True to his word, Alex led them out to the terrace after their meal where he had a stereo system waiting. Marie immediately asked Duncan to dance, and Alex's parents chose to join them. As she followed Alex's lead, Mahleah tried desperately to keep her eyes off Duncan but every now and then she couldn't resist sneaking a peek. Marie seemed to be having the time of her life and Mac showed no signs of not reciprocating the feeling.

Dancing with Alex seemed a little awkward. Normally she might not have noticed the difference in their heights, but Duncan's proximity made her too aware of all the ways her target was not the man she loved.

She found herself irrationally hating Marie - as if she was the problem that was keeping Mahleah out of Mac's arms. I hope he gets a crick in his neck looking down at her, she thought spitefully, and then hated herself for it.

Alex walked away to change the music, and Duncan came up to her, "May I have this next dance, Miss Collins?"

"Of course, Mac," she consented.

He led her away from Alex and the others and as the music started put his arms around her. Once Mahleah recognized the song, though, she felt like killing Alex. It was a U2 song, "The Ground Beneath Her Feet," and the last time she had heard it she and Mac had been making love.

All my life, I worshipped her Her golden voice, her beauty's beat How she made us feel How she made me real And the ground beneath her feet And the ground beneath her feet

She knew from the tension in his body that he remembered as well. What had possessed Alex to pick this band or this song?

"So, Miss Collins, why is it too dangerous to be with me and yet you're here in Tennessee with Alex and his family?" he asked.

His voice was low, but she could hear the anger and hurt in his voice. He hasn't figured it out yet she was amazed to discover. He thinks I've chosen to be with Alex over him. Jealousy was clouding his mind from seeing that there were other issues at stake.

"Your life was in danger, remember?" she answered.

"And his isn't?" he immediately riposted.

"Yes, but for activities much less innocent," she informed him.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Alex is supplying money and men to a group called Blue Dusk," she said sadly, knowing how this information would hurt him.

Dismay filled his dark brown eyes as he realized the implications of her statement.

And now I can't be sure of anything black is white, and cold is heat for what I worshipped stole my love away it was the ground beneath her feet it was the ground beneath her feet

"Alex is a terrorist?" he asked in disbelief. "Impossible, I've known him all his life."

She stared at him solemnly, "It's why I've been sent in."

"So, this is a mission for you? He's falling in love with you, and it's only a mission?" his tone of outrage struck a nerve.

"You'd rather this were for real?" she hissed.

He wouldn't meet her eyes, "Yes."

Go lightly down your darkened way go lightly underground I'll be down there in another day I won't rest until you're found

"Liar, you can't mean that."

He looked back at her, "Yes, I do. It's less painful to me to know that our romantic relationship is over, than to see you pervert your own code of ethics. I thought this was what you stayed behind to change."

She bit back tears, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I don't want to know," he said intently.

She was silent. Knowing they couldn't quarrel about this here, she closed her eyes to enjoy the momentary sensation of being near him. She could smell his unique scent wafting across her nostrils, and unconsciously licked her lips. The muscles in his back and arms moved under her fingertips below the soft fabric of his shirt.

Let me love you true, let me rescue you Let me bring you to where two roads meet O come back above Where there's only love And the ground beneath her feet And the ground beneath her feet

"Hey," he said a little roughly.

She opened her eyes to find an inscrutable expression on his face, "What?"

"You're dancing too easily with me. If we've never met before we shouldn't be this comfortable together, and if you're the new love of Alex Coffey's life then you don't need to be looking at me like that."

She nodded slowly, "Thank you, I can't afford to blow my cover." Inside she was screaming. Bloody man, can't you at least let me enjoy the moment. This could be our last dance ever, and you have to ruin it.

The song finally finished to her relief. She saw Alex walking to them, and stepped away from Mac saying, "Thank you so much for the dance."

Alex put an arm around her and looked at MacLeod, "Hey, Mac, watch out or I'll think you have dishonorable intentions."

Mac smiled as he politely denied, "Not me, Alex." He walked away.

"You were looking rather cozy there," Alex commented.

"He's a very good dancer," Mahleah said easily, "but that's all. Somehow I get the impression he doesn't like me very much."

"Good, I hope now that he's been polite, I'll have you to myself for the rest of the night." He pulled her close for a slow dance.

The song playing sunk into her consciousness like a lead anvil. It was another U2 song. Was someone out there trying to torture her? Bono crooned, and her heart ached.

I have a lover a lover like no other She's got soul, soul, soul sweet soul And she teach me how to sing. Shows me colors when there's none to see Gives me hope when I can't believe That for the first time I feel love.

"You've really got a thing for U2," she said lightly in his ear.

He pulled away from her looking a bit startled, "Me? But I thought you loved them?"

"Who told you that?"

"Tony did, before we left the club the other night," he was puzzled. "Aren't they your favorite band?"

She shrugged, "I can take or leave them. He was playing a joke on you, no doubt, for stealing his lead singer."

"I can understand," he stroked her cheek. "It would be hard to lose you."

He bent in to kiss her, and beyond him she could see Duncan's gaze upon them. With a shudder that Alex mistook for desire, she closed her eyes and let him part her lips. If I can get through this, she told herself, the worst part will be over. If I can kiss him with Duncan watching then it can't possibly get any worse. She tried to send her mind away, but it refused to cooperate this time. She could still feel the heat of Mac's gaze, the fire of his anger, the sting of his contempt.

She pulled away, and Tony asked, "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head, "I'm just not comfortable kissing in front of everyone."

"That's okay," he ran his fingers over her hair. "We can wait until everyone's gone to bed."

She smiled her agreement; glad that he couldn't read her heart.

*******

Upstairs in her room, her cell phone rang nearly as soon as she walked in the door. Thank goodness she was alone.

"Yes," she answered. It was Madeline.

"Is everything going according to profile?"

"Yes, so far," she lied.

"Are you sleeping with him yet?"

"No," she said, having a bad feeling about the course of this conversation.

"Why not?"

"I told him I recently experienced a painful breakup and wished to take things slowly," she explained. "It fits in well with the strategy I've been using to attract him."

"That would work at first," Madeline conceded, "but drawn out too long, it could lose his interest. Complete the profile, Mahleah, that's an order."

"Perhaps tomorrow night would be a better time," she started to say, but Madeline cut her off.

"Tonight is best. You should remember the consequences of your actions might not affect you alone."

"What do you mean?" she demanded.

"I'm afraid Walter has gotten himself into a bit of trouble by assisting Michael and Nikita to arrange clandestine meetings. We haven't been able to prove they've met, but we do have evidence that he's passed along secret instructions from one to the other. Operations hasn't decided how to punish him yet."

Mahleah ground her teeth together before speaking, "Don't do anything to him. I'm not rocking the boat." Yet, she mentally added.

"Very good," Madeline approved, and hung up.

Mahleah hung her head. Time had just run out.

