All That You Can’t Leave Behind

By Michelle Fields

Copyright December 2000

Revised August 2004

 

 

And love is not the easy thing…

The only baggage you can bring

Is all that you can’t leave behind.

-- “Walk On” from the album “All That You Can’t Leave Behind” by U2

 

Prologue

 

 

Christmas Eve

 

It was unusual for Michael to be allowed downtime during the Christmas holidays. He suspected that The Powers That Be were being lenient with him because of all that had happened in the last few months. Nikita had begun acting strangely, told him she didn’t love him anymore, and then vanished into thin air. Despite his considerable efforts, he’d been unable to locate her. He had been on the verge of succumbing to the whirlpool of anger and depression that her absence, and his helplessness to fulfill his vow of not letting Section get away with it, had created.

 

He hadn’t drowned, however. He was, in fact, refreshed with a second wind. He would find Nikita no matter how long it took, and he would reverse whatever tampering they had subjected her to. Once he was reassured that she was speaking with her own mind and heart they could examine their relationship. If she no longer wanted to be with him then, it would hurt him immensely but he would respect her decision.

 

It was odd how things could work out, he reflected as he followed the directions he’d been given to the letter. Certainly when he began his most recent mission in Poplar Ridge he had no premonition of the way events would unfold. He experienced mixed feelings when looking back. A warm glow spread through him at the thought of the friendship that had been tempered through fire and pain to a partnership both strange and wonderful. Yet, there were feelings of doubt, uncertainty, and guilt mixed with all of the contentment. It was very possible that the man he was shortly going to see would harbor an entirely different view about his experience.

 

After enough crossing and re-crossing of his path to make himself dizzy, Michael approached a cabin in these anonymous woods. He hesitated for a brief moment, and then knocked.

 

“It’s open,” a familiar voice called.

 

He pushed the door open and walked in out of the cold, snowy day to a cheery fire, an appetizing smell, and a man standing behind the door, ready for an ambush.

 

Duncan stepped out, dropping his offensive posture.

 

“Sorry for the rude greeting,” he apologized, “had to be sure it was you.”

 

Michael nodded in understanding.

 

“Merry Christmas,” the man offered him a steaming mug of coffee, which he gratefully accepted.

 

“Thanks,” he told Duncan.

 

They both sat down by the fire in an awkward silence. Michael had visited the Immortal twice before, always at different locations. At first he went out of a sense of obligation to Mahleah, who was a friend. Then he went because he recognized in this four hundred-year-old man a kindred spirit. He couldn’t imagine all that Duncan had seen in his lifetime, but in his own thirty odd years he’d seen and experienced too much in too short a time.

 

There was a strange bond between them that he suspected resulted from them both being forcibly separated from the better part of themselves. It didn’t make the coming conversation any easier, yet gave it an impetus that was gaining momentum in his brain.

 

 MacLeod cleared his throat.

 

“So, how are things?” he inquired casually. “Are you doing okay?”

 

“Better than I have been in months,” Michael answered truthfully.

 

“Good,” Mac sipped his coffee, “and Nikita?”

 

Michael felt a cloud pass over his face, “I’m not sure,” he admitted.

 

Mac winced, “Breakup?” he guessed.

 

“You might say that, but not really,” Michael evaded. He had never really explained the details of what had been done to Nikita – not that he really had any yet to share.

 

He could tell MacLeod was puzzled but the Immortal bypassed the next question in favor of the one he really wanted answered, “How’s Mahleah?”

 

“She’s fine,” Michael took a sip of his own coffee.

 

Duncan frowned, “Fine is rather nondescript; it doesn’t tell me very much. I mean I know she’s not going to be ill and I hope no one is hunting her. How is she?”

 

Michael bit the inside of his lip, “Mahleah’s…well, Mahleah. She rolls with the pains life inflicts and expects everyone else to do the same.”

 

He got a half-smile in return, “She always told me that I brood too much. She’s a woman of thought herself, but she camouflages it in action.” He scrutinized the younger man. “There’s something you’re not telling me. Is something wrong? Is she in trouble? Is Section thinking of canceling her again?”

 

“No, nothing like that,” Michael shook his head. Something was urging him to talk but instinct kept repressing it. He was not, by nature, a storyteller yet the urge to indulge in a cathartic burst of explanation was becoming overwhelming. He respected Duncan and empathized with the man’s longing to be with the woman he loved. Mahleah’s lover deserved to hear the details of the Poplar Ridge Mission from the only person that could, at this point, reveal them to him.

 

He drew a deep breath, “Three months ago, Mahleah and I were sent undercover together to the small town of Shady Creek, Virginia. We were to blend into the community for a time before finding a way to infiltrate a terrorist group that was hiding in the mountains.”

 

Duncan raised an eyebrow, “Shady Creek? That’s getting awfully close to the county where Mahleah lived as a child.”

 

Michael nodded, “There was always a risk that she’d be recognized, but her knowledge of the local people was considered to be invaluable.”

 

The Immortal considered that and agreed, “If they sent you in, you’d definitely need help. You’d stick out around there like a sore thumb.”

 

“Exactly,” Michael responded dryly. He wet his lips. This was the difficult part. “What I didn’t realize at first was that Mahleah was sent with two agendas. There was one related to Shady Creek as well as Poplar Ridge, the neighborhood we stayed in while there. The other profile however was related to me.”

 

Duncan frowned, “You? What do you mean?”

 

Michael knew he’d have to start from the beginning. The trouble was that the start of this whole double agenda began with a conversation he’d had no part in. Knowing the participants as well as he did, though, as well as the results, he could imagine what was said.

 

In his imagination, he could visualize the whole scene and describe it to his companion:

 

Mahleah walked into Madeline’s office with her usual imperturbable expression. He knew it would be just as fake as his own, but it would allow her to seem as emotionless as their superiors.

 

Madeline smiled pleasantly – a sight that always put him on edge and he had little doubt that it did the same for Mahleah.

 

“Have a seat,” only Madeline could make an invitation to sit down sound like the words above the gates to hell: abandon hope all ye who enter.

 

“Once again, you are being asked to fulfill a dual role on this mission,” Madeline would have said smoothly. “You proved quite adept at multi-tasking during the Coffey profile. This will take more subtlety than you needed with Alex Coffey, however.”

 

“What do you want me to do?” Mahleah would ask straightforwardly.

 

“There were a few details left out of Michael’s briefing. There are three leaders of this group: two women and a man. We expect Michael to ascertain which of the women would be most susceptible to his advances and seduce her.”

 

“Why wouldn’t you inform Michael of this?”

 

“He’s not ready to hear it,” he knew Madeline would bluntly say. “Nikita’s recent ending of their relationship and subsequent absence from Section has affected his performance. It is your job to see that this changes.”

 

He could see Mahleah raise an eyebrow at this order, “I’m to insure that Michael can…perform?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Mahleah’s face would flush in anger, “Why?”

 

“Our observation shows that the two of you are quite close. He went to you immediately after the break with Nikita. You should be able to reroute his thinking to a more advantageous direction.”

 

“You’re asking me to run a Valentine mission on my best friend,” she would say heatedly. “I won’t do it.”

 

The warmth would have slowly drained from Madeline’s face, “You’re in no position to refuse assignments,” she would point out.

 

“Go ahead and cancel me,” Mahleah would start to rise, secure in the knowledge that Section had no idea how to really kill her. She would stop at the other woman’s next words, which were quite prepared for this line of defense.

 

“That would serve little purpose right now. According to his psychological profile, you are the only person capable of completing this task. If you refuse, the success of the mission is questionable. Michael’s duties as a level five operative occasionally require him to perform such assignments. If he’s not capable of fulfilling them, his usefulness to us is drastically reduced. We would be forced to reevaluate his status as an operative,” he imagined her saying.

 

“You’re saying that if I don’t go through with it, you’ll put Michael in abeyance?” Mahleah’s voice would have risen at this point, heedless of the consequences.

 

She would see the affirmation in Madeline’s eyes and slump dejectedly in her chair. After racking her brains for a few seconds she would have retorted, “If I’m the only person you believe capable of seducing him since Nikita’s absence, just how do you expect him to achieve his target on the mission? Why not choose another operative?”

 

“Once the initial reluctance to sleep with a woman other than Nikita is overcome, we believe he will be able to handle the responsibilities of his mission,” Madeline was quite serene once again, but her smooth-sounding tones hid deadly undertones. “If another operative becomes necessary you will both be considered failures.”

 

Michael looked up at his host who was listening intently. Silence descended upon them, broken only by the sound of a log popping in the fireplace. Duncan remained motionless, listening and waiting to hear the rest of the story.

 

Michael swallowed, “I wasn’t there for the meeting, but that’s how I believe it went.”

 

Duncan finally spoke, “Why would they do something like that?”

 

He had given this question a lot of thought and there were two possible answers. “Either they wanted to use betrayal to sow the seeds of dissension between us because they believed we made too powerful a team, or they wanted to bring us together – possibly advance us both at a later time.”

 

“Which do you believe?”

 

“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted. “I think they separated me from Nikita for the first reason…we made a good team and maybe they feared for their own futures. On the other hand, perhaps they are looking to move up themselves and wish Mahleah and myself to replace them.”

 

Duncan was silent for another long stretch of time before he said, “Don’t you think I’d better hear all of it?”

 

Michael agreed and this time began with his own entrance into the tale and continued to its strange ending, reliving the experience as he went.

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

 

October

 

 

Michael sat in his office poring over images on his laptop, scrutinizing every movement, and analyzing every frame for any subtle nuances that might have escaped him on previous viewing. He knew he was overreaching by hoping for things that weren’t necessarily present, but the alternative was to lapse back into the apathy that was his frequent companion these days. On the screen, two tall figures turned what was originally planned as a training workout into a violent, chaotic free-for-all. He sighed as he queued up the beginning and increased the volume, although he knew the dialogue by heart.

 

Nikita and Mahleah were circling each other on an exercise mat in the gym. Mahleah’s face was pleasantly warm, but Nikita’s was strangely vacant of any emotion. She was concentrating on her opponent with intensity bordering on the obsessive. They ran through a series of training moves, practicing kicks and throws before the serious sparring began.

 

Michael knew that under normal circumstances the two were good sparring partners. Neither took the bout too seriously, and had fun in the kinetic release of the activity. Today was not the norm. After a few throws that ended up with Nikita hitting the mat, the blonde struck back viciously. Suddenly Mahleah was hitting the mat, in a fall much harder than any blow that Nikita had taken.

 

Characteristically, the Immortal protested, “Hey Nick, what’s gotten into you today? This is just for fun, remember?”

 

The answer was a stinging blow to the head that turned Mahleah half way around. When she faced her opponent again, Mahleah’s face wasn’t nearly as pleasant.

 

“You really don’t want to do this,” she warned.

 

Nikita aimed a vicious kick at her that could have broken bones but Mahleah blocked it. “All right, Gary Busey,” she said sarcastically. “I guess you want a shot at the title.”

 

The fight had then gotten ugly. Nikita continued to attack without pulling any punches, and Mahleah was beginning to retaliate in kind. Nikita was suddenly facing a brand new, much less predictable opponent, since Mahleah had always held back in their previous workouts.

 

Only once did Nikita break her self-imposed silence. After Mahleah asked with considerable exasperation, “Why?” Nikita got up from the mat and said, “This is not a game. There was no point to the sparring you wished to engage in. It was inefficient and pointless. Anytime we fight, it should be as realistic as possible, since anything else leads us to lower our guards against Section’s enemies.”

 

She started toward Mahleah, whose face held contempt for what she’d just heard, “Section’s enemies, huh? So, Robo-Barbie, if I kick your ass hard enough do I get my friend back?” She ducked a blow, “Will you tell Michael you’re sorry for the terrible things you said to him?”

 

There…Michael froze the screen. It was the first time Nikita had shown any sort of emotional response during the entire encounter and it was fleeting. What did it mean: annoyance, frustration, pain, or guilt? What was that tiny flicker than ran through her eyes when Mahleah mentioned his name? It was gone before she even knew it was there, no doubt. He resumed the action.

 

Mahleah sensed the tiny hesitation in Nikita and whispered so softly, no one but the cameras could hear, “You really hurt him you know.” Nikita’s blows became savage and less focused. She attempted a kick, but Mahleah dropped to the ground in a split used her legs to pull Nikita to the ground, and in a microsecond had Nikita pinned, her throat in a deadly grip.

 

“Is this what you were looking for?” she inquired grimly.

 

That’s when he had walked through the door, and called, “Mahleah.”

 

He had been coming through Section and heard the buzzes of excitement. Nikita and Mahleah were killing each other in the gym, he heard many times. He’d swiftly made his way to the room in question to put a stop to the encounter.

 

Mahleah immediately released the blonde operative and stood up, backing away from her former friend with an expression of distaste. Michael walked over to where Nikita lay, looking stunned and vulnerable. She looked up at him with those clear blue eyes that caused knots to form in his stomach.

 

“Michael?” she whispered, and he could see confusion in her face. He bent down, and smoothed the hair out of her eyes.

 

“Michael, what happened?” she asked, in a tiny voice that echoed in his dreams.

 

Before he could answer, Madeline’s voice cut across the room, “Nikita, report to MedLab. Michael, the profile for the Moscow mission needs to be completed in two hours.”

 

He’d stood up, acknowledged Madeline’s orders, and glanced across at Mahleah. Her dark eyes were no longer scornful and indignant but full of concern and sympathy. He couldn’t deal with that now. He left.

 

He froze the screen once more on the image of Nikita. In a few seconds, the mask of indifference would descend once more, but he’d caught her before the curtain could be drawn down on the beautiful uncertainty that was so obviously displayed. This was the Nikita he loved, fighting to reassert her own personality against whatever they had done to her. It was also the last time he had seen her. Section had sent her away on a flimsy pretext, but he knew they were stepping up their efforts to drain the spirit out of her. Three weeks ago, that had been. Three weeks and he had no clue where she was or what Section was doing. He traced her features softly with his index finger, and then closed his eyes briefly in pain. When he opened them again, Mahleah was standing in the doorway, watching him.

 

“Hey,” she said gently. “It’s time for the briefing.”

 

He didn’t answer – was beyond caring really.

 

She stepped closer to him and glanced at the screen. She sighed.

 

“Michael, we have to go now. Madeline is waiting for us.”

 

He ignored her. Maybe if he upset The Powers That Be enough, they’d arrange the same fate for him that they had for Nikita. At least that way they’d be together.

 

The screen went blank, and he looked up startled. Mahleah looked at him steadily, “Michael, get out of that chair. Moping isn’t going to get her back. Now, like it or not, we have a job to do. I know you feel like you have nothing left, but you still have work.” He nodded listlessly and started past her. She grabbed his arm and made him look her in the eyes, “You still have friends, too. Don’t forget that.”

 

 

Chapter Two

 

 

 

 

Michael followed Mahleah into the briefing room where Operations and Madeline were waiting. Apparently, they would be the only people present for the meeting. He took a seat, and put on his best blank face to avoid showing his superiors just how little he cared what they wanted him to do.

 

Operations began as usual by showing pictures of three people. “This is Joshua Bailey, his sister Wendy, and his wife Anne. They have recently taken over the leadership of a group called Mountain Freedom in the southwestern part of Virginia.”

 

Michael sensed Mahleah sitting up straighter at this news. This was, of course, home to her.

 

“Previously the group’s goals were peaceful if somewhat irrational. They propose that the southern Appalachian area should become the 51st state of the Union. Territory from several states including Virginia, Tennessee, Kentucky, West Virginia, and North Carolina would be carved away from their previous ties to form an entirely new entity.”

 

Michael could see the distaste on Operations’ face and hear the sarcasm in his voice every time he spoke.

 

“Mountain Freedom has been operating on a purely political level for quite some time, and despite the ludicrousness of their demands had actually gained support from a large percentage of the local people.”

 

“Had?” Michael began to ask, interested in this strange group.

 

Mahleah, however, who obviously took offence at Operations’ attitude, interrupted him.

 

“What exactly is so ‘ludicrous’ about it?” she demanded. “These people have been ignored, ridiculed, and swindled forever. Why shouldn’t they become a state of their own? They have more in common with each other than the rest of the states they now live in.”

 

He stared at her incredulously, “You can’t mean you agree with these lunatics?”

 

She bristled, “I’m not saying that I’d go storming off with a gun to demand statehood, but if I were still living there and it happened to be on a ballot, I’d have to think very hard before I voted one way or another.”

 

“Well, it’s not on a ballot,” he said angrily as well, “and the Baileys are not preaching about peaceful political means to an end anymore. Why should you care about a place you’ve done well to leave? You’re hardly the poster child of a hillbilly nation.”

 

Mahleah stood up. Michael wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her so furious. “Just because I’ve seen the world, doesn’t mean I’m not proud of where I come from. It doesn’t matter where I go, or where I live, a part of me will always belong to those mountains. If you think I’m ashamed of that, or should be ashamed of that, then you’re the one that needs some self-examination, not me!”

 

She started to walk off, but Operations’ voice called her back sharply, “Mahleah, lest you forget, this is a military organization and you do not speak to the person in charge in that manner.”

 

She turned stiffly, and walked back. She looked at her “commanding officer” and said sardonically, “I apologize, sir. I tend to get a little heated about this issue.”

 

Madeline interjected, “its Mahleah’s passion as well as her knowledge that make her so perfect for this mission.”

 

Her softly spoken words seemed to remind Operations of his original agenda. He frowned, but agreed.

 

“Madeline, I have to talk to George in fifteen minutes, you can handle the rest of the briefing.”

 

“Of course,” she said pleasantly.

 

He walked off. Michael saw him turn his head once and glance back at the tall, level three operative who was studiously ignoring him. His expression still held anger, but oddly, Michael thought he detected a gleam of grudging admiration in his eyes.

 

 

 

Chapter Three

 

 

After Operations’ departure, Madeline focused her attention on the two operatives before her.

 

“This is James Scarberry,” she displayed another digital image. “He was the former leader of Mountain Freedom, and still maintains a great deal of influence both within it and the local community. His appears to be the voice of reason, but his son, Allan apparently does not share his father’s relatively passive approach. He is rising fast in the ranks of the new leadership. We have arranged for you to take the house across the road from theirs in the community of Poplar Ridge. As the name suggests, it is a small isolated neighborhood located on top of a mountain. This small group of people, however, seems to be the center of Mountain Freedom’s past and future. We don’t believe that the Bailey’s are staying here. They seem to be hiding somewhere in the hills. It is likely, however, that someone from Poplar Ridge knows where they are. The husband and wife are only seen during meetings of the organization, but the sister, Wendy, teaches at the local high school.”

 

“Why can’t you just follow Wendy back to where the others are staying?” Mahleah questioned.

 

“We’ve tried, but all our efforts led to dead ends. There is something in the hills that blocks our trackers, and apparently it can be rather tricky following someone who knows the trails better than you.”

 

Mahleah laughed, “That’s putting it mildly.”

 

“The closest town is a hamlet called Shady Creek. Are you familiar with it, Mahleah?”

 

Mahleah nodded, “It’s about an hour and a half from where I used to live.”

 

“Are you likely to be recognized?”

 

Michael saw Mahleah purse her lips in thought, “I don’t think so, but that doesn’t mean that someone that knew me before won’t pass that way. How long will we be staying there?”

