can tell all that?" Walter inquired. "How?"

Mac's lips quirked, "I've known Mahleah for a much longer time than we've been lovers and I know how she responds in different situations. I've watched her dance with a lot of people over the years. No, she and Michael haven't had sex, but I think they have made out a little." He winked at Walter, "On a purely professional level, I'm sure."

"How are you seeing this Mac?" Joe wanted to know. In his line of work these kinds of clues were invaluable.

"It's the atmosphere between them - a mix of uneasiness and familiarity - there's a tension there that's never been released."

Walter stared at him, "And you're okay with that?"

"Why shouldn't I be? Mahleah's not likely to cheat- she'd view that as a betrayal not only of me but her own code of behavior. I know she loves me and I've been told Michael's in love with someone else, so why should a dance bother me?"

"You're the first man I've ever known to take having Michael as a rival that lightly," Walter commented.

MacLeod's eyes glittered as he said, "Oh, if he were a rival I'd take him much more seriously."

The dancers began moving back to their corner and as Mahleah arrived she announced, "Mac, you don't have to see me home. Michael can do that."

Duncan's eyebrows shot up at that unexpected message, but then Mahleah curled up in his lap again and whispered, "Apparently we're being followed. Michael thinks someone is outside the club waiting for us."

He pulled back and looked into her dark eyes. Concern and a smidgen of fear had replaced the frivolity.

"I know you don't take these people seriously, but I do," she told him. "Please Mac, leave as quietly as you can. There's a backdoor through the kitchen."

He smiled gently at her, "I do take them seriously, I just don't want them to dictate my life."

"Please," she repeated fervently, "for me."

He sighed, "All right, for you." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Come with me. I want to say a proper goodbye."

They rose, with the others watching. "It's been an interesting evening, gentlemen. I wish I didn't have to rush off."

"But you do," Mahleah insisted.

Duncan looked straight at Michael, "I know you'll make sure she's okay."

"Yes," Michael agreed.

"Mac," Mahleah punched him in the shoulder. "You know quite well that I can take care of myself."

"I know," he agreed. "I also know that just one person can't watch everything, all the time."

She shook her head with mock disgust, shooting him an evil look, "You know, sometimes I could swear you were born in the 16th century or something."

Joe coughed nervously, and Michael turned his attention to the Watcher as the Immortals walked toward the kitchen and its escape route.

"I believe you are an old friend of Tony's?" he asked.

"Yes," Joe agreed.

"Good, then your appearance tonight won't seem out of the ordinary."

Teresa came out of the kitchen in a hurry and past the swinging door they could all see their friends locked in a heated embrace. Joe and Walter turned away after a moment, the intensity of the moment making them feel like intruders.

Michael continued to stare a little longer than the others. His heart ached a little at the sight and its reminder that Nikita refused to even speak to him right now. He watched Mahleah and her lover to remind himself of what had once been. Love and Section didn't mix very well and he couldn't promise Mahleah that she would be able to maintain her relationship with this man she so desperately loved. He swore to himself though, that at least he would do all he could to help her keep MacLeod alive.

Part Three

Nikita hadn't been resting well lately. If she managed to fall into a light sleep, she would inevitably wake up when she reached for Michael and found the bed empty. They hadn't been a couple for very long, she reflected grimly. How the hell did the man manage to get so thoroughly under her skin anyway?

Hey, hey, mama, said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove. Oh, oh, child, way you shake that thing, gonna make you burn, gonna make you sting. Hey, hey, baby, when you walk that way, watch your honey drip, can't keep away.

Dreams of any kind were definitely far off tonight. Someone in Mahleah's apartment was playing music very loudly. Apparently Led Zeppelin IV had been thrown into the CD player because she'd first heard the raucous "Black Dog" followed by the boisterous "Rock and Roll."

I gotta roll, can't stand still, got a flame in my heart, can't get my fill. Eyes that shine, burning red, dreams of you all through my head.

She thought of the culprit as a generic "someone" because though Mahleah frequently played music and at high decibels, she'd never done so at such a late hour before. That only left, Nikita swallowed hard, Michael. Surely not?!

Didn't take too long 'fore I found out, what people mean by down and out. Spent my money, took my car, started telling her friends she wants to be a star.

She had been about to turn in to engage in some tossing and turning when she'd heard voices in the hall. It was Mahleah's usual hour to return home from the club, so hearing her talking was not odd. Though lately she didn't always come back at her normal time, she usually had to yell at Mick to quiet down. What had shocked Nikita was the fact that Mahleah had called someone "Musashi." Nikita had activated the camera outside her door and discovered that it was Michael vanishing inside the apartment down the hall at 3 am. What the hell was he doing? Surely he wasn't the one blasting rock music into the night? She couldn't imagine a more un-Michael-like behavior, but then she'd often seen him acting uncharacteristically around Mahleah. Under the other woman's influence she'd seen him smile, make jokes, and even laugh.

All I ask for when I pray, steady rollin' woman gonna come my way. Need a woman gonna hold my hand, won't tell me no lies, make me a happy man.

"What do you care?" she told herself firmly. "You broke up with him. He's free to be with anyone he wants."

That was all true, so why did she feel like dragging him out of Mahleah's apartment by the ears?