**********

She walked slowly down the hall. Her hair was hanging loosely down the back of her robe. She might have to sleep with Alex, but she still couldn't let him unbind her hair. She hadn't even allowed Walter to do that.

A few feet from Alex's door, she felt a touch on her shoulder and turned. MacLeod was standing behind her. She closed her eyes from the accusing look she saw. "Mac," she whispered sadly.

"Mahleah," he acknowledged. "Where are you going?"

She shook her head, "Don't be coy, Mac, you know where I'm going and what I'm going to do."

She started back down the hall, but once again the touch of his hand made her pause. This time she didn't turn, but just stood stock-still.

"Don't do this, mhurninn," he said softly.

Pain washed over her so intensely that it appeared deeply, lushly reddish-purple behind her eyelids. She wanted to wrap herself in it and disappear. Could she just stop being herself for a while? Just check out and leave all the decisions to someone else while she escaped from the drama of being the Immortal named Mahleah, Section One operative level three.

"Please," his voice quivered, and his touch on her arm trembled.

Of course she couldn't. With a sigh, she opened her eyes and said, "I do what I must."

As she knocked on the door, she heard his bitter final words, "The same consolation every whore uses to allow herself to sleep at night."

The door swung open, and she smiled brightly at Alex, "May I come in?"

"Of course," he said warmly, and she moved past him, not glancing into the shadows for a last look at her lover who could only stand silently as the door closed.

Part Thirteen

Michael studied Nikita's face in profile as she slept in a seat across the plane from him. He had endeavored to allay her concerns about this mission but his own inner senses warned him they were moving into a trap.

This morning he had intended to say that they should pull back and resume the physical side of their relationship once the intense scrutiny of Madeline and Operations was attracted to someone, or something, else. Their emotional bond could survive, he felt, without the luxury of lovemaking. It had, indeed, endured for years without such contact or even the solace of understanding each other's feelings.

Yet when she had suggested the very thing he'd thought he wanted, he found himself unable to pull back. He'd known she was right, but he'd also instinctively felt that she was hoping he'd find a way around the problem. He sighed. The truth was that after years of suppressing his needs, his desire to be with her increased every time he looked into her sky-blue eyes.

Instead of saying, yes you're right, we should maintain a discreet distance from each other, he'd kissed her and promised to find a way for them to meet on this mission.

He would keep that promise, but he was left wondering what price they would have to pay for temporary happiness.

Just what lay beyond the doors of the Genefex labs?

*******

MacLeod lay on his bed all night without closing his eyes. Images constantly tumbled through his brain - conjured from both memory and imagination. Mahleah looking at him with that special glow in her eyes that told him more than words could say how she felt for him. Mahleah, at age 14, her head tossed back, challenging him in the flamenco even better than she did with a sword. Mahleah, her fingers laced in his hair, her own scattered across the pillow in a seemingly endless wave, pulling him out of a kiss to say...

He bit his lip impatiently. He'd deliberately shut off the tide of memories but that was when his imagination kicked into overdrive. He saw her once again - in Alex's bed, whispering soft words into his ears, kissing him with those silky lips and pulling him out of an embrace to say...what?

He'd never thought of himself as a particularly jealous man, but this was choking him. He felt invisible fingers clutching his windpipe and a great-unseen force sitting on his chest.

He could tell himself that at least she didn't love Alex, but that didn't make him feel any better. Although Alex was his least favorite person in the world at the moment, he had more than an inkling of the pain the young man would experience when he learned the truth about the situation.

What hurt him the most was the pain she was putting herself through. Despite her occasionally risqué behavior, Mahleah had never had sex wantonly. She'd always had a close bond with her partners - she'd loved all of them even if she wasn't in love with them. With Alex, though, she couldn't allow herself to form a deep bond because it would conflict with her assignment.

Involuntarily another image appeared. This time, he saw Alex reaching his climax as Mahleah pretended to reach her own. He saw Alex lying on her breast half-asleep, unaware of the suspicious glistening in her eyes.

MacLeod rose. It was starting to get light outside. He would go for a run - maybe the activity would erase his mind and ease this lump in his throat, which felt far too much like unshed tears.

********

Mahleah lay watching the night sky begin to lighten. Alex was curled up against her back with one of his arms slung carelessly across her body.

It's odd, she thought in a detached way. I felt closer to Michael on the nights when we slept like this and he dreamed of Nikita than I do now with this man whom I've actually had sex with. I guess our friendship has always been based on things that I can't share with Alex: respect, trust, genuinely honest laughter. The only secret I've ever really had from Michael is my Immortality, which he partly knows about, while Alex knows practically nothing about the person I really am.

What does that say about you, Mahleah, when your platonic friends know more about you than your lover? Have you truly become the whore that Mac branded you?

Red-hot pain seared through her head at the recollection. Tension headache, she realized. I'm doing quite well, she thought mirthlessly. I'm an Immortal who is so stressed out I'm giving myself a headache and thinking about myself in the third person so I can distance myself from the events of the past few hours - try to pretend they happened to some other woman.

Unfortunately, they didn't happen to someone else. They happened to me. You know, I never realized before tonight how much I need emotional closeness to my lovers. Without that bond it's just the mechanics of two people rubbing each other's bodies. Without passion, kissing is reduced to a rather disgusting procedure where a man sticks his tongue in your mouth and you're expected to like it, as for the other...well best not to think about it.

Alex had slept like the proverbial baby, while she'd closed her eyes only to simulate sleep for his benefit. Now the dead weight of his arm began to annoy her. Why couldn't he have been the kind of man who rolled over to his side of the bed and curled up to his pillow instead of wanting to cuddle with her? While basking in the afterglow was usually something she enjoyed, it was even more unbearably intimate with Alex than the act of sex itself, and so she'd faked exhaustion.

She felt a sudden claustrophobia. The room seemed to be shrinking with every blink of her eyes, and their bed was getting smaller with every passing second. She had to leave before she started screaming hysterically.

She gently but firmly pushed Alex's arm away and slipped out of bed. She was donning her robe when he sleepily opened his eyes.

"Hey," he said hoarsely, "Where are you going?"

She cinched her belt tightly around her waist. "I thought I'd go for a run," she said softly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Lord, you have energy for jogging at this hour of the morning?" he groaned.

"It's quite refreshing," she lied. Not a morning person herself, she'd normally never rise this early for a workout. Today, though, it seemed like a blessed escape.

"Shall I come with you?" he made fumbling motions as if to rise.

She pushed him back down. "No," she said soothingly. "It's okay, go back to sleep and I'll see you at breakfast."

Luckily it didn't take much persuasion. She could hear him softly snoring as she turned the doorknob.

She headed to her room. It was a tossup, which she wanted more: a hot shower or a long run. Eventually her overwhelming need to get out of the house won out and she changed into shorts, tee shirt and running shoes. Pulling her hair into a quick ponytail, she left as quickly as possible.