 

“Until you’ve achieved your objectives,” Madeline replied, “Probably for several months. Before you leave, we’ll work on changing your appearance. If anyone thinks they might know you, put it down to coincidence.”

 

She turned to him, “Michael, you’ll be working at the same school as Wendy Bailey. The normal school librarian vacated her position – apparently, she went away with someone she met on the Internet, and the school was quite desperate to replace her. Mahleah, you’ll be his wife. I’ve arranged for you to do some freelance reporting for the local paper as well as assist at a dance class several times a week. Robin Scarberry, one of James’ daughters will be attending. Are there any questions?”

 

“Yeah,” Mahleah drawled, “I’m from the area and I can slip back into those patterns pretty quickly, but Michael over here is going to stand out. What’s his reason for being in Shady Creek?”

 

“He’s your husband,” Madeline said, her forehead creasing.

 

“Yeah, but why wouldn’t he take me to France or something? Why are we in the mountains?”

 

Understanding dawned on Madeline’s face, “The ostensible reason is that you wanted to return to your roots. Let the grapevine believe that after an extra-marital affair, the two of you are attempting to preserve your marriage in a place that’s more hospitable to family values. Does that work?”

 

Mahleah’s eyebrows were raised, “Yeah, that works. So, which one of us had the affair?”

 

“I’ll let you decide that,” Madeline’s eyes twinkled, “but my advice is to leave it vague. Let them guess who the guilty party is.”

 

“We’re going to be buzzed about more than honey,” Mahleah muttered.

 

“One of your responsibilities, Mahleah, will be to see that Michael has a smooth transition to Appalachian life. As you said, he will stand out, but your job is to see that he does so in good ways.”

 

“Okay,” Mahleah said brightly, “let the lessons begin. First of all, Appalachia is pronounced with a hard ‘ch’ sound…like cherry, not a soft ‘sh’ sound. Remember it this way: I’m going to throw an apple-at-cha, if you don’t say it correctly. Only outsiders and pretentious twits above their raising pronounce it that way…sounds like a breed of horse – the Appalachia Appaloosa.”

 

Michael’s lips twitched, “Appalachia,” he repeated.

 

“Good,” she approved. “There’s nothing that will make you stand out and be disliked faster than mispronouncing the name of a person’s home.”

 

“I don’t think you’ll need me anymore,” Madeline said, laughing. “Remember to drop by my office before you leave, Mahleah. We’ll discuss your makeover. I’d also advise against singing. Physical similarities can be dismissed but identical musical ability would be harder to explain.”

 

Mahleah nodded. As she and Michael began walking away, she told him, “Now Musashi, the fastest way to tick off my people is to be patronizing. Never treat anyone as if they’re uneducated hicks and you’re their savior from outside civilization. Don’t try to change things that have been established forever, treat everyone as your equal, and be friendly but mind your own business.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at this, “I thought everyone knew everyone else’s business?”

 

“Oh, they will,” she chuckled, “and if they offer to tell you a juicy scandal be sure to listen but don’t ask too many questions. After all, they’re the natives, and you’re an intruder. Be courteous but not standoffish.”

 

His head ringing, Michael listened to her long list of do’s and don’t‘s. This is going to be some trip, he thought.

 

 

Chapter Four

 

 

On his panel, Michael discovered the answer to his question about why the policies of Mountain Freedom had changed. It seemed that when Joshua Bailey brought his new bride Anne home to the mountains, she’d inspired some changes in his outlooks on politics as well. They were both considered charismatic and passionate about seeing the formation of a new state and they were not particularly choosy about their methods. So far, the violence had been restricted to a couple of bomb threats and some vandalism but Section suspected that they were working their way up to bigger and better things.

 

Thus, he was now driving a U-Haul containing all the possessions deemed necessary for their mission and following Mahleah in their new Silverado pickup truck. Well, not really new as she had insisted on it being at least two years old. After everything was unpacked and settled, they would go to a used car lot in town to buy her a vehicle as well. His plan was to pick her out something like a blazer and then switch cars with her without saying anything. He wasn’t really a truck person, but she was having no difficulties.

 

They’d taken an exit from the highway, driven down a small two-lane road and then turned onto what looked, to him, like a forest trail from a park. In fact, halfway up the slope he saw signs pointing toward such an entity as well as a recreational facility. They took the other fork in the road and kept climbing higher and the road got steeper and curvier. Mahleah would often leave his line of sight – curves didn’t seem to bother her at all. He could see through the back window that she was blithely steering with one hand.

 

They passed a sign for a lake, which consisted of a tag on a tree rather than any kind of banner or post. He supposed he’d have to fish some to encourage neighborly bonding. He frowned, was it the right time of year? Onward they went until he felt utterly weary. He would have to travel this goat path every day to drive to the school and back. He could feel exhaustion creeping over him already. He’d like nothing better than to pull off the road and take a nap under one of the trees he was passing. God only knew what might wake him up, though: deer, bear, dog, or snake?

 

Intellectually, he understood the reason for his fatigue. He was fighting depression and its seductive pull toward slumber. Emotionally he was nearly ready to give up and slide into its embrace. Here he was out in God’s country, no doubt, thousands of miles from the woman he loved, to track down people who might turn into terrorists. He would have to spend months pretending to be married to Mahleah – a fate admittedly most men wouldn’t mind sharing with him. He dreaded spending all that time with her, though. She was too energetic and noisy. She could never be quiet. Still it could be worse, he supposed.

 

Just when he thought their journey would never end, he began to see houses. Most of them were more like cabins actually and he sighed. Just what he needed -- more memories of Nikita. The night they had spent together in his cabin had been too sweet for words.

 

Mahleah pulled up in front of the last house on the right and he backed into the driveway. The shrill backup horn on the moving truck startled birds in a nearby tree and they took off squawking in protest.

 

Mahleah walked toward the U-Haul stretching and grinning from ear to ear.

 

“Smell that good, clear air,” she called.

 

It was pleasant he had to admit. The scent of pine drifted on the breeze and the view past their new dwelling was quite majestic.

 

She came up and linked her arm in his, gazing around. “Now tell me truthfully and objectively Musashi, you’ve probably seen places as beautiful but have you ever seen one more so? I’m so glad you got to see the fall colors.”

 

He looked at her, still trying to adjust to the dark hair and green eyes that Madeline had decided would disguise her appearance. She was positively glowing.

 

“Look, back behind our house we’ve got dogwoods and sycamores, good thing my dad isn’t here he’s allergic to them,” she squinted, “and I think there’s some mountain laurel, too.”

 

“This is home for you, isn’t it?” he asked softly.

 

She looked at him steadily with strange emerald eyes, “In a geographical sense this is as close as I’ll get for a long time.”

 

“Any plans for getting to know the neighbors?” he asked.

 

“Unless this is a hostile neighborhood, that shouldn’t be too hard,” she said chuckling. “And it seems it’s not, look.”

 

A brown-haired woman was coming across the road, followed by a teenaged boy. She approached, smiling, “Hi,” she called. “You’re just moving in? We’re the Scarberry’s.”

 

“Bingo,” Mahleah said under her voice, then stepped forward to meet the new neighbors.

 

 

Chapter Five

 

 

“Hi,” she said brightly and holding out her hand. “I’m Melissa and this is my husband, Michael.” He noticed that she’d slipped back into her native dialect.

 

“I’m Brenda,” the woman said warmly, “and this is my son, Allan.”

 

“Pleased to meet you,” Mahleah shook Brenda’s hand, then Allan’s.

 

“So, where are y’all from?” Brenda asked.

 

“Well, we’ve just come from Chicago,” Mahleah told her.

 

Brenda’s eyes widened, “My, this is going to be a change of pace for you.”

 

“Not really,” Mahleah said, as Michael walked up beside her. “I’m originally from West Virginia.”

 

“Well, from that accent, I guess it wasn’t the northern part,” Allan smirked.

 

“True enough,” Mahleah agreed.

 

“So what brings you to our neck of the woods?” the teenager asked.

 

“Peace and quiet,” Michael told him.

 

Mahleah laughed, “Yeah, we’re ready for a slower pace of life. It’s nice to hear the birds and the breeze instead of sirens and horns.”

 

A young girl about six years old, Michael guessed, ran over to join them. She stared at him with large brown eyes.

 

“Hello,” he told her, “and who are you?”

 

She regarded him solemnly, “I’m Robin.”

 

“Michael, just where are you from? If that’s the way they talk in Chicago these days, then my TV has been lying to me,” Brenda declared.

 

He smiled faintly, “No, I’m originally from Paris.”

 

“That’s in France,” Allan told his mother smugly.

 

“I know good and well where it is, mister,” Brenda frowned only half-seriously. “Paris, huh? Well, that’s interesting. How did the two of you even hook up?”

 

Michael let Mahleah handle that one. She jauntily rattled off a cute tale about being in Chicago for a summer for an internship on a small newspaper. She’d run into him in the public library doing research, and love had blossomed over the computerized card catalog.

 

“Oh,” Brenda said with sudden realization. “You’re the new librarian at school, aren’t you?”

 

“Yes,” he replied.

 

“You don’t look like a librarian,” Robin declared.

 

He bent down to her level, “What do I look like?”

 

She squinted at him, deeply in thought before pronouncing, “An archeologist.” It came out sounding something like “archie-ologist.”

 

Her mother shook her head, “Between Jessica’s history books and Allan’s Indiana Jones movies, I’m afraid you’ve been caught in her most recent obsession. Jessica’s my oldest girl. If you’re the librarian at Shady Creek High then I’m sure you’ll see plenty of her – she’s quite the bookworm.”

 

“I look forward to it,” he said politely.

 

“Here we are holding you folks up, when I’m sure you want to get your stuff settled in your new place,” Brenda apologized. “Can we help? My husband will be back in an hour and I’m sure he’d give you a hand with the heavy stuff. Until then, we can do what we could to pitch in.”

 

Michael started to graciously refuse, when Mahleah beamed at them, “Oh, that would be so nice.” She leaned up against Michael, “I’d hate to see you miss your first day of work because you’d thrown your back out, honey.”

 

“Of course dear,” he replied automatically. “We’d be glad of the help.”

 

******

 

By the time the evening was over, the U-Haul had been unloaded, all the heavy furniture was in place, and he and Mahleah had met every inhabitant of Poplar Ridge. There were the Ferguson’s, a young couple who lived next door; Mrs. Brooks, and her grandson who lived next to the Ferguson’s; Sheila and Robert Barton and their children who lived across the road from Mrs. Brooks; and, finally Mr. Rose, an elderly widower who lived between the Scarberry’s and the Barton’s.

 

His mind was still whirling from how fast the information had been flowing. Mahleah had warned him that the neighbors would be curious about newcomers and particularly about him since he was a foreigner. He’d heard about Mrs. Brooks’ arthritis, little Ricky Barton’s trouble with spelling, and Mr. Rose’s views on the disintegration of morality since World War II.

 

Mahleah, in turn, had bonded with Robin who would be one of her students at the dance class, tried to no avail to draw Jessica out of her shell, and lightly flirted with Joe, Mrs. Brooks’ twenty-one year-old grandson. She’d told them all that she and Michael had been married for three years, that her maiden name was Mullins and no she wasn’t related to fill-in-the-blank Mullins, and that Michael’s favorite hobby was photography.

 

They’d been fed, given advice, and welcomed so often he was beginning to think they’d have company all night. Eventually, though, the last one bid them good night and he was able to close the door with an inward sigh of relief.

 

He retreated to the bedroom, which had been the first place the neighbors insisted upon getting set up properly.

 

“After all,” Mrs. Brooks had said with a twinkle in her eye, “you young couples need your own little world, now don’t you?”

 

Well, all of their clothes weren’t unpacked, but Brenda Scarberry had insisted on pressing one of his suits for his first day at work. It hung now, on the back of a closet door, waiting for the morning. He hunted until he found a tank top and a pair of sweats to sleep in.

 

He saw the light on in the bathroom and since the door wasn’t closed, peered in and then back out quickly. Mahleah was standing at the sink brushing her teeth in a thin, white cotton nightgown, which in the overhead light was practically transparent. Odd, he would have thought she’d wear pajamas or a tee shirt to bed.

 

“So, what did you think about the first day?” she asked with a mouthful of toothpaste.

 

“I was under the impression we were supposed to be friendly but mind our own business,” he commented.

 

“Not on the first day,” she rinsed her mouth out and put away the toothbrush. She began cleaning away the makeup Madeline had suggested she wear throughout the assignment. “Today they had to check us out. Don’t worry they won’t this aggressive all of the time. Soon the newness will wear off. They were just excited this evening.”

 

“What, do people move out more than they move in?” he suggested.

 

“Sometimes,” she admitted. “Unemployment is high in this part of the country, but I think it was more the fact that you’re French, and thus a novelty.”

 

“So, I gathered,” he remarked, “that Barton child asked me if I liked to eat snails.”

 

She laughed, “Which one, Ricky? What did you tell him?”

 

“I explained that in France they were called escargot and were considered a delicacy.”

 

“And he said?”

 

“I think his exact words were, ‘ooh, yuck.’ I then proceeded to tell him about frog legs.”

 

Mahleah walked into the room, chuckling and pulling the braid out of her hair. The light from the bathroom flooded through her gown and he averted his eyes. This was going to be a long mission if she continued being oblivious to his discomfort. She sat down in front of the dresser and began combing out her hair.

 

“That’s nothing. He came up to me and said that since you’re French that means you have to stick your tongue in my mouth,” her green eyes met his in the mirror. “I thought about telling him that wasn’t all you could do with it if you were given the proper motivation, but that would have made his poor mother’s hair stand on end.”

 

He abruptly grabbed his things and went into the bathroom. He leaned against the closed door, his mind reeling. What did she mean by that? Mahleah had always been flirtatious but that was crossing the line. It wasn’t so much what she said as the way she had said it. When he looked at her reflection, it was like looking at a stranger. Who was this woman with her dark hair and strange eyes? She wasn’t the friend he’d known before.

 

When he came out, she had already gotten in bed and turned out her lamp. He followed suit and mumbled a suitable reply when she whispered good night. His body was tired but his mind refused to shut down. He could hear her breathing softly and knew she was asleep, but it was hours before his brain finally exhausted itself and sank into an exhausted slumber.

 

About three in the morning, he woke with a start from a dream that he was being buried alive in quicksand and Madeline and Operations stood nearby with a rope, but refused to help him. His jerk woke Mahleah, and she switched on a lamp.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked with concern.

 

“Nothing,” he lied. “I’m fine.”

 

“Like hell you are, you’re trembling like a leaf,” she smoothed back his hair. “It’s all right Musashi, I’m here. You can go back to sleep.”

 

He noticed dazedly that she had taken out her contacts before going to bed. Her normal brown irises gazed at him warmly. Somehow, those made him feel better. He let her push him down and went back to sleep listening to her soothing voice.

 

 

 

Chapter Six

 

 

 

Since they still hadn’t picked out a second vehicle, Mahleah drove him to work in the morning. He fidgeted with his tie. He never had liked the things. Hopefully, after today, he wouldn’t be expected to wear one.

 

“Now, don’t let all of those teenage girls making eyes at you go to your head,” Mahleah admonished, as she pulled up in front of the building. “Be careful, if anyone were to get the wrong idea we’d be out of here in a heartbeat.”

 

“I have no interest in teenage girls,” he said calmly.

 

“I know that, but just watch appearances, okay? Robin was right, you know -- you don’t look like the stereotypical picture of a librarian. It’ll raise some eyebrows and your behavior will be closely watched.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” he said automatically, and then added, “are you going to call about the Internet connection today? I really need to be able to hook up my laptop.”

 

“That’s on the list of the other three billion things I need to do,” she said reassuringly. “Have a good day.”

 

He kissed her on the cheek, since there were students standing around outside and made his way into the building.

 

********

 

Hours later, he surveyed his domain with a certain satisfaction. He’d taken care of requests for audio-visual equipment and to the ecstatic joy of the teachers, he’d actually hooked it up for them, ensuring it worked before he left. He’d helped with two reports, a research paper, and a bored teacher on his planning break. He spent the rest of the morning sorting through the mountainous stacks of mail that had been left to pile up since the abrupt departure of his predecessor.

 

At lunchtime, he rose from his desk and decided to check out the cafeteria. He wasn’t actually that hungry, but his role dictated that he get to know as many of the staff as possible. If he was lucky, he might even manage to bump into Wendy Bailey.

 

 He took his tray of dubious looking food items to the faculty table, where two individuals, a male and a female, already sat.

 

“Am I intruding?” he politely inquired.

 

Not at all, they reassured him. He’d hoped to learn more about the school and its employees, but soon found out they were more interested in hearing about him. He gave them the same cover story that Mahleah had lain down yesterday. It wasn’t until the end of the lunch period that he heard anything of Section interest.

 

Upon noticing a rather intense looking woman coming into view, his new colleagues informed him that was Wendy. He immediately got the impression they didn’t care much for her.

 

“So aggressive,” the woman, whose name was Martha, commented. “I know that she believes passionately in her ideas but really I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

 

“She used to be different,” the man responded. “At least she wasn’t as extreme as she is now. She’s always been a strong believer in the rights and dignities of the Appalachian people, but these days it’s like a religion.”

 

“True,” Martha agreed. “I think it has something to do with her sister-in-law Anne. Ever since Joshua brought her back here, they’ve holed up somewhere on Cade’s Mountain. No one ever sees them anymore. I look for Wendy to quit the school any day.”

 

“No,” the man whose name was Willard, disagreed, “she’ll stay because the school gives her a pulpit where she can brainwash all the kids into thinking like she does.”

 

“Why doesn’t the school do anything about it?” Michael asked.

 

“They see it as harmless,” Willard explained. “Of course whenever one of the higher-ups takes a peak inside her classroom, she immediately tones it down. Believe me, the room I’m in most of the day is next to hers, and I’ve heard some of her lectures. Put chills down my back.”

 

The most eventful thing about the rest of the day was the ride home. Mahleah arrived ten minutes late and profusely apologetic.

 

“I’m so sorry, I was at the grocery store and there was a woman in front of me that wanted to hassle the cashier over every item she was buying. I felt so sorry for that poor girl. On the bright side, we’re now well stocked with groceries, which of course you’ll be helping me unpack, right?”

 

He nodded, watching with consternation the way she zipped through the curves. She noticed it with amusement.

 

“Am I making you nervous? Relax, Musashi, I grew up on roads like this.”

 

After a hair-raising race up the mountain, which he had to admit, didn’t seem to take nearly as long as the journey yesterday, he helped her unpack the groceries. Mindful of the road she had to travel, she’d asked them to pack the supplies in boxes.

 

As they were putting things away, he asked if she’d gotten his Internet service hooked up.

 

“I called but they were having problems with their server. Service should begin tomorrow.” She laughed, “I’m not sure how good the connection will be through these people, but we’ll see. How did your day go?”

 

He told what he’d heard about Wendy Bailey and she nodded thoughtfully. “That’s definitely our girl, but what about the rest of your day? Did you like being a librarian?”

 

He shrugged; it was an assignment not a career.