*******

After MacLeod's departure, Mahleah had managed to get Joe to leave as well. Michael and Walter had sat together listening to about another hour's worth of music and Walter had filled the younger man in on the tantalizing tidbits of information he'd heard this evening.

Walter decided to go home while the band was packing it in, but Michael waited on Mahleah. When she saw him, she scolded, "You really don't have to see me home, Michael. I walk every night by myself and I'm fine."

"I know," he replied, but she could tell that he still intended to drive her home tonight no matter how much she protested.

"How do I manage to discover every obstinate man in the world?" she wondered.

The drive was quiet and uneventful. Michael had fallen into his usual silence, and Mahleah, brooding on the events of the evening wasn't her usual gregarious self. He glanced at her from time to time, but she barely seemed to breathe, much less move.

He walked her to her apartment amid her jokes about what a fine gentleman he was, and when she invited him in, he accepted. He wanted to distract her a little from the moody silence she was rapidly descending into, and if at all possible talk to her about how to prevent catastrophe from overtaking them all.

As she let them in, she sighed, "Help yourself to whatever you want, but you'll have to excuse me for a minute. I always have to get the cigarette smoke out of my hair before I can relax. I won't be long - just make yourself at home."

She disappeared up the stairs, leaving him wondering what to do next. As he gazed around the apartment, her stereo and the shelves of CDs beside it caught his eye. It was no surprise that her collection was both huge and eclectic. What struck him as more interesting was its organization. While the rest of the apartment was by no means a shambles, it wasn't exactly neat as a pin either. A stack of unopened mail lay sprawled across the coffee table and he could see unwashed dishes in the kitchen. The different sections of a newspaper were scattered across the couch and yet her CD collection was intensely organized. Not only were the disks grouped by genre, but also by artist (in alphabetical order, no less), and according to chronology.

Browsing through the rock section, the words "Led Zeppelin" sprang out at him. He pulled out the fourth, untitled, album and gazed at it thoughtfully. He had been a fan of the band back in his college days. Rene had preferred groups like The Rolling Stones and The Who, both of whom courted chaos at certain points in their careers, but Michael had been drawn to the bluesy yet psychedelic stylings of Zeppelin. He shook his head in wonder - that seemed a lifetime ago.

He remembered the stories Walter had hinted at earlier that suggested Mahleah had a long and colorful past connected with this music. Perhaps he could use that history to break her out of her pensive state of mind. He smiled to himself. After his reaction to the Hendrix she'd played in his office, she wouldn't be expecting this. The music hadn't really bothered him; it was the shock of hearing it played in Section. Yes, he decided, it was about time that he gave her a surprise for a change.

*******

It's been a long time since I rock and rolled, It's been a long time since I did the Stroll. Ooh, let me get it back, let me get it back, Let me get it back, baby, where I come from. It's been a long time, been a long time, Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.

When Mahleah stepped out of the shower, she was amazed to hear rock music pounding through her walls.

"Lord, my neighbors are going to kill me," she worried. Her next immediate thought though was, "Screw 'em. This is just what I need right now." Her nearest neighbors were Mick and Nikita anyway. She really didn't care if she woke Mick up, he'd returned the favor any number of nights, and she fully intended to have a chat with Nikita sometime anyway.

She dried off, slipped on pajamas and a heavy robe, and then carrying a bottle of spray-on conditioner and a comb went to confront her noisy guest.

Seems so long since we walked in the moonlight, Making vows that just can't work right. Open your arms, open your arms Open your arms, baby, let my love come running in. It's been a long time, been a long time, Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time.

As she came down the stairs, she saw him scanning music titles and couldn't resist saying, "I always knew you were a closet Jimmy Page fan."

When he nodded, her jaw dropped open. "I was kidding," she said, stunned. "I figured you were playing Zeppelin because of all the tales you probably heard from Walter tonight."

"That, too," he agreed.

She blinked, "You're a Jimmy Page fan? Seriously?"

"I used to be - a very long time ago."

She nodded, and sitting down, began to spray the ends of her hair with conditioner. "Excuse me while I do this. I don't have much of a beauty regimen, but if I don't want my hair to look dry and scraggly I have to treat it every night."

He found a chair and sat down also as he said, "So, are you going to tell me all about the strange fascination this band has over you?"

She groaned, "I'm going to kill Walter. Well, they wrote really cool songs. I mean, listen to this one." "The Battle of Evermore" was playing. "They're talking about Tolkein's 'Lord of the Rings.' I happen to think that's pretty damn neat."

"So, is that the song you danced to and nearly got expelled for?" he quizzed.

She shook her head, "No, that was 'Kashmir,' actually."

He nodded, being easily able to picture Mahleah belly dancing to the song.

She let out a long breath as "Evermore" finished and the strains of one of the most famous songs in rock history began.

There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold And she's buying a stairway to heaven. When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed With a word she can get what she came for. Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to heaven.

"I have a real love/hate relationship with this band, actually," she told him slowly, "and especially with this song."

He looked at her with puzzlement and she smiled, "When I was a kid, I thought it was one of the most beautiful songs ever written. I guess I still do, but I have a checkered past with it."

She took a deep breath, "I guess I've told you my dad was a guitar player. Well when I was a kid, I used to sneak into the gyp-joint down the road where he played, just to hear him. Inevitably, some drunk would holler up, 'Hey, play "Stairway to Heaven", man'. I didn't realize then, just how much my dad hated playing that song over and over, every night."

