Bruised Souls

By Michelle Fields

Revised August 2004

Chapter One

Madeline and Operations were having their usual power breakfast and had just finished discussing the effectiveness of the Cairo mission, as well as the carelessness displayed by an operative named Stephen Combs, who had given unsatisfactory results in Beijing. The decision to add him to the abeyance pool easily agreed upon, they turned to other items on their agenda.

"So, it seems that Michael and Nikita have repaired their professional relationship," Operations commented. "They’ve worked well together lately."

Madeline frowned just a little. "Yes, they have." She agreed.

He studied her expression, "Is there a problem I’m unaware of?"

"I was a little disturbed by the lengths Michael was willing to go to in order to protect Nikita during the Crachek situation."

Operations chuckled, "Why should that be surprising, Madeline? Michael has always protected Nikita. I sometimes think he took that warning I gave him when I didn’t think she should be promoted to full-operative to heart: if she fails, he fails."

"True," Madeline conceded, "but I think he’s getting dangerously close to putting her before Section."

"Yes, but that perception of him could be invaluable on the profile we’ve been discussing."

She nodded in agreement.

"When will we be ready to put this scenario into place?" he asked.

"Fairly soon, I think."

He leaned back in his chair content that most of the serious business was out of the way. He wanted to know about one matter, however: "How’s our rising star performing?"

"Mahleah’s progress is exceptional. Now that we’ve gotten past her reluctance to use her full skills, her numbers have soared."

"And you’re still recommending that we give her provisional operative status?"

"Yes, I think that she’s getting rather bored and there’s no reason that her talents shouldn’t be utilized."

"I concur, but I’m not as certain as you are about letting her leave Section unsupervised."

"She’ll be monitored," Madeline said serenely. "Nikita’s choosing a residence for her now."

Chapter Two

Nikita was huddled over a monitor when Walter walked up behind her.

"Hey, sugar," he greeted.

"Hi Walter," she smiled at him.

"Looking for a new pad?" he gestured to the screen in front of her.

"No, looking for a place for Mahleah to live," she informed him.

He grinned, "I have plenty of room for her."

She rolled her eyes. "Putting aside for a moment the fact that Section would never approve, I think that Mahleah would want a place of her own, don’t you?"

He nodded. "So, any likely candidates?"

"Well, I’ve looked at a lot of places, but I think I’ve decided to go with an empty apartment in my building. Unfortunately, it’s next to Mick."

Walter chuckled, "I don’t think Mahleah will have any problems with Mick. She can take care of herself."

Nikita laughed as well. "You’ve got a point. Actually, I’m rather looking forward to their first meeting. It should prove entertaining."

At that moment, the woman in question strolled up beside them. "Hello Walter honey, hey Nick – what’s going on?"

"I’ve found you a place to live," Nikita announced.

Mahleah blinked, "You mean I actually get to leave this place?"

"Yep," Walter said gleefully, "and you’re going to living near Nikita. You gals will have to have a sleepover and invite me."

"You’re incorrigible," Mahleah told him, then looked at her blonde friend, "Is that true? I’m going to be living next to you?"

"Yeah, I hope you like that arrangement. I just thought I’d like to have you as a neighbor. There’s not a lot of people in my building I feel comfortable socializing with, so it’ll be nice to have someone to hang out and do stuff with. If you don’t mind," she added hastily.

"Not at all," Mahleah was all smiles. "It sounds like fun."

Nikita lowered her voice, "I figure it will also please Madeline. It will be easier for her to keep an eye on you."

Mahleah nodded, "I figured as much."

"Well, you definitely have to have me over for a celebration, darlin’," Walter told Nikita’s newest neighbor. "I’ll bring the bubbly and we can toast your new status and living arrangements."

Mahleah laughed, "I don’t mind having you over Walter, but don’t bother to bring any champagne. I’m rather a teetotaler when it comes to alcohol. I rarely if ever drink."

"Really, I would have picked you as having a sophisticated palate, and being a wine connoisseur," he said.

She shook her head, "I know something about wines, but I don’t really like to drink. It has a little something to do with my dad being a recovering alcoholic. I tried drinking some this year when I was going through some tough times, but it didn’t help and I gave it up without hesitation. I’ve gotten drunk one time in my life, so sorry Walter, that plan is out."
He raised an eyebrow, "Oh, I have plans within plans, don’t worry about me. So, what happened that one time? Did you wake up naked in some strange man’s bed and not remember what happened the night before?"

To Walter and Nikita’s amazement, Mahleah blushed.

"Apparently so, Walter," Nikita marveled.

Mahleah covered her face with her hands, "Oh Lord, let’s not go there."

"Why not, it looks like an interesting place," Walter teased.

"Just for clarification, he wasn’t a stranger, I still had some clothes on, and I do remember what happened…mostly."

"Uh huh," he was still smiling. "Whatever you say, darlin’."

She cleared her throat and changed the subject, "So, outside of Section, you say? Where would that be exactly, anyway? Where are we?"

"Paris," Nikita informed her. There was no need to hide that information, she’d find out soon enough.

Mahleah’s eyes sparkled. "Paris? Paris is good."

Paris is very, very good, she thought.

Chapter Three

Seacouver, Washington

Duncan listened to the sound of his elevator going down with a smile. His old friends Gina and Robert de Valicourt had just paid him a surprise visit. The couple had just returned from their third honeymoon. They had been married for over three centuries. He was still amazed at the longevity of their relationship. True, on their three hundredth anniversary they had nearly separated, but it was a temporary lapse in a healthy relationship.

His smile got wistful as he recalled telling Mahleah about his efforts to keep Robert and Gina together.

"And where did you get your credentials as marriage counselor?" Mahleah inquired.

"Well somebody had to point out the obvious," he weakly defended himself. "There’ll never be anyone else for those two."

"Be that as it may, what do you know about long term relationships?" she laughed. "You’ve never been married."

He scowled, "It’s not been for lack of trying. I was going to ask Gina to marry me once."

"I guess she had a better offer. Seriously, though, didn’t you feel strange trying to help them knowing that the longest relationship you ever had was thirteen years?"

He stiffened, "That one should have been longer."

She softened, "I know. Tessa should be here with us now, but still she was mortal. That’s completely different."

"Says the newborn Immortal, who died for the first time less than a year ago," he pointed out.

"True, but I am Immortal, and I’ve been around our kind all my life. I’ve given ideas like this a lot of thought. Our connection with mortals by very definition has to go by a different set of rules. We have no guarantees that we’ll live past tomorrow, but there’s an excellent chance that we’ll live for centuries. It’s one thing to promise that you’ll be with a mortal until they die, but another proposition altogether to make that oath to one of us. Putting the Game entirely aside, how do you stay with the same person for three hundred years?"

"Do you think you’d get tired of him?" he asked.

She gave it some thought. "Not necessarily tired of him, but used to him maybe. After the first hundred years or so, wouldn’t you be companions more than lovers?"

