Author's Note: This is set during "Bruised Souls" after Mahleah gets to leave Section, but before the De Longis mission.

Mahleah and Nikita were taking a break from painting the walls of the new operative's bedroom a soft mauve. Sitting on the floor, drinking bottles of water Nikita asked curiously, "So, are you planning on getting a stereo?"

Mahleah laughed, "Absolutely, that's actually on my list of things to do today. I don't know how I've gone this long without music. I think I'll get a VCR and television while I'm at it. I'm a big movie fan. I'll have to invite you over so we can have a girl's movie night."

"Sounds like fun," Nikita said wistfully, something she had not experienced much of lately.

There was a knock at the door and when Mahleah answered it she found Michael, "Musashi," she greeted. "What brings you here?"

"As if I don't know," she thought, glancing back at her fellow painter.

"I thought you might need some help getting this place finished," he said softly.

"Oh, by all means, come in. I appreciate all the help I can get," she cheerfully shut the door behind him. "We're in the middle of painting and an extra pair of hands would be marvelous."

Nikita looked a little startled. "Michael."

"Nikita," he pulled off his jacket. "Do you have an extra paint brush?"

"Absolutely," Mahleah handed him one.

They worked in silence for a time. Mahleah was dismayed. The gossipy chitchat and laughter was gone. Something had to be done.

"We need music," she declared. "This place is quiet as a tomb."

"Well, we can go buy that stereo or you can borrow a CD player from my place," Nikita offered. "I've got plenty of music to choose from."

"I've noticed," Mahleah smiled. "That works. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Before either painter could protest, she was out the door. Using the spare key Nikita had lent her until they could get her apartment finished, she let herself in. Moving to the infamous music collection, she scanned the titles looking for favorites. As she had told them during the picnic, her influences had been many and varied. Really, the basics went back to three sources though: Mac, Catriona, and David.

She sat on the floor, sifting through disks and sorting through old memories.

***********

She would not go to sleep. She refused to go to sleep. If she did, the vampire would attack her, and maybe this time he would actually bite her. She huddled under her covers, tucking them up under her chin.

She wouldn't cry either. She'd already done that when the monster had attacked her for real, but it was dead now, so she wouldn't cry. She bit her lip to stop its trembling and clenched the fists holding the blankets.

"I can't think about it. If I think about it, I'll dream about it. So, I'll think of something good...something happy."

What could she focus her mind on that would keep the nightmares away? She needed to concentrate on a happy moment - a day so wonderful it would cancel out the memory of the vampire attack. What could it be?

She cast her mind back through all five years of her memories. Of course, she couldn't remember everything, in fact the first thing she could really recall clearly was...that was it - the day of her third birthday.

Not long after that day, Duncan had moved in with her and her dad, but on her birthday, he'd taken her up to his cabin at the very top of the hill. On the way, they had picked wild strawberries, and when they arrived, she discovered he had made her a fabulous birthday cake with thick layers of gooey frosting. He'd sung "Happy Birthday" and then given her a copy of Lamb's Tales From Shakespeare and a stuffed tiger. She'd promptly named the cub Puck and they'd settled down on the couch together with thick slices of cake and tall glasses of milk while he helped her through the real Puck's mad adventures. She loved that story. He'd told it to her many times before he'd given her the book.

She yawned. Now, she considered Lamb a baby book. She was struggling through the real thing. 'Course it helped when you already knew the story.... Her muscles relaxed as she finally slipped into sleep, Puck the tiger cub tucked under one arm.

It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining brightly overhead, and she and Duncan were on the outskirts of the orchard picking apples. She had filled her little basket and was helping him fill his.

They moved further into the clusters of trees. The sun was not so bright here as the leafy trees blocked its rays. She was putting a nice Red Delicious in his basket when he suddenly straightened and walked away from her without saying a word.

She stood there for a moment confused. Where was he going? A cloud passed over the sun, and suddenly she felt cold and scared.

"Duncan," she called repeatedly. "Duncan, where are you? Duncan, come back!"

She heard a twig pop behind her and whirled around.

"No!" she screamed as strong hands grabbed her. She looked into horrible yellow eyes that seemed to burn her with an evil fire. Lips were pulled back, exposing sharp pointed teeth. She could smell a sickening sweet odor on its breath.