 

They ate dinner in silence, as he remained wrapped up in his own thoughts. As they were clearing away the dishes, she commented with a touch of asperity, “Well, I’ve been busy. If you’ll notice, I finished getting the kitchen set up, and the rest of our clothes unpacked. This afternoon, I met with my new boss at The Post, Mr. O’Quinn, and went by to see the little dance studio I’ll be helping with. Oh, it was lovely. Ironically, it doubles as a dojo. I think I like that idea: teach young girls ballet kicks and martial arts at the same place.”

 

“What about young boys?” he inquired.

 

“Oh, most of them only come for the karate lessons. I’m hoping to persuade a little crossover action and sign some guys up for dance class and some girls up for karate lessons.”

 

After the dishes were washed, he sat down and watched the local and national news. There was nothing about Mountain Freedom, so he turned off the television, and decided to turn in.

 

Mahleah protested, “It’s a little early to be going to bed, isn’t it?”

 

He ignored her concerns and went to sleep at 7:30.

 

 

Chapter Seven

 

 

 

Michael quickly learned that Mahleah had an annoying habit of waking him up in the morning with music and katas. He understood that she had to stay in shape, but couldn’t she exercise in silence? She tried to get him to accompany her on a run before going to work every morning, but he refused.

 

In the evenings after school, he would use his laptop to sift information in his never-ending search to find Nikita. He would, on occasion, be up until the wee hours of the morning retrieving, analyzing, and discarding data. To compensate, he would go to bed extremely early the next night. Mahleah seemed to find this pattern bizarre and irritating, but that was fine. She could exercise to her heart’s content, while he was on the computer.

 

One night, she approached him in her nightclothes, a robe wrapped around her flimsy excuse for a gown, he was glad to see, and put a hand over the keyboard.

 

“Michael, come to bed,” she coaxed. “It’s two in the morning. This is useless.”

 

He studiously ignored her and continued scanning the screen. She pushed the flat screen down and closed it with a decisive snap.

 

“Michael, listen to me,” she urged. “This is getting you no where. You’re not going to find her this way. Give it up.”

 

“Give up on her?” he questioned, roughly.

 

She shook her head, dark eyes shining. “Of course not, but endlessly poring over the same info night after night is not accomplishing anything. Madeline is very good at hiding her tracks and Nikita’s not going to be found, until Section decides to bring her back. That’s when you can do something.”

 

“What if it’s too late?” he asked bitterly.

 

“I don’t believe that. You need to stay alert and refreshed, Michael – re-gather your strength so when the fight actually comes you’re ready for it.”

 

“More Immortal wisdom?” he raised an eyebrow.

 

He could see she was stung, “My people have practically written the book on fighting and any one of them that has lived past a century or two would tell you to wait and be ready.”

 

He rose, and grabbed a jacket.

 

“Where are you going?” she asked with alarm.

 

“For a walk,” he informed her. “I need to be alone.”

 

As he reached the door, she got off a parting shot, “Another bit of Immortal wisdom: wherever you go you’ll never be completely alone and your thoughts can either be your best friend or your living hell. I have a pretty good guess which way yours are headed.”

 

 

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

 

The next morning he woke to the sounds of Led Zeppelin cranked up in the living room. Mahleah was working out again. He ground his teeth.

 

Hangman, hangman, turn your head awhile,

I think I see my sister coming, riding many a mile

 

The music was louder than normal and he suspected she wanted to even the score from last night.

 

Sister, I implore you, take him by the hand,

Take him to some shady bower, save me from the wrath of this man,

Please take him, save me from the wrath of this man

 

If she wanted him to get some rest, why did she have to be so loud in her workouts? He heard her coming into the bedroom, and pretended to be asleep.

 

“Michael,” she said cheerfully. “Come on a run with me. It’ll clear your mind and do you good.”

 

Hangman, hangman, upon your face a smile,

Please tell me that I’m free to ride

Ride for many a mile, mile, mile

 

He refused to open his eyes. She reached out and shook him gently, “Michael, wake up. C’mon, go running with me. You’ll still have time to take a shower and get to work. I’ll make you a deal: if you come with me, I’ll make you pancakes for breakfast. What do you say?”

 

He kept his eyes closed, and she left the room.

 

Oh, yes, you got a fine sister, she warmed my blood from the cold

Brought my blood to boiling hot, to keep you from the gallows pole

 

The song swirled around him like a mad dervish, laughing at his inadequacies. Why couldn’t she turn that stereo off before she went for her run? He would have to turn it off himself, he supposed as punishment for ignoring her.

 

Your brother brought me silver, your sister warmed my soul,

But now I laugh and pull so hard

And see you swinging from the gallows pole

Swingin’ on the gallows pole

 

As the music began moving past its climax, he felt a seeming flood of icy-cold water suddenly douse him from above. He jumped out of bed with anger and confusion to see Mahleah standing near him with a large kettle in her hands.

 

“Maybe now you’ll get up,” she taunted.

 

Water streamed from his hair and clothes and burned his eyes. She stood there laughing at him as if it were all a big joke. A half-growl came from his throat and she stopped laughing. He lunged at her, and she ran through the house and out the door.

 

“Come and get me, Musashi,” she called.

 

He grabbed the first pair of shoes he could find and darted out the door. She was waiting further down the road, but took off when she saw him. He ran after her, oblivious to the fact that it was chilly out or that he was only wearing a sleeveless T-shirt, sweats and shoes.

 

She was prepared for running and was already warmed up, but anger gave him speed. He nearly caught up with her, but she stayed just ahead of him. He took a shortcut up a bank and ran through the woods tracking her. When her path ran directly underneath him, he sprang. She struggled, but he picked her up and spotting the nearby lake decided to give her a taste of her own medicine. He tossed her in.

 

She went under with a splash and a squeal, but then didn’t submerge. He watched for a long minute waiting for her to pop up from the surface sputtering and cursing, to no avail. He began to get worried. Surely, she knew how to swim. A few more seconds ticked away before he flung himself into the lake, diving under the water trying to find her. He felt something tugging at his ankles and realized he’d been had. They both rose to the surface, and she pushed his head back down for a few seconds before letting him back up.

 

“Well, Musashi, you’re all wet,” she said fiercely.

 

“So are you,” he pointed out.

 

She stared at him, and then began laughing heartily. He had a sudden vision of what the two of them must look like and joined her.

 

“That’s better,” she approved. “Now do you still want those pancakes?”

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

 

Oddly enough, his early morning bath in the lake didn’t make him late for work and he actually found an extra spring in his step, which he put down to being so thoroughly awake. During third period, he noticed Jessica Scarberry at the far end of the library and a corner table. She often came in during her study hall, but was so quiet that most people barely noticed her.

 

Unlike her gregarious younger sister or extroverted older brother, Jessica was shy and studious. He’d noticed her interest in historical works both fact and fiction. He decided today to drop by and get to know her a little better – be neighborly, as Mahleah would say.

 

“Hi,” he said softly.

 

She looked up a little startled, “Oh, hello.”

 

“May I sit down?”

 

She swallowed, “Sure, it’s your library.”

 

“I wouldn’t want to disturb you.”

 

“That’s okay,” she said. “I’ve read this before anyway.”

 

He took a seat at her table and looked across at her book, “What is it?”

 

She looked a little sheepish, “The Three Musketeers,” she admitted. “It’s been my favorite book for the longest time.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t know – it’s a great adventure. You have everything in it: heroes who stick together, beautiful ladies who aren’t always what they seem, breathtaking escapes, and intriguing schemes.”

 

“A great adventure,” he agreed.

 

“If you’re from France, why would you want to come here?” she asked him quizzically. “I mean nothing ever happens here.”

 

“Is that such a bad thing?”

 

“It’s boring,” she replied. “I’d much rather go where there are exciting things happening all the time.”

 

“It’s that attitude that burns me up,” Michael heard a strange voice say. “Why can’t people appreciate what they have here instead of always mooning about for the easy pleasures of so-called civilization?”

 

He looked up to see Wendy Bailey standing behind him. Jessica immediately ducked her head back in her book.

 

“So, you’re the new librarian,” Wendy looked him up and down. “If the rest of the world is so great, why aren’t you out there instead of here?”

 

“My wife loves the mountains,” he replied steadily. “I’m growing to love them.”

 

She eyed him with suspicion. “Most outsiders find it rather dull here, much like this child.”

 

“I’ve grown to realize that a slower paced life has its appeal,” he told her.

 

She pondered that and then got back to her original mission. “I plan to show my class the movie ‘Deliverance’. Can you set up the equipment for us?”

 

“Certainly,” he said pleasantly, but had to ask, “Why would you show that movie to your students. Isn’t it rather degrading?”

 

She snorted, “Of course it is, that’s why I’m making them watch it. They should be aware of the stereotypes that continually propagate in the media about our culture.”

 

He nodded slowly, “I suppose that’s true. What time do you need the equipment?”

 

“In about forty five minutes.”

 

“It will be there,” he promised.

 

“Good,” she left.

 

He looked at Jessica, who had slid down in her seat as if to avoid notice.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

 

Jessica bit her lip, and then hesitantly replied, “That woman scares me. She’s always lecturing everyone about how close-minded the rest of the world is, but she doesn’t seem to be very open to ideas herself.”

 

It was a very accurate assessment, and raised his estimation of Jessica’s perceptions. She might be shy, but she was also astute.

 

“People who are quick to point out other’s faults can often be blind to their own,” he told her. He then rose, “There are sequels to that book, have you read them?”

 

“No,” she said with excitement. “I didn’t know we had them here.”

 

“If we don’t, I think I could order them,” he promised and was rewarded with a radiant smile that made the rest of the day glide by smoothly.

 

 

Chapter Ten

 

 

 

The following afternoon Mahleah convinced him to go outside and rake the leaves covering the front lawn.

 

“Why?” he had asked, “you like walking through the leaves.”

 

“True,” she had countered, “but it will make the place look nice for Halloween. Besides, you need to get out more.”

 

So, he was raking, and she was bagging while the Scarberry and Barton children rode by on bicycles. He noticed Jessica sitting on her front porch reading the Dickens’ novel he’d recommended. She waved at him, and he waved back.

 

Mahleah came up smiling, “Glad to see you’ve made a friend.”

 

“I’m not entirely unfriendly,” he told her.

 

She paused, with a sparkle in her green eyes, “Oh, you just made a joke. This place is working wonders all ready.”

 

He gave her a half-smile and started to return to his raking, when she surprised him with a hug that knocked them both backwards into the big pile of leaves behind him. He struggled to get up, but she pinned him down with her body.

 

“Not quite yet,” she murmured, and then kissed him. He was shocked at first, but then remembered that the neighbors were probably watching. She’d obviously decided to give them a small convincing performance of marital bliss.

 

Never one to do things by halves, her embrace seemed genuinely passionate. If he hadn’t known she was putting on an act, he’d never have been able to tell. Her lips parted his and explored his mouth. He grew increasingly aware of the weight of her body on his, and thought she was teasing him again. Deciding he’d had enough, he slid her shirt up and softly ran his fingers up her sides, tickling her ribs. She broke the kiss, squealing in protest. He flipped her over and punished her for her mini-seduction by discovering most of her sensitive spots and tickling her until she was breathless from laugher with tears streaming down her face.

 

“Evening,” he heard a voice say and looked up into the amused face of Brian Ferguson.

 

“Evening,” he returned. Mahleah used his distraction to slip away and blow him a kiss.

 

“I’ll have something hot waiting on you when you come inside,” she called, running for the safety of the house.

 

“I’ll bet she will,” Brian laughed. “So, Michael, are you going to the kiddy party that Brenda and Jimmy are throwing on Friday?”

 

Michael remembered Mahleah mentioning it, and answered, “Yes, are you?”

 

“Nah, not my kind of party,” Brian winked at him. “My birthday is in two weeks, though, and my wife is planning some sort of shindig. You and Melissa should come.”

 

“I’ll mention it to her,” he said, politely.

 

“Oh, got to check with the old woman, huh? That’s okay; we don’t want to tick her off. I’m sure you want to keep that heat in the bedroom, I mean kitchen,” Brian smirked.

 

Michael discovered he didn’t care much for Brian Ferguson and actually felt sorry for his wife, Linda. He excused himself to continue raking. When that job was completed, he walked into the house where Mahleah had her hands in biscuit dough with the stereo keeping her company.

 

If it keeps on rainin’, levee’s goin’ to break,

If it keeps on rainin’, levee’s goin’ to break.

When the levee breaks, I’ll have no place to stay.

 

“Our next door neighbor is a chauvinistic pig,” he informed her.

 

“Are you just figuring that out?” she teased.

 

Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan

Mean old levee taught me to weep and moan

Got what it takes to make a mountain man leave his home.

Oh well, oh well, oh well.

 

He watched as she hummed and swayed, her hands kneading the dough and then cupping a biscuit with her hands and putting it in a buttered pan. She was smiling and relaxed.

 

“You’re happy here, aren’t you?” he asked.

 

She looked at him thoughtfully before replying, “Yes, I guess I am. Why shouldn’t I be? I mean I get to write up local interest stories, teach little girls how to dance, and have time to cook. I’m back in the mountains I love, in a delightful little house with a gorgeous view, and get to pretend I’m married to you. By Section standards this is heavenly.”

 

He frowned, but she persisted, “Think about it and answer honestly. Is this the hardest duty you’ve ever had to pull? Things could be a lot worse.”

 

He slowly realized that she was quite right. Compared to most of the assignments Section handed him this was not merely a cakewalk so far not to mention pleasant as well. This place was the antithesis of Section One – a fact that was quite welcome to him.

 

She put the pan of biscuits into the stove, “Oh and remember that tomorrow Mr. Rose has agreed to find out what that clanging noise in my blazer is, so I’ll need you to pick me up after dance class.”

 

“I could fix the blazer,” he offered.

 

She smiled, “I know, but Mr. Rose is a retired mechanic and if you haven’t noticed he doesn’t like many people. Let him do it…it’ll make him feel good.”

 

“If he doesn’t like anyone then why is he helping us out?”

 

She bit her lip, “I think he likes you because you don’t talk a lot. He’s always being cornered by Mrs. Brooks who can chat away the whole afternoon without slowing up for breath. She has quite a yen for him, if you hadn’t noticed. Oh, and speaking of our friendly neighborhood gossip, I’ve planted the seed for the grapevine to be buzzing about our supposed reconciliation after adultery.”

 

“Which one of us is guilty?” he inquired.

 

“Oh, I wasn’t that specific,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I just gave her enough information to whet her appetite and spur her on to spread the word.”

 

“Brian invited us to his birthday party in a couple of weeks,” he told her.

 

“Oh, I guess we’ll have to go,” she said regretfully, “Although Brian’s idea of a good time is not likely to be something we’ll enjoy. Oh, speaking of parties, we’ll need to stop by Wal-Mart on the way home tomorrow to pick up candy for the treat bags on Friday.”

 

He shook his head, “You’re getting good at this domestic stuff.”

 

She raised an eyebrow, “Well, I’m supposed to, aren’t I? What about you, is Wendy getting any friendlier?”

 

“Not yet,” he confessed.

 

“Well, don’t give up.” She came around and sat on the arm of his chair. “No one can resist the famous Michael charm for long.”

 

 

 

Chapter Eleven

 

 

Michael sat a table alone with his thoughts eating the lunch he’d packed himself from last night’s leftovers. It beat what the cafeteria was serving by a long shot. Instead of dwelling on Nikita’s location this time, though, he concentrated on a mystery closer to hand: Mahleah. There was something about her behavior lately that he just couldn’t put his finger on. Most of the time she was the woman he’d always known, but at times, she showed an incredible insensitivity toward him. It was almost as if she didn’t think of him as a man. She had no compunction about letting him walk in while she was taking a bath, for instance. He supposed she was comfortable around him, but there had to be limits.

 

A sudden thought occurred to him: she was almost treating him like a Valentine target. Had Madeline told her she needed to brush up on her seductive skills? Could this be her way of trying out strategies by testing them on him? It was extremely unnerving, not least of all because her body seemed to be saying, “come and get me” but her eyes, hidden behind those contacts, seemed to warn, “stay away.”

 

Whether she knew it or not she wasn’t helping his sexual frustrations either. It had been quite some time since he’d been with Nikita and in the night sometimes, half-awake, his body would rouse to the sensation of the body lying next to him before his mind could put on the brakes. Something would have to be done about this. One month of this behavior, let alone more, would drive him nuts.

 

He looked up as Wendy sat down in front of him.

 

“So, is your wife a good cook, or did you make that yourself?” she inquired.

 

“Melissa made it,” he answered. “Yes, she’s a good cook.”

 

“I heard an interesting rumor,” she informed him. “People are saying that the reason you came here is because either you or your wife had an affair and you’re trying to patch up your marriage.”

 

“People will say anything about strangers,” he told her.

 

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true,” she responded.

 

He made a show of sighing and pushing his food away. “We both thought a change of scenery would be good for our relationship, yes.”

 

“So, she drug you back here?”

 

“She didn’t drag me anywhere,” he observed. “I wanted to come here. I like it here – it’s very different from the myths that you hear about.”

 

“Hollywood hogwash,” she commented.

 

“True,” he agreed. “I’m amazed that in this age of political correctness when it is considered unconscionable to make disparaging remarks about people because of their race or gender that the media is able to continually display such callous, degrading inaccuracies when talking about the Appalachian people.” He drew a breath hoping she’d take the bait. He wasn’t accustomed to making such long-winded proclamations.

 

“It’s still okay to make fun of us,” she nodded. “We can be denigrated as backwards, marrying our siblings, and having no running water. It’s perfectly acceptable.” She gazed at him, “I notice you’ve learned how to pronounce Appalachian properly.”

 

“One of the first things my wife taught me,” he reassured her.

 

“Hmm, well, enjoy your lunch,” she rose. “I have papers to grade.”

 

“Perhaps I’ll see you later,” he suggested.

 

She nodded, and then left.

 

That evening he drove by the studio rather prosaically named Fletcher’s Dance Academy. Walking in, he saw a line of young ballerinas performing plies. He recognized Robin as she impishly winked at him in the mirror. He winked back.

 

Looking further down the room, he saw Mahleah helping one little girl get her feet in the correct stance for first position. She glanced up, saw him in the reflection in front of her, and smiled warmly.

 

Yes, he had to admit that this mission did have moments that lightened his heart.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twelve

 

 

 

In the next few days, Michael noticed several trends: Wendy frequently sought him out during school hours, Jessica was growing more comfortable in his company, and Mahleah was enjoying a successful flirtation with Joe Brooks. The first was not pleasant but necessary, the second not necessary but pleasant, and the third was neither. He realized that she was taking on the role of the straying partner to save him from its brush, but seeing her with Joe, a nice enough boy, always laughing and touching him was quite irritating.

 

During the Halloween party, he’d put a flower in her hair, which she’d promptly taken out to tickle him in the nose. He was always popping by to “see what was coming out of the oven”, and had started accompanying her on her morning jogs until Michael himself began running with her.

 

If he mentioned anything, Mahleah would just smile and say, “All part of the profile, Michael. You know that. Doesn’t mean a thing.”

 

He thought about having a serious talk with her, one evening after seeing her running through the leaves with Joe, but he happened to stumble upon a tattered piece of paper tucked into the book she was reading. One of the Neruda poems that Duncan had sent her, its bends were frayed it had been folded and unfolded so often. He read it guiltily:

 

Woe is me, woe is us, my dearest:

we wanted only love, to love one another,

but among so many griefs it was fated

that only we two would be so hurt.