********

Outside the exercise allowed her to blissfully go blank for a time and just concentrate on moving and breathing. It was really lovely here in the morning. The birds were beginning to sing already and it was a pleasant temperature. She was starting to enjoy a brief moment of freedom when she felt the tingle of an Immortal and saw Duncan coming toward her.

God, she thought, I'm not ready for this.

They both stopped a few paces from each other and stared silently. She could think of nothing to say.

Finally she told him, "If you're just waiting to call me more names, please leave. I couldn't take that this morning."

His face softened and she saw sorrow in his liquid gaze. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

She laughed without amusement, "Sure, I'm Immortal, remember? All bruises heal quickly."

He took an involuntary step forward, "He hurt you?"

"No, I was speaking facetiously. He was very gentle actually - treated me as if I were fragile."

"You realize this is going to destroy his family, don't you?" a thread of anger had crept back into his voice.

She crossed her arms, "Well, maybe Alex should have thought of that before he got involved with Blue Dusk."

"If he's involved," he countered. "Your bosses aren't the most reliable people in the world. Perhaps this is all some sort of test they're putting you through."

"It probably is," she agreed. "They like to run psychological profiles on us while we're on assignment. That doesn't mean the job's not real."

"Mahleah, the Coffey's are good people. I've known Malcolm for years. You like him, I can tell - just think of the grief you're going to inflict upon him."

Her arms moved to her hips and she cocked an eyebrow, "What about the grief Alex inflicts upon the families of his victims? Why aren't you pleading for them?"

She was visibly angry now, but he persisted, "Do you have any idea how Alex is going to feel when you betray him?"

"Actually I do. Betrayal by a lover is something I know all too well, or are you forgetting about Kenneth, the boyfriend that tried to bleed me to death?"

He opened his mouth, but she interrupted before he could speak, "I've been awfully patient because I knew this was hurting you, but you know what? I'm beginning to think it's nothing more than ego. You're outraged that I could go so quickly from your arms to another man's. I guess I was supposed to be in deep mourning and vow chastity until the far off day when the two of us might get back together? Well, I've got news for you my bonnie Highlander - it doesn't work that way. I'm so sorry that I'm not crying off in some corner all alone and inconsolable but that's the way it is." She stepped very close to him, "One more thing. Don't ever call me a whore again."

She ran past him, eager to have more distance between herself and the mess she was stuck in.

Part Fourteen

Breakfast was tortuous for Duncan. He endured the hearty friendliness of Malcolm, the amiability of Laura, and the flirtatiousness of Marie with good grace even though he felt like a traitor at their table. He could barely look at Alex and Mahleah, both of whom smiled, laughed and communicated like the new lovers they now were.

To his relief Alex decided to take Mahleah and Marie out for the day. They planned to go to the aquarium and the Imax theatre and stop on the way back at a carnival that had moved in just down the road. Tonight Malcolm had a dinner party planned, so there was less chance of his having to see Mahleah.

He'd seriously considered leaving but ultimately decided that he owed it to the family to see them through the fallout Mahleah's eventual departure would inevitably create. He suppressed any notion that he would stay for her. She had made that plain enough.

He was browsing through the books in the library and hoping that they would leave soon when Malcolm walked in with a contemplative look on his face.

"So old friend," he began casually. "What were you doing in Paris?"

Duncan kept his tone as light as Malcolm's, "I have a barge on the Seine and keep my eye out for antiques for clients. I don't own a shop now, but I occasionally take commissions to acquire objects for collectors I know."

"Sounds interesting," Malcolm sat down in one of the comfortable reading chairs. "Tell me, was Mahleah a client or a collector's item?"

He started involuntarily, "What are you talking about, Malcolm?"

"There's been a strange vibe between the two of you since your first meeting. You tend to watch each other when you think no one's looking. I might have put it down to your legendary charm but there's a lot of anger between you as well. Then, of course, there's the way the two of you dance together as if you've done so for years. She's the reason you left Paris, isn't she? She's the ex-girlfriend you refuse to talk about."

Duncan's mind was whirling. What should he do? If he admitted the relationship it would raise a lot of questions. He could tell Malcolm everything he knew and perhaps the two of them could figure out what to do about Alex. Yet if he did and the boy really was a terrorist how many lives would he be endangering, and any mention of Section could very well put the whole family in jeopardy. For that matter, how many of Mahleah's friends would suffer for her failure? What would happen to her?

He looked at Malcolm steadily, "I can honestly say that I'd never met Mahleah Collins until you introduced us. She's a complete stranger to me."

To herself as well, he suspected.

***********

After escaping the strained atmosphere around MacLeod, Mahleah had a fairly pleasant day until she met the gypsy woman. They had spent hours covering every inch of the aquarium and enjoying the multitude of children oohing and awing over the sharks and other large fish. After lunch, they had gone over to the Imax Theatre to watch some 3-D movies. They were pleasant enough, but once again it was the schoolchildren sitting in the row in front of her that buoyed Mahleah's spirits. They would inevitably reach out to grab whatever seemed to float by their heads and laugh with delight to discover thin air.

The only disturbing note during the day was the way Marie kept watching Mahleah surreptitiously as if expecting her to commit some egregious faux pas during the course of the day. She wasn't sure why Alex's sister was so suspicious of her. Could she possibly have picked up on the tension with MacLeod? She certainly seemed interested in him.

By the time they reached the carnival, though, she had dismissed any concerns about Marie and decided to enjoy herself. She had made a mental note about one of Alex's friends that was coming to the party tonight - he would be worth checking out for possible connections to Blue Dusk.

As they passed the fortuneteller's tent, Alex joked about getting their palms read. Mahleah suppressed a shudder. She remembered the last time someone she knew had a fortune told. Tessa had been informed she needed to leave town or she would die. While her fate had not unfolded the way MacLeod feared, she had still died...shot by a mugger for pocket change. It was not an experience that Mahleah wished to repeat.

The gypsy woman was standing at the open flap of her tent, watching the crowd pass by. As Mahleah's party neared her, she began a chorus of wheedling for their patronage.

"Come dearies, you know you want to hear your futures. It's best to be prepared... all sorts of surprises could be coming your way. Don't you want to hear the fate of your true love?"

Alex stopped with a smile, "What do you think, girls?" he inquired. "It might be fun."

"I don't think so," Mahleah shook her head. "We all make our own destinies. What could she possibly tell us?"

The woman laughed, her earrings jangling merrily, "Much more than you think, my dear." She eyed Mahleah with a sharp eye, "Sometimes a little inside information can prepare you to avoid disaster before it strikes."

Looking into those dark, laughing irises, Mahleah felt an almost hypnotic pull. She was stepping into the tent before she realized what she was doing. Alex started to follow, but the gypsy held up her hand.

"Oh no, young man. I must insist on complete privacy for my clients. Your turn will come soon enough." She closed the flap and turned to her new customer. "Have a seat."

Mahleah obeyed, fighting the strange compulsion that had taken hold of her. Why was she doing this? Did the strange woman possess some sort of power or was it merely her own curiosity about the resolution of her mission that mesmerized her?