"I don’t know," he admitted. "Perhaps those bonds, like all other Immortal relationships, get very complex. Speaking of complicated Immortal relationships," he handed her a box, "Merry Christmas."

She gaped, "Oh Mac, you really shouldn’t have. I wasn’t expecting to see you, so I don’t have anything for you."

"That’s okay."

She gingerly pulled the ribbon loose and pulled the lid from the box. Inside was an antique book. She lifted it to read the title, "Songs by Robert Burns. Thank you, Duncan."

"My pleasure, mhuirnin," he told her.

Duncan pulled himself from the memory with a sigh. It certainly did not appear that this Christmas would be spent with Mahleah. There had still been no word from her or about her. The Watchers had been searching diligently, but so far, there had been no trace.

"It’s like she hasn’t been outside at all," he thought. "Who could have her?"

His mind idly ran through a list of contacts until it encountered Special Agent Renee Delaney. She had married a politician, but maybe she could help.

Chapter Four

Michael had just finished reviewing his profile for the mission going out the next day, actually the same day since it was 3 am, and was on his way out when he spotted a light on in the gym. Curious, he strode in and saw Mahleah running through katas with Tora.

She stopped when she saw him and smiled. "Working late or couldn’t sleep?" she inquired.

"Working late," he replied, "and you?"

She shrugged, "Wasn’t ready to go to bed yet. Today’s a big day for me."

He nodded, "You’re scheduled for your first mission."

"Don’t forget I’m getting my own apartment too. As I said it’s a big day. Do I get a code name, too?"

He nodded again. "Nikita and I have been discussing what it’s to be, but there’s a little controversy."

"Why, what do you think it should be?"

He looked at her with a dead-pan expression, "Xena, Warrior Princess."

She stared at him for a second, startled, then laughed heartily. "I love it when a person shows unexpected wit. Very good, Michael, by all means, call me Xena. I’d take it as a compliment."

She strode in closer to him, "Now, what shall I call you – Spyboy?"

He winced, "I think I like Musashi better?"

This earned him another chuckle. "Who wouldn’t?" she pointed out. "But, if you want to be nicknamed after the greatest swordsman who ever lived you’ll have to prove it. Spar with me."

He looked a little nervous, "With a real sword?"

She shook her head to his relief, "Of course not. Wouldn’t want to take a chance on marring that fine face, now would we? Nikita would have my fingers for pincushions. No steel, but there are a couple of shinai in the corner. What do you say?"

He eyed the bamboo training blades dubiously.

She raised her eyebrows, "If you beat me I’ll call you kensei."

He actually permitted himself to smile, "You’re on."

Her eyes gleamed, "Wonderful."

They retrieved the shinai, and she allowed him to stretch and warm up his muscles, particularly his wrist and shoulders. They faced off, bowed, raised their blades and crossed the tips.

She winked at him, "Are you ready?"

He nodded and she tapped his blade. He pushed hers back and she slipped under his guard and caught the top of his wrist. He winced involuntarily.

"Kote," she said calmly.

"Are we going to be calling strikes?" he inquired.

"Nah, we don’t have to. It’s fine by me," she was quite pleasant and very annoying.

They faced off again. This time she indulged him with a little banter that ended up backing him up across the gym. He got tired of being on the defensive and went after her. She allowed him to back her up a little while, but then when she caught his shinai up in the air, she got a sharp blow into his ribs.

"I owed you that one," she told him.

Undaunted, he persevered, and succeeding in smacking her upper thigh. Boom! He reeled back after getting bamboo across the cheek.

"Oh! I’m sorry," she said, a little embarrassed. "You’ve got to watch for those defensive lady reflexes."

What could he say? He stiffened his backbone and tried again. He managed to nab her fingers twice and her wrist once, while she grazed his nose, his left ear, his wrist again, his fingers multiple times, and finally a stinging blow on the rear.

He looked at her indignantly, and she bit her lip trying hard not to laugh, "I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist. Here, I’ll give you a free shot." She lowered her blade.

He was extremely tempted, but his many years of Section training allowed him to resist. He lowered his own blade and bowed to her.

"Kensei," he saluted.

She smiled, and her face flushed a little. She returned his bow, and told him with sympathy, "Come on, I’ve got this marvelous stuff that will take all the stings out of those bruises. It’s made out of bugs, I think."

Chapter Five

Thousands of miles and several time zones later, Mahleah found herself a sniper. She was placed in the windowsill of a building opposite an embassy waiting for a dignitary and his bodyguards to depart.

Her assignment was to shoot the target with a tranq dart and then help Team One by taking out as many guards as possible, preferably without drawing attention to the little kidnapping taking place.

It seemed straightforward enough. It was even an honor for her to be assigned to her position. She also knew that if she screwed up, she would lose some of the privileges she was hoping to enjoy upon her return: foremost being an apartment of her own.

Through the scope of her rifle, she spotted movement at the doors. She tensed, preparing herself for action. The VIP, wearing an Armani suit and surrounded by six bodyguards, came into view. As they edged into her sight, she felt an abrupt tingle throughout her body. She brushed away the familiar sensation with annoyance and alarm, cursing in several languages under her breath. She tried to pinpoint the source of the problem and spotted a tall, dark-skinned man with a beard rapidly surveying the vicinity. Damn, it was one of the bodyguards.

She heard Birkoff giving her permission to proceed and sighed, knowing the outcome of this situation could only be messy. She fired. Just as the tranq found its target, the bodyguard saw her. She rapidly fired regular ammo at him, knowing she needed to take him down before the team exposed itself.

She hit him twice in the chest, and he dropped. The other five bodyguards were alternately trying to protect their employer and spot her. She took out another. The rest had just located her, when Team One arrived. Nikita secured their target while Michael and another operative made short work of the four remaining men.

Mahleah quickly gathered her supplies and made her escape from the building.

During the Debrief, she was asked why she had found it necessary to shoot Bodyguard number one twice. She calmly explained that he seemed the most dangerous of the six. He had actually discovered her hiding place, and so she had not hesitated to take him out. This seemed satisfactory, so she left for ‘Munitions.

She found Walter updating his inventory. She crept up behind him and kissed his cheek. He jumped, nearly upsetting his stool.

"Lord, Mahleah, don’t think I’m complaining, but you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Oh, no," she said serenely, "I can think of much better ways than that to put your heart into overdrive."

"That’s what I’m afraid of," he said dryly. "First mission was a success, huh?"

She shrugged, "So, I’m told."

He raised an eyebrow, "You have doubts?"

She shook her head, "Not really. I was wondering Walter honey, if you could do something for me?"

"What’s that?" he asked warily.

"It’s just I don’t like relying solely on weapons that require reloading. Do you think I could get some knives I could throw, or at least a couple to tuck in my boots? I’d feel a lot safer."

He turned the idea over in his mind. "I don’t see why not. It wouldn’t be standard, but then most operatives don’t have your familiarity with blades. I’ll see what I can do."

She smiled, "Thanks, and speaking of blades, I have one other favor…" she leaned in and whispered a request in his ear.