There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure 'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings. In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings, Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven.

"I started learning to play myself, and actually walked out on stage one night to perform with his band. I was so proud of myself and he seemed to be proud of me, too. He decided if I really wanted to learn that he'd teach me. We spent hours every day practicing. He made sure that my technique was flawless and that I could sing and play at the same time."

Ooh, it makes me wonder, Ooh, it makes me wonder.

She pursed her lips, "It was never easy, and he didn't have the most patience in the world, but somehow I learned. He made sure I knew every note, every word, every chord, every lick of this song."

There's a feeling I get when I look to the west, And my spirit is crying for leaving. In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees, And the voices of those who stand looking.

"But why?" Michael didn't understand.

Ooh, it makes me wonder, Ooh, it really makes me wonder.

"Musically it's a very interesting piece, and was quite a challenge for me to learn. When I could play all the parts, and sing while doing it, he informed me that he never wanted to hear me play it again. I was to be an original and not give into the idiots who might demand that song."

And it's whispered that soon if we all call the tune Then the piper will lead us to reason. And a new day will dawn for those who stand long And the forests will echo with laugher.

He nodded, finally understanding. Her father wanted her refusal to be based upon principle not ignorance.

If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now, It's just a spring clean for the May Queen. Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run There's still time to change the road you're on. And it makes me wonder.

"What else happened?" he prompted, sensing there was more to this story.

She was silent for a moment, but then continued, "One night Dad decided I was good enough to join him in the band for the night. We were playing something he'd written himself - the first song he'd been able to write since mom died. I was so happy to be playing with him at all, and this was a special piece for me..." her voice trailed off.

Your head is humming and it won't go, in case you don't know, The piper's calling you to join him, Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know Your stairway lies on the whispering wind.

When she began talking again, her voice was quiet, "In the middle of the performance Billy, a barfly that practically lived in that place, popped up to say, 'Hey, how about playing a real song, like "Stairway to Heaven"?' Dad dropped his guitar, jumped off the stage and started pounding on Billy. It took two men to pull him off, and he ended up spending the night in the county jail." She looked at Michael with shiny eyes, "For a long time, I thought the whole mess was my fault. If only I had played better, Billy would never have wanted us to play something else and my dad wouldn't have been insulted or arrested. It wasn't until a few years ago that I managed to let myself off the hook for that one."

Watching how she had instinctively curled her feet up under her in the chair, Michael doubted if that scar would ever go away completely. They sat in a companionable silence, listening as "Stairway to Heaven" hit its crescendo.

And as we wind on down the road Our shadows taller than our soul. There walks a lady we all know Who shines white light and wants to show How everything still turns to gold. And if you listen very hard The tune will come to you at last. When all are one and one is all To be a rock and not to roll. And she's buying a stairway to heaven.

Michael decided that story had done nothing to improve her mood. Surely there was a funny incident attached to one of these songs somewhere. He thought back over Walter's intelligence and realized there was a dance unaccounted for.

"I heard that you did another dance for a much more private audience."

Her eyes widened, then she began to comb out her hair, which conveniently hid her face as she spoke, "Walter's got a big mouth. Yes, my dad wasn't the only guitar player in my life, remember?"

"Your boyfriend?"

"Yeah, Kevin Davis. Now, while my dad's favorite guitar hero was Jimi Hendrix, Kevin's was definitely Jimmy Page." Her concentration intensified on freeing her hair from every tangle. "There's something you have to understand: music is pretty much my life. I can't imagine going on without it. There's only been one time in my life when I couldn't sing, and I'm not going to discuss that with you tonight. Music didn't just inspire me to sing, though."

"You had to move as well," he volunteered. "To dance?"

"That's right. I told you guys when we were playing truth or dare that I wanted to be a ballerina, but I grew too tall." She glanced down and grinned, "They said I had the wrong body type, so eventually I ended up taking lessons in about every dance form going. Well, there are certain songs that I kind of have to move to -- I can't control myself. 'Kashmir' is one of them and there's another Zeppelin song that does that to me, 'Whole Lotta Loving'. One night, Kevin and the boys in his band were rehearsing and they struck up that particular song and I couldn't help it....I started off just swaying and ended up putting on quite a performance. I guess part of the problem is that song seems to get into my bones. There's something about the relationship between the drums and the guitar..." He saw a shiver run through her. "Anyway, I'd never let myself go like that before and the wilder I got, the more the band's music responded."

She finished with the comb and tossed her hair out of her face, "It was a rather liberating experience - very different from anything I'd ever experienced before."

"How so?"

She smiled, and he could see her run her tongue along the edge of her teeth unconsciously, "It was the first time I discovered the effect music could have on me. Before that night it was usually voices that I noticed the most. Of course, I paid attention to the music, but it had never hit me in that seductive way. It was an epiphany. I'd never had a rush like that dancing by myself before, but at the end of the song I looked down and realized my right hand was twisted up in my skirt like it was a sheet. I've been a slave to the rhythm ever since."

"So I imagine," he said dryly.

She laughed, "Until that night, I'd never realized the effect I could have on an audience."

"Especially a male audience," he added.