It hissed at her and then bent towards her. She struggled, kicking and trying to twist out of its grasp with no result. She felt that hot rotten air on her skin and increased her efforts to break loose.

Just as the teeth brushed her neck, something swung into the vampire. She stared up in amazement, and saw a tall woman with long hair brandishing a tree branch. She'd used the weapon to club the vampire in the head. It got up, clearly angry. The woman aimed a kick and when the monster tried to dodge, she went in the other direction and staked it with the branch. It broke up into ash.

The woman turned to her and brushed away a tear that was falling down her face.

"He left me," she sobbed. "Duncan left me and the monster came after me."

The woman pulled her into a hug. "Ssh, it's okay Mahleah. You'll be all right. I'm here now. I promise I'll never leave you. Ssh, a leannan, you're safe. Wake up now, nighean."

She awoke to find herself being held by Duncan. "Oh, Mac, it was awful," she cried. "You left me and the vampire came back and I couldn't get away."

"I know, mhuirnin. Hush now. Just relax, I'm here now. You're safe - there's no monsters here." She had a death grip on his shirt, but he kept rocking her, stroking her soft hair and making soothing sounds until her sobs began to ease.

He pulled away from her and wiped her face and eyes with a tissue. "Blow," he commanded, and she obeyed. He tried to ease her back down in her bed, but she protested.

"I don't want to go back to sleep," she told him.

"You need your rest, Mahleah, and so do I," he responded gently. She looked at him doubtfully, her large dark eyes still streaked from tears.

"Will it help if I stay a while?" he asked.

She brightened. "Yes, then the monsters won't come."

"All right then," he tucked her back in and sat down in the floor next to her bed. He picked up the toy that had fallen out, and handed it to her, "Don't forget Puck. He's more than a match for any nightmare."

She clasped the stuffed animal, "Are you sure?"

"Well, I'm not saying he can protect you while you're awake: that's my job. But he wouldn't let anything happen to you while you were asleep. He's a tiger and tigers can be ferocious when they're protecting someone they love."

She kissed Puck's nose and laid him next to her cheek. "Tell me something, Mac."

"What would you like to hear?"

"There was this woman in my dream that saved me. I think she was Mommy. Do you think Mommy could have been looking after me?"

He was at a loss for words. She went on, "She was tall like Mommy and she had really pretty long hair, just like in her picture." She pointed to the frame on her nightstand.

"Mahleah, a leannan, I don't know who the woman in your dream was," he said honestly. He certainly wasn't going to tell her it was Catriona Brennan.

"Tell me about her," she requested.

"Well, she was tall - about 5' 10", and her hair was long."

"What color was it?" demanded the ever-increasingly sleepy five-year-old.

"What color? Well, let's see. I'd say her hair was about the color of a field of wheat, and her eyes were the blue of the Aegean."

"Aegean," she whispered, her eyes beginning to close. "What else?"

"She sang. I remember she had a lovely soprano voice, and she was funny."

Her eyes were nearly closed. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Why don't you ask your dad about her tomorrow?" he suggested, and brushed a strand of hair off her face.

" 'Kay," she agreed, and went out like a light.

He watched over her while she slept, deep in thought. He hated the fact that she was still having nightmares about the attack three months after it had occurred, but he hated even more the fact that she never would have been in danger if he hadn't left her. If he had only taken her to the hotel, and went back looking for the Immortal hunting him she would never have been unprotected. Her cries tonight had woken him, and his heart burned with shame hearing her scream his name along with a plea not to leave her.

He had originally looked after Mahleah and her father for Catriona's sake. He had known her for many years and her last words to him were a request to ensure her family's well being. Seeing the wreck David Brennan had rapidly disintegrated into, he was glad he'd agreed.

Catriona had invited him to these isolated mountains knowing he was sick at heart and yearning for peace. They had all been happy then. When she and David said that they were going to adopt a child it had seemed the best news of all.

He'd known, of course, that Catriona couldn't have a baby and understood fully her desire to experience motherhood. He still didn't know where she had found the child, though. She'd brought her home one day, to the surprise of both of the men in her life. David had been completely enchanted from the moment he'd laid eyes on his new daughter. Duncan, too, had been smitten, though the first time he held her she spit up on him.