His eyes widened, "I could do that."

Her smile broadened, "Thanks. I promise to return the favor."

At that moment, Nikita walked up to them. "Are you ready to see your new place?" she inquired.

Mahleah was glowing, "Absolutely." She began singing, in a husky alto voice, "I love Paris in the springtime, I love Paris in the fall. I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles, I love Paris in the summer when it sizzles…. Bye Walter."

"Bye, darlin’," he listened as her voice floated away: "I love Paris every moment, every moment of the year. I love Paris, why oh why, do I love Paris – because my love is near."

Chapter Six

Mac had nearly forgotten how big a crush Renee had on him. He shook his head in disbelief. The last time he had seen her, it had been in Paris and she was on her way back to the States to get married. She had lunged at him for a kiss, knocking them both off balance and into the Seine.

He’d hoped that time, and marriage, would cool her ardor. Unfortunately, when he’d succeeded in contacting her, she was in California and insisted it would be no trouble to come by Seacouver.

Now, she was here in the loft having a cup of coffee, and looking at him with those earnest eyes and he was left wondering where her husband was.

"So, what dire catastrophe caused you to call me?" she finally asked. "I know that there’s a reason, Duncan."

"Maybe I wanted to get thrown in the river again," he offered gallantly, but at her look he got down to business.

"I’m looking for a friend of mine," he told her. "She’s been missing for several months now, and no one can find a trace. I was wondering if you still had your international connections."

She pursed her lips, "There are a few people I’ve kept in touch with. Who’s the friend?"

He handed her a stack of pictures. "Her name is Mahleah Brennan. She supposedly killed herself, but the authorities could not produce a body. I believe that not only is she alive, she’s in some sort of trouble."

Renee studied the pictures carefully. "She’s pretty. Do you have any idea who could have taken her? An old enemy, maybe?"

He frowned, "I don’t think she has any."

"Maybe not, but how about you? I seem to recall that you have plenty. Could any of them be behind this?"

"I’ve actually given that a lot of thought, and I don’t believe so. If someone took her to as some sort of revenge against me they would have wanted me to know about it."

"Unless they prefer to keep you on edge through uncertainty. You have to admit, Duncan, it’s a pretty effective torture technique. When was the last time you got a decent night’s sleep?"

"I don’t remember," he admitted. "I agree that it could be someone’s plan to make me worry, but it just doesn’t feel right. There’s something more going on here, I know it."

Renee paused at a certain picture. He knew which one. It was a snapshot taken by Richie a few weeks before his death of himself and Mahleah. It was a beautiful, sunny time in Paris and the three of them had spent the day together. She and Richie had wanted to do some fun, tourist things and so they had gone to the Eiffel Tower and Notre Dame, ate lunch at a café and walked down the Champs Elysee.

Mahleah decided she wanted to visit the former house of Edith Wharton, one of her favorite authors, which she had never seen. Duncan had let her go with Richie while he made a detour to the jewelry store owned by an old friend. When he met up with them later, he had a jewelry case in his jacket pocket.

She had been more serious after the tour, telling Richie about Wharton’s accomplishments and her struggle to be taken seriously among American intellectuals (mostly male). Duncan knew it was a topic dear to her heart, but he was really enjoying a frivolous day without weighty concerns, so he swept her off her feet and spun her around and around until she was breathless with giggling and vertigo. Richie’s camera had caught the two of them mid-spin.

Renee looked up at him, "She was important to you."

He disagreed. "She is important to me."

Chapter Seven

Nikita unlocked the door to an empty apartment. As Mahleah gazed about her, Nikita explained, "When I was first given my apartment, it was already furnished, but I thought you might like to decorate it yourself."

Mahleah smiled, "That would be nice, but I might need some help."

Nikita brightened, "Oh, just let me know what you want. I even have experience knocking down walls."

Mahleah walked to the far end of the room where a huge picture window displayed a view of the city. Nikita followed her, "My place has a balcony, but I couldn’t find another vacancy in the building with one as well."

Mahleah stared out the glass. In the distance, she could see the spires of Notre Dame. "This is fine," she said softly.

Nikita looked around frowning, "I really expected us to get here sooner. I’m afraid you don’t even have a bed yet. You’re welcome to crash with me for the night, if that’s okay."

Mahleah looked back at the other operative, touched by the concern her new friend was showing. "That would be nice, thank you."

Reassured, Nikita gestured to the door, "I’ll make us something to eat, and we can take another look at this place in the morning. I prefer to judge things in natural light."

Mahleah agreed, and they left the room. At the door, Nikita handed her new neighbor a key, "It’s all yours. Oh, and I nearly forgot, so is this," she handed Mahleah a cell phone. "It’s a necessary evil with us. You must keep this with you at all times. If we need you, you’ll get a call from someone who will address you by your code name."

"Which is?"

Nikita laughed, "I’m not sure why, but Michael insisted that it had to be Kensei. I told him that was too bizarre, but he wouldn’t back down."

Mahleah smiled in delight, "I guess that’s his way of saying uncle." Nikita looked confused so she added, "I’ll explain it to you over dinner."

She locked her new door, and they started down the hall but were stopped by a male voice saying, "Did I hear someone mention dinner?"

Nikita groaned. She’d really hoped to spare Mahleah this meeting until tomorrow. "Go away Mick, we’re tired and we’re hungry."

"What, aren’t you even going to introduce me to your lovely companion? That’s not very neighborly," Mick protested.

He held out a hand, "Mick Schtoppel, at your service."

Mahleah smiled pleasantly, "Mahleah, pleased to meet you."

He kissed her hand and Mahleah say Nikita rolling her eyes. Obviously, the newcomer annoyed her friend, but Mahleah found him amusing.

"I’ve heard a rumor that you used to be a singer," he announced, trying to prolong the conversation, as Nikita unlocked her own apartment door. "What kind of singing do you do?"

Mahleah moved toward her friend, but answered him, "Actually, I do a variety of music. I’ve been trained to sing soprano, if the situation calls for it, but my natural voice leans more toward the alto side."

She was nearly inside the door. He tried one more desperate gambit, "Yeah, training can be a bit overrated."

She smiled at him over Nikita’s shoulder and just as the blonde woman shut the door, Mick heard her reply, "Oh, training has its uses. After all, the first thing they teach you is to hum properly." She winked at him and added, "Nice meeting you."

He stood in the hallway, spellbound.

Nikita turned to Mahleah. "Sorry about that. Mick’s okay in small doses."

Mahleah held out her left hand and smacked it with her right. "I’m trying to break bad habits, like teasing strange men, but sometimes I just can’t help myself."

"I’m not sure why you’d bother with Mick," Nikita told her moving to the kitchen. "He’s rather annoying."
Mahleah looked thoughtful, "Hmm, I don’t know. I think there’s more to him than meets the eye."

Nikita found that hard to believe but decided to change the subject.

Chapter Eight

In the White Room, Madeline approached the prisoner – a handsome man in his mid-twenties.

"Hello, Mr. De Longis," she greeted him.