"Yes," she admitted. "It was quite powerful, and led, I suppose to my veil dance to 'Kashmir' that nearly got me kicked out of school."

She was smiling now, and the music was still good and loud. Michael moved to sit in the floor next to her chair.

"Mahleah, you do realize that you'll probably have to give MacLeod up, don't you?"

She bit her lower lip, "Yeah, you and I both know that, but Mac won't give up that easily."

"He'd rather die, then break off the relationship?" Michael managed to insert considerable doubt into the question.

She raised her head and looked him in the eye, "Yeah, bizarre isn't it? I wouldn't know anyone else like that, would I, Musashi?"

******

Davenport was exhausted. He had spotted a figure leaving from the back door of "The Copperhead" and followed as discreetly as he could. Unfortunately, the tall man had seemed to sense his presence and had gone all around Paris several times before finally losing him. One minute he was there and the next minute Davenport couldn't figure out where he had gone.

Since joining Section One Davenport had gotten to know Paris extremely well but the man he trailed was familiar with every back street and alley in a way the operative had never seen before. He had yet to catch a good look at the man's face, and so was hesitant to confirm his identity to Madeline. Surely, there was any number of tall, dark men in Paris? Perhaps Mahleah had found this stranger's similarity to her old lover a comfort. He refused to report that she was meeting with someone from her past until he was absolutely certain. It could be a matter of life or death for them all.

Part Four

After the excitement of the previous evening, Mahleah slept in late. When she finally managed to pry herself away from her pillow she remembered her resolution to speak to Nikita. She decided to invite her neighbor over for brunch to apologize for the noise last night, and then work Michael into the conversation.

She was beginning to feel a little guilty for her self-absorption over the past few days. She had been so completely wrapped up in how to prevent Madeline from discovering Mac, that she had paid little attention to Nikita's refusal to associate with Michael. It touched her that he would demonstrate so much concern for her problems despite what he had to be suffering himself.

When she knocked on Nikita's door, however, she discovered that her peacemaking efforts would have to wait, as there was no one home. She sighed and returned to her own place for food and katas. Exercise might wipe away some of the cobwebs from her brain and allow her to think clearly about the decisions ahead of her.

********

Nikita had gone for a walk in a nearby park in an attempt to quell the contradictory tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm her brain. Last night she had made a conscious decision that Michael's presence in Mahleah's apartment at such an ungodly hour of the morning was none of her business and since she really didn't care anyway, she might just as well go to bed. Unfortunately, the music continued to blast down the hall for a couple of hours.

Something kept telling her that it was unlikely that Michael had begun a romantic liaison with Mahleah. She might not trust his ambition but she had a hard time picturing him rushing to another woman's bed quite so soon, unless he were under orders. Mahleah had worked closely with him during his stint as Operations it was true, but she doubted Mahleah would "grab" him as soon as he was available.

In fact the only circumstances in which she could envision Mahleah welcoming Michael to her bed would be as a comforting gesture - a method of easing his pain. She frowned, what pain? The man had demonstrated no regret for his actions - no concern over the loss of so many lives. What had he been out to prove: that he could be just as ruthless as Paul Wolfe? If so, he could forget any notion of her being in his life as anything but a disinterested co-worker.

She swallowed hard, remembering the joy she had felt such a short time ago. He had seemed so dedicated to ensuring their relationship would last. She had never seen him be so unguarded with her before and so his reversion back to the model of everything that was Section was like a physical blow to her. When she had walked away from him, she had literally felt ill.

Although the decision still hurt, she didn't know if she could have lived with any other one. If the price of being with Michael was voluntarily losing another piece of her humanity, she couldn't afford to pay. During her six-month "escape" from Section last year, she'd learned just how precious a commodity such feelings were. In the time since, she'd found her soul being chiseled away slowly, bit by bit. She had to draw a line somewhere.

Her cellphone rang and when she answered, she heard the familiar litany, "Josephine."

*******

Nikita stuck her head in Michael's door, "I thought there was a briefing."

He was standing at his window, but turned to look at her when he answered, "Twenty minutes."

She nodded and started to leave, wanting to spend as little time as possible with him, but he wouldn't let go so easily.

"I called you in early so we could talk."

She was surprised by the uncertain tone in his voice, "Oh," she said, "okay," and stepped fully into the room. She'd known this discussion was inevitable, but that didn't mean she felt prepared for it. Surely it was better for both of them to let the past go.

Instinctively, she assumed a formal posture with her hands behind her. She saw Michael studying her and knew that he was trying to gauge her reactions. She was determined to keep things as cool as possible.

"We should stay together," he told her softly.

She glanced at him, but realized that was a mistake. Looking into his deep green eyes would only weaken her resolve. Her answer was calm and precise, "I don't think I want that anymore."

He apparently decided to tackle the issue she was avoiding, "You didn't like the way I acted when I had to take charge."

What a typically-Michael understatement, she thought. "You became a different person."

"No," he disagreed, "the same person just playing a different role - something we all have to do in here to survive."

The uneasy feeling she'd had all day got worse. His statement epitomized her misgivings about their relationship. She was expected to morph into whatever shape Section required of her, but there were containers she'd never be able to fit in. The past had seen to it. If it was so easy for him to take whatever part was necessary at the time, could she ever be sure that his feelings for her were not a characteristic of only one of his personas? What happened to her when he either tired of that role or Section deemed it inappropriate? No, this could not work.