"Am I supposed to cross your palm with silver now?" she asked with more than a hint of sarcasm.

The fortuneteller smiled, "A bit of coin never did any harm, but I didn't bring you here because of money. I was...curious."

"Curious about what?" Mahleah was puzzled.

"I've only encountered an aura like yours once in my life - you interest me. There are forces surrounding you that are quite powerful. You are the type of person that attracts the strange and wonderful."

"I'll buy the strange part, but I don't think I'd go so far as to say wonderful," Mahleah muttered.

The gypsy sat in front of her, "My kind has already touched your life for good and bad, that much is obvious."

"Your kind?"

Her question was ignored. "Let me see your palm, sweetie," the woman crooned.

Cautiously Mahleah stretched out her hand.

The woman pored over it eagerly as if reading a juicy novel. After several long minutes' perusal, Mahleah cleared her throat. "What do you see?" she asked.

"You will live a very long life," the woman said in a hushed voice. "Your life line runs off the edge of your hand, but it's strange. You see here," she pointed to the line in question, "it almost appears to double back on itself."

"What does that mean?" Mahleah asked, interested despite her skepticism.

"I'm not sure," the gypsy admitted. "I've never seen this before. Perhaps you will get the chance to revisit your past and correct mistakes that were made in your youth. Your whole hand is a mass of contradictions, I'm afraid. Your life made a sudden divergence from the path you were supposed to take. The lines in your hand are beginning to change, but I can see that wherever you are now it is a different fate from the one originally planned." Her bright eyes gleamed at Mahleah, "You are right that we determine our own fates to a certain extent. Whatever choice you made, set you on a completely different course than the one you were on before."

"What was the one before? Can you tell?"

The woman frowned, "Marriage, I think. Yes, it is right there." She pointed to some obscure point on Mahleah's palm. "You were supposed to marry someone from your hometown."

That would be Mark, Mahleah guessed. Too bad he couldn't handle Immortality. I guess his freaking out pushed me into Section somehow. That's if all this lunacy can be believed.

"You broke up and that was according to plan, but you were supposed to reconcile," the gypsy continued. "Instead something happened that sent you away from him forever. That's what makes your hand so difficult to read, deary. It's plainly marked that you will have four loves in your life. He was supposed to be one of them, but that line is fading out."

Mahleah felt her mouth run dry, "Four?" she croaked.

Nodding her head, the fortuneteller continued, "Yes, four. Two are mortal...and two are not." Her eyes widened, as she looked up into Mahleah's face, "As you yourself are not. I've met your kind before. Immortals - that partly explains the lifeline."

Mahleah was stunned. The old lady had known Immortals. What other secrets did she hold?

"Yes," she nodded over Mahleah's palm. "Two mortals, two not mortal. Yet one is not of your kind either. Quite puzzling, they are, especially since both of them have been cursed."

"Cursed?" Mahleah's head jerked up at the word. "What do you mean cursed?"

The woman frowned, "Both of the non-mortals have been cursed in some way by my kind. Powerful spells have been placed on them, but I'm afraid I can't make out the details. They seem to be both good and bad at the same time."

Chaos was forming in Mahleah's brain. This couldn't be happening. Yet she knew of an individual that she knew was cursed and she knew the relationship she'd had with him.

"What does the end bring?" she whispered.

"Ah, it's difficult to say," the old woman confessed. "There's much that's too hazy to make out. Everything around you is changing as we speak." Her eyes twinkled. "Of the four, I can see that one is the key to your soul. That will never change - it's plainly written on your hand and in your eyes. He's not the man you're with, though."

Mahleah jerked her hand back as if it had been burned. "You have no idea about my feelings for Alex."

"Don't I?" the old woman laughed. "He's not one of the four."

Mahleah rose to her feet, and fumbled for some cash.

"Nay, I don't need money, deary," the gypsy told her. "It was excitement in an otherwise dull afternoon."

Rushing out of the tent, Mahleah collided with Alex. He took one look at her face and demanded, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she lied. "It was a complete waste of time. Let's go home."

From the corner of her eye, she saw the old woman standing outside the tent once more, grinning at them as they walked away. Worse still, she saw Marie notice both the old woman and Mahleah's scrutiny of her. It was shaping up to be an interesting evening.

Part Fifteen

After returning from their excursion, Mahleah excused herself to get ready for the party. Safely in her own room, she phoned Section to check on one Terry Davidson, the friend of Alex's she would meet later tonight.

When Birkoff heard her voice he nearly jumped for joy, "Mahleah? Thank God."

"What's wrong?" she demanded.

"Everything's gone to hell since you left," he told her. "Michael and Nikita were nearly caught together and now Operations has forced Walter into retirement."

"Why do I get the feeling that's not a good thing?" she asked.

"Because you don't exactly get 401 K and a gold watch," he retorted. "Retirement is where they send people for radical medical experiments and weapons testing. It's all my fault."

She bit her lip until she tasted blood. "What do you mean?"

"I gave Madeline the proof she needed that Walter was helping Michael and Nikita. I should have known what they'd do."

"Then fix it," she said firmly.

"How? His replacement is already here."

"You know the ways of Section better than anyone other than Walter himself. Fix it - you'll think of a way. Remember he'd do the same thing for you."

"True," he admitted.

"Now, the reason I called is I need you to do a check on a Terry Davidson," she rapidly gave him all the information she'd been able to glean from the family.

"I'll get back to you as soon as I can," he promised.

"Good," she paused and then said, "I have confidence in you Birkoff. I know you won't let anything happen to Walter."

"I'll do everything I can."

She hung up and paced across the room. Finally deciding there was nothing more she could do for now, she began running water for a bath. She desperately needed to relax in a hot tub for a while. She poured a couple of capfuls of vanilla bubble bath into the water and inhaled deeply. Vanilla was such a relaxing scent for her. She let her hair down, stepped into the frothy water and slid down until only parts of her face were all that remained above water. Then sitting up just enough to keep her ears above the steaming suds, she let her mind slip away from it all.

All too soon the water began cooling off. She sighed, let some of the tepid liquid go down the drain and refilled with hot. She grabbed her favorite peach scented bath gel and lathered and washed. Draining the tub again, she pulled the shower curtain and rinsed the suds off her body and washed her hair thoroughly.

Leaving the serenity of the tub, she pulled on a terrycloth robe hanging conveniently nearby and had just wrapped her hair in a towel when her cellphone rang.

Hastily grabbing it, she heard Birkoff say warmly, "Someone wants to talk to you."

A familiar gruff voice said, "How are you doing, Mahleah darlin'?"

"Walter!" she exclaimed happily. "I'm much better now that I've heard you. Are you okay? Both Birkoff and Madeline told me you were in trouble."

"I'm fine," he chuckled. "Thanks to Seymour here Operations decided he couldn't get on without me. I had to tease him a little, but the truth is I was never so glad to see anyone in my life."