"Who are you? Why am I here?" he demanded.

Inwardly Madeline sighed, if she could have a day of downtime for every instance she’d heard those questions, she’d be free for the rest of her life. People really were unoriginal.

"You’ve recently discovered a long-lost relative, Mr. De Longis. Your grandmother originally came from the Middle East, but she eloped with a European businessman. You were unaware of her family until last year because she refused to tell you anything about them. After her death, your cousin effected a family reunion. Correct?"

"Yes," he agreed, astonished at her detailed knowledge of the details of his life. "But what does my cousin have to do with anything?"

"Your cousin Hamad’s older brother used to be the dictator of their country; however, he died under mysterious circumstances. The younger brother thought to assume the reigns of power, but was ousted by a political rival who gained control of the military. Hamad still wants to replace his brother, and is sponsoring terrorist activities to further those ambitions. We plan to prevent him and want your assistance."

He gaped at her, "Hamad is a terrorist?"

She gave another inward sigh, and said, "I’ll allow you ten minutes before you give me an answer."

She started to leave the room.

Edward De Longis hastily asked, "What if I decide not to help you?"

Madeline turned and smiled at him briefly. "You will," she promised, and left.

*** 

Kassim was beginning to question the universe’s sense of humor. In 1460, he had promised his master, Boadin Al Deneb, to protect his family from harm. He had succeeded in doing that for over five hundred years. Unfortunately, a petty dictator, Hamad, murdered the last member of his master’s clan, Nasir Al Deneb. Kassim had attempted to protect Nasir from Hamad’s machinations but had failed.

He had relied on the sworn word of a fellow Immortal to put an end to Hamad, before the man could have Nasir slain, but MacLeod had broken his oath. Duncan MacLeod had the man in his sights and failed to pull the trigger, and Nasir had paid the penalty. When he confronted the Scot, the other Immortal had first refused to fight him, and then when he forced him into a duel had refused to take his head although he had won the match. In the end, MacLeod had kept his word. Hamad had mysteriously fallen out of a window, and Kassim knew that his so-called friend was trying to make amends for his earlier mistake.

He had cared little for that rectification. The last of his master’s race was gone, or so he had thought. When he checked a little closer, he discovered he had made an egregious oversight. A couple of generations earlier, an Al Deneb son fell in love with a daughter of the house of Hamad. The families violently opposed such a match, and they never married, but Kassim discovered that she had borne her lover a daughter. This child was shunned by most of her relatives and ultimately ran away with the first person to show her kindness: a European businessman by the name of De Longis.

It had taken him some time, but he had tracked down Edward De Longis. Kassim’s old enemy’s brother had just contacted the young man. After digging a little further into this new cousin’s background, Kassim knew that Edward would need his help just to survive.

Now, he was gone – snatched from Kassim’s side. He didn’t know who the Immortal was who had shot him, or why she had not stopped to take his head, but he would find her and Edward De Longis, last of the line of Al Deneb.

Chapter Nine

Seacouver, Washington

Amanda paced back and forth restlessly. MacLeod and Joe Dawson watched as she crossed from one side of the room to the other.

"So what exactly do you think this Renee person will be able to do?" she asked.

Mac crossed his arms, "Renee used to work for military intelligence. She has apparently kept some ties to the community, so I’m hoping that she has access to sources that the police and the FBI don’t know about."

Amanda kept pacing, "Okay, I agree that Mahleah did not cut her head off in prison, and I also agree that someone either helped her escape or kidnapped her from the morgue. Have you considered Mac that maybe the reason you haven’t heard from her, is that she doesn’t want to talk to you?"

Mac shook his head, "It’s true that our relationship had been a little rocky, but that all changed after she was arrested. If she was able to, she would get in touch with me."

"Actually, I meant maybe she doesn’t want to get you into trouble with the law. She’s a lot like you, remember? She might not want to take a chance on getting you thrown in jail for aiding and abetting an escaped convict."

Joe nodded, "The idea has merit, but why haven’t the Watchers spotted her? She’s one of our top priorities right now, but no one has seen or heard anything."

Amanda sighed and came close to Duncan, "Then I hate to be the one to point this out, Mac, but maybe she is dead. She could have faked her suicide, escaped from the morgue, but been weaponless. She would have been easy prey for another Immortal."

"Why hasn’t the body been found?" he demanded.

She gave him a sharp look, "Like you’ve never hidden a body so well that it wasn’t found until years later? Come on Duncan admit it. There’s a good possibility that she’s gone."

"No," he denied vehemently. "Why were Tora and the bracelet stolen? Those were two of the most precious things she owned. If she had to choose two items out of all her possessions that she would want to recover it would be those. It was a message. Besides," his voice trailed off.

"What?" Amanda prompted.

"I would know if she was dead. I would feel it," he said with a throat gone dry. He stood up. "I’m going for a walk."

"Let me get my coat and I’ll come with you," Amanda volunteered.

"No," he smiled at her faintly. "Thanks for the offer, but I need to be alone for a little while."

When he was gone, Amanda sank down in his chair as Joe examined her carefully.

She noticed his scrutiny and demanded, "What?"

"Nothing," he said.

"I’m just trying to get him to face reality. He doesn’t know for certain that Mahleah is still alive and even if she is he may not see her for a long time."

Joe gazed at her steadily, "I was just remembering a time when you came to me, convinced that MacLeod was alive even when the evidence pointed to the contrary. You told me that you’d know it if he were dead. As it turned out, you were right."

She frowned but remained silent.

"Maybe you should ask yourself why you want to believe Mahleah’s dead so badly."

She looked up sharply, "Joe, that’s not true. Mahleah and I have been friends since she was a girl. It would break my heart if she were gone."

He nodded, "I’m not saying it’s a conscious wish. Think about it for a moment: Mahleah is the only serious rival you have for Duncan’s affection."

She scoffed at him, "I’ve never been jealous of Mahleah and she’s never been jealous of me."

"No you haven’t," he agreed. "I always thought it was odd that you weren’t, but it never became an issue with you two – until now."

She frowned, "What do you mean?"

He sighed, "I’m saying that Mac and Mahleah weren’t together terribly long as a couple before they split up again. As you pointed out yourself, Mahleah had actually asked Mac to stay out of her life and agreed to marry another man – then she was arrested for killing an Immortal. You’re seeing emotions in him that you hadn’t noticed before. You’ve always been a little possessive Amanda, but with women like Tessa you knew you just had to be patient. Mahleah’s one of you, though, she’s Immortal. She’s also much more like Duncan than you are. What’s the longest you can stay around him without the two of you having a huge fight. If you were to live together for an extended period, you’d kill each other. You’ve recognized something that I’ve known for years: Mac and Mahleah complement each other. They have their ups and downs, but in the end, when they are ready, no one else will exist for them."

She stared at him speechless.

"You’re trying to deal with the fact that one day you’ll have to give him up, and it’s not easy. If Mahleah were dead, it would mean things could keep status quo." He rose to leave but left her with some parting advice. "I know you Amanda. At heart, you’re a good person. Just think about what I’ve said."