"It doesn't matter how you intellectualize it," she said sadly. "I feel the way I feel."

He stepped in closer and tried to kiss her. Though it was one of the hardest things she'd ever done, she turned her head at the last minute so that his lips only brushed her cheek. He had proven time and again that she was susceptible to his touch, and she couldn't let it sway her now from her decision.

Tears in her eyes, she turned away and left, knowing that in the long run this would be the best thing for them both - too many secrets lay between them. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away, leaving him alone once more.

Part Five

Madeline and Operations were nearing the end of one of their habitual meetings over food, and she had been amused to discover that she could still surprise him by her ruthless practicality. It wasn't that he disagreed with her action in eliminating the recently infected C Team, as he had put it "better to lose the hand and save the body," but rather her impersonal attitude. He would discover that she could be just as dispassionate about everything - that was what life in Section had taught her.

"We have an internal matter to discuss," she informed him.

"What's that?" he inquired.

"Michael and Nikita." She could see his face instantly darken.

"What now?" he demanded, obviously irritated at having to deal with the couple yet again.

"It's unresolved," she pointed out.

"I thought she pulled back," he responded.

"She did," Madeline acquiesced, then added, "but I think Michael will persist."

He was ready to dismiss the question for the time being, "These two have been dancing around this thing from day one. Maybe we should just let it go for now."

This was not her plan, however, "Actually, I was going to suggest a hard wedge."

She had surprised him again, "You think that's necessary?"

"I do," she replied. She had no intentions of letting Michael get too comfortable too quickly.

"What mode?"

"I'm mapping out a behavioral strategy." It was quite lengthy and involved, but in the end, should achieve her desired goals.

"Think it will work?" He sounded a little dubious.

She smiled, "We'll watch and see."

There was one last item on his agenda, "About the Velden profile - shouldn't Mahleah be the operative posing as a dancer? If I recall, she has experience."

"Nothing professional, but yes, she has extensive knowledge of various dance forms," Madeline replied smoothly.

"So, why are we relying on Nikita?"

The dark-haired woman smiled, "Nikita will be thoroughly believable as an amateur, but beyond that Mahleah is now a class three operative. Nikita is only class two."

She saw understanding spread across his face, "Rank does have its privileges. You'll have to make sure that Nikita knows that."

"It's already arranged," Madeline informed him.

*******

Operations was pleased with Madeline's plan as far as it went. He much preferred to see Mahleah rising in status to Nikita. Nikita was a good operative most of the time but she required too much maintenance. She always had to know why things were done, or how she could be expected to complete her assignments. This whole situation with Michael was typical. She had been attracted to him from the time of her recruitment. Now, when she finally got what she'd always wanted, she still wasn't satisfied. Instead of being proud that she and her lover had managed to pull off quite a coup while Michael was running Section, she punished him for being too good at his job. Ridiculous!

Section seemed to have a deleterious effect on the women working there, he reflected. Even Madeline didn't seem to be immune to it. She had always possessed a razor-edged intelligence, and ambition to match, but she hadn't always been quite so cold, so methodical, so....ruthless. At one time, she had seemed to possess sympathy for her victims, now they were just a means to an end.

Their own relationship had fallen into that trap, as well. At one time, he truly believed she cared for him, but these days she went through the motions solely to bait the trap they'd set for George. He truly appreciated Madeline, but he longed for a second in command with more warmth, more passion. Mahleah appeared to be his best candidate, able to hold her own with the Mistress of Section herself, and he had his own designs for the beautiful, tough chanteuse.

*******

Davenport swallowed hard as he entered Madeline's office. She was insisting on his report, and he really had little to tell her. He still couldn't decide whether or not the man Mahleah was dating was Duncan MacLeod. As expected, Madeline didn't appreciate the news.

"This is unacceptable," she told him coldly. "You've had them under observation for days now. Why is it so difficult to confirm his identity?"

"They're very careful," he explained. "If they go anywhere together, they find the most secluded spot possible. I've seen him on several occasions and yes, he does resemble MacLeod, but I've yet to get a good look at his face. It could be a coincidence. Maybe she likes men with his physical description."

Madeline observed him coolly, "It could be quite unfortunate if you continue to be unable to catch a good look at him. The results could be quite tragic I'm afraid."

Damn the bitch! He thought viciously. Just where was she hiding Jennie anyway? If it were only his life on the line he'd tell her to go to hell in a heartbeat, but until he knew Jennie was safe from Section's clutches he would be forced to do whatever it took to keep her alive.

"What do you suggest?"

She leaned forward in her chair, "MacLeod lives on a barge across from Notre Dame. I suggest you keep it under observation. If the man on the barge contacts Mahleah, we'll know."

He sighed inwardly. He still didn't understand why Mahleah, or Duncan MacLeod for that matter, rated such attention but it was out of his hands. He left, troubled at heart over his role in Madeline's latest chess game and the fate of the only person in the world who gave a damn about him.

******

Madeline leaned back in her chair. If Mahleah were, as she suspected, secretly meeting with MacLeod then they would be caught soon. The "honorable" operative would have no choice but to concede to Madeline's wishes.