She felt a wave of relief hit her so intensely she had to sit down on the bed. "I can't tell you how good it is to hear your voice," she told him warmly.

"Did you say Madeline informed you I was in trouble?" she could picture his scowl. "The only reason she'd do that would be to use it against you. What's she up to, Mahleah?"

"Nothing," she lied. "I'm fine."

"Whatever it is tell her to go to hell," he said fiercely. "My position here is stronger than it's been in a long time, but I'd rather go back to retirement then let them use me against you. You hear me?"

"Yes," she said smiling.

"So you get yourself out of whatever mess this is as fast as you can. Now, Birkoff's got that info you needed."

"Mahleah, we're nearly positive that Terry Davidson is a member of Blue Dusk. Find out all you can about him and see where he goes. You have trackers, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Tag him and if Alex goes someplace without you, tag him as well."

"Fine," she agreed. Hopefully this job would be over soon and she could get back to Paris - away from the Coffey family and Duncan MacLeod. God, his presence on this floor was nearly enough to make her scream in frustration.

********

Duncan intended to have another talk with Mahleah and had opened her door enough to see inside. She was standing with her back to the door, wrapped in a robe with her wet hair in a towel, talking on her cell phone.

"Walter?" he heard the joy and relief in her voice.

Listening to the conversation, he realized Madeline had been threatening Walter's life, but he was now safe. He quietly shut the door reflecting on the things that a person would do to save a friend or lover.

He went back to his own room without noticing Marie.

*******

At the dinner party MacLeod knew he was in trouble the moment he saw Mahleah's dress. Part of his mind thought, "How Jennifer Lopez!" while the other part bordered on short-circuiting. Obviously from Section's wardrobe, she claimed the dress was borrowed from Nikita. It was shell pink silk bordered with gold and the skirt was floor-length and unexciting. From the waist up however she had every man's attention and many women's envy. The bodice consisted of a long piece of silk that draped diagonally across her breasts and down her shoulder. As far as he could tell the only thing holding the damn dress up was the weight of the material cascading down her back. It was unnerving enough to see the sides of her breasts showing and the curve of her waist as one faced her, but when she turned around his mouth went dry and his breathing became shallow. Other than the trickle of silk coming over her shoulder, nothing covered her back down to her waist. That satiny expanse of flesh was driving him crazy - the desire to run his fingers up her spine and hear her gasp almost overwhelmed him.

Ironically she seemed perfectly at ease. It was definitely a sink or swim dress and she was carrying it off effortlessly. Her head held high and ringlets dangling to her shoulders, she smiled and laughed comfortably. In fact, for the first time on this mission she seemed relaxed to him. He guessed she was still feeling the joy of that phone call.

When asked what on earth was holding up the dress she laughed and teased, "Why the weight of y'all's eyes, of course."

Alex was unable to keep his eyes, or hands, off her. He noticed she kept up a running conversation with Alex's friend Terry all during dinner. Terry himself was quite charismatic and joked about stealing her away. Alex would laugh but he would put a hand on the small of Mahleah's back in a possessive manner that set MacLeod's teeth on edge.

Malcolm, eyes glowing, laughed at the sensation she was causing. "Mahleah, my dear," he told her teasingly, "I do believe you've captured the heart of every man here. Even Mac looks smitten."

She turned and walked toward him smiling.

"She is the belle of the ball this evening," Mac responded.

She drew near and said softly, "So Mac, you like my dress?"

"No," he said tightly. Truthfully he wanted to rip it off and ravage her despite the crowd.

Her lips quirked, understanding all he didn't say. "Poor baby," she whispered. Her dark eyes were twinkling with wicked delight. She turned to leave and his eyes were drawn irresistibly to her bare back, just as she ran a fingernail up his thigh to even more sensitive areas.

She heard his quick intake of breath and looked back grinning mischievously. "Come and get me if you dare," her eyes seemed to taunt.

She walked away, leaving him - just a little - weak in the knees. I don't know what your game is, he thought, you're probably thinking that revenge is sweet, but two can play it.

Just then, Malcolm approached her and held a short conversation. He turned to his guests and announced, "My friends, Alex's lovely new girlfriend doesn't merely wear clothes well. She's also a singer in a Parisian nightclub and has graciously agreed to gift us with a few tunes. As everyone here knows, my favorite music is Motown and she's agreed to take requests, starting with my favorite Temptations' song, 'I Wish It Would Rain.'"

The guests chattered excitedly as Mahleah cleared her throat. He saw her hide a small look of anguish and knew her problem. Music left her exposed and vulnerable and if the first song was an indication of things to come it was going to be a rough night.

Sunshine, blue skies, please go away My girl has found another and gone away With her went my future, my life is filled with gloom So day after day, I stay locked up in my room I know to you, it might sound strange But I wish it would rain

She belted it out clear and fearlessly. He found himself proud of her. It was no doubt excruciating to reveal the pain she was feeling to strangers, but she had no choice. Music stripped her emotions to the bone.

'Cause so badly I want to go outside But everyone knows that a man ain't supposed to cry. Listen, I gotta cry 'cause cryin' eases the pain, oh yeah People this hurt I feel inside words can never explain I just wish it would rain.

He noticed with disgust that Terry was fascinated by the sight of her stomach muscles flexing as she sang and the way her breathing swelled her breasts under the delicate fabric of her dress. Forget her body for the moment, he wordlessly urged, listen to her. Look at how she glows in a song she loves even if the lyrics bring her pain.

Day in, day out, my tear-stained face is pressed against the windowpane I search the skies, desperately for rain 'Cause raindrops will hide my teardrops And no one will ever know That I'm cryin', cryin', when I go outside To the world outside my tears I refuse to explain Oh, I wish it would rain

She finished and the guests cheered and clapped. She ran through requests: "Dancing in the Streets," "Shop Around" and "Papa Was a Rollin' Stone" were all popular. Mahleah was looking at ease when Marie called out, "Someday We'll Be Together."

Mahleah blinked, but the murmurs of her audience assured her she'd have to go through with it. He saw her raise her chin and close her eyes.

You're far away >From me my love And just as sure my, my baby As there are stars above I wanna say, I wanna say, I wanna say

Someday we'll be together Yes we will, yes we will Say, someday we'll be together I know, I know, I know.

She kept her eyes tightly shut as if afraid she might see him and break down. He could see her fists clenched at her sides.

My love is yours baby Oh, right from the start You, you, you possess my soul now honey, And I know, I know you own my heart And I wanna say...

He didn't know how she was keeping it together. The mixture of sweetness and sorrow in her husky voice made him want to weep for all that was lost, but could still, perhaps, be regained.

He noticed from the corner of his eye that Malcolm was standing next to him, but it no longer mattered. Even though she wasn't looking at him, had in fact closed her eyes to prevent the possibility that she might, he knew without a doubt that every note was for him.