She watched him go down in the elevator knowing that she wouldn’t be able to think about much else for quite some time.

Chapter Ten

Mahleah had invited Walter, Birkoff, Nikita, and Michael to her new apartment for a small celebration. Birkoff, along with Michael, reluctantly declined because of Section business. Walter and Nikita arrived though and enjoyed dinner immensely.

After the dishes had been cleared away, Mahleah picked out a favorite Cary Grant movie, and the three of them sat back and laughed as he fussed, fought, and fell in love with Katherine Hepburn and a leopard named Baby.

Nikita saw with pleasure how well Walter and Mahleah got along. They had joked and flirted throughout dinner. She knew that Walter would cherish some time alone with the attractive younger woman, so before the movie ended she feigned sleepiness and escaped to her apartment. As she gave Walter a hug goodnight, she whispered, "You owe me one."

Mahleah and her guest finished watching the movie in companionable silence interrupted only by the occasional chuckle. As the tape rewound in the VCR, Mahleah leaned back in the couch cushions and regarded Walter. He grinned back at her, "Alone at last."

She smiled and he took that as an invitation to begin a more intimate conversation, "So, tell me about you."

"What do you want to know?"

"You said your dad drank, did he ever quit?"

She nodded, "Yeah, he finally began controlling himself, for the most part, about the time I was fifteen."

"Did your relationship improve any?"

"Yes and no. We had to reestablish our relationship, but then I went away to college. While I was getting my Master’s, he met Belinda."

"Belinda?" he was a little stunned.

"Yeah, she’s my step-mother. Of course, she’s only like a year older than me, so we’ve had a lot of ups and downs."

"I’d say," he said absently

She noticed his abstraction, "What’s wrong?"

He swallowed, "You know when I told you I’d been married to an operative who was killed on a mission." She nodded and he continued, "Well, her name was Belinda, too."

Mahleah leaned over and squeezed his hand, "What an odd coincidence."

He squeezed back, "Yeah, but I’m not really up to talking about her tonight. Tell me about the time you got drunk."

She laughed self-consciously. "There’s not much to tell."

He shook his finger at her sternly, "That’s not what you said before. I seem to recall you mentioning waking up partly unclothed in some man’s bed?"

She licked her lips nervously, "I was trying to deal with the death of an old friend, so I followed his example and got a little plastered. Another friend made sure I got home safely and I made a pass at him. I passed out before anything really happened."

He laughed, "Too bad for your friend." His voice got a little huskier than usual, "Guess I’m glad you haven’t been drinking tonight."

She gazed at him, debating her actions. "Walter," she warned, "whatever you do, don’t fall in love with me, okay? I’ve already given my heart away."

"Love and Section don’t mix very well," he told her. "Look at Michael and Nikita. Don’t get me wrong. If we had met under other circumstances, I think I would have head over ankles for you. Now, the best I can hope for is a little companionship. And I mean that in its best sense," he hastily added, hoping she wouldn’t get the wrong idea.

"Sort of a best friends with benefits arrangement?" she inquired.

He was relieved. She hadn’t been offended. "I don’t want to rush you into anything, darlin’. You’re the most intriguing person I’ve met in a long time, and I’m happy discovering your secrets one at a time."

She smiled and leaned in closer to him, "I’m really not sure how someone as sweet as you has managed to survive in Section all these years."

He growled at her, "I’m not that sweet."

"Really," her eyebrow went up. "I’ll have to test that hypothesis."

She brushed her lips gently against his. When she pulled away, eyes sparkling and declared, "Tasted pretty good to me," he tugged her back down to him. This kiss was much less innocent although still an introduction. They were busily exploring each other’s mouths when Mahleah’s new cell phone rang.

"Damn," they both said at the same time, then laughed.

She picked up the telephone and answered, "Hello."

"Kensei," she heard on the other end.

Chapter Eleven

As Walter and Mahleah strode into Section, they spotted Michael. Walter growled under his breath, "One of these days I’m going to have a long talk with that guy about bad timing."

Mahleah hushed him, as the guy in question approached them. "Michael," she greeted him. "What’s going on?"

"There’s a briefing in ten minutes," he informed her. "A follow-up to the De Longis mission is being planned."

Mahleah’s heart sped up. There would be a good chance that she might again encounter the unknown Immortal, and no doubt, he was displeased by their last confrontation.

Walter grumbled, "You know Michael, you guys really need to schedule these things better."

Michael gave him a quizzical glance, and Walter flushed. "Yeah, I know. Section doesn’t care about the personal lives of its operatives. Forget I mentioned it."

He and Mahleah moved to the table to await Operations and Madeline. Michael stared after them with a keen eye. If he didn’t know better… He dismissed his conclusion as he saw Nikita entering the room with Birkoff. She smiled at him and he felt his heart sink. The atmosphere between the two of them had vastly improved, but he was afraid that would not last long.

Madeline and Operations made their entrance and business officially began. Operations pulled up a picture they all recognized, Hamad. Beside it was another photo, this one of Edward De Longis.

"As you know, we recently abducted Edward De Longis in order to gain his assistance with our plans to eliminate his cousin Hamad. He agreed to cooperate and we have returned him."

Mahleah raised an eyebrow, but Nikita asked, "How did he explain being forcibly kidnapped?"

Operations answered her easily, "We sent Hamad a ransom demand, which he promptly paid. It seems he wishes to groom his young cousin to be his right hand. We will be sending a couple of operatives undercover as new bodyguards since most of De Longis’ old ones were eliminated in the first strike."

"Most?" Michael inquired.

"Yes," Operations pulled up another photo. Mahleah froze.

"That guy’s dead," Walter commented, "Mahleah put two bullets in his heart."

Operation shook his head, "No, he’s alive. It seems the bullets were stopped by kevlar. I suggest, Mahleah, that next time you put a bullet in the head as well as the heart. This man, Kassim, is in charge of De Longis’ security: a position, which seems to grant him a number of privileges not accorded to other bodyguards. According to Mr. De Longis, aside from his cousin, Kassim will be the most dangerous individual we have to deal with. It is essential that he believe in your cover."

"Kassim will be the most dangerous person in the whole mission," Mahleah thought. "I wonder who’s going in as new guards."

Operations answered her question, "Michael, you and Mahleah will be infiltrating the inner ranks of Hamad’s fortress. Nikita, you will be in charge of putting together a team to retrieve them. Further details are on your panels."

Mahleah was stunned. The whole mission, not to mention Michael’s life, could be endangered by her very presence. It was quite possible that Kassim had seen her, but even if he didn’t clearly see her face the very fact that she was Immortal would be enough to cause severe problems with this plan.

She walked away with Walter, turning the scenario over repeatedly in her mind, trying to find a way out. She could inform Madeline that Kassim had spotted her, but if she disqualified herself Nikita would be the most likely choice to replace her. She couldn’t bear to think of her sweet young friend going up against an unknown Immortal. She was aware that Nikita could protect herself in normal situations, but this was far from normal, what about Michael? Well, he was lethal, but could he handle Kassim? No, she shook her head. She would have to go as planned. She could keep Nikita out of most of the danger, and she would be around to protect Michael. It was the only alternative.