 

We wanted the you and the me for ourselves,

The you of a kiss, the me of a secret bread:

And that’s how it was, infinitely simple,

Till hatred came in through the window.

 

They hate, those who did not love

Our love, nor any other love: those people,

Wretched as chairs in an empty room –

 

Till they were tangled in ashes,

Till their ominous faces

Faded in twilight.

 

He refolded the poem and replaced it in the book. She, too, knew the hurt of lost love and yet she had not retreated as he had from the world. He suddenly felt rather self-indulgent. She’d been trying to tell him to catch his breath and recover his strength. With your second wind, you’ll fight even better, she’d been saying both aloud and silently. He thought he understood now.

 

That night, she called out to her lost lover in her sleep, and he pulled her close stroking her hair and letting her gain whatever comfort she could from his nearness. So, it hurt him so terribly the next day when he caught her kissing Joe.

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

He’d gotten off from work early and decided to surprise Mahleah by taking her on a walk around the lake. He’d take his camera and they could photograph the wildlife and the scenery for mementos of this place after they left. She wasn’t in the house, but since she often preferred the outdoors, he wasn’t terribly surprised.

 

Grabbing the camera case, he went outside. As he walked down the road toward the lake path, Mrs. Brooks spotted him.

 

“Michael,” she called. “Can I walk with you? I’m always afraid I’m going to run across a copperhead by myself.”

 

He politely agreed, not pointing out that the chill in the air was not exactly friendly to snakes. He let her chatter on about the innocent pranks of the children and the frequent skirmishes of the Brian and Linda Ferguson, who fought like the newlyweds they were.

 

He was careful to see that she didn’t trip on loose gravel or a branch and she tittered like a schoolgirl when he offered her his arm.

 

“Tell me something, Michael, if I’m not being too inquisitive: does Melissa color her hair?”

 

He repressed a smile and answered, “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to answer that…husband confidentiality, you know.”

 

“Oh, I’d never tell anyone,” she protested. “I was just wondering because it’s rare to see that color hair in nature…such a raven black.”

 

“Well,” he admitted, “she thinks her own shade is a bit too mousy.”

 

“Oh, I knew it,” she flushed victoriously. “But don’t you tell her I said so,” she told him.

 

“Never,” he promised.

 

“Oh dear,” she said with a laugh, “It looks like we disturbed someone…why, isn’t that Melissa?”

 

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he recognized the “raven black” hair. It was indeed “Melissa”, sitting on a log by the bank of the lake locked in an embrace with Joe Brooks.

 

He cleared his throat loudly. Mahleah pulled away from Joe and looked up. She had the dignity to blush, while Joe was at a loss for words. Mrs. Brooks stepped in.

 

“Joseph, my flowers need water, do you hear?”

 

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered and took off like a frightened deer.

 

Mrs. Brooks looked at Michael and said, “I’ll leave the two of you alone. It seems you have things to discuss.”

 

“Indeed,” he replied grimly.

 

Mahleah followed him back to their house silently. Once inside the sanctity of their small private space, he turned to her.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

 

“Well, I thought that was pretty obvious,” she drawled.

 

“Have you thought about how your behavior is going to affect that boy?”

 

“That boy is no innocent lamb led to the slaughter. He’s not in love with me.”

 

“And that makes it okay?”

 

She stared at him, “Michael, you make it sound as though you had a personal stake in this. I’m not really your wife, remember?”

 

“For which I’m grateful,” he said with venom.

 

She winced, and for a second he saw her guard drop. This was never about Joe, he realized, this was about me. What is she doing? Trying to make me jealous? That’s ludicrous, we’re just friends.

 

With a start, he recognized that he was jealous. The relationship between them had always been a unique one, and he had learned to enjoy their intimate moments together. She had never lied to him before, but he was somehow getting the feeling that there was a deception between them and it infuriated him. He sensed the fine, sadistic hand of Madeline in this. Madeline had always seemed to twist, corrupt, or pervert anything good in his life since he came to Section.

 

He turned away from Mahleah, knowing that she was under some sort of orders regarding him. There was a time in her days before Section when Mahleah admitted she deliberately acted the tease, gaining pleasure from seducing men and then refusing to follow through on her implied promises. Madeline would want to refine that kind of skill to a razor’s edge, and it seemed he was to be the guinea pig of her burgeoning skills.

 

Two could play at that game, he thought grimly, and he had the experience to strip this game of its pretences. If she pushed things too far, she would learn who the better Valentine operative was.

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

 

The last straw for Michael came the evening of the Fergusons’ party. Once again, he’d walked in on Mahleah in various states of undress or in the bathtub. She was going to have to do better than that, he thought with grim amusement. The key to getting to a Valentine target was to understand your victim and know their weaknesses. So far, she’d touched few of his.

 

She came into the kitchen dressed in a wet towel, intending to wash her hair in the sink. Their house didn’t have a shower and it was easier for her to deal with her long locks in the kitchen sink rather than the tub. The towel stunt made up his mind. As she bent her head into the basin, he slid a carefully selected CD into the stereo and cranked the volume up loud.

 

She was struggling to get all of her hair wet when he approached her.

 

“Let me help,” he said softly.

 

She peered up at him, her dark eyes widening before she nodded her assent. Just as he touched her hair the music began and she gave a start.

 

You need coolin’, baby, I’m not foolin’,

I’m gonna send you back to schoolin’,

Way down inside honey, you need it,

I’m gonna give you my love,

I’m gonna give you my love.

Wanna whole lotta love

 

“Michael?” she asked with a quiver in her voice. He ignored it and gently ran his fingers through her hair from the roots to the tips, making sure every millimeter was wet. He took the sprayer, held it against the back of her head, and then drew it down. She shivered.

 

You’ve been learnin’, baby, I been learnin’,

All them good times, baby, baby, I’ve been yearnin’,

Way, way down inside honey, you need it,

I’m gonna give you my love…I’m gonna give you my love

 

The song went into a wild, tribal drum beat accompanied by strange sounds made by a theramin with the vocal giving primitive calls that sounded much like the cries of lovemaking. Her body jolted involuntarily. He took the shampoo and began massaging it into her hair beginning at the tips. He timed his slow progress to the music. Just when the theramin gave way, the drum returned to a rock beat and the guitar picked up, he reached her scalp. He remembered very well her description of this song and the effect it had on her. “There’s something about the relationship between the drums and the guitar,” she had said. Her two greatest physical weaknesses were music and her hair, and he used that.

 

As the drumming went wild, he let a drop of water run down the back of her neck to fall onto her back. She sighed like a willow in a storm. He rinsed the shampoo out, and then lathered her hair again. She was trembling now.

 

You’ve been coolin’, baby, I’ve been droolin’,

All the good times I’ve been misusin’,

Way, way down inside, I’m gonna give you my love,

I’m gonna give you every inch of my love,

Gonna give you my love.

 

He rinsed and began again with conditioner. By now, her arms were spread out on the sink and her hands were clenching the counter.

 

Way down inside…woman…you need...love

 

As the music hit another peak, he deliberately let a rivulet run down between her breasts. She gave a little cry.

 

As Robert Plant moaned, “Shake for me, girl. I wanna be your backdoor man.” He let his body brush up against hers. She moaned. As he finished rinsing her off for the last time, a hand “accidentally” rubbed her breast, and she made a soft, whimpering noise. He grabbed a towel and wrapped her hair up in it.

 

She straightened and looked at him with her skin flushed and her breathing labored. Her eyes were wide, and she swallowed hard.

 

“Michael,” she said hoarsely and stepped toward him.

 

He deliberately let his face fall into his best blank stare. “There, that’s finished,” he said coldly.

 

The stereo had moved on to the next song:

 

And if I say to you tomorrow: take my hand child, come with me.

It’s to a castle I will take you, where what’s to be, they say will be.

 

She reeled back, confused. Her skin turned from a dusky pink to a fiery red with embarrassment. After staring at him for a moment with shock, she grabbed the remote to silence the stereo and after a long, accusing moment, she rushed into their bedroom and slammed the door.

 

Oddly, his easy victory gave him no satisfaction. She, after all, had not gone nearly as far in her seductive efforts and he had a sneaking suspicion he would see the betrayed look in her eyes in his dreams tonight. He sighed, revenge turning to ashes in his mouth.

 

He went to the bedroom to apologize then wondered what exactly he could say. His hand dropped from the doorknob and he returned to the living room to await her exit. He could hear the blow dryer buzzing, as she got ready for the party. He dreaded going now. It was not going to be a fun evening.

 

Forty-five minutes later she emerged in all her party finery. Her hair was down in loose curls, her skirt was long, but split high on one side and her top exposed her toned stomach. Her head was held high and her jaw was set.

 

“Shall we go?” she inquired. Pausing at the door, she turned to look at him, “You will save me a dance tonight, won’t you Michael?”

 

His stomach lurched, “Yes.”

 

Her mouth turned up in the most wicked grin he’d ever seen, “Good.” She replied simply, and walked out.

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

 

 

When Mahleah stepped into the Ferguson’s house, every eye fell upon her. She looked ravishing tonight and most of the males at the party appeared to want a taste. Spotting Joe Brooks, she smiled winningly and went over to him.

 

Brian Ferguson walked up to Michael and handed him a beer. “Here, man, you look like you could use this.”

 

“Thanks,” Michael said automatically, his eyes still on his “wife.” Music was blasting loudly enough that he wondered why Mrs. Brooks didn’t call the police.

 

During the course of the evening, Michael thought if he heard one more, “Damn, man, your wife is hot tonight,” he’d have to punch someone. Mahleah talked, and laughed, and flirted, and danced. Oh, did she dance, and he recalled too late that the very weapon he had used against her was also the primary one in her own arsenal: music. Luckily for him, she wasn’t allowed to sing, but she didn’t have to. All of the years of dance experience paid off for her and he realized he’d won a battle but started a war. The rules were simple: anything goes. The loser was the first person to lose control.

 

He danced with other women as well, but his heart wasn’t in it. The only person in the room he was truly aware of was Mahleah and the battle of wills they’d conjured between them. If she’d only been playing the seductive trollop he’d have won easily, but she mixed the coquetry in with her normal bawdy humor. Her eyes sparkled with mischief all evening and he knew she was laughing at him.

 

The high point of the evening as far as the rest of the party guests went was when Mahleah, Linda Ferguson, and Sheila Barton danced and lip-synched to Janet Jackson’s song “If.” Mahleah couldn’t sing, but she knew that he would be hearing her sultry alto in place of the pop diva’s.

 

Sittin’ over here

Starin’ in your face

With lust in my eyes

Sure don’t give a damn

And you don’t know that I’ve been dreamin’ of you in my fantasies.

 

She kept her eyes fixed on him and a gleefully sardonic look in her eyes as if she were saying, “We both know this is stupid, but I started it, you upped the ante, and this is where we are. Aren’t we both a fine pair.”

 

How many nights I’ve lain in bed excited over you

I’ve closed my eyes and thought of us

A hundred different ways

I’ve gotten there so many times

I wonder how ‘bout you

Day and night, night and day

All I’ve got to say is

 

If I was your girl

Oh, the things I’d do to you

I’d make you call out my name

I’d ask who it belongs to

If I was your woman

The things I’d do to you

But I’m not, so I can’t

Then I won’t

But if I was your girl.

 

It was the playful look in her eyes that mocked them both that was getting to him. If she’d been dead serious about the whole thing, he would have been left cold. Yet, she turned it into a joke that was on both of them…a joke as serious as a train wreck and neither of them could stop the collision coming.

 

Allow me some time to play with your mind

And you’ll get there again and again

Close your eyes and imagine my body undressed

Take your time, we’ve got all night

 

Involuntarily, all the little previews of coming attractions she’d been showing him throughout their stay in Poplar Ridge came marching through his mind. Tantalizing little flashes of a leg here, part of a breast there…yes he could imagine her body undressed easily enough.

 

You on the rise as you’re touchin’ my thighs

And let me know what you like

If you like, I’ll go down

I’ll hold you in my hand and baby

Your slick and shiny feels so good against my lips sugar

I want you so bad I can taste your love right now baby

Day and night, night and day

All I’ve got to say is

 

She left the group of other women and sauntered toward him. “If” went off and another seductive dance song came on.

 

“Dance with me?” she asked.

 

Unable to take their eyes off each other from fear of losing this contest, they swayed together – their bodies rubbing against each other. He caressed her back and her bare stomach and she ran her hands under his jacket to slide up his chest. Her eyes held a challenge and he wasn’t about to lose it. During the playing of that song, their hands held a meaningless erotic discourse with their bodies and no place was off limits.

 

Just when he thought they were doomed to hate each other in the morning, the beat changed to a slower groove and they slowed their rhythm. The lyrics were not new but caught them completely off guard and vulnerable.

 

I never meant to cause you any sorrow

I never meant to cause you any pain

I only wanted to one time see you laughing

I only wanted to see you laughing in the purple rain

 

The walls that had been strangely present between them since the mission began suddenly began to totter. She closed her eyes for a second and he shook her gently. No, they had hurt each other enough it was time for them to stop playing games.

 

I never wanted to be your weekend lover

I only wanted to be some kind of friend

Baby I could never steal you from another

It’s such a shame our friendship had to end

 

He wished he could remove her contacts…they seemed the symbol of everything fake between them. Her eyes were beginning to brim with unshed tears that held an apology. As one watery drop managed to trickle from her lashes, he gently kissed it away. She sighed. “Musashi,” she whispered.

 

“No,” he instructed softly but firmly, “don’t say anything.”

 

Honey I know I know I know the times are changing

It’s time we all reach out for something new that means you two

You say you want a leader

But you can’t seem to make up your mind

I think you better close it

And let me guide you to the purple rain

 

This time when he kissed her, it was an apology and a promise. When her lips slid open and his tongue touched hers, shock waves went down his body. It had been so long and he knew it had for her as well. He smoothed the hair back from her face gently and her hand gripped his shoulder painfully. His mouth trailed over to her earlobe and then down her neck. She gasped and her grip on him intensified. When he ran his lips over her throat, she ran both hands through his hair and pulled him up to her lips again.

 

As the song ended, they became vaguely aware that people were watching them with a smile, but the party guests seemed light-years away. With Mahleah clinging to him, Michael bade a courteous farewell to his host and hostess, who smiled knowingly. As they cleared the front door, Mahleah kissed him quickly and fiercely and then ran across the road to their own house.

 

He quickly followed her, and as he turned the key in the lock, she began nibbling on his neck. He fumbled with the doorknob, and pushed it open with his shoulder as his hands were pulling her off her feet. They stumbled through the door and as soon as he pulled it together, he pushed her back against it. It had been far too long since either of them had made love and now they had the chance to fill that lonely void.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Sixteen

 

 

 

Mahleah pulled Michael’s jacket off and he pulled her top over her head. They fell further into the room and landed on the couch. Mahleah apparently felt something pressing into her back and then they heard the sound of the stereo. Apparently, she had hit pause instead of stop earlier this evening. The song playing previously continued.

 

Catch the wind, see us spin, sail away, leave today, way up high in the sky.

But the wind won’t blow, you really shouldn’t go, it only goes to show

That you will be mine, by takin’ our time.

And if you say to me tomorrow, oh what fun it all would be.

Then what’s to stop us, pretty baby, but what is and what should never be.

 

She found the remote and forcibly ejected it from beneath her. Michael had discovered the sheer lace in her bra and was making her lose her breath by caressing her breasts through the rough material. She ran her hands up his thighs to find his belt and begin unbuckling it. He bent and began teasing her nipples through the lace with his lips and tongue and she bucked beneath him, crying out the nickname only she used for him.

 

So if you wake up with the sunrise, and all your dreams are still as new,

And happiness is what you need so bad, girl, the answer lies with you

 

Michael unhooked her bra, pushed it off and began tormenting her breasts in earnest. She groaned at the sensation and her fingers awkwardly opened his fly to slide inside.

 

At that moment, a strange buzzing sound pealed through the room. For a minute, he thought his head was ringing but after a second buzz, he recognized it as a cell-phone.

 

“Damn!” she murmured. “Someone has perfect timing.”

 

Michael sat up, catching his breath. “Must be Birkoff,” he said wearily. “Get rid of him.”

 

“I hear that,” she muttered. Finding the disturbing device, she snapped it open and said, “Yes,” in a rather sharp tone of voice. Her face changed from a look of irritable frustration to pure rage. She listened intently for the length of a short conversation, terminated the connection, and then threw the telephone violently into the wall where it exploded in a shower of parts.

 

“Damn that bitch back to the hell she came from!” she growled.

 

Michael got up and put an arm on her shoulder, “Madeline?” he guessed.

 

She nodded, still too furious to speak.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

 

She pulled away from him. “What’s wrong?” she repeated, and stumbled back to the couch. “What’s wrong is that you’re going to hate me.”

 

“I doubt that,” he said skeptically.

 

She pulled her legs up in front of her and wrapped her arms around them, “I wouldn’t be too sure.”

 

“Madeline told you to seduce me, didn’t she?” he questioned, his manner mild.

 

She looked at him in surprise, “Yes, she did. I guess I’ve been too obvious.”

 

“You’re an essentially truthful person, Mahleah,” he said soothingly. “I could tell something was bothering you and your behavior has been rather erratic since this mission began. What were your orders? To practice a valentine operation on me?”

 

She shook her head, “You don’t get it yet. There was no practice – you were my target all along. I was under orders to convince Section you could quote fulfill all of your responsibilities end quote.”

 

“Why?” he was puzzled, there was a piece of this puzzle still missing for him.

 

“Wendy Bailey,” she said in a harsh voice. “They wanted to be sure you were capable of seducing Wendy Bailey.”

 

“So, I’ve been on a Valentine assignment all along, but I’m just now being told about it?” despite his promise he was starting to get angry.

 

She nodded, “Madeline has certified you qualified to handle all the duties and responsibilities of a level five operative and you’re now to make getting close to Wendy one of your primary tasks.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” he asked bitterly.

 

“I was under strict orders not to.”

 

He sat down in a chair opposite the couch. “How am I supposed to make romancing Wendy look natural now? Everyone at that party saw us walk out of there looking like newlyweds.”

 

She licked her lips, “We’re going to have a loud public fight, now.”

 

“A fight?”

 

“Yes, you’re to say that I’m willing to tease every man in sight but refuse to sleep with my own husband. You’ll go to Mr. Rose across the road and ask to spend the night.”

 

“And leave you here alone?”

 

She nodded, “For a few days, yes. Then, we’ll have established a pattern in everyone’s thoughts about us: a marriage on the rocks with most of the blame being on me instead of you. That will be important to her. Through her, you can get to Joshua and Anne Bailey and the rest of Mountain Freedom.”

 

“How will Wendy even hear about this?”

 

“Don’t be silly,” she snorted. “Between Sheila Barton and Mrs. Brooks the whole community will know about it before noon tomorrow. Besides Allan Scarberry is right across the road and he’s a fast rising member of the new Mountain Freedom, remember? Now, grab a few things and start shouting. Coming from you, a shout is as accusing as a whole court of lawyers.” She gave him a wisp of a smile, “That’s what comes from being Mr. Soft Spoken all the time.”