A smile crept across her face. The pieces were slowly but surely falling into place just as she had anticipated.

Part Six

Walter looked up when he saw Nikita walking by. "Hey sugar," he called. "Why so glum?"

He had a pretty good idea why she looked so sad. Michael and Nikita's relationship had been the top item on the Section grapevine for years. He wasn't sure what exactly had happened between them, but obviously the two of them were miserable about it.

She came over and gave him a wan smile, "Just straightening out a misunderstanding."

"With Michael? Does that mean the two of you made up?"

She shook her head, "No, it means I told him that things are never going to work between us."

"What do you mean?" he was discouraged. He'd loved the sight of two of his favorite people together at last. Now, she was bursting one of the few bubbles of happiness he'd discovered in Section life lately.

"I just realized I have no idea who he is, Walter. The man I thought I knew would never have been able to order the things he did while in charge of Section," she said sadly.

This was too much for Walter. Section had taken away the two women he'd cared the most for these last few years. Now, Nikita had love lain at her feet and she was too afraid or too oblivious to pick it up. Temper boiling, he decided to explain a few things to her.

"Sugar, you know exactly who Michael is - he's the man that's been devoted to you from the first day you walked in that door. We all understand he's no saint and yes, he has lied, cheated, manipulated and killed both for the sake of the job and for you as well. You were living on the streets before you came here, Nikita. You should know that life's tough all over. If you're wise you'll take the blessings that have been given to you and be grateful for them. Section's no paradise, but you have friends and you have a man that loves you. Maybe you don't have the freedom you want, but there plenty of other people in the world that don't either."

He saw her eyes start to glisten with tears and gave her a hug, "I don't want to sound mean, sugar. I just want you to understand what you're throwing away. There are plenty of people in here who would kill for what you two have. I know you've doubted several times that Michael really loves you, but remember I saw him during the six months you were believed dead. He was devastated. I'd never seen anyone hit so hard before. Sure when Simone died he grieved, but he went on with his duties. When you were gone, though, he literally couldn't function - he screwed up on so many missions that I was afraid they'd put him in abeyance. Can't you see, when you came back you rescued him?"

She couldn't bear to listen to this anymore. She hugged Walter back and walked off.

Walter cleared his throat which was feeling rather constricted as Birkoff, carrying an object in a clear containment case, approached.

"Hey Walter, I could use a hand with this," he called.

Walter pulled himself together, "Yeah, what can I do for you?"

"Well, we need to find out where this thing comes from," Birkoff told him.

They were peering at it intently through a magnifying glass, discussing its probable origins when they suddenly became aware that they were not alone. Through the case, they caught a glimpse of a very striking female figure. Glancing up, Walter noticed the rest of the package matched the shapely legs.

"Walter?" the vision of loveliness said, with an Eastern European accent.

They both stood there, in awe of this Venus in their midst, as she smiled and moved closer to them.

She reached out a hand to give something to Walter, "Here you go, thanks."

How many times lately had he berated the lack of desirable female company? Here was a goddess before him, and she actually knew his name. He managed to shake off the spell she was casting a little. Good lord, he was acting like he'd never seen a beautiful woman before-there was no doubt about it, he could definitely use some female companionship.

"Valerie," he greeted her.

She smiled at him provocatively and laughed, "It's an impressive unit, but how did you get five significant digits out of it?"

He cleared his throat. If that was the game she wanted to play, he'd oblige, "Well, years of experience."

Valerie turned her attention to Birkoff who, Walter could immediately see, was considerably out of his depth.

Oh, yes, she's not Mahleah, Walter thought to himself. But a man only gets ambrosia once in a lifetime. Valerie would be a wonderful companion in the nights that seemed to get longer and longer every week.

Part Seven

Mahleah had been called in for the nightclub profile. She arrived slightly behind schedule as she had been arranging a meeting with MacLeod when she returned. They had a lot to talk about tonight.

She changed into her mission clothes in the small, cramped bathroom on the plane. She'd been issued all leather: form-fitting pants, halter-top, knee-high boots, and a long Matrix-style black coat. She assumed the coat was to allow her to hide her gun, which she would have to tuck in her back waistband. When she included the lethally sharp goodies Walter had made up especially for her, and the familiar weight of Tora at her back, she was as well armed as she could be, she supposed.

The boots had a considerable heel on them, and so as she stepped into the view of the rest of the team she got a couple of ear-piercing wolf whistles.

"Lord," Sykes said appreciatively. "You have to be one of the tallest women I've ever seen in that getup."

"Whatever," she dismissed. In her current mood, she was more likely to cut a man down than flirt with him.

Sykes got the message and left her alone. She sank down into an empty seat, and stared out the window moodily. How on earth could she convince Duncan that it was in all of their best interests for him to quietly slip out of the country? She hadn't been joking about his obstinate personality. If he thought she was only concerned about his safety, he would most likely refuse to go.

Mentz saw her frowning, and plopped down beside her. "Hey," he nudged her, "don't we get a sing-along this trip? You don't get to travel with us often."

She gave him a small smile, "I don't know if I'm up for that today."

He handed her a small Walkman and headphones, "Here, maybe this will improve your disposition."

She raised an eyebrow, but took the radio. Scanning through the various stations, she finally hit a familiar tune. Drawn by an irresistible impulse, she began belting it out along with the song in her ears.