Walter saw her head shake and said, "Don’t beat yourself up because one survived, darlin’. You had no way of knowing he was wearing a vest."

She glanced up startled but realized that was the perfect cover for her self-absorption. "I should never have taken the chance," she replied. "Like Operations said, I should have aimed at the head, not the heart."

He reached out and cupped her cheek, "Look, Mahleah, under other circumstances what you did could have worked out for the best. I mean, if you didn’t have to go undercover you might have wanted all those men to survive anyway."

She smiled at him and he took a chance and kissed her forehead.

*************

Nikita saw the couple and smiled. She had grown very fond of Mahleah during the time they had spent decorating her new apartment. It gave her a small glow to see how happy Walter seemed to be around her neighbor. She gave a sigh and hoped it would last.

Michael was a little stunned by the sight of Walter kissing Mahleah in plain view of Section. This action confirmed his earlier conclusion, but it still surprised him that Mahleah would become involved with such an older man. Digging a little deeper, he discovered he was jealous. Walter and Mahleah were taking the path he longed for with Nikita. He decided to watch events unfold. He would be fascinated to discover Section's response to this budding affair.

Birkoff, looking up from his computers for a moment, was dismayed. He had hoped to ask Mahleah out himself, but if his best friend were already seeing her, that plan would have to be scrapped. He mentally kicked himself for waiting so long. He should have known that a woman like Mahleah would be actively sought after. Again the old man was teaching him a lesson, albeit inadvertently. He resolved to take it to heart.

Madeline was amused at the sight of the two would-be lovers. She knew that Operations would be pleased that Walter was finding a little happiness with an agent who held such promise. It reduce the likelihood of the past repeating itself. Personally, she had no quarrels with the budding romance, provided of course, that it did not interfere with Section goals. From her observations of the newest female operative that was improbable. She smiled. If only Michael and Nikita could learn such a lesson.

Walter straightened and wagged a finger at the woman before him, "You stay close to Michael now, and he'll see you come back safe and sound."

"I intend to," she promised placidly, then stroking his cheek, she added, "Now, before I go: what about that favor I requested?"

Chapter Twelve

The decisive moment had arrived. Michael and Mahleah, with Edward De Longis' cooperation, had easily been hired. Now, they awaited the arrival of Kassim, who was supposed to welcome them and assign their new duties. Mahleah was anxious to see if Kassim would challenge her immediately or if he would be more discreet in this first meeting.

She felt the warning tingle telling of his approach and tensed. Michael sensed her trepidation and reassuringly touched her arm. She smiled at him to allay his concerns about her performance.

Kassim entered the room and scrutinized her carefully. "I am Kassim," he announced in traditional fashion, and added, "And you are?"

"Michael," her fellow operative replied.

Kassim's eyes never wavered from her face. "Greetings, Michael." He stopped, obviously waiting for her to introduce herself.

"Mahleah," she responded.

"Mahleah," he repeated, obviously processing the name. "Well, Mahleah, I'll begin with you. Come with me, please."

She started. Was he going to challenge her now? Her heart pounding, she heard Michael inquire, "Why the need for separate meetings?"

Kassim finally shifted his gaze to the Class Five operative. "It is customary for me to meet individually with the new employees under my supervision. It is protocol, nothing more."

Mahleah rose and Michael followed suit. She turned to face him, "Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it."

"You'd better," he warned lightly, "or I'll come looking for you."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. Madeline, with her trademark smile, had taken pleasure informing them, in front of Nikita no less, that they were profiled as lovers. Mahleah was almost glad of this cover, as it gave her convincing motives for sticking close to the mortal and assuring that he returned to her neighbor in one piece.

Kassim had taken in this entire exchange with interest. Now he repeated, "Come, Mahleah, we have much to discuss."

She followed along, but couldn't help but feel like a fly being reluctantly coaxed into the spider's web.

Chapter Thirteen

Mahleah followed the Immortal down the corridor and across the hall into what was, she presumed his office. A guard stood at the entrance, and Kassim instructed him that they were not to be disturbed for any reason.

Not liking the sound of that order, but having no choice, Mahleah preceded him into the room beyond. The door closed, and she forced herself to appear calm although her nerves were screaming.

Kassim crossed to a desk and gracefully leaned against it. He repeated his formal introduction. "I am Kassim, loyal servant to the house of Al Deneb."

"I am Mahleah Brennan."

His eyebrows raised. "Your name is strange to me, but your face is not. You are the one that shot me when my master was abducted."

She felt no particular desire to debate the obvious. "I am."

"I thought the ransom was a convenient excuse for his return and now I am convinced of it. Why are you here?"

Mahleah had actually hoped the conversation might head in this direction. Hamad's security was so tight that she and Michael were not actively wired for sound. She could speak openly to the Immortal without fear of Section's reprisals. De Longis had indicated that Kassim was fanatically devoted to his well being. She was willing to bet that he was a member of the Al Deneb family in some way. She planned to use this to her advantage.

"I assure you we mean no harm to your master," she said calmly. "We are under orders to bring in Hamad. If your loyalty lies with De Longis rather than Hamad, you will side with us."

He studied her closely. She returned his scrutiny placidly, refusing to give way to her fears for the safety of the mission.

"Hamad is a butcher from a long line of butchers," he responded. "As long as you restrict your activities to his downfall we have no quarrel. If, however, Edward De Longis is harmed in any way, I will have not only your head but your colleague's as well." He nodded at her reaction, "I see this would not please you. You seem close. I propose a bargain: your lover's life and my master's are linked. Whatever happens to one will be repeated upon the other. As long as the last of the Al Deneb's walks away from this endeavor unscathed, Michael will survive his assignment to grace your bed for years to come. Do we understand each other?"

She ruthlessly repressed the image of Nikita's indignant face, knowing that as long as Kassim assumed Michael was her lover, he would be reassured of the validity of their pact. "Of course," she assured him, "but may I add that if a hair of Michael's head is disturbed, the relationship between the two of us will immediately become less…cordial."

"My word is my bond, Ms. Brennan. I hope that you feel the same way about yours."

The rest of the discussion revolved around schedules and security arrangements. Before she left, she requested that he not reveal to Michael that he knew of their mission since their superiors would be quite angry if they learned of her revelation.

He smiled in agreement, "What mortals don't know, can only benefit us."

Chapter Fourteen

After her meeting with Kassim, Mahleah had been given a tour of the building then shown to her new quarters. Both her and Michael’s bags were there and she thought with amusement, "How generous of you, Kassim."

She began unpacking her things when Michael entered the room. He glanced at his baggage and raised an eyebrow.

"It seems they’ve found our cover convincing," she said wryly.

He looked startled, but she answered his frown with an explanation, "Oh, I’ve already swept the room for bugs. It’s clean."