 

He really didn’t want to do this, any of this, on any level, but he was left with little choice. Just before he opened the door to begin their performance, she gave him a sad smile, “I hope someday you can forgive me, Musashi.”

 

 

Chapter Seventeen

 

 

Michael followed Mahleah’s plan and stayed at Mr. Rose’s house for three days. During that time, he had mulled over many things. One had been the fortuitous timing of Madeline’s telephone call. He’d made a call of his own to Walter and discovered that their house was indeed under surveillance.

 

“Nothing I could do about the cameras,” Walter apologized, “but I did make sure that the only signal she’s receiving is video. She doesn’t get any audio, so you’re free to say whatever you want.”

 

He’d given Walter instructions to insure that Madeline and Operations were the only people to see those tapes. He had no desire for a repeat of the Armel recording.

 

He’d also thought about Mahleah’s behavior and understood that at least she had tried to warn him in her own way. There were little signs, both conscious and unconscious that he now recognized as her ways of telling him that there was more to their mission than met the eye. At the same time, he knew that she had enjoyed her stay in the Poplar Ridge community. Her words to him about this being an easy duty were true in their own way. The hardest part for her was deceiving him about her intentions and the toughest part for him now was the proposed seduction of yet another target.

 

He wondered how Mahleah felt about her assignment. She had always liked him but when they were on the couch together was that about them or her Section duties? In a way, he was glad that Madeline had called when she did, as it would have been hard for him to trust Mahleah completely if she hadn’t told him the truth before they had sex together. Perhaps that had been the point of her call. She’d seen enough to satisfy herself that he could complete the profile and she didn’t want to take the chance on breaking up another one of Section’s best teams.

 

On the pseudo-romance front, things were progressing as well. Wendy had heard about his fight with “Melissa” and was making inquiries about him every day. She was a strange woman, he thought. One minute she would be properly sympathetic to his problems and the next she was asking about his past. What had he done before he came to America? Was he Catholic? Had he ever done anything besides library work? What kind of pictures did he like to take?

 

He suspected Mountain Freedom had begun to check on his background – a good sign. They would discover certain questionable “slip-ups” as a college student, rather close to the truth actually. Section hoped it would encourage them to recruit him.

 

After three days of Mr. Rose’s grumbling about the iniquities of young people today and his poor diet, Michael decided enough was enough. It was time for him to move back home.

 

Working late after school to clean up the mess left by a class of sophomores bent on creating as much havoc as possible in the least amount of time, he then drove to the dance studio. All of the students had gone home, but Mahleah was still there. He watched her through the windows, dancing to music inside her head.

 

When he entered the studio, she came to a graceful halt and stood still.

 

“Michael,” she said warily.

 

He locked the door behind him and then unwrapped the bundle in his hands – two shinai. She stared at them with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I thought perhaps you could give me some lessons,” he said.

 

She cocked her head to one side, “Seriously? You really want to sword fight?”

 

He nodded, “There’s always the chance that I could have to face an Immortal myself. Shouldn’t I be prepared? You said it’s quite possible that some of them are terrorists.”

 

She licked her lips, and then smiled, “Sure, I can teach you, as long as you don’t mind a few bruises.”

 

“Why do you think I bought shinai instead of bokken?” he asked, with a straight face.

 

She laughed, and her smile stretched across her whole face. “Good plan,” she approved.

 

********

 

After a lengthy training/sparring session, he stretched his muscles wearily. He was exhausted but he felt better than he had in days. They sat companionably with their backs to the wall, and their legs stretched before them.

 

“So, are we going to talk about it?” he finally asked.

 

“Which part? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything. You don’t know how much it was eating me up inside.”

 

“I can guess,” he answered. “Tell me something did Madeline threaten me if you didn’t prove my ‘capabilities?’”

 

She nodded.

 

He finally felt like he understood. Typically Mahleah, she’d been trying to save his life the best way she could. He was determined that Madeline was not going to ruin this part of his life. He had to know one thing, though.

 

“That night, on the couch, was that the Valentine part of the mission?” he asked, hesitantly.

 

 She shook her head, “No, I suck at Valentine work. Haven’t you figured that out yet? I don’t know how I succeeded with Alex Coffey. The only times you actually responded to me with interest were when I was being myself. You could tell when I was putting on an act.”

 

She looked him in the face, “Musashi, I could never do that to you. I was responding to you and the moment not the mission. I’m sorry.”

 

“What for?” he asked.

 

“I know you want to be with Nikita, and God knows I’m no substitute. I felt like I was taking advantage of you because I felt lonely and you were the only person who could possibly understand what I was going through.”

 

He gripped her hand with his own and kissed it. “What we’re going through,” he corrected.

 

She gave him a watery smile, and he pulled her in to lean against him in a long companionable silence that was finally broken by Mahleah’s stomach growling.

 

She laughed, “Well, you worked up my appetite now are you going to feed me?”

 

He grinned at her, “We’ll stop by Food City on the way home and I’ll cook. God knows I’m tired of Mr. Rose’s feeble efforts. Oh,” he remembered a present his favorite library patron had presented him with. “Jessica Scarberry sent you a jar of homemade strawberry jelly. I’d told her that strawberries were your favorite food and she asked her mom for some.”

 

“Mmm,” she purred contentedly. “Strawberries and my best friend back. Life is good.”

 

“Life is good,” he agreed, and for once actually felt it.

 

 

Chapter Eighteen

 

 

 

That night, Michael lay in bed in his usual nightclothes holding a pajama-clad Mahleah while the stereo in the living room softly vibrated to more music.

 

Bright light almost blinding, black night still there shining,

I can’t stop, keep on climbing, looking for what I knew.

Had a friend, she once told me, “You’ve got love, you ain’t lonely,”

Now she’s gone and left me only looking for what I knew.

 

“You know one of the things I dreaded most about this assignment?” he said lightly.

 

“What’s that?” she asked sleepily.

 

“The noise,” he told her.

 

“What,” she raised her head from his chest. “What noise?”

 

“Music,” he explained. “You’re always surrounded by it. I knew that living with you there would be music going nearly twenty four hours a day.”

 

She blinked in surprise, “You don’t like it? I can turn it off.” She started to rise and he pulled her back down.

 

“No,” he said.

 

Mmm, I’m telling you now, the greatest thing you ever can do now

Is trade a smile with someone who’s blue now, it’s very easy to do just…

 

“Why didn’t you say something if it was bothering you?” she said in bewilderment. “I don’t have to music going all the time.”

 

He chuckled a little, “You’d be miserable if it wasn’t. It’s okay, ever since the morning when you doused me with cold water I’ve discovered I don’t mind so much.”

 

She laughed.

 

Met a man on the roadside crying, without a friend, there’s no denying,

You’re incomplete, there’ll be no finding looking for what you knew.

So anytime, somebody needs you,

Don’t let them down, although it grieves you,

Someday you’ll need someone like they do, looking for what you knew.

 

“Still,” she added, “you should have let me know sooner. Yes, it’s true I need music in my life about as much as I need air to breathe, but I know you enjoy silence every now and then. It wouldn’t be too hard to let you have a break every once in a while.”

 

“When I want quiet, I go out into the woods or down by the lake,” he told her. “When I come into this house I’ve gotten used to it rocking down to the foundation.”

 

She laughed harder.

 

Mmm, I’m telling you now, the greatest thing you ever can do now,

Is trade a smile with someone who’s blue now, it’s very easy just…

 

“Well, a man shouldn’t have to escape outdoors just to have a bit of peace,” she insisted. “Next time you feel the need, just let me know and I’ll mute the music, okay?”

 

“Deal,” he promised. He stroked her hair and she leaned her head back contentedly on his chest.

 

“Actually, I think it’s something I’ll miss the most,” he told her.

 

“Really, then I’ll have to loan you some CD’s when we get back,” she said her voice muffled by his shirt.

 

“You know I think in a former life you were a cat,” he teased. “You’re nearly purring.”

 

“Mmm, maybe,” she agreed. “Do you believe in past lives?”

 

He shrugged, “I don’t know. I could see you in the past, though.”

 

She lifted her head, so she could look in his face, “What am I doing?”

 

He tried to visualize it, “Acting, I think.”

 

“Because I’m so good at it now,” she said sarcastically.

 

“I think you need to separate your stage work from what you have to do for Section,” he said seriously. “The problem is in the theatre you can be someone else and you can be true to that person, but Section asks you to play Mahleah in a way that’s not her.”

 

“That’s one way of putting it,” she said thoughtfully. “So, I’m acting. What are you doing? Did we know each other then?”

 

“Yes, we did,” he ran it through his mind and came up with what felt right, “You were older, and more experienced than me and I fell madly in love with you.”

 

She laughed, “What happened then?”

 

“Oh, you kept trying to tell me that your heart belonged to another: a dashing Highlander named MacLeod.”

 

“Poor boy,” she commiserated. “So, you found Nikita and we all lived happily ever after, I suppose.”

 

“I hope so,” he said, his frivolous mood dissipating.

 

“It’ll happen, Musashi,” she said, kissing his cheek softly, and then settling back down in his embrace. “I have faith in happy endings.”

 

******

 

The next morning he was preparing to leave for school, when he saw a strange expression on her face.

 

“What is it?” he asked.

 

“Nothing,” she said a little breathlessly. He saw one of her hands touch her head and the other grasped her stomach.

 

He came back toward her.

 

“It’s nothing,” she repeated firmly. “Go to work.”

 

Not convinced, he started the blazer. As he backed out of the driveway, she waved but then darted back inside the house quickly.

 

He left with a strange sense of foreboding that he couldn’t quite shake.

 

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

 

 

There was something strange about Mahleah’s behavior this morning, Michael decided. There was a nagging thought in the back of his head that she reminded him of something, but it remained just out of conscious range. It wasn’t until just about lunchtime that the memory snapped into place. What she reminded him of was his own behavior when he was in pain and didn’t want anyone to know.

 

Worried, he dialed the number for The Post. They were having their weekly staff meeting today and Mahleah would be attending.

 

Mr. O’Quinn answered but his reply didn’t soothe Michael’s nerves, “I’m afraid Melissa isn’t here. She called in sick today.”

“Sick?” Michael repeated, stunned. He’d never known Mahleah to be sick before and didn’t really know if Immortals ever got sick.

 

“Yeah, and she sounded kind of weak too, so don’t be getting suspicious,” Mr. O’Quinn said reassuringly. “I doubt she’s out with another man.”

 

He said a quick goodbye to Mahleah’s boss and immediately phoned his house. When Mahleah answered, he demanded, “What’s wrong with you?”

 

“Nothing, I’m fine,” she said cheerfully. “Oh, could you pick up a jug of milk on the way home?”

 

“Mr. O’Quinn said you called in sick,” he said in a no-nonsense tone.

 

“Well, yeah, I didn’t feel well this morning, so I phoned into the office, and stayed home.”

 

“You’re never sick,” he said in the same tone.

 

She laughed, “I know, it took me by surprise, too. I never claimed to be immune to food poisoning, though. That’s why we need the jug of milk. Ours went bad. Remember that you didn’t have coffee this morning, but I did. The milk I put in it must have been ruined.”

 

“That’s why you ran back in the house this morning,” he accused.

 

“Yeah, I actually threw up – talk about a shock. It’s not a big deal, Musashi. I’m fine now. It’s all out of my system and I bounce back quickly. It’s genetic, remember?”

 

 He felt relieved, “You’re sure you’re feeling better?”

 

“Don’t be so stressed. I’m just hanging out here, jamming to some music and reading a book. I decided to take it easy today for a few hours, but later on I’m going to go running.”

 

“Do you need anything else?”

 

“Just milk,” she repeated. “Now, aren’t you supposed to be eating lunch right now?”

 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said, now feeling a little foolish. Mahleah was Immortal. It was part of the reason he’d been concerned in the first place, he hadn’t thought her subject to any kind of illness, but now that he knew what the problem was he felt reassured that her system would be able to handle it without much difficulty.

 

“Well, thank you for being sweet and worried, but go eat your lunch,” she instructed.

 

He smiled until he looked out the window to see two senior boys accosting Jessica Scarberry.

 

“I have to go now,” he told Mahleah. “Take it easy.”

 

She picked up on the concern in his voice, “Go, I’ll see you later.”

 

He hung up and walked out. Jessica was only about fourteen years old and small for her age. These bullies were grabbing her lunch and the paperback book she’d been reading.

 

“Give it back now,” he instructed.

 

The one holding her lunch, scoffed, “What are you going to do about it, Mr. French Librarian?”

 

“Turn us in to the office?” the other suggested, “go ahead.”

 

“I will,” he said grimly, “after you give Jessica back her lunch and her book.”

 

“Make me,” one suggested. He raised an eyebrow, and smacked the book out of the boy’s hand. It fell to the sidewalk and Jessica grabbed it.

 

“The lunch,” he suggested, his hand outstretched.

 

Instead of obeying his command, the boy pulled out a hunting knife – the kind used to skin out dead animals. “You try that with me, you’ll be going back to your pretty wife in pieces.” He smiled, “’Course from what I hear, that might suit her fine. I might just have to look her up myself.”

 

Michael sighed inwardly. Bullies were the same worldwide: big mouthed and small minded. They thought that sharp weapons and silly words made them big men. He had a sudden vision of introducing them to Tora and repressed a smile.

 

He made sure that Jessica was safely out of range from anything that might happen, and then whirled, kicking the knife out of the idiot child’s hand. The other boy swung and Michael grabbed his fist and used that force to pull the luckless teenager over his shoulder. He hit the sidewalk hard.

 

The other rushed him and Michael stood in place until the boy was right upon him and then stepped aside. The bully whizzed past him unable to stop himself from colliding with the wall.

 

Michael looked up to see Wendy Bailey standing at the door to the school. Why did he suddenly feel set up?

 

 

Chapter Twenty

 

 

Michael spent most of the afternoon explaining what had happened with the two boys. Wendy claimed she was an accidental witness and that she had seen the boys attacking both Michael and Jessica. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask why she hadn’t bothered to call for help, but the answer was obvious: she had set the whole thing in motion to begin with. No doubt, the boys were fledgling members of Mountain Freedom and this was a test to ascertain some of his fighting skills.

 

When he finally emerged from the red tape surrounding the incident and made his way back to the library, Wendy was waiting for him.

 

“You handled yourself pretty well,” she observed. “There’s not a scratch on you.”

 

“I was involved with a rather rowdy group at college,” he said, hoping she would get to the point soon.

 

“So I’ve heard,” she confessed. “I’ve been doing a little checking on you. You were quite the radical in your youth.”

 

“I was idealistic,” he said moving away from her. “A young man will do a lot of things when he believes in a cause.”

 

She followed him, “This is true, but so often as adults we lose that fire and sense of justice. What a shame that we no longer fight the battles we began years ago now that we have so much more knowledge and experience.”

 

“As we gain that experience sometimes we find that the cause we struggled so desperately for was not worth the energy we poured into it,” he said a little bitterly.

 

“Oh, I agree it’s necessary to find the right cause,” she agreed. After a moment’s hesitation, she put her hand on his arm, “I like you Michael – there are not many people I could truly say that about other than my family.”

 

“You never mention them,” he threw out carelessly.

 

“I have a brother and sister-in-law,” she explained. “I’d like for you to meet them. We’re holding a meeting tonight of local people to discuss a few problems we’ve been having. Would you care to join us?”

 

She gave him what was meant as a warm smile, but he could detect no sign of it in her eyes. Realization dawned on him, that he was the target of her own Valentine expedition. His dubious background combined with his professed love of the mountains and troubled marriage made her believe him ripe for recruitment and she intended to use a little romance to seal the bargain. He repressed a shudder.

 

Wendy was actually an attractive woman with blue eyes and dimples. Her haircut was a little utilitarian but she had a nice figure. The personality behind the surface was what repulsed him. She was cold – her only passion was reserved for her cause, he suspected and yet, he would be forced to play along with this masquerade as long and as far as she wished to take it.

 

*****

When he arrived home, Mahleah was just coming in from a run.

 

“Feeling better?” he asked.

 

“Much,” she smiled. “I see you brought a new jug of milk.”

 

“Can’t have my wife getting food poisoned again,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

 

They went into the house.

 

“Wendy invited me to attend one of Mountain Freedom’s meetings this evening,” he told her.

 

“Well that’s good,” she said slowly. “So, I gather I’m not invited.”

 

He shook his head. “Wendy seems to be under the impression that I’m romantically vulnerable right now.”

 

She understood his implication, “She’s working you? Oh what a tangled web we weave.”

 

“At least I don’t have to worry about betraying an innocent woman in a seduction,” he commented grimly.

 

“No, this is a switch – you get to play the innocent lamb being lead up to the slaughter, I mean bedroom,” she laughed, and then stopped herself. “I’m sorry Michael, that wasn’t very funny.”

 

“Really, I thought it was a cosmic joke,” he sat down on the couch. “Apparently they’re willing to feed us, so I’ll be leaving soon.”

 

He examined her closely. She did look much better. “Are you going to be okay?”

 

She swatted him on the arm, “Of course I am. I think I’ll practice the dance routine we’ve been teaching the older kids for a while and then I’ll just grab a sandwich…dip into that delicious strawberry jelly again.”

 

He kissed her forehead, “Enjoy it – it’s all yours.”

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-One

 

 

Michael was grateful he didn’t recognize most of the faces at the Mountain Freedom meeting. Allan Scarberry was there, of course, but Madeline seemed to have missed her guess about the majority of Poplar Ridge inhabitants. Perhaps they had been members of the group when its goals were strictly political, but they seemed to have been alarmed at the new leadership.

 

Joshua Bailey called the group to order after dinner.

 

“Hope y’all are done stuffing yourselves,” he grinned good-naturedly. “We’re going to talk about some serious business now. I’m turning the talking over to my wife, Anne, who has much more of the gift for gab than I’ll ever have.”

 

Anne Bailey stood up. She was a striking woman: tall, with fair skin, strawberry blonde hair and an Irish accent. Michael sat up straighter. Irish – that was interesting.

 

Her talk was excellent, if narrow-minded. She pointed out all the ridicule heaped upon the mountain people for decades if not centuries. She reminded them of the exploitation of their natural resources -- all quite true in their way. The natuural gas company had discovered an enormously rich pocket of gas in the area and was happily pumping away while the local people never saw a dime for the riches that were being taken away from their very land.

 

 The coalmines and strip jobs were another matter. While it was true that they pulled up trees and ravaged the land, there were two facts that she was leaving out of her story. First, when the coal was gone and the company left they were required by law to restore it as closely as possible to the way it had been before. Trees were replanted, grass was sown – it was called reclamation and the Environmental Protection Agency insisted upon it. The other thing she failed to mention was all the jobs that the mines provided. Many people depended upon them for their livelihood.

 

It was in the area of a proposed interstate that she made the biggest impact. Yes, she admitted, the road might bring much needed commerce and tourists to the area, but she informed them that the road would cut through many people’s private property – in some cases, even their homes. She pointed to a man sitting in the front row.

 

“David, there, has learned that if this road succeeds the government will take away most of his property. They claim that they’ll pay for it, but who knows? One of the approved routes would have the expressway literally inches away from his front porch.”