It had been Duncan to suggest the name Mahleah since a fierce battle had been brewing between Elizabeth and Kathleen. "Mahleah" he explained, meant "unusual girl" or "beautiful young woman."

Catriona had been delighted and David concurred. The name certainly fit. Mahleah was a lovely girl and Duncan knew just how unusual she was. It had been imperative for an Immortal to keep an eye on this small child since she would someday die and rise again.

She was unique in her strange ability to pick things up almost instantly. He rarely had to show her something more than once or twice before she understood. It was almost eerie - as if she'd learned everything before in a previous life.

Now, he stayed because of her and not the promise he'd made her mother. The little girl had cut her teeth on his heart and he was determined to protect her at all costs, even if it meant skirmishing with David.

Duncan had known he had to step in the night he went to The Pink Room to make sure David made it home safely and discovered a not-quite three-year-old Mahleah sitting at a table in the smoke filled room, surrounded by drunks including her father.

David was oblivious to anything but drowning his sorrow and guilt in Tequila. He'd been playing guitar earlier, but was now too plastered to even feel the strings under his fingers.

When MacLeod walked into the bar, he saw the little girl sitting in a chair, nodding her head to what was passing as music. The man known as "Scary Sam" by the local schoolgirls for his tendencies to fondle and peep in windows at them was offering her a piece of gum.

Duncan had not said a word, but picked the child up, taken her home, and put her to bed. He'd returned for her father, who roused himself briefly enough to throw a punch, miss and hit the floor. David, too, had been tossed across a shoulder, taken home, and put to bed.

Shortly thereafter, Duncan MacLeod had moved in with the Brennans. He sighed as he watched the sleeping girl curled up to her small protector/companion and hoped that her father would regain his senses soon. She deserved more.

The next day, Mahleah stayed quiet as usual until her father got out of bed. She remembered Duncan's advice from the night before, but made a skeptical face. Her father rarely, if ever, discussed her mother so why should today be any different?

She hesitantly crept into her father's "office." The title was misleading, as he didn't even have a desk in the room. He spent the majority of his time here when he was home. When she entered, she was relieved to find that this appeared to be a good morning. David didn't seem noticeably hung-over. He was sitting in the floor, sorting through a stack of albums.

"Hi," he greeted her. She smiled. The situation was improving all the time. "Hi, Daddy," she ran over and gave him a hug. The all-too-familiar scent of alcohol was present, but she thought he acted reasonably sober.

"What are you up to today?" he asked.

"Oh, the same as usual," she told him. "What are those?"

He gestured to the stack of records, "I guess you could say that's your musical legacy, Leah. It's a combination of all the albums me and your mom collected over the years."

He had her interest now. She had been unsure of how to bring up the touchy subject, and now he was voluntarily mentioning Catriona.

"What kind of legacy do you mean?" she asked. She knew what the word meant, but wondered in what sense he was using it.

"Well, I guess it's an inheritance. Who knows you might even take after one of us and become a musician someday. These," he gestured at the stack, "would be your influences."

"So what are they? Did you and Mommy like the same stuff?"

He smiled in reminiscence, "We generally listened to different things, but we liked the other's taste. She liked soul music and Motown, that kind of thing. I always liked straight up rock and roll."

Mahleah frowned, "What's the difference?"

He gave her a startled expression, "The difference? You don't know? No, I guess MacLeod tends to play opera and classical, doesn't he?" At her nod, he continued, "There's nothing wrong with that, but there's a lot more out there than the so-called high-brow stuff. Here," he pulled a record off the stack. "Put this one on and you'll see what I mean."

She took the album over to the stereo and tried to restrain herself from skipping. She put the record on the turntable and flipped the switch that made the needle pick itself up, move over to the spinning disk, and lower itself gently. A gentle, catchy beat came through the speakers and a singer with a voice as smooth and rich as honey serenaded her. She was enthralled. This male voice was very different from the opera singers she usually heard: the purity of the sound was the same, but the delivery was worlds apart.

She looked back at her father in amazement. He smiled and answered her unspoken question, "That's Sam Cooke. He was your Mom's favorite."

She sat in front of the speakers drinking in the sounds of "You Send Me." When that song ended, "Chain Gang" began. Her father took her hands and pulled her up.

"May I have this dance?" he inquired.