I've been a bad, bad girl, I've been careless with a delicate man And it's a sad, sad world when a girl will break a boy just because she can.....

What I need is a good defense 'cause I'm feeling like a criminal And I need to be redeemed to the one I've sinned against Because he's all I ever knew of love.

She suddenly noticed she was receiving some very unfriendly looks from Nikita, and Michael wasn't looking very pleased with her either. Oops, she thought. "So what would an angel say, the devil wants to know", indeed. Apparently she had inadvertently struck a nerve.

She realized she had an opportunity to do Michael a favor here. On this plane, Nikita was a captive audience and she could use music to make a plea for their relationship. Now, all she had to do was think of the right song.

She sat watching Michael for a long time, trying to imagine everything he wanted to say to Nikita if given the opportunity and an attack of verbosity. She recalled the history of the couple as told to her by Walter and what she herself had observed between them.

She had decided long ago that for a man with few words, he had the amazing knack of choosing just the right ones over and over again to infuriate his lover. Suddenly remembering the first song she'd performed from her Section's Greatest Hits list, she smiled and pulling off the headphones began humming.

Sykes and Mentz immediately looked up with anticipation. Michael looked relieved that she'd switched tunes, but Nikita still looked annoyed. She wasn't sure why her friend was so irritated with her, but she would persevere.

How many times do I have to try to tell you That I'm sorry for the things I've done But when I start to try to tell you That's when you have to tell me Hey... this kind of trouble's only just begun.

The opening lines immediately drew Michael's attention. He looked at Mahleah a little startled; especially when she went on to sing:

I tell myself too many times Why don't you ever learn to keep your big mouth shut That's why it hurts so bad to hear the words That keep on falling from your mouth Falling from your mouth Falling from your mouth Tell me Why.

Mahleah threw her heart into every syllable, knowing it could be her best chance to help Nikita understand Michael a little better.

I may be mad I may be blind I may be viciously unkind But I can still read what you're thinking And I've heard it said too many times That you'd be better off Besides... Why can't you see this boat is sinking

She had been staring straight into Nikita's face with an unblinking gaze but now her eyes closed involuntarily as the music moved through her.

Let's go down to the water's edge And we can cast away those doubts Some things are better left unsaid But they still turn me inside out Tell me Why

This was the moment she could feel it. Opening her eyes, she stood and moved toward a visibly unnerved Nikita.

This is the book I never read These are the words I never said This is the path I'll never tread These are the dreams I'll dream instead

She stopped her movement toward the blonde and slowly began reversing her course, heading toward Michael.

This is the joy that's seldom spread These are the tears The tears we shed

By now, she'd moved past him, so that he and Nikita were now looking at each other, while she finished the song from his back.

This is the fear This is the dread These are the contents of my head And these are the years that we've spent And this is what they represent And this is how I feel Do you know how I feel? 'Cause I don't think you know how I feel I don't think you know what I feel

Mahleah went back to her seat, leaving them to their own decisions. Nikita held Michael's gaze for a long time, then swallowed and silently moved back to her own seat. Mahleah inwardly urged Michael to follow her, but he didn't, moving instead to the other end of the plane.

Mentz looked at her sympathetically, "Maybe you should try 'Walking on Broken Glass,'" he suggested.

She wearily shook her head, "No, that would be a little too much. Give them some time. They have to work this out for themselves - no one can do it for them."

He glanced out the window, "Ah, you wouldn't have time anyway. I think we're starting to descend."

"Hey Nikita," Sykes called jovially. "Who'd you tick off to pull this profile? It's too bad we have to miss your little audition."

Mahleah was grinning with her male comrades and inwardly sighing with relief that she wasn't the one being paraded in front of the target. When she heard Nikita's icy reply, though, she didn't know what to say, "Apparently level two operatives are expected to perform all the demeaning assignments that level threes turn down."

Before she could protest, they began their final approach and prepared for their roles in the mission shortly to come.

******

While the thought of Nikita posing as an exotic dancer was unpleasant to Michael, he knew by Section standards, it was a rather mild profile for her.

She possessed all the skills required to pull it off and he only had a moment of panic, quickly suppressed, when Birkoff announced Nikita was getting unexpected visitors. She still needed time to finish downloading the list they were after, yet he knew she could handle the situation.

Suddenly, he knew he was going to cover her though. She had always claimed that he put Section before her, now he would break Section protocol and see how she reacted. The tables would be turned: would she put him before the disapproval of Madeline and Operations?

Leaving Sykes to secure egress, he disregarded Birkoff's admonitions to stay put and shot the men going after Nikita, then returned to his former position. Everything else went like clockwork.

Half an hour later on the plane ride back to Section, he saw Mahleah had fallen asleep, using her long leather coat for a pillow. He really wasn't sure why she'd been profiled for this assignment. Nikita had performed the dancing required and Sykes and Mentz had provided adequate backup. If something had gone wrong, he would have been grateful to have her at his back, but as it had happened she was wasted.

He edged closer to the sleeping woman. She had provided the most exciting moment of the evening for him. Somehow she had found the exact words he'd been longing to say and poured them out with gut-wrenching honesty. It was the key to her character, he realized. Mahleah might not be poetic in her speech but her soul communicated deeply felt emotions through music. Recalling the intensity of her katas, he amended that statement to rhythm. She'd joked about being a slave to it, but there was a lot of truth to that premise.