 

The people muttered angrily. Michael could sense the mood darken around him. Anne was hitting all the right buttons. She ended with a plea that they ensure that these travesties of justice not take place.

 

He was taken to meet Anne and Joshua later.

 

Anne smiled at him, “So, Michael what did you think about what you’ve heard?”

 

“It’s horrible that the government could be so callous to the people’s rights,” he said honestly.

 

She nodded, “There’s more that goes on in this world than most people realize. People in positions of power tend to ignore the needs of those beneath them. I’ve seen it happen too often in my lifetime.”

 

“Are you thinking of joining us?” Joshua asked him jovially.

 

He looked at Wendy, who was practically hanging on his every word. She obligingly put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“I’m very interested to hear more,” he told them.

 

“Good,” Anne told him. She poured them all a glass of whiskey. “A toast,” she proclaimed, “To the cause.”

 

“To the cause,” they all echoed, solemnly.  

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Two

 

 

The next morning, Mahleah asked him, “What do you want for Thanksgiving dinner? It’s coming up this week, you know.”

 

He shrugged, “Whatever you want. Let me know when you plan to start cooking and I’ll help.”

 

She smiled, “Heavens, Section One’s top operative cooking Thanksgiving dinner? I’ m not sure I want this assignment to end.”

 

“Are you going to the paper today?” he asked.

 

“Yes, later,” she told him. “First I’m going to take a run and a long, hot bath. I’ll see you later, okay?”

 

His day went rather smoothly except that when he tried to talk to Jessica, she claimed she had to get to class and scampered quickly away. He assumed her brother had told her about his attendance at the meeting and it had scared her.

 

When he pulled into his driveway, Mrs. Brooks was waiting for him.

 

She began typically, “This may not be any of my business but are you sure you should let Melissa run as much as she does?”

 

He laughed, “I think I’d have to hog-tie her to keep her still.”

 

She frowned, “It’s just in her condition I don’t think it’s the wisest course of action.”

 

His breath caught, “Her condition?”

 

She nodded, “I know that moderate exercise can be good for a woman who’s expecting but not one who gets as sick as she is right now.”

 

He gripped the old lady’s arm, “Melissa has been sick again?”

 

“I saw her on her run this morning. She had to stop and throw up behind a tree. You should tell her to keep dry crackers and a sip of ginger ale by her bed in the morning. It can work wonders.”

 

Michael’s mind was in a daze. Mahleah: pregnant? Why wouldn’t she have told him? She didn’t want to get him involved in a dangerous situation. Who was the father? It certainly wasn’t him. That only left Alex Coffey or …his heart sank, Duncan MacLeod. If she were carrying Duncan’s child, there would be no power on earth that would separate her from it.

 

He thanked Mrs. Brooks for her advice.

 

 “You’re welcome honey,” she told him. “I hope she gets to feeling better soon. Tell her to come see me. I can fix her a tonic that will help settle her stomach.”

 

“I’ll do that,” he promised, half-heartedly.

 

Dear Lord, if Mahleah was pregnant he needed to keep her far away from Mountain Freedom. If she were already, having difficulties he wouldn’t risk what could happen if she got in a fight. He would take care of the rest of the profile and try to figure out how he could help Mahleah and her child reach MacLeod safely.

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Three

 

 

 

At the Mountain Freedom meeting that night, Wendy stepped up her “romance/recruitment” tactics and he realized that it wouldn’t be long before he would have to go through with her planned seduction.

 

She commiserated with him when he told her he’d left “Melissa” taking a nap, and confessed that he felt lonely in his own house. She asked him to drop by her house the following evening as she had some things she wanted to discuss with him. He recognized his cue and agreed to meet with her.

 

As he arrived back home, he saw Jessica crying on the front porch. It was well past her bedtime and cold outside. He went over and sat beside her on the swing.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

 

She wouldn’t look at him.

 

“Jessica, you can tell me,” he reassured her.

 

She shook her head, tears trickling down her cheeks. He wiped them away.

 

“You need to go back inside where it’s warm,” he told her. “Do your parents know you’re out here?”

 

She shook her head again.

 

“Well, go in and get some rest. Things will look better in the morning.”

 

She stared at him, “No they won’t,” she sobbed and ran in the house.

 

He puzzled over her words as he went in his own door. Seeing a light on in the bedroom, he wasn’t surprised to find Mahleah sitting up in bed reading. She looked a little pale and there were dark circles around her eyes.

 

“How did the meeting go?” she asked.

 

“Everything’s going according to profile,” he told her and sat down beside her. “How are you doing?”

 

She sighed, “I’m a little tired for some reason, but I feel fine otherwise.”

 

He kissed her cheek, which for some reason felt cold. He reached under the covers and pulled out her feet which were as chilly as marble. He frowned. Mahleah’s usual body temperature was quite warm. She generally felt like she was running a low-grade fever. He’d never known her to be seriously cold before.

 

He began massaging her feet, working the circulation back into them. She gave a sigh of pleasure.

 

“Oh, that feels wonderful.”

 

“I used to do this for Elena,” he told her. He left out the part where she was pregnant at the time.

 

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t make any comments about mission wives, for which he was grateful. “Oh,” she said, with a start. “Don’t eat any of the strawberry jelly.”

 

“I wasn’t planning to,” he said. “It was a gift for you, remember?”

 

“That’s not what I mean. I found mold in it this morning. Brenda must not be careful enough when she does her canning. It’s shame too, as it was excellent jelly. I’m afraid I’ll have to throw it away. Don’t tell Jessica, though, it would break her heart.”

 

He remembered the girl sobbing on her front porch and nodded. He didn’t want to cause the child any more pain. Apparently something was deeply troubling her.

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Four

 

 

 

The next day was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and school dismissed early. Michael dropped by the dance studio to surprise Mahleah with a bouquet of flowers he’d picked up only to discover that she wasn’t there. Alarmed he spoke to the teacher and other assistants and discovered that yes, today was the day they were planning a small show for the children’s parents but that when Mahleah showed up she had obviously been in some distress. She’d run through some moves with the girls, but then had to sit down. Her breathing had been labored and she was having difficulty seeing.

 

Brenda Scarberry had volunteered to drive her home. They had just tried to call him at the school to tell him about it, but he had already left. He thanked them and rushed off. His driving back to Poplar Ridge was as wild and fast as Mahleah’s. He tried to make sense of the news. Difficulty breathing did not sound like a symptom of pregnancy. He retraced the progress of her illness as far as he’d known about it and realized something: she had thrown away both the milk and the jelly claiming they were ruined. He had touched neither. Perhaps she suspected them of being poisoned by human hands rather than Mother Nature’s.

 

The good news was that she was Immortal, he thought grimly. If she were being systematically poisoned if they could locate the problem it would all be over with. If she could recover from being stabbed with a katana in a matter of minutes, she should be able to heal from this equally quickly. He reached the house and let himself in. His hands were shaking in the effort to unlock the door fast enough.

 

He found Mahleah lying on the couch, convulsing.

 

“Michael,” she reached a hand out to him and he took it. “I can’t figure out what’s c-causing this.”

 

“I think we both suspect you’ve been poisoned,” he replied. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“Y-you had enough to w-worry about,” she gasped. “I can’t figure out what it is or where it’s coming from.”

 

Suddenly, she began wheezing and he knew that she couldn’t breathe. He felt helpless. What could he do?

 

She fell back against the cushions with a thud. He felt for a pulse, but found none. He felt anger radiate through him. If Mahleah had been anyone or anything else, he would have lost her. Who had done this?

 

He smoothed her hair off her face and held her hand, waiting for her revival. It took longer than the sword wound and he realized it was because the toxin had damaged more of her organs than the clean katana stroke had. Her body had much more to repair this time. Just when his nerves couldn’t take any more, she gasped and opened her eyes.

 

“Mahleah?” he asked softly.

 

She lay quietly for a few moments to conserve her energy. “Michael,” she squeezed his hand.

 

“How long has this been going on?” he asked.

 

“A few days,” she admitted. “It started subtly but gradually got worse. It was easy for me to hide it because my system was constantly fighting it off, but somewhere along the line I’ve gotten too large a dose.”

 

“I thought you were pregnant,” he told her flatly.

 

“What?” She started laughing.

 

He scowled, “It was Mrs. Brooks’ idea. She saw you vomiting behind a tree one morning and immediately concluded it was morning sickness.”

 

“Oh, Musashi,” tears were rolling down her face. “I’m sorry to be laughing at you, but you don’t understand how funny that is. Immortals can’t have children.”

 

“Oh,” he said weakly. He would have felt a little irritated that she had never told him this important fact about Immortal biology, but the thought that she’d been slowly tortured, literally to death, for the past few days soothed his ire.

 

“So, what would you have done if I had been pregnant?” she asked, curiously.

 

“Since the chances were good that the baby would be MacLeod’s and Section hasn’t managed to find him yet, I planned to see you safely to him.”

 

“Oh,” she said deeply touched. She caressed his cheek, and he was relieved to find that her temperature was returning to normal. “Thank you for the thought,” she told him.

 

Despite the warmth her words gave him, he began concentrating on who had done this, why and most importantly how this had happened. A flashback of last night returned to him, and he rose with the intense determination to resolve this mystery.

 

As he walked across the road his strides got longer and faster. He saw Jessica around the side of her house and started towards her. She spotted him and ran. He sprinted after and caught her before she’d gotten too far.

 

He gripped her shoulders, “What’s going on, Jessica? What’s happening to my wife?”

 

Her eyes were tearing up again, but she shook her head, “I don’t know.”

 

“Don’t tell me that. I think you do know. She’s being poisoned, isn’t she? I need you to tell me what she’s been given and how it’s gotten into her system. Who’s doing this?”

 

She wet her lips nervously, “I can’t.”

 

“You can,” he said firmly. He realized she was frightened down to her fingertips.

 

He knelt down on one knee in front of her, “Please Jessica. I know you don’t want anything bad to happen to me or to Melissa. I promise I’ll stop it and I’ll keep anyone from hurting you. Please tell me what’s going on.”

 

She sniffed, “It’s Mountain Freedom.”

 

Ah, he suspected as much, but why would they want Mahleah dead?

 

“How?” he asked. That was the most important question right now, along with what.

 

She swallowed, “It was Allan. He broke into your house while you were both gone and put it in Melissa’s bubble bath. She always smells like vanilla, but you don’t, so they figured that you never used the stuff.”

 

He rocked back on his heels, stunned.

 

“That’s not all,” she continued, “he gave some powder to Robin and had her put it in Melissa’s dancing shoes. He told her it was fairy dust to help Melissa dance longer. She didn’t know it would hurt her, I swear. She likes your wife.”

 

“I know,” he said soothingly. “Why did Allan want to hurt Melissa?”

 

“He was just following orders,” she explained. “Wendy told him what to do.”

 

“Why?” He asked harshly.

 

She winced, but went on, “Wendy thinks that if you were single you’d dedicate yourself to the group. She said that as long as Melissa was alive, you’d always be distracted because no matter what she did you’d never leave her.”

 

“Are you Catholic, Michael?” he could hear the question in his ears now. Wendy had apparently taken his yes to mean that he would never divorce his wife no matter what provocation she gave him. Ironically, her own preconceptions about a different culture had stirred her to take this path.

 

“What is this powder?” he asked finally.

 

Jessica was still scared, but she looked relieved to be telling someone the truth about this horrible scheme. “Mountain laurel,” she told him.

 

“The tree?” he asked, surprised. Mahleah had pointed them out on their first day in the community.

 

Jessica nodded, “It’s poisonous, didn’t you know? He mixed something up and put it in the bath stuff, then used the leaves in a powder form for the shoes. Is she going to be okay? She’s not going to die, is she?”

 

He took a good look at this frightened fourteen year old girl with her tear stained face and couldn’t find it in his heart to add to her worries. “She’ll be fine,” he said reassuringly, and gave her a hug. “Now that I know what’s wrong everything will be okay.”

 

With a sense of nausea, he remembered that he was supposed to meet Wendy at her house this evening. He would have to have sex tonight with the woman who had tried to poison Mahleah. His stomach tightened in protest.

 

“Everything will be okay,” he lied convincingly to the child, but not to himself.

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Five

 

 

 

Michael left Mahleah lying quietly on the couch watching an old movie on television. He’d told what Jessica had revealed to him and she was understandably upset. He made her understand that he had to go alone to meet with Wendy tonight without going into the details. He saw from the look in her eyes that she understood.

 

“Be careful, Musashi,” she warned. “This woman is unhinged. How did she think you would do her group any good if you were in jail for murdering your wife? You would have been the most likely suspect in the event of my untimely death.”

 

He agreed, but his orders left him little choice. He still had no idea what Mountain Freedom was up to, or where its true headquarters lay. Despite his revulsion, he would need to go through with the Valentine operation.

 

When he reached the woman’s house though, he had to take deep calming breaths before he would get out of the vehicle. This woman had tried to kill Mahleah. He really wanted nothing more than to break her neck, not fondle it. Ironically, this time his target wanted his mind and his skills rather than his body. It was a strange situation and it wasn’t going to get any better while he was sitting there.

 

He went up to the door and knocked. Wendy smiled and invited him in. He controlled the urge to clench his fists and carried on with his duty.

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Six

 

 

Michael took the hottest bath he could physically stand and wished they had a shower. He had to get Wendy’s scent off him. Every time he carried out one of these planned seductions he felt as if he lost a little piece of his soul. He could scrub his skin off and never be clean again.

 

As he walked out of the bathroom, he saw Mahleah sitting in front of the mirror brushing out her hair. She looked up at him, and with a sense of astonishment and wonder he saw that her brown eyes held no scorn, condemnation, or pity. There was understanding and empathy and he knew she was remembering Alex Coffey. She never mentioned it though.

She was humming to the soft sounds of the music drifting in from the living room.

 

Love I get so lost, sometimes

Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart

When I want to run away

I drive off in my car

But whichever way I go

I come back to the place you are

 

“I can’t wait to get back to my natural hair color,” she remarked. “This dark black is driving me crazy. I never realized how much I liked my own funny shade until now. Although I occasionally do get tired of hearing, ‘did you know your hair is the exact color as a jar of honey’? If only people realized how unoriginal they were being.”

 

He just listened to her chatter, knowing she was trying to put him at ease. The contrast between her and Wendy overwhelmed him.

 

 

All my instincts, they return

And the grand façade, so soon will burn

Without a noise, without my pride

I reach out from the inside

 

She gestured to the living room with her brush. “I love this song. It reminds me of that movie where the guy holds the boom box up to his girlfriend’s window. Have you seen it? It’s called ‘Say Anything.’ Pretty good flick, actually.”

 

He just listened to the music, to her, and let the sounds soothe the raw ache in his heart. It was incredible to him to know that she understood him and accepted that knowledge without reservations. How could she not recoil from him after what he’d done?

 

In your eyes

The light the heat

 

“Musashi,” she walked to him, and he marveled at her beauty. She was so warm, so generous, so loving to all that she cared about.

 

In your eyes

I am complete

 

Suddenly, he found himself filled with the burning desire to lose himself – to seek comfort, peace and yes, he had to admit, love in her. Maybe she wasn’t Nikita, and he certainly wasn’t MacLeod but for now, all they had was each other.

 

In your eyes

I see the doorway to a thousand churches

 

Her gaze was deep and inviting and he fell into it willingly. When she touched his face and whispered that ridiculous nickname, he was lost but this time of his own choosing.

 

In your eyes

The resolution of all the fruitless searches

 

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her greedily, hungrily…searching for answers to questions he didn’t dare pose.

 

In your eyes

I see the light and the heat

 

To his great relief, she returned his kiss fully. He knew with what was left of his conscious thought that he could hold nothing back right now and thought about pulling away. She’d died today, and he wasn’t sure if her body could withstand the kind of fury he felt in his blood right now.

 

In your eyes

Oh I want to be that complete

 

She felt his hesitation and murmured, “What?”

 

“I can’t be gentle,” he said bluntly.

 

She laughed lightly, “So, don’t be. It’s okay, Michael. I don’t break easily and bruises will heal in a matter of minutes.”

 

I want to touch the light

The heat I see in your eyes

 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he protested. A muscle in his jaw twitched as she ran her tongue along his throat, up his chin and across his lips.

 

“Don’t worry, you won’t.”

 

Love, I don’t like to see so much pain

So much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away

I get so tired of working so hard for our survival

I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive

 

He groaned and bit her lower lip, pushing her back to the bed. His hands were quickly discarding her pajamas. She reached for his own nightclothes, but he held her hands away.

 

“No,” he growled.

 

He saw comprehension dawn. He’d been used and controlled enough this evening -- for now, he needed to be the one with the power. She nodded.

 

And all my instincts, they return

And the grand façade, so soon will burn

Without a noise, without my pride

I reach out from the inside

 

He shed his clothes quickly and pushed her to the bed. His mouth captured hers again for a breathtaking kiss. He began realizing that she needed this every bit as badly as he did. He bent to lay his lips right over her heart. She moaned and the sound intoxicated his body as much as her spirit bewitched his mind.

 

In your eyes

The light the heat

 

With her, he felt strangely clean again as if the weight of his sins were temporarily lifted from his mind. His burdens were laid aside. They would still be there in the morning, but tonight there was an exhilarating respite from the angst and the worries.

 

In your eyes

I am complete

 

Her nails gripped him sharply, but he welcomed the pain. It reminded him that he was alive. Alive in not just the most literal sense, but the figurative as well.

 

In your eyes

I see the doorway to a thousand churches

 

In her eyes, in her lips, in her breasts, in her thighs, in her thoughts, in her mind, in her soul he met her with himself and no longer felt alone.

 

In your eyes

The resolution of all the fruitless searches

 

Section didn’t matter, Mountain Freedom didn’t matter, and Wendy Bailey and her family didn’t matter. At this moment, all he cared about was the woman beneath him and allowing himself to actually feel again.

 

In your eyes

I see the light and the heat

 

He’d been closed off for so long and had only been allowed the briefest glimpse of paradise before it too was denied him. Now, he felt his emotions revive along with his body.

 

In your eyes

Oh, I want to be that complete

 

She was calling his name, but he didn’t want to hear it. Wendy had said it endlessly tonight during their little interlude and he wanted no reminders of that encounter in his and Mahleah’s bed.

 

I want to touch the light,

The heat I see in your eyes

 

He covered her lips with a finger. She gazed at him questioningly.

 

“Musashi,” he requested. He was of course, not the Miyamoto of legend, but it was what she called him from genuine affection and he much preferred it from her than his given name from nearly anyone else.

 

“Musashi,” she repeated, and his heart, now in time with hers, felt peace.

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Seven

 

 

 

Then as it was, then again it will be

And though the course may change sometimes

Rivers always reach the sea

 

Michael lay back against the pillows with Mahleah cradled against his chest, but unlike all the times before there was nothing separating their bodies. He could hear her humming and smiled.

 

“What?” she asked.

 

“After that dance Led Zeppelin has a whole new meaning for me now,” he chuckled.

 

Blind stars of fortune, each have several rays

On the wings of maybe, down in birds of prey

Kind of makes me feel sometimes, didn’t have to grow

But as the eagle leaves the nest, it’s got so far to go

 

“Hey, I’ve got you laughing so I must not have done too badly,” she pointed out.