Long time ago My, my sweet thing I made a big mistake, honey I said, I said goodbye Oh baby Ever, ever, ever since that day Now, now all I wanna do is cry, cry, cry

Malcolm moved in and softly said, "If a woman ever sang that way to me, I'd follow her to the ends of the earth."

Hey, hey, hey I long for you every night Just to keep your sweet, sweet lips Hold you ever, ever so tight And I wanna say

Someday we'll be together Yes we will, yes we will.

He'd seen a tear slip from a closed lid and slide down her cheek.

Malcolm added, "I think I'd forgive whatever silly mistake she might have made. I'd definitely not let another man take her away."

He looked, startled, at his friend who shrugged and said, "Call me a romantic but I want the girl to have the man she truly loves."

He stood speechless as Malcolm nudged him, "Well, what are you waiting for? Surely I don't need to draw you a diagram?"

He gripped Malcolm's shoulder tightly for a moment, wordlessly thanking him for his understanding. He noticed that Alex and Terry had surrounded her. They appeared to be saying goodbye. Where were they going at this hour?

By the time he'd reached her, she'd kissed Alex goodnight and headed for the stairs.

Alex looked at Duncan, "She's one in a million, isn't she?"

"Even rarer," he said dryly. "Why's she leaving the party so soon?"

"The singing drained her, so she wants to go to bed early. It's understandable - she's phenomenal. Have you ever heard anyone like her?"

"Never."

"Well I guess I'll see you in the morning. There's a small crisis brewing at the office and Terry thinks he knows a way of avoiding disaster."

"Goodnight," Mac said automatically, but his mind had moved on to other things. With Alex out of the way, Mahleah would be alone tonight. Would she welcome his company? His heart thundering beneath his ribs, he began climbing the staircase.

Marie watched him go thoughtfully.

Part Sixteen

Mahleah left the door to her room open. She was glad Alex had insisted on giving her the guestroom with a balcony. She walked out into the night air. It was noticeably cooler and a light breeze drifted through the curls she'd left partially loose. All that singing about rain seemed to have had some result.

She smiled, feeling glad that Alex had left on mysterious business tonight. She'd tagged both him and Terry with activated trackers. As she stood there, Birkoff would be ascertaining their location and all of this could be over. After the performance she'd been forced to give, the last thing she wanted was to share a bed with Alex. The very thought tainted her memory of the music.

She really should be changing clothes, contacting Birkoff, and following the trackers but she couldn't move from the spot. She could feel his presence of course. Being the only two Immortals in the house, it was hard for her not to be aware of him, but the skin on her back seemed to feel molten - the same sensation she'd had all night from his gaze. Without lifting a finger he'd had more effect on her than Alex who touched her back at every opportunity. Duncan was watching her now and she didn't have to turn her head to confirm it.

A finger softly glided up her backbone and she shuddered. "Mac," she whispered.

For an answer, he bit her bare shoulder lightly, then bent and ran his tongue up the path his finger had already traced.

She gasped with the pleasure. His familiar fingers caressed every inch of skin her dress left exposed. When he reached her shoulders again, he pushed the extra fabric off, leaving her entire upper body uncovered. She shivered as the breeze touched her body like an extension of her lover.

His hands slid across her stomach as he kissed the back of her neck.

"That smell," he murmured. "You've been driving every man in the house mad with desire tonight, cariad. I don't know what was worse: this heavenly smell," he nuzzled her hair and ears, "this tantalizing back," he pressed himself against her and she moaned, "or these," he drew his hands up to cup her breasts, "so artfully displayed."

She arched her spine to increase the contact between them. "I don't care what they thought," she whispered. "I only wore this thing to make you crazy."

He turned her finally to face him, and chuckled, "You've succeeded m'annsachd, beyond your wildest dreams." His hands busily pulled all the pins out of her hair.

As he leaned in to kiss her, she matched his evil chuckle with one of her own saying, "I don't know...my dreams are very wild."

His touch was gentle at first, tender as a first kiss. When she opened her mouth and touched his lips with her tongue however, his restraint broke and he indulged in the erotic ravishment they'd both been fantasizing about all night.

*******

Much, much later Mac held a dozing Mahleah in his arms. His fingers caressed her back, barely skimming the top. He was exhausted himself, but he was fighting back sleep. Being no fool, he knew that their lovemaking was only a temporary arrangement. Nothing had changed except for a dissipation of the anger that had been between them.

He didn't like what she had done, but he had gone to extraordinary lengths before to protect a friend. He knew her loyalty was one of the qualities he loved about her most. He had tried to apologize for his harsh words, but she'd said she understood. It hadn't been him talking it had been the pain and jealousy he felt. After sternly warning him of the consequences if he behaved in such a way again, she had sweetly forgiven him.

When this assignment was over, she would return to Paris and he would be left alone again. For now, though, he could hold her and watch her sleep.

Outside in the hall he heard footsteps that paused outside Mahleah's door. Alex, he realized. He involuntarily tensed and Mahleah sighed in protest.

Go away, he thought at the boy. Give us tonight. We may not have another for a very long time.

He breathed a sigh of gratitude when the footsteps started away from the door. Alex had apparently decided it was not wise to wake his love at this hour of the morning. Wise decision, he thought, repressing a chuckle. A man had to catch Mahleah before she went to sleep or as she was waking up if he wanted to fool around. She normally slept with Tora by her bed and a knife under her pillow. Any male foolish enough to think getting horny was a good reason to wake her out of a deep sleep was likely to be gelded.

Suddenly his ear caught the sound of a female voice stopping Alex before he went inside his room. It was Marie.

"Oh, dear brother of mine," she said. "We need to have a chat."

Damn, MacLeod thought. It would all be over soon. What was that old saying about a woman scorned?

Part Seventeen

Mahleah was experiencing the slumber of the physically satiated and the emotionally content. It was a rude shock to suddenly have her bedroom door bang open and an angry male voice shouting at her.

Her hands instinctively reached for weapons before her eyes opened. Finding nothing but naked skin beneath her, she blearily cracked her lids open to find out what the hell was going on and what moron was disturbing the best rest she'd had in weeks.

She discovered she was lying on top of MacLeod, which was good, and Alex Coffey was looming over them with fiery eyes yelling with every breath. This was bad. She struggled to get her thoughts in order. How much of her cover was blown? Speaking of covers, she reached down and grabbed a handful of bedspread to cover herself with. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Alex to shut the hell up and let everyone go back to sleep but that just didn't seem like a viable option.

Beneath her, MacLeod frowned, "Why don't you let us get dressed and we'll meet you downstairs to discuss this like sensible adults," he suggested.

Malcolm appeared at the doorway, "What's all the commotion? Oh Mac, I see you took my advice. I don't blame you a bit. Now, Alex, I know you're upset but you'll get over it in time. True love is not something that is found every day and if you get in its way you'll get trampled."

"Dad," Alex wasn't calming down any time soon. "I don't understand a damn word you're saying."

So much for getting dressed, Mahleah thought tiredly.

"Alex, I'm sorry," she said. "I told you when we met that I'd just broken up with someone."