She grinned and nodded. They danced around the room through the strains of "Wonderful World", "Cupid", and "Twisting the Night Away." A gorgeous piano riff started, but before she could enjoy it, her father twisted away and turned the record off.

"Let's try something else," he suggested before she could protest.

He slapped on a different platter, and she was introduced to Chuck Berry, Elvis, The Temptations, and The Supremes. Then, he winked at her and said, "I know that Mr. Cultured Scot hasn't played this for you."

The new music was wilder, rawer, and she loved every second of it. She discovered The Rolling Stones, The Yardbirds, Cream, and her dad's favorite Jimi Hendrix. He was playing her a raucous Led Zeppelin song when Duncan stuck his head in the office door.

He frowned, "Are you sure that's appropriate for a five-year-old?"

David laughed, "Don't be so boring, Mac. It's not like I'm playing her "Whole Lotta Love."

MacLeod raised an eyebrow, but let it pass. He might find the music a little questionable, but Mahleah was obviously having the time of her life. He hated to drag her away, but she did have a dental check-up to go to, and he'd promised to take her to the library afterwards.

She protested but he pointed out that her dad would still be there when she returned. David gave his daughter a hug, kisses, and then asked curiously, "Why did you come in looking for me this morning, anyway?"

"Oh, I had a nightmare last night and I think Mommy was in it protecting me from the monsters," she said simply, and left holding onto Duncan's hand.

David sat down in the floor, hard. Mac had told him that Mahleah had been having nightmares for the last few months, but he had never heard her cry out. "No, I was probably out cold," he thought derisively.

Before Catriona's death he had only been a social drinker, but after the Christmas tragedy, he had found himself turning more and more to a bottle to get him through the day. Catriona had not wanted to leave the house that morning. They'd had quite a little spat over the fact that he had promised his mother to come to dinner. His wife accused him of being completely under his charismatic parent's control. He was furious and insisted that they all go to the family meal which was traditional. She'd pointed out that the roads were slicker than they appeared and it was too dangerous. He'd scoffed at her concerns and then they had wrecked.

He had hit an invisible patch of ice on the road and lost control of the car. Catriona might have been okay, except that she had unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the baby in the back seat. She'd died in that accident and he hadn't even been conscious for her last words.

He picked up the Sam Cooke album he'd removed before and put it back on the stereo. He could see her now the day they'd met. He'd been playing in a club in Memphis backing up one of the many bands he'd played with in his life.

When she'd walked in the room, every head had turned. A tall, leggy blonde with midnight-blue eyes he'd been unable to take his eyes off her throughout the set. He saw her shoot down man after man and figured he didn't have a chance. He'd settled in with an ale on his break when she approached him. He'd nearly swallowed his tongue.

She had been witty, intelligent, and sexy as hell. Five minutes into the conversation and he'd known he was in love. Six months later they were married. He'd never had any regrets except the fact that they couldn't have children, but when Mahleah came along that wish was fulfilled, too. Then came that fateful Christmas day.

The piano intro that he'd abruptly cut off before tinkled through the room again and he walked over to a shelf and pulled out a bottle. As Sam crooned, "Bring It On Home to Me," David toasted the memory of his dead wife and tipped up the bottle.

Several hours later, Mahleah rushed into the house. She'd had a terrific check-up with no cavities, and she'd rushed her library trip so she could come home and talk to her dad again. She ran into his room, excited to find out what he would tell her or show her next, but then stopped dead in her tracks. David Brennan was slumped against the wall unconscious, an empty bottle lying next to him.

**********

Epilogue

Mahleah pulled herself out of the past with a sigh. Surely, her two favorite lovebirds had been given enough time to break the ice. She gathered up a handful of jewel cases and a portable CD player and headed back to her own place.

Outside the door, she heard Nikita squealing with laughter. Grinning herself, she opened the door to discover that her two new friends had been having a paint fight in her absence. She was bemused that Nikita had actually inspired such a playful act from such a serious man. She really was good for him.

"Well, do we have enough left for the walls?" she inquired.

They looked abashed, and she chuckled. "That's all right. There's plenty more where that came from."

She plugged in the boom box, and slipped in a CD. Jimi Hendrix's "Purple Haze" filled the room. "Now," she announced, "we have some music to work with."