 

“Well, there’s bad and then there’s bad,” he teased.

 

“Oh, and which one was I?”

 

“Very, very, wicked,” he said emphatically.

 

Changes fill my time, baby, that’s alright with me

In the midst I think of you, and how it used to be

 

“Well, you tried to use my own song against me. How fair was that?” she raised her eyebrows.

 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, “but I have to say if that’s your revenge I can do it again tomorrow.”

 

“Why not tonight?” she suggested with a gleam in her eye.

 

“You don’t tire easily, do you?”

 

She winked, “Fringe benefit of being Immortal.”

 

“Remind me to ask tomorrow about some of the other things you’ve left out of this Immortal business,” he looked down as she traced his collarbone. “There’s something I miss from Section life.”

 

“What’s that?” she asked with astonishment.

 

Did you ever really need somebody, and really need ‘em bad?

Did you ever really want somebody, the best love you ever had

 

“Getting to hear you sing,” he responded.

 

She smiled in delight and picked up the words of the song, “Do you ever remember me baby, did it feel so good? ‘Cause it was just the first time, and you knew you would.”

 

He ran his fingers through the thick, dark hair and found the sensitive spot on the back of her neck. Her light singing stopped, as her breath caught.

 

“You were a cat,” he said with amusement. “The way you love to be stroked and rubbed, you had to have been a cat in a former life.”

 

 

Through the eyes and I sparkle, senses growing keen

Taste your love along the way, see your feathers preen

Kind of makes me feel sometimes, didn’t have to grow

We are eagles of one nest, the nest in our soul.

 

Her eyes lit with impish glee, “Oh, I haven’t seen you turning down getting stroked and rubbed, mister. What do you think you were a dog?” Her hands were illustrating her point.

 

“Woof,” he said faintly.

 

“Oh, you can do better than that,” she murmured and began a string of wet kisses down his body. Her hair, a coverlet softer than the finest gossamer silk trailed after her lips. He grabbed the sheets.

 

“I’m not Immortal,” he reminded her weakly.

 

She looked up from between his thighs to grin, “Don’t worry, Musashi, I’ll make you feel like you are,” she promised.

 

Vixen in my dreams, with great surprise to me

Never thought I’d see your face the way it used to be

Oh darlin’, oh darlin’

I’m never gonna leave you, I’m never gonna leave.

Holdin’ on, ten years gone

Ten years gone, holdin’ on, ten years gone.

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Eight

 

 

Michael had explained to Wendy that he would, of course, have to spend Thanksgiving with his wife. She had pretended to pout, but agreed. He held back from laughing in her face when she inquired after “Melissa” knowing she wanted to know if she was about to fall over dead at any minute.

 

This all meant that he got to spend the holiday without even thinking about Section, profiles, Valentine ops, or Mountain Freedom. He was appropriately grateful and even more so for the fact that Wendy’s plan had not succeeded but when Mahleah jokingly asked him what he was thankful for, he replied with a straight face, “Being able to walk straight after last night.”

 

She’d laughed and thrown a dishtowel at him. They enjoyed a modest turkey dinner with appropriate trimmings and settled down later to watch a ‘B’ movie marathon on the Sci-Fi channel. She made popcorn later and they started throwing it at the screen whenever the characters said or did something absurd, which lead of course to throwing it at each other.

 

Michael filed these memories away securely knowing that there would be few like them once they returned to Section. The day was a beautiful illusion that neither desired to ruin with reality.

 

That night he asked her about her past.

 

“How many times have you been in love,” he asked softly, pushing her hair away from her face.

 

She frowned, “Why do you want to know?”

 

“Because despite your disarming nature you’re still very mysterious,” he confided. “You mentioned a number of men to me on our first mission. How many of them did you really love?”

 

“Nearly all of them,” she retorted, “except for the guy who tried to kill me and the one-night-stand guy who was just after bragging rights.”

 

This still didn’t really answer his question, as he knew her warmhearted nature well enough to realize she would care deeply for all her lovers. “How many were you in love with?” he countered.

 

She paused before answering as if considering his question seriously. “Three,” she finally answered.

 

“MacLeod, the boyfriend who died, and your fiancé,” he decided.

 

“They must have a lot of details in my file,” she scowled, but then chuckled lightly, “but not enough it seems. Too bad, Musashi, you only got one out of three and that one the most obvious.”

 

“You weren’t in love with your fiancé?” he said, a little surprised.

 

“In hindsight, no,” her eyes were downcast. “I had to hide too much from him. He never knew the real me and neither did Kevin. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if Mark got to know the real me. Would he like what he saw?”

 

“I can’t answer that question,” he said gently.

 

“I know, you’re not him.” She sighed.

 

“Who were the other two?” he nudged her back into the conversation.

 

“My first lover, for one,” she replied.

 

He frowned, “I thought that Kevin was your first lover.”

 

“I never said that,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “You’ve been listening to Joe too much, and that’s what he assumed. Kevin was my first boyfriend but not my first lover.”

 

“And the third,” he pursued. He had his own reasons for delving into such a personal topic – a day in Canada earlier in the year when he had escorted Madeline to a conference and had a curious encounter with a stranger.

 

She sighed, “It’s complicated.”

 

“When isn’t he,” he retorted.

 

“True,” she conceded. “It’s the man I was seeing before I was recruited into Section.”

 

“You’re using the present tense – are you still in love with him?” he asked, curiously.

 

She squirmed uncomfortably. “It’s complicated,” she complained.

 

“Because you left things unresolved, and then there’s MacLeod,” he hazarded.

 

“Yeah,” she was biting her lower lip, then looked him in the eye with a baffled expression. “Can you be in love with two people at once?”

 

“I don’t know,” he replied, thoughtfully. “I’m not the best person to consult on such things. How does he feel about you?”

 

“He cares for me a great deal but he’s in love with someone else,” she said sadly. “Someone he can’t be with but he’ll never be over. Can we change the subject, please?”

 

Acquiescing, he asked her to tell him more about Immortality.

 

“What exactly do you want to know?” she looked thoughtful.

 

“Whatever you can tell me.”

 

“Well, the great mystery is where Immortals come from,” she told him. “No one seems to know for sure.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“All the Immortals I’ve ever known have been adopted,” she explained. “None of us have ever known our birth parents.”

 

“You were adopted?” he was surprised.

 

“Yeah, I didn’t know that until I became Immortal and then I asked. It turns out that my mother, Catriona, couldn’t have children. She went on a trip and came back with a baby. I’ve never been able to find where she found me.”

 

“That’s kind of sad,” he remarked.

 

She shrugged, “Mysterious maybe, but not sad for me. Immortals have often been passed around from orphanage to foster home to the street. I was lucky.”

 

She looked at him seriously, “A word of advice: if you even suspect that someone is Immortal don’t mention my name or Duncan’s.”

 

“You’re well-known, huh?” he teased.

 

She persisted, “Mac is. His nickname is ‘The Highlander’ and a number of people out there would love to have his head. In four hundred years a person can collect a number of enemies and then there are those who just want him because of his reputation.”

 

“He’s that good.”

 

She nodded, “Duncan has a good chance of being the last Immortal left in the end.”

 

“So, they want you because…”

 

“I’ve been informed that I’m Mac’s most prominent student as well as being his lover. Therefore-“

 

“People will come after you to get to him,” he finished.

 

“Yes, although I’m also informed that I’m starting to gain a small reputation myself,” she grinned weakly. “That’s such a wonderful thing. You get people you’ve never known before popping out of the woodwork wanting to take your head just to see if they can.”

 

“No mentioning your names before strangers,” he agreed. Something in this conversation rang a chord somewhere but it wasn’t clicking somehow.

 

It wasn’t until the next week and school returned that something she’d said that night made a connection with something he had unconsciously observed.

 

He came into the house that night frowning, “We may have a problem,” he informed her.

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Nine

 

 

“What kind of problem?” Mahleah asked.

 

“I noticed whenever I saw Joshua and Wendy together that they looked nothing alike. At her house, I saw a picture of her with her parents. She looks nothing like them either.”

 

“So?” Mahleah frowned. “That could be accounted for by recessive traits or maybe she’s only a half-sibling.”

 

“Or maybe she was adopted,” he added. “We need to know.”

 

“You could be jumping to conclusions,” she protested. “Even if it turns out that she was adopted it doesn’t mean that she’s Immortal.”

 

“There’s a chance,” he insisted. “You’ve pointed out that she’s hardly rational. If she’s Immortal as well our problems just got a lot bigger.”

 

“True,” she agreed.

 

After a quick check with Birkoff, it was established that yes, indeed, Wendy Bailey was adopted.

 

“It still doesn’t mean anything,” she reminded him.

 

“When I was in her house I saw a sword,” he informed her.

 

“Why didn’t you say so before?” she replied grimly. “I think it’s time I had a chat with this crazy bitch that wants me dead to get to you, but doesn’t really want you.”

 

“She’s not at home,” he said. “I checked on my way here. She must be at the Mountain Freedom stronghold with the other Baileys.”

 

“Which we still don’t know the location for,” she sighed. A look of determination came over her face. “Section’s asking us to play it too safe.  I know how to find out where they are.”

 

She walked out the door. He followed her puzzled until he saw her cross the road to the Scarberry’s house.

 

“You can’t do this,” he protested.

 

“Hide and watch me,” she snapped back. “I think Allan and I need to have a very long chat.”

 

 

Chapter Thirty

 

 

With a lot of coaxing, Allan Scarberry told them that Mountain Freedom planned to target the Town Hall of Shady Creek as a protest against the planned expressway. When Michael and Mahleah learned that the intended bomb date was set in two days they strongly encouraged Allan to lead them to Mountain Freedom headquarters.

 

After a long drive and an even longer trek up a small path on Cade's Mountain, they reached the two-story log lodge that housed the fledgling terrorists. As they approached the structure, Michael noticed Mahleah tense.

 

"It seems one of our theories has paid off," she said grimly.

 

He was suddenly glad she was wearing the coat that concealed Tora in its folds.

 

As they walked in, Wendy was seated at a table near the fire but looked up saying, "Anne?"

 

Great, Michael thought, two Immortals.

 

"What are you doing here?" Wendy demanded.

 

"I wanted to check out the woman my husband has been having an affair with," Mahleah said brightly, "and to mention that if you wanted me dead you were going about it all wrong."

 

"A technicality I can remedy," Wendy growled and pulled out a cavalry saber.

 

Michael headed upstairs, which Allan had described as being where guns and explosives were stored. Joshua Bailey looked up from a desk where he was studying some plans.

 

"Michael," he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?" His hand automatically reached for a drawer and Michael shot him. He quickly placed explosives in strategic places around the room and set the timer for five minutes.

 

Rushing downstairs, he found Mahleah and Wendy in an intense fight. Mahleah glanced for a split second and he nodded to indicate the timers were set. Wendy struck and cut Mahleah's hand. Michael tensed. Had he just cost Mahleah her head? Before he'd let that happen, he'd shoot Wendy himself.

 

Mahleah jumped over the couch to put some space between her and her opponent.

 

Wendy glared at Michael, "I'll deal with you in a minute," she spat.

 

"Oh no, you won't," Mahleah taunted. "Come and get me, girlfriend." She dashed out the door with Wendy quickly pursuing.

 

Michael followed with a sense of relief. At least the fight would not take place inside a building about to explode. Now, if he could only get them further away from the lodge.

 

The swordplay had gained ferocity again. Michael marveled at the way Mahleah handled herself. This was his first opportunity to actually see two Immortals fighting. The blows came fast and viciously with advantages given and taken in the blink of an eye. Examining the situation for a minute though, he could see that Mahleah was the more skilled of the two women.

 

It was all over in an instant, Wendy's saber went flying out of her hand, and Mahleah had Tora at her throat.

 

"We can both walk away from this," she tried to tell her fallen adversary.

 

"This isn't over," Wendy declared. "You can't stop us."

 

"Oh, I think we can," Mahleah informed her calmly. "Without the three of you, Mountain Freedom will return to the strictly political entity it was previously. Now, we can claim that you died in the bomb blast or you can lose your head. It's your choice."

 

"There can be only one," Wendy said with finality.

 

"So be it," Mahleah replied sadly. She raised her katana above her head and came down with one swift stroke.

 

Michael swallowed. So, that was how it worked. He saw a glow arise from the body and watched as it settled over Mahleah. At the same moment that the explosives detonated, lightening struck her. Feeling helpless, he stood by as she writhed under the power of the Quickening.

 

As the light show died down, she was on her knees but glanced up quickly. Following her gaze, he saw Anne walking toward them, sword in hand.

 

Mahleah struggled to get to her feet, but Michael saw with alarm that her energy was seriously depleted.

 

"Who are you?" Anne demanded.

 

"No one of any consequence," Mahleah said weakly.

 

"I must know," Anne said wrathfully.

 

"Get used to disappointment," Mahleah joked.

 

Anne either didn't get the joke or didn't care.

 

"Fine," she declared. "Die."

 

Michael stepped forward, "Who are you, really?"

 

"Another traitor," she said harshly. "Why do you care?"

 

He was hoping to buy Mahleah some time. "I hear it's the thing to ask."

 

"I am Annie Devlin," she said scornfully. "Not that it means anything to you."

 

"It does to me," Mahleah replied. "We have a mutual friend."

 

Annie spun around, "And who would that be?"

 

"Duncan MacLeod."

 

Annie frowned, "How do you know Duncan?"

 

"He was my teacher."

 

Annie stepped closer to the other woman, searching her face.

 

"I've seen your picture," she said finally. "You're Mahleah."

 

"Yes, Mahleah Brennan."

 

"I hate to do this to Duncan, but you just killed my student."

 

"Is she truly worth killing for?" Michael asked.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"She tried to poison me," Mahleah told her.

 

"You're Immortal, why do you care?"

 

"She didn't want to kill me because I'm Immortal, she thought if I was out of the way she could recruit Michael easier. She had no idea what I was, Annie. She would have killed an innocent woman for your cause."

 

"Sometimes the innocent get hurt," Annie said grimly. "It's unfortunate but true."

 

"How does that attitude make you any better than the people you fight against?" Mahleah queried. "For that matter, how would that plan have done your organization any good? Michael would most likely have been arrested for my murder."

 

"It doesn't change the fact that you both betrayed us," Annie was not convinced.

 

Michael was tired of the theatrics. Reason wasn't working, but perhaps he could change her mind through a different method.

 

"Step away from Mahleah," he ordered.

 

Annie looked at the gun in surprise. "You know what we are…that can't kill me."

 

"Not permanently," he agreed, "but it will stop you from hurting my friend."

 

"You can't interfere," she argued, getting angrier, "it's against the rules."

 

"I'm not Immortal," he said firmly, and shot.

 

As her body hit the ground, he rushed over and helped Mahleah from the ground.

 

"Thanks," she said gratefully.

 

"What do we do about her?" he gestured to Annie.

 

"I have no wish to kill her. As I said, she's an old friend of Mac’s. We'll tell Section she died in the explosion or that you shot her. It's the truth."

 

"Won't she come looking for you?"

 

"If she does, she does," Mahleah shrugged. "That's Immortal life. What about Allan, we promised him that if he helped us we'd leave him alone."

 

"You've already pointed out that without the Baileys Mountain Freedom will revert to its former peaceful views," he responded. "We'll convince Operations that canceling him would be unnecessary."

 

She smiled, "Works for me."

 

They turned and made their way down Cade's Mountain.

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-One

 

 

Michael looked outside. The first big snow of the year had fallen during the night and the land around them looked magical. Large, fluffy flakes continued to drift from the sky although in a much diminished capacity than the storm that had hit last night. Unfortunately Section wanted them to come back in today and claiming they were snowed in would not be an acceptable excuse.

 

Mahleah had informed Mrs. Brooks that her mother was very ill and they were going to West Virginia to be with the family for Christmas. After the holidays, she would send a note to say that due to her mother’s continued ill health they would be moving to be closer than Poplar Ridge.

 

They had gathered up what personal possessions they had brought with them and packed them in the blazer which fortunately was a four-wheel drive. Michael had kept one item out of the baggage, and as Mahleah walked around saying a last goodbye to the house, he slipped it into the Section-issued stereo.

 

He walked up behind her. Her eyes were misty.

 

“I’m going to miss this place,” she admitted.

 

“So will I,” he told her. He held out a hand, “Dance with me?”

 

She took his hand and he pulled her close to him. He had specially picked this song just for her. It was appropriately titled, "Thank You."

 

If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you.

When mountains crumble to the sea, there would still be you and me.

Kind woman, I give you my all, kind woman, nothing more

 

On this assignment he had found an ally, no he corrected, a friend, who had given him the best of herself in order to reawaken the best in him.

 

Little drops of rain whisper of the pain,

Tears of loves lost in the days gone by.

My love is strong, with you; there is no wrong,

Together we shall go until we die.

My, my, my

 

He had learned to treasure the moments they had stolen from profiles and missions. Wordlessly, he stroked her back and let the music tell her what he wanted to say.

 

An inspiration is what you are to me, inspiration, look…see.

And so today, my world it smiles, your hand in mine, we walk the miles,

Thanks to you, it will be done, for you to me are the only one…

 

…the only one to understand him, to accept him, to love him in her way without doubt or reservation while knowing everything about him. He could never repay the gift.

 

Happiness, no more be sad, happiness…I’m glad.

If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you.

When mountains crumble to the sea, there would still be you and me.

 

He felt renewed energy, not just physically but mentally. When they returned he was determined that he would be ready for whatever curve balls Operations and Madeline decided to throw his way.

 

Mahleah pulled away and looked at him, “Time to go?”

 

“Time to go,” he repeated.

 

She sighed, “All good things must come to an end.”

 

They walked out the door and saw the Barton children building a snowman in their yard. Jessica Scarberry was teaching Robin how to make snow angels.

 

“Hi,” they waved.

 

Michael and Mahleah waved back when suddenly, thump! Something cold and wet hit Michael’s side. He looked around in astonishment. Ricky Barton had thrown a snowball at him.

 

Mahleah snickered. He glared at her.

 

“You think that’s funny, do you?” he grabbed a handful of snow and she yelped. She scampered behind the blazer for cover and scooped up a large handful herself. Snowballs and laughter flew through the air as Section’s operatives indulged themselves in a snowball fight.

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-Two

 

 

December 23

 

 

Walter leaned back in his chair at The Copperhead contentedly. “Mahleah’s on fire tonight,” he commented.

 

“Well, I heard she had to prove to Tony that she was worth keeping around after being gone for so long,” Birkoff informed him.

 

From the look of the crowd that was filling the club, she had certainly proven her value, Michael thought. She had invited them to this performance and reserved them a table near the stage. She was up at the mike now, belting out tune after tune dressed in a long-sleeved midi-cut top and black hip-huggers that as Walter so appropriately put it, “made a man envious of cloth.”

 

“May we join you?” said a familiar voice.

 

The three friends looked up in surprise and Michael succeeded in repressing the scowl on his own face that now decorated Walter’s. Operations and Madeline were standing nearby, obviously waiting to be invited to sit down. Teresa rushed over with chairs and Michael and his companions scooted closer together to allow their superiors room at the table.

 

Glancing around the room, Michael spotted Davenport and Mentz obviously on guard-duty. He would have bet they volunteered just to hear the performance.