As he examined her, he saw she was frowning in her sleep. Her body was curled up as if she was cold and her fists were clenched. Seeing her lips move, he bent to hear her murmurs better. He could barely make out the words, "Feumaidh thu falbh," which meant, "You'll have to go."

"Chan fheum thu guth, fàg," she continued. [You needn't say a word, leave.]

Her voice grew louder and she became more agitated, "Fàg roimhe tha ammoch, Donnchadh, gu luath agus gu samhach." [Go before it's too late, Duncan, quickly and quietly.]

Michael caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. He'd had luck before in using Gaelic to calm her down, maybe it would work again and make her think of happier times with her Scottish lover.

"Ssh, mhurninn," he soothed. "Caidil a nis. [Sleep now, I'm here.] Ssh, do saighdear-bàrd gad cha fàg. [Your warrior-poet won't leave you.] Bidh mi le thu, daonnan." [I'll be with you, always.]

She sighed and her lips curved upwards, "Daonnan, m'annsachd," she agreed. "Daonnan." [Always, my best beloved, always.]

He straightened, seeing that her forehead had straightened and her hands relaxed. He pulled off his jacket and laid it over the flesh exposed by the halter she was wearing. Warmth might contribute to happier dreams.

As he turned, he saw Nikita watching him with a strange look on her face. It took him a moment to recognize it as a flash of jealousy and he nearly laughed. In the past, he had it was true, tried to rouse those instincts in her to feel the only response he could have during his blood-cover days. Now, though, that behavior was in the past.

As he continued walking away from Mahleah, Nikita followed him, asking, "Is she okay?"

"Nightmare," he said succinctly.

"Oh," she still seemed a little uncertain. "It just felt weird seeing you comfort her like that."

"She's my friend," he said simply, and going to his seat, closed his eyes for a short nap. When he returned to Section, events were likely to become hectic.

Part Eight

Davenport had spent hours watching Duncan MacLeod's barge with no result. The man had stayed indoors the whole time and no visitors had called. The long lonely surveillance gave the operative far too much time to meditate morbidly on the fate of Jennie. Where was Madeline keeping her? Was she even alive?

Growing up, he had often felt that no one or nothing cared for him. He'd never known his parents, living in an orphanage until he felt old enough to run away at seven. He'd met Jennie on the streets. Ten years older and streetwise, she'd taken him under her wing and taught him the harsh lessons of survival without ever resulting to cruelty herself. A combination of mother and older sister, she'd remained the only person he'd ever truly allowed under his skin.

He had no desire to cause trouble for Mahleah or this unknown man, but if it came down to a choice between operative or family, he knew what he had to do.

At the edge of dusk, he saw the lights in the barge go dark, and seconds later MacLeod emerged from the cabin and began walking away. Davenport knew that if this was the same man he had followed before he could afford to make no mistakes. Madeline had made it plain that if he couldn't settle the question she'd asked tonight, Jennie would die.

Swallowing hard, he prepared to follow the tall, dark figure and prayed to a deity he'd nearly ceased to believe in that he would prove skillful enough to track his prey wherever it led.

*******

Madeline surveyed Nikita's appearance with approval. The young woman was definitely coming a long way in her professionalism and emotional control. Unfortunately, some of her previous attitudes had seemed to pass to her former mentor, which would have to be remedied. Michael might be the future of Section One, but he would rise to power when she decided. With the arrival of Nikita in his life, it seemed that Michael had started to acquire a power base. It was time for the supports he depended upon without conscious thought to begin disintegrating under his feet.

Looking across at the blonde operative seated before her, Madeline asked, "Do you understand what just happened on your mission?"

"I haven't debriefed, but it was a contained dispersion. There was an incident at the second mark," came the cool response.

She was amused at this obvious attempt to avoid the true topic of conversation. "How many times do you think Michael can break position before a team goes down?" She saw a crack break through Nikita's icy demeanor, as the woman began getting defensive.

"I didn't ask for his help. Why don't you talk to Michael?"

She gave Nikita a pitying glance. Her statement summed up the entire problem. Instead of having an emotional level two operative betraying her assignment because of emotional ties, they now had a formerly dependable level five op doing the same. It was unacceptable and must end.

"Have you ever heard of anyone in the Section talk about a Type One Directive?" she inquired.

"No," Nikita answered.

"It's an internal dictum...a decision," Madeline explained. "Once it's been made, it can't be changed and is always executed." She met Nikita's blue eyes with complete seriousness, "One has been initiated regarding you and Michael. You two will extricate the personal component from your relationship."

Nikita seemed to bridle a bit, "If your spies had been doing their jobs properly, then you would know that the personal component of our relationship...doesn't exist."

Madeline nearly laughed. Was she now supposed to believe that Nikita would be able to resist every persuasion Michael would now inundate her with? It was highly unlikely in the extreme. Nothing in Nikita's makeup gave any indication that she had truly broken off relations with her lover, but she would be easier to persuade than he.

"Michael isn't letting go. You will have to make him," Madeline stated flatly.

"You're talking to the wrong person," Nikita insisted.