He relaxed and following her example, began to unpack his clothes. "I’ll sleep on the couch," he volunteered.

"And how would we explain that if anyone happened to come in? It’s all right. We can share the bed, I trust you. So, if you grope me in the middle of the night, you’ve been warned – I’ll kick your butt out on the floor."

Michael found his tension easing away in her company. Her gaily tongue-in-cheek manner smoothed over what could have been an awkward moment. "What guarantees do I have that you’ll behave yourself?" he quietly asked.

She laughed, "Oh, don’t worry about me. You’re safe as houses. I’m hunk-proof, you might say."

"What?" he couldn’t stifle a chuckle.

"Hunk-proof…I’ve been inoculated, vaccinated, and immunized. So, don’t worry Musashi, while I still notice a pretty face and a fine physique, it’s more of an appreciation for fine art – like ‘David’."

"David?"

She never missed a beat, but continued her work as she spoke, "Yeah, you know: famous statue in Florence by Michelangelo?"

"I’ve seen it," he replied.

"Good. That’s what you’re like to me – beautiful as a Greek god but not something I’m going to snuggle up to."

This was intriguing to him. Personally, he hated his face because it had been the lure for many betrayals in his lifetime, yet it was a bit odd to have a woman tell him up front he was good looking but she didn’t desire him. Behind all her banter, he sensed that she meant it as well. Still, he couldn’t resist saying, "Well, maybe once you get to know me…"

She interrupted, holding her hand up to him, "Whoa, back up Romeo. Let’s not start feeling challenged here." She rolled her eyes in the classic "men!" expression. "Just be glad I didn’t take that remark seriously or you wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch – you’d be in the bathtub!"

He couldn’t help himself and started laughing. She stared at him in delight and said, "You should do that more often."

"I should," he agreed. "So, how did you acquire this interesting immunity?"

"Experience," she informed him, "Lots and lots of experience. Good boys, bad boys, really bad boys, I’ve had them all. You might say I’ve been fortunate enough to have maxed out my stud quota for a couple of lifetimes at least."

He sat on the floor, leaning his back against the bed. "Tell me about them," he suggested.

She cocked her head to one side in thought and then proceeded merrily, "Well, to begin with there was my benefactor – you’ve heard me mention him? Good. He was, no offense, easily, the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. He is the standard by which all other men are compared."

She stopped herself for a moment, and then sighed, "I really shouldn’t speak of him like that. I’ll move on. Hmm, where to start? Well, there was the Canuck…Mmm, he was tall and dark with the most beautiful hazel eyes…quite possibly the most intense man I ever met. There was my first boyfriend. Oh, he was a baby doll and so sweet you wanted to lick your fingers after touching him. When I got to college, I met his opposite: a bad boy who really lived up to the term. He was only interested in one thing and after he got it, it was ‘so long, sister.’ Then in Grad School, I dated a professor."

Her voice adopted an upper class British accent, "Very, very charming, very, very English. Oh, so Lord Byron-ish: and by the way, oh so loony-tunes, with bats-in-the-belfry, a regular homicidal maniac."

She returned to her normal cadence, "He nearly made me swear off men altogether. Fortunately, the love of my life stepped in."

She paused, "He’s too precious to mention in this frivolous monologue, so I’ll just continue. Who’s next? Mmm, oh yes, my ex-fiancé. He had the sexiest grin I’ve ever seen. I swear when he smiled, your stockings would unsnap themselves from their garters and slide down your legs."

He chuckled again and asked, "Doesn’t your file mention you were seeing someone when you were arrested?"

She nodded, "Yeah, and I’d have to say he was scrumptious."

"When does the immunity come in?" he inquired, "Sounds to me like you are quite susceptible."

"Oh no," she shook her finger at him. "You don’t know the full story on these guys. They have much more than looks going for them. They happen to be kind, compassionate, interesting, and complex people." She frowned, "I’m actually attracted to complexity, I think."

He gave her an ironic smile. She gave a shrug, conceding his point and went on, "After the fiascoes I had with Mr. Collect-Trophies-College-Guy and Professor Hannibal the Cannibal, I had a tough time being with men. Believe me, the last two I was involved with could tell you lots of stories about the horrendous time they had getting me to trust them."

She’d finished hanging up, re-folding, and tucking away. She stretched out diagonally on the bed, her head facing him. "But for all that, I’ll tell you in four letters the perfect antidote for any lustfulness your beauty might inspire."

"What’s that?" he asked, intrigued.

"The same reason you’re not interested in me: K-i-t-a."

He swallowed, "Shouldn’t that be six letters? You left out the ‘N’ and the first ‘I’."

She gave him a mock frown, "Don’t get cute with me, Mister. I’ve heard what you call her. So out with it: what’s your problem? Why aren’t the two of you together?"

"Aside from Section, you mean?"

She shook her head vehemently, "You can’t let other people control your emotions, Michael. Trust me, life’s too short for that nonsense." She grinned. "Too short for all of us, a lesson I’ve learned the hard way."

"How?"

"Oh, there’s not time enough to go into the details but the man I referred to earlier as the love of my life wanted to reconcile with me and I refused. You’d better believe I wish I had that opportunity again. So, I repeat: why aren’t you and Nikita together? She loves you, I know."

He blinked. "But she doesn’t trust me," he pointed out. "Not that she should."

"Not after the things you’ve done to her, no," she agreed amiably.

He stared, "How do you…"
"People talk," she replied. "Now let me give you some advice: first you have to laugh and smile more, but if you can’t do that remember this: take it slowly, be more open about your feelings, and always, always tell her the truth…."

Section doesn’t really allow the option of honesty," Michael began.

"Mmm-hmm," she wasn’t agreeing, merely acknowledging his response.

"I’ve frequently had to lie to Nikita for a mission and for her own good."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Quite frankly it’s not been safe for me to reveal my feelings about her, and it still isn’t."

"Whatever," she put her hand over his mouth to stop him.

"Musashi, would you like to know the secret to living?" she asked him, removing her fingers from his face.

"Which you’ve managed to discover in your twenty odd years," he commented.

She was stung, "I’m only a few years younger than you."

"A few years in Section can make a difference."

She sat up on the bed, "Now look, let’s not get into a measuring contest. I’m sure you’ve suffered, but you have no monopoly on it. Believe me, if I had the time ‘I could a tale unfold whose lightest word/would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,/make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,/thy knotted and combined locks to part,/and each particular hair to stand an end,/like quills upon the fearful porpentine.’" She drew a deep breath, calming herself, then resumed in a steadier tone, "But enough about me. As I was saying, the most important lesson you can learn is that there are things worth living for, things worth dying for, and things worth fighting for. The tricky part of the deal is to figure out what they are. Only then will you find any true peace, Musashi."

***

Her words echoed in his head long after they had gone to bed. He had known for years that he considered Nikita worth dying for. Now, he understood for the first time that wasn’t enough. Nikita didn’t want him to die for her; she wanted him to live for her. He was beginning to see that revelation showed him what he should fight for as well.