 

“So this is where Mahleah spends most of her time,” Operations commented.

 

“She seems relieved to be back on stage,” Madeline observed.

 

Michael forbore from comment, but Walter interjected, “At least she knows how to have fun.”

 

“Indeed,” Madeline smiled.

 

From the stage, Mahleah cleared her throat, and they returned their attention to the show. Michael was aware that she was up to something, her eyes twitched in merry anticipation of some devilry or other.

 

“I’m so glad to be back at Tony’s tonight,” she told the crowd. They applauded enthusiastically. “This song is both a warning and an explanation. I look out in the crowd tonight and see that I’m in good company.”

 

With those enigmatic words, she signaled the band that began playing. Birkoff, who had delved into popular music due to both Mahleah and Nikita’s influence, sucked in his breath. “She wouldn’t,” he murmured.

 

I hate the world today

You’re so good to me, I know but I can’t change

Tried to tell you but you looked at me like

Maybe I’m an angel underneath…innocent and sweet.

 

Walter was looking puzzled, but Michael had browsed through Mahleah’s CD collection enough to recognize the Meredith Brooks’ song. She would, he thought in amusement.

 

Yesterday I cried

You must have been relieved to see the softer side

I can understand how you’d be so confused

I don’t envy you

I’m a little bit of everything

All rolled into one

 

Birkoff and Michael exchanged glances and studiously made an effort not to look at the uninvited guests.

 

I’m a bitch

I’m a lover

I’m a child

I’m a mother

I’m a sinner

I’m a saint

I do not feel ashamed

I’m your hell

I’m your dream

I’m nothing in between

You know you wouldn’t want it any other way

 

She tore into the chorus with relish, practically spitting out the words. Walter started chuckling unable to repress it. Out of the corner of his eye, Michael could see Madeline tense. Operations looked amused.

 

So, take me as I am

This may mean you’ll have to be a stronger man

Rest assured that when I start to make you nervous

And I’m going to extremes

Tomorrow I will change

And today won’t mean a thing

 

Madeline rose, “I can see my presence is not very welcome here.” They all protested the contrary but she was determined to go. The odd thing was she didn’t seem upset. In fact, she seemed to be repressing the same amusement they were all feeling.

 

When she had disappeared through the crowd, Operations nearly choked on his laughter, “I don’t think anyone has ever found such a creative way to tell her off before.”

 

They returned their attention to Mahleah who had a victorious smile on her face.

 

I’m a bitch

I’m a tease

I’m a goddess on my knees

When you’re hurt

When you suffer

 I’m your angel under cover

I’ve been numb

I’ve revived

Can’t say I’m not alive

You know I wouldn’t want it any other way

 

She winked at Walter who grinned hugely and proclaimed, “Oh yeah, you’ve got that right.”

 

“How’s Beth?” Michael inquired.

 

“She’s fine,” Walter said. “She’s doing some last minute Christmas shopping. Hey, she doesn’t begrudge me from looking and neither should you.”

 

“Glad y’all enjoyed that one,” Mahleah said from the stage. “Just one more and then we have to prepare for a little surprise. This one’s for all you men out there. Oh, I see some smirks…yeah, you know who you are.”

 

Michael wondered what she was up to now. The impish gleam in her eyes hadn’t diminished – if anything it was increasing.

 

I have looked all over the place

But you have got my favorite face

Your eyelashes sparkle like gilded grass

And your lips are sweet and slippery like a cherub’s bare wet ass

 

She sang it clearly and with gusto. Walter was grinning like a madman, obviously thinking it was meant for him. Perhaps it was, as she was looking into his eyes.

 

’Cause you’re a human supernova

A solar superman

You’re an angel with wings afire

A flying, giant friction blast

 

“Man, may all my ex-girlfriends be as friendly,” Birkoff muttered.

 

“Amen,” Walter agreed with amusement.

 

Mahleah’s mouth widened in a mischievous smile as she began the next verse:

 

You walk in clouds of glitter and the sun reflects your eyes

And every time the wind blows, I can smell you in the skies.

Your kisses are as wicked as an F-16

And you fuck like a volcano and you’re everything to me

 

Her eyes were tightly closed as she sang but she couldn’t hide the smirk on her face.

 

Brat! Michael thought. His ribs were hurting from the laughter he was restraining, but there was no way he’d let his guard down around Operations. The man in question was enjoying himself but he shot a couple of looks Michael’s way. Michael kept a coolly pleasant look on his face. Let him wonder, he thought to himself.

 

After learning about the cameras in the house, he and Mahleah had disabled the one in the bedroom days before they’d made love. It just seemed too intrusive and unnecessary. Madeline had learned what she needed and so they’d deactivated it. Now, Operations was left guessing exactly what had occurred between them.

 

Finished with the set, Mahleah and the band left the stage. She winked and blew them all a kiss as she departed into a back room.

 

Tony popped up, “How’s everything over here, gents?”

 

“Fine,” Walter praised. “What’s going on with the band?”

 

“Oh, Mahleah’s got a little surprise planned for everyone,” Tony said his eyes gleaming. “Trust me, you’re really going to like it.”

 

New musicians were setting up instruments and warming up. Michael noticed that they seemed to be Middle Eastern possibly Egyptian, probably from the neighborhood. Everything clicked and he had a suspicion what Mahleah’s present for everyone was: she was going to dance. This was an unexpected treat. He knew that the other men were going to love the PG-13/R rated version of the performance she had put on for him.

 

After the first time they’d made love, she had gotten that impish gleam in her eyes that he was beginning to know too well.

 

“We never did discover who was the better Valentine op,” she’d said.

 

He’d raised an eyebrow, “I thought my performance was rather conclusive.”

 

“Oh, but you haven’t seen mine,” she taunted. In a few minutes she had returned to the room having set the stereo for “Whole Lotta Love.” Within seconds, she had reclaimed “her song.” She started out clad in the clothes she’d worn to the party and by the time the dance was over, she was down to wearing the sweat from both of their bodies. He’d never seen anything like it. He fully appreciated that special relationship between the guitar and the drums now. Remembering the first time she had performed to this song, clothed he dared to assume, he thought if he had been one of the teenage boys watching he would have spontaneously combusted on the spot. As it was, he threw in the towel and cried uncle, or kensei, or something else that meant 'I surrender, now come here.'

 

Teresa and Tony quickly but carefully swept the floor area nearest the stage. Band members stretched out a large carpet in the center of the room, which had been cleared of tables.

 

“This is interesting,” Operations said lightly.

 

Michael wanted to ask why the man was here, but feared he knew the reason all too well. This was another example of the fascination Mahleah held for the head of Section. Too bad for you she doesn’t feel the same, he felt like telling the smiling man.

 

The musicians took their place and a strange singer stood in front of the mike.

 

Oh let the sun beat down upon my face, stars to fill my dream

I am a traveler of both time and space, to be where I have been

To sit with elders of the gentle race, this world has seldom seen

They talk of days for which they sit and wait and all will be revealed

 

As the music kicked in full throttle, four female forms danced gracefully into view. They were clad in the garments of belly dancers and heavily veiled. Their eyes were all dark and ringed with kohl. Aside from the colors of their costumes, they appeared to all look the same.

 

“Which one is Mahleah?” Operations was frowning.

 

“Ah, that’s the bonus,” Tony laughed. “You get to guess.”

 

Talk and song from tongues of lilting grace, whose sounds caress my ear

But not a word I heard could I relate, the story was quite clear

Oh, oh.

 

Now this was interesting. A puzzle for the mind as well as a delight to the eyes and ears, Michael reflected. He watched as the ladies spun. One was dressed in white, one in red, one in aqua blue, and one in jade green. Their hair was covered as well as their faces. They were all of the same height and fairly close to the same build.

 

Tony watched their faces with amusement, “It took her three days of nothing but auditions to find women with the right qualifications. Believe me, it’s not easy to tell them apart even for me and I watched them rehearse.”

 

Oh, I been flying...mama, there ain’t no denyin’

I’ve been flying, ain’t no denyin’, no denyin’

All I see turns to brown, as the sun burns the ground

And my eyes fill with sand, as I scan this wasted land

Trying to find, trying to find where I’ve been.

 

“Here’s the real treat though,” Tony leaned in and lowered his voice. “As friends of the club and Mahleah in particular, you get your own form of mistletoe. Each of you gets to choose one lady and at the end of the song, you get a kiss. Make no mistake, even if you aren’t lucky enough to pick Mahleah you won’t be disappointed.”

 

“The minx,” Walter declared. “Well, this is a fun game. I think I can eliminate the girl in green, and the one in red.”

 

“Why?” Birkoff asked curiously.

 

“Mahleah doesn’t have a navel ring,” Walter and Michael said automatically at the same time. They looked at each other and Walter gave the level five operative a penetrating glance but shook it off.

 

Oh, pilot of the storm who leaves no trace, like thoughts inside a dream

Heed the path that led me to that place, yellow desert stream

My Shangri-La beneath the summer moon, I will return again

Sure as the dust that floats high and true, when movin’ through Kashmir

 

Operations said thoughtfully, “Am I included in this deal? I’m not normally a customer of this place.”

 

Tony pursed his lips, “Actually the fourth kiss was supposed to go to me as the owner, but I suppose you get a chance with the rest of them.”

 

“Then I choose the woman in blue,” he decided.

 

“Why?” Tony asked, a smile on his face.

 

Operations shrugged, “It’s a crude observation, but her breasts look to be about the same size as Mahleah’s.”

 

Walter snorted, “Well, I think you’re wrong. I think she’s the girl in white. Look at those hips.”

 

Michael examined the women carefully. He thought that going by body parts was the wrong way to go. Mahleah was far too clever for that to give her away. No, what would betray her were things she couldn’t change. He watched them dance and his eyes were drawn to the woman in green. He noticed the subtle way she used pauses and stops to create contrast with the movement. She seemed to sway to the beats of the drum more than the singer’s voice or any other instrument. Her hands moved sinuously above or in front of her, telling a story of their own. It was true her bellybutton was pierced but he could see Mahleah doing that just to mess with their heads.

 

“The woman in green,” he chose.

 

“Well, that leaves me the woman in red,” Birkoff sighed. “Oh well, I could see Mahleah wearing red.”

 

“Those are your final choices?” Tony’s eyes were laughing.

 

They all nodded.

 

Oh father of the four winds, fill my sails, across the sea of years

With no provision but an open face, along the straits of fear

Ohh.

 

He beckoned to the women, who sashayed over. The club owner subtly directed the ladies to the men who had chosen them. Their dark eyes all smiled and fastened on their targets.

 

When I’m on, when I’m on my way, yeah  

When I see, when I see the way, you stay – yeah

Ooh, yeah-yeah, ooh, yeah-yeah, when I’m down…

Ooh, yeah-yeah, ooh, yeah-yeah, well I’m down, so down

Ooh, my baby, ooh, my baby, let me take you there

Let me take you there. Let me take you there.

 

 

They had already discarded shawls with other club patrons, now they removed the veil covering their hair and draped it around each man’s neck. Michael noticed with amusement that all of the hair was dark. No clue there either.

 

As the music wound down the ladies hopped into the laps of the four men. Birkoff’s woman in red removed her veil, then Walter’s, then Operations’…no Mahleah. Michael gently pulled away the double layer of material covering his dancer’s face to reveal the warm, playful smile of the woman he was looking for.

 

Michael's companions all looked amused, but as Tony had predicted, no one was complaining. The other dancers were all equally stunning.

 

“Good guess, Musashi,” Mahleah murmured. “What gave me away, the green? It’s the same color as your eyes you know.”

 

He shrugged, careful not to say too much in front of their friends or enemies.

 

“Merry Christmas,” he said softly, and claimed his kiss.

 

 

 

Epilogue

 

 

 

Michael cleared his throat and looked at MacLeod. A long silence fell between them. Michael didn’t know what else to say. It was not easy to tell another man you had slept with the woman he loved and he knew it would not be easy to hear. While reliving the experience he had attempted to be tactful and edit the more salacious details as well as any pillow talk. He would never want to betray Mahleah’s confidences.

 

Finally, Duncan sighed and stood up, “Thank you for telling me this. It’s a relief.”

 

“A relief?” Michael thought he must have heard wrong.

 

“Yes,” Duncan said simply. “I know you’re expecting me to be angry, but how can I deny her happiness?” He raised his hand to cut off Michael’s protest. “She was happy with you, that’s okay. I’m glad that you had each other. I’d never want her to suffer or be lonely, Michael, and especially not to satisfy some possessive impulse of my own. I’ve worried that she would feel isolated, so I’m glad you’ve gotten closer.”

 

Michael stared at him in disbelief. He had dreaded telling this story to Mac, thinking it would hurt him. Certainly, he had not expected this response.

 

Duncan laughed at the expression on his face, “When you’ve been around as long as I have, you look at things in funny ways sometimes. I’m happy that Section isn’t succeeding in turning Mahleah away from what I love in her most. I’d rather see her with another man, than know she’s become their tool.” His eyes flashed for a moment, “Don’t misunderstand. When I pictured her with you, I felt like my chest would explode. I envy you with every bone in my body, but I can’t let that spoil the joy I have in knowing that she’s okay.”

 

Stunned, Michael sat back in his chair. He’d caught a glimpse of the man behind his defenses and he was hurting -- more than he would admit -- yet sincerity about her happiness emanated from him. Could he ever be as unselfish as this man? He rather doubted it.

 

As if he read the younger man's mind, Mac inquired, "Would you really have brought her to me if she had been pregnant?"

 

"Yes," Michael answered simply. He didn't even have to think about that one.

 

"Then I can't hate you too badly can I?" Duncan smiled. A wistful expression went through his eyes. "I've dreamed about the two of us having children, but it can never be." He shrugged off the melancholy, "Well, maybe someday we can have other things together."

 

"If you keep your heads," Michael pointed out. He saw the other man nod and added, "You've trained her well to survive -- make sure you follow that example."

 

"I'll do that," Duncan said softly, then asked, "“Would you give her something for me?”

 

“Of course,” he replied. He owed the man that much.

 

******

 

Christmas Day

 

Mahleah opened the door smiling.

 

“Michael, come in,” she invited.

 

He walked in and smelled something wonderful in the air. “What are you making?” he asked.

 

“I just took cookies from the oven,” she laughed. “My stint as a ‘wife’ has made me all domestic for a while.”

 

He bit his lip, “I have something for you,” he handed her the box MacLeod had requested he see safely to her.

 

“Oh, thank you,” she took it. “I have something for you too. Wait here.”

 

“No,” he cleared his throat. “This isn’t from me. Open it.”

 

“What is it?” she frowned.

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Open it and find out.”

 

She quickly discarded the ribbon and opened the lid. A jewel case with an unmarked CD lay within.

 

“What’s on here?” she asked.

 

He didn’t know – a message of some kind from Duncan?

 

She slid it into the stereo and he felt like an intruder.

 

“I’ll leave now,” he volunteered.

 

She turned, “Oh no, you don’t. Sit down and let’s see what’s on this thing.” She pushed play.

 

He swallowed hoping it was not a recorded love letter. It was but not the sort he expected. Music came from the speakers.

 

“Oh, what is this?” she frowned. “I don’t recognize it.”

 

A singer began crooning:

 

The heart is a bloom, shoots up through the stony ground

But there’s no room, no space to rent in this town

You’re out of luck and the reason that you had to care,

The traffic is stuck and you’re not moving anywhere

You thought you’d found a friend to take you out of this place

Someone you could lend a hand in return for grace

 

“Oh,” she exclaimed with delight. “That’s Bono, but what is this song?”

 

It’s a beautiful day, the sky falls

And you feel like it’s a beautiful day

It’s a beautiful day

Don’t let it get away

 

Comprehension dawned in her face. “Where did you get this?” she asked, looking him straight in the eyes. “No, don’t tell me, I already know. I always used to get to hear their albums before they were released. I guess since I’m supposed to be dead they go to Mac now.”

 

She sat down on the floor. “This is incredible,” she said softly, and he could see a tear rolling down her face.

 

“I’m in the way,” he said awkwardly. “I’ll leave you with it.”

 

“No,” she rose. “Don’t you dare move a muscle,” she looked at the jewel case again. “There’s a note here that says, ‘Track four.’”

 

She pushed buttons to find the right song, and then settled down with him on the couch, wrapping his arms around her.

 

“Share this with me,” she asked. “Please. Christmas is a time for family."

 

He hesitated, and then nodded. As they got comfortable together on the sofa, the unlabeled CD spun out Duncan’s message.

 

And love is not the easy thing

The only baggage you can bring…

And love is not the easy thing…

The only baggage you can bring

Is all that you can’t leave behind.

 

"Oh," she said in delight. "Listen to The Edge…he sounds fabulous. He’s back to his old style."

 

And if the darkness is to keep us apart

And if the daylight feels like it’s a long way off

And if your glass heart should crack

And for a second you turn back

On no, be strong

 

"The Edge?" he repeated in confusion.

 

She smiled and explained, "The guitar player."

 

"I don't necessarily think MacLeod wanted you to listen to this song for the guitar."

 

She made a motion of zipping her mouth, and listened.

 

Walk on, walk on

What you got they can’t steal it

No they can’t even feel it

Walk on, walk on…

Stay safe tonight

 

You’re packing a suitcase for a place none of us has been

A place that has to be believed to be seen

You could have flown away

A singing bird in an open cage

Who will only fly, only fly for freedom

 

Walk on, walk on

What you’ve got they can’t deny it

Can’t sell it, can’t buy it

Walk on, walk on

Stay safe tonight

 

And I know it aches

And your heart it breaks

And you can only take so much

Walk on, walk on

 

Home…hard to know what it is if you’ve never had one

Home…I can’t say where it is but I know I’m going home

That’s where the hurt is

 

Michael was confused. "What is he trying to tell you? To forget about him?"

 

"No," she shook her head. "To remember all the things that have a true meaning in my life and leave the rest behind."

 

"And home?" he questioned.

 

"Home isn't a place, Musashi," she said softly. "It's a feeling in your heart…the people that you love. Haven't you learned that yet?"

 

I know it aches

How your heart it breaks

And you can only take so much

Walk on, walk on

Leave it behind

You’ve got to leave it behind

All that you fashion

All that you make

All that you build

All that you break

All that you measure

All that you steal

All this you can leave behind…

 

Oh yes, one last gift the Immortals had taught him. Even the man in black, "Michael the Machine" could have a home…maybe someday he could even find paradise. For now, though, family was enough and that was home as well.

 

 

 

The End

 

 

Continue to A Different Mirror

 

 

Song List:

 

1. "If" -- Janet Jackson

2. "Purple Rain" -- Prince

3. "In Your Eyes" -- Peter Gabriel

4. "Bitch" -- Meredith Brooks

5. "Supernova" -- Liz Phair

6. "Beautiful Day" -- U2

7. "Walk On" -- U2

 

As well as the following Led Zeppelin tunes. Hold on, now:

 

1. "Gallows Pole"

2. "When the Levee Breaks"

3. "Whole Lotta Love"

4. "What is and What Should Never Be"

5. "Friends"

6. "Ten Years Gone"

7. "Thank You", and of course

8. "Kashmir"

 

 

 There are also gratuitous references to “Lethal Weapon” and “The Princess Bride.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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