"MacLeod?" he sputtered. "So why did you come away with me? Why did you pretend you'd never met him?"

"She was on the rebound," his father patiently said.

Mahleah threw him a grateful look, "Exactly. We were shocked to find each other here. He was hurt to see me with someone else and it just seemed natural at the time to act like strangers."

"What about us?" Alex whispered.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I really am, but some things were never meant to be."

He closed his eyes for a moment, and then walked out.

Mahleah looked at Malcolm, "Under the circumstances I think it's best that I move to a hotel."

"Nonsense," Malcolm protested. "Alex will get over it. I'd hate to see you part on such bad terms."

"I don't see how we could do anything else," she said sadly.

******

After checking into a moderately priced hotel, Mahleah phoned Birkoff.

"Tell me you have a location," she demanded.

"Of course I do," he told her smugly. "I've had it for hours."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll check it out. Will there be a team available soon?"

He was quiet for a moment and she repeated, "Birkoff, will there be a team available?"

"Sorry," he muttered. "I had another mission going on and it was about to look like we'd lost the leader. Yeah, I think Operations is planning to send you Michael, Davenport, Mentz, and Snow."

"Sounds good," she approved.

"Mahleah," he sounded sad.

"Yeah, Birkoff?"

"Go easy on Michael, huh? Nikita nearly blew him up three minutes ago."

********

Despite the tension, Duncan had chosen to stay at the Coffey's house. He needed to talk to Alex about a few things without the presence of his father. It wasn't easy as Alex disappeared for most of the day. Duncan could understand his anger but there was much more at stake than a broken heart.

When Alex finally walked back into the house, Duncan took him firmly by the arm and steered him to the library.

"We need to talk about a few things," he said easily.

"Haven't we said everything already," Alex said a little bitterly.

Duncan leaned against a table and crossed his arms, "Not really. We sort of left out the part where you're supplying money to terrorists."

"What?" Alex frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"The fact that you're under investigation for your activities involving a group known as Blue Dusk," Duncan informed him.

"Investigation?" he suddenly turned pale. "Mahleah? Is that why she was here?" His bitterness returned. "Just what exactly was she supposed to be investigating?"

"The organization she works for is intense and harsh," Mac spoke sharply. "It leaves its operatives very little room for independent action."

"So you're saying she had no choice but to sleep with me? Oh, that makes me feel a whole lot better."

MacLeod began getting impatient, "If you could get your mind off Mahleah for a moment, you'd see that you're in a hell of a lot of trouble, Alex."

"Why?" Alex laughed. "Blue Dusk is not a terrorist group. It's just a bunch of my friends from college who find jobs and homes for the underprivileged. It's charity work for God's sake. If they want to arrest me for charity work, let them go ahead - my lawyers will shred them like paper."

Duncan shook his head, "You don't understand. These people don't bother with niceties like trials or lawyers, and I find it difficult to believe that they would go to this much trouble if there weren't something going on that you don't know about. Think Alex, what exactly do they do with the money you give them?"

"Whenever we find people who meet the criteria we help them out. Give them work and a place to stay. There's really nothing to it."

Duncan thought for a moment, "What are these criteria?"

"Well, it started in college for guys our age who didn't have the advantages we'd been given."

Mac nodded, it was starting to make sense, "Let me guess: young, single, few family ties, possibly even violent backgrounds?"

"Yes," Alex still wasn't seeing the big picture. "We were willing to take a chance with men that society had given up on."

Duncan raised an eyebrow, "Don't you get it, Alex? You've been used. The men you recruited were turned into mercenaries and the money you donated was spent on weapons."

Alex sat down hard. Duncan could see the facts clicking into place in his mind. As he ran through everything he knew, he stood up again.

"Duncan," he said in a ghastly whisper, "Marie."

"What about her?" Duncan felt his heart speed up.

"She's with Terry right now. They used to date for a while, but after they broke up they remained good friends. She was supposed to drop off a check for Blue Dusk. Mac, if they're mercenaries and she finds out, she could be in danger."

"And not just from the terrorists," Duncan added grimly.

Part Eighteen

Arriving in Chattanooga, Michael didn't ever remember feeling so weary. It wasn't just the lack of sleep and jetlag that was weighing him down though. It was the soul numbing suspicion that something had happened to Nikita. He wasn't able to put his finger on it yet, but she was different.

He'd felt that strangeness after she missed their rendezvous together at Genefex. A few hours ago she'd nearly killed him. It could be argued that she knew he was clear or counted on him getting clear before she detonated the explosion but that was pointless. He'd seen her eyes on the ride back to Section and they fluctuated between being eerily cold and deeply troubled.

He'd had no opportunity to talk to her about it. He and this team were immediately dispatched to Tennessee. His comrades had managed to sleep for a few hours on the plane, but his mind refused to let him rest. What was going on?

Mahleah took one look at him and stepped forward saying, "Musashi?" in a quiet voice.

He'd thought he had his defensive armor in place, but obviously it wasn't enough. He ignored her gentle looks to get down to the business at hand.

"There seem to be fifty people in the building?" he tersely questioned her.

"Yes," she replied. "Luckily they're scattered throughout the place. If we split up into smaller teams, we should be able to take them all."

"Where is their money and information stored?"

"The best I can tell, it's on the third level," she showed him on the screen of a laptop. "It's a large room that takes up nearly the whole floor. There's a small window at one end. Actually, this building doesn't have a lot of illumination."

He understood, "We'll take out their lights," he said grimly.

*******

MacLeod had Alex drive him to the headquarters of Blue Dusk, but after arriving they argued vehemently over Alex's insistence on coming with the Highlander. Finally realizing that by the time that he reasoned with the well-intentioned young man Marie could be dead, Mac shut up. As Alex passed him to start toward the building though, he knocked him in the head with the hilt of his katana.

He stuffed the lad into the trunk of the car and left, looking for trouble but knowing it would find him all too soon.

*******

Everything was going according to plan. First Team took out the power in the building and split up. Mahleah found herself clad in black mission gear, a balaclava over her face, infrared goggles over her eyes, automatic in hand, following Michael toward the heart of Blue Dusk.

*******

Duncan had just found Marie when the lights went out. She'd been shocked to see him, "Mac, what are you doing here?"

"Getting you out of trouble," he'd managed to say before they were plunged into a shadowy haze.

"I can take care of myself," she told him.

"Like hell you can," he replied. "You don't know what you're up against."

"I do," she said coolly. "I've known for years. Terry taught me a long time ago."

He blinked at her, "You're a member of Blue Dusk."

"Why should that surprise you?" she asked tauntingly. "I gathered you like tough women."

"Strong women," he corrected. "Mahleah has honor - you're a mercenary."

"How honorable was it to sleep with my brother and then you?" she asked scornfully.

"We can debate this later," he said grimly. He'd just felt the presence of not one but two Immortals in the building. Terrorist or Section, this couldn't be good news. He'd hand Marie over to the police.

"Wait," she said suddenly. "We need to go this way."

"Are you sure?"

"I know this place well," she said. "Follow me."

*******

After a skirmish with three Blue Dusk members, Michael turned to Mahleah, "Are you okay?"

She started to speak and realized that her last encounter had been more violent than she'd supposed. She'd taken a hard blow to the throat that had nearly incapacitated her. In a rough whisper she replied, "I'll be fine."

He nodded and they moved on.

********

Mac was disgusted to discover that instead of leading them out of the building Marie had gone for a safe. Money, he thought, at a time like this she goes for the money. I hope even Amanda would have more sense.

She fumbled with the combination in the gloom. The scant light from the window wasn't nearly enough to allow her to see the numbers well. The sunny summer weather had ended last night with rain and today had been mostly cloudy. When the moon wasn't covered with clouds a few wan beams peeked through the room, but it wasn't enough.

MacLeod's ears detected noises at the other end of the room and he saw two figures enter with visors over their eyes.

One stepped toward him and the other turned to Marie. He was certain one of them was Immortal. Were they friends or foes?

His answer came with a swift kick to the chest that sent him reeling. He fought back, trying to get close to the woman he was protecting. His opponent was skilled and taking all of his attention. This was bad for Marie so he pulled out his katana.

His opponent backed off a little but still pressed him. He managed to cut the dark figure deeply along the arm and was preparing to go for a more vital area when his blade was blocked by another.

********

Mahleah had been heading for Marie - hardly surprising she was at the bottom of all this - when she realized that the man Michael was fighting was Duncan.

She was frozen in horror for a moment, then tried to yell at him to stop. Her throat, which had never failed her before, only managed a faint croak that was not heard by either fighter. With a dawning terror she understood that she'd nearly had her windpipe crushed and her body was still healing itself.

Studying the fight a split second, she put herself in Duncan's place and foresaw deadly consequences for Michael. As Duncan brought his katana around for a lethal blow she countered with Tora.

********

Well, now he knew which one was Immortal. He was good too, Duncan grudgingly admitted. The only mistake he made was not pressing any advantage he would gain in the fight. MacLeod was backing the strange Immortal into the pale light of the window when something distracted both fighters' attention.

The Immortal's comrade was struggling to staunch the bleeding shoulder left by Mac's katana. Marie had finally gotten the safe open and drawn out a gun. She was about to fire at the man on the floor who had his back turned away from her.

Duncan saw his opponent's mouth drop open and a hand suddenly held a knife blade. With an uneasy feeling he knew what would happen. As the man threw, he thrust and the katana slid into his opponent's chest just below the heart.

He stumbled and fell. As his sword dropped, Duncan watched with sick fascination as it rolled into the cloudy light of the window. It was Tora.

"No!" he heard as if from far away.

The man he'd fought earlier brushed past him. He'd removed his headgear and Duncan could now see it was Michael.

He looked up at Mac, anger and bewilderment across his face. "As you got nearer the light, I could tell it was you. Didn't you know it was her?"

He gently cradled the barely breathing body before him, pushing off her goggles and mask.

Duncan groaned and fell to his knees. "Mahleah."

She looked at him dazedly, "Duncan? That's twice you've killed..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes glazed over.

"I'm sorry, mhuirnin," he breathed, and then looked into the face of death.

Michael's eyes were gleaming with a deadly predator-like gaze. He was obviously about to retaliate. There was little that Duncan could do. He felt the other Immortal, or was it pre-Immortal, getting closer to their location. He leaned in and kissed Mahleah's lips. Suddenly he felt the unmistakable sensation of sharp metal against his skin.

"Say goodbye," Michael said coldly, holding Tora.

"Listen to me," Duncan urged. "There's not much time. You're going to have to protect her. No one can know what's happened."

"How can I do that?" Michael demanded. "She's dead."

"She won't be for long," Duncan sighed. "Please Michael, you're the only chance she's got right now. If I could save her I would, but I don't know how she'll react to me now."

"What can I possibly do?"

They both looked down as the dead woman suddenly drew in a deep breath and coughed.

Backing away from a stunned operative, MacLeod advised, "Don't let them see she was ever hurt. Say the blood's yours."

"But what's going on?" Michael protested.

Mahleah grabbed his leg, "I'll tell you later Musashi," she rasped. "Let him go."

Michael rarely ever swore, but this was the most bizarre situation he'd ever seen.

"Mahleah, what the hell are you?" he asked.

"There's no time for that now. I promise that the first opportunity we get without third parties listening I'll tell you everything."

*********

Duncan disappeared from their sight, but he had to make sure Mahleah's secret wouldn't be discovered. Michael, he saw, was a man of his word. When Mentz, Davenport, and Snow burst in a few minutes later they found Mahleah supposedly helping a wounded Michael stand. As the moments went on and she healed and he lost blood, it became the truth.

They examined Marie's still body, and left with a hard drive, the cash, and Terry Davidson. They were welcome to him, Mac thought soberly. He now had the gruesome task of informing Alex and his father of both the fate and secret identity of Marie Coffey.

*********

On the plane ride home, Mahleah was unusually quiet. While Mentz and Snow tried to coax her into singing for them, she claimed her throat was still sore.

After finishing his report, Michael felt a shadow fall across his keyboard and looked up. Mahleah, pale and somber, sat down beside him.

"Musashi," she said without looking at him. "I know you have troubles of your own, and don't want to be bothered, but can I..." she stopped.

He looked at for a long time, then set aside his computer and pulled her down until her head was in his lap. Putting an arm around her, he gently said, "Sleep."

Part Nineteen

When Michael returned to Section, he debriefed, made a quick trip to the Medlab and looked for Nikita. She knew he would be looking for him, but was nowhere to be found. Apparently she hadn't even waited to find out if his team had succeeded or if there had been any wounded or casualties. Considering he had been wounded, her blatant disregard stung.

He left to find her. If it was a violation of the Type One Directive, he didn't care. She was repainting her apartment it seemed, and confusion reigned on her face when he attempted to talk to her. She didn't respond to his words, answered his questions in a daze, and pulled away when he tried to touch her.

Michael had been shot numerous times, stabbed, cut, beat up, drugged and tortured by "creative" interrogators. Nothing ever hit him with the same force as the one simple sentence that came from her mouth now: "I don't love you anymore."

His eyes had closed from the pain and he'd still felt blind when he opened them and walked away. The only thing he could feel was the overwhelming sensation that once again Section had managed to take away the thing he cared for most. As he staggered down the hallway, he felt punch-drunk like a boxer who'd taken one too many blows to the head. "I won't let them do this," he kept thinking. "I won't let them do this." It was a chorus that echoed in his ears over and over and gave him the strength to get to his car.

As he pulled away from the curb, he drove without conscious thought - no real destination in mind. When he found himself in the Place Stalingrad however, he knew where his subconscious had taken him: to the one person who could possibly understand what he felt.