One thing that puzzled him though was her description of the Canadian man she’d been involved with. While it had been brief and fairly general it matched the description of the man he’d met while visiting that country on a trip with Madeline. The dark, glowery man had also left him with instructions to look out for Mahleah. Just who was this man and should he mention this to his new comrade? His thoughts were tangled when he drifted off to sleep.

Michael was never a heavy sleeper, so when the woman on the other side of the bed began thrashing and calling out in her sleep, it woke him instantly.

"No, no!" she cried hoarsely. Then she said something in a foreign tongue: "An e’n fhirinn a th’agad m’annsachd?"

He frowned. He spoke many languages, but he was a bit rusty in Scottish Gaelic. With the on-again, off-again peace talks in Ireland, he was more current with Irish. He thought she said, "Do you tell me the truth, my love?"

She sat up, declaring, "A mhic an diabhoil, bi sàmach!"

"You son of the devil, be quiet?" he thought. That was a strange combination.

He gathered her to him, stroking her braid and saying softly, "Ssh, a charaid. It’s only a dream. Hush, mhuirnin."

"Charaid" meant friend while "mhuirnin" meant my darling, but he hoped the words spoken in the language she was speaking would calm her down.

Something he said caused her to relax. He guided her back down, where still asleep, she laid her head on his chest. After the terrifying dream she’d been having, he didn’t have the heart to move her. She seemed to be a person who communicated through touch, so perhaps his physical closeness would ease her fears.

When he’d eased her back down, she had murmured softly, "Mo gràdh ort, mo saighdear-bàrd."

"I love you, my warrior-poet," he mentally translated, wondering to whom she was talking.

Just as he settled back to sleep, he thought he felt her smile and say, "A Mhicheal bheannaichte, dion sinn bho dheamhainnean."

"Blessed Michael, defend us from demons."

He thought he must have dreamed it.

*************

Mahleah wasn’t the only one to talk in her sleep. Twenty minutes before the alarm went off, she awoke to find herself cuddled next to Michael – her head on his chest and an arm wrapped around him – as he whispered, "Kita," in her ear.

"What an awkward situation," she thought. It was obvious, being this close to him, that Michael was having a pleasant dream.

She figured that it could only get worse – in both the frustration and embarrassment departments – if he woke up while she was still this near.

She, very carefully, removed his arm and slid out of bed to take her shower. Under the water, she revisited the night before. She’d been having one of those strange dreams again, which is odd. They hadn’t recurred in probably a year. She was torn between protecting Duncan and fighting some man who was trying to kill him. She shook her head, feeling the spray against her face. It was probably her words to Michael last night about knowing what was worth fighting for in life that had triggered it.

Returning fifteen minutes later to the bedroom fully dressed but with damp hair, she found him awake and gathering supplies for his own shower. They found security in the minutiae of their own morning routines: showers, shaving, blow-drying, brushing, flossing, braiding…these things were all comfortable and familiar.

They were ready to meet the world when she laid a hand on his arm at the door, stopping him. He looked at her questioningly.

"Thank you," she told him.

"For what?"

"For what?"

"For being a friend."

He was silent and looked away for a moment. She smiled faintly and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, gently touching his face for a moment, "I realize you’ve let those skills get a bit rusty, but they’re still there: in fact, they’re your truest instincts."

She drew back and exclaimed more loudly, "Come on, Musashi, time to face the world."

Chapter Fifteen

Seacouver, Washington

Joe Dawson hurried into DeSalvo’s dojo, eager to disclose his most recent findings to MacLeod. He saw that the Highlander was engaging in a vigorous workout.

Sweat glistened from his bare arms and chest as he performed a series of katas with his katana. The blade, so like Mahleah’s, danced through the air and Joe thought he could hear it humming as it cut through invisible foes. The dojo was deserted except for the two of them, and shadows were beginning to creep across the floor. Knowing that Mac had spotted him in one of the mirrors along the dojo wall, Joe sat down on one of the benches at the side of the room to wait. It is not prudent to interrupt an Immortal in the middle of his exercise.

A few minutes later, Duncan sheathed the katana in an invisible scabbard at his side, and assumed the seiza position on the floor. He rested the sword next to him, closed his eyes, and laid his hands on top of his thighs. After concentrating on slowing his breathing for a time, he said, without opening his eyes, "What’s going on, Joe?"

Joe stood up and moved closer to the Highlander. "I’ve heard some interesting things lately. In fact, I may have a paradox for you."

"Is this about Mahleah?"

"Yes, we’ve received word that she’s been spotted."

MacLeod’s eyes suddenly opened and he looked with interest at his friend.

"Where?"

"That’s the puzzle, Mac. We’ve had contradictory reports. Bryson, one of our men in the Middle East, sent in a report just today that she is working as a bodyguard in his area, yet Jesley in Paris swears that Mahleah is living there. What do you think?"

"How reliable are the Watchers?"

"Jesley’s only been with us for a year, but she’s quite capable. Bryson, is a veteran – he’s been a Watcher for close to twenty years. Both of them know how important this information is to me. I can’t see either of them lying and it would surprise me if Mahleah were mistaken for anyone else. She tends to stand out in a crowd."

Duncan smiled, "Yes, she does."

"So, how can she be in two places at once?"

"Maybe, she’s not. Maybe she was living in Paris, but moved because of a job. How recent was Jesley’s sighting?"

"Yesterday, and today Bryson called in from the Middle East."

"There was enough time for Mahleah to have flown there," Duncan pointed out.

"True, what do you want to do?"

MacLeod was quiet for several moments. Joe could see that his friend was considering every option. Finally, he said, "Did Jesley say where Mahleah was living in Paris?"

"No, she’s not been able to find out yet, but says she expects to soon."

"Tell Jesley, if Mahleah’s in Paris, she’ll end up at Notre Dame," the Scot decided. "I’ll wait until then."

"What if she’s half a world away?"

MacLeod sighed, "I’m going to trust that she can take care of herself until I find her. I’d hate to rush to the East if she were actually in Europe. It would take that much longer to reach her."

Joe frowned, "I hope you’re right, Mac. If Bryson really has found Mahleah, she’s working as Edward De Longis’s bodyguard and his head of security is your old friend Kassim."

Duncan bowed his head in silence. Joe hoped he was offering a prayer.

Their reverie was broken by the sound of a ringing phone.

MacLeod scowled, “Three guesses who that is.”

Joe’s eyebrows rose, “Be nice. He’s been as worried as you are, you know.”

The phone kept ringing steadily as Mac sighed. “At least since we know she’s alive he’s not calling every other hour to hear if I’ve got any news.” He looked at Joe’s face and started toward his office and the phone, grumbling under his breath, “Fine, I’ll go babysit the vampire.”

Chapter Sixteen

Section One

Nikita was in Munitions talking to Walter when she received the word that Michael and Mahleah had succeeded in infiltrating Hamad’s fortress-like mansion. Minutes before Birkoff brought them word, Nikita was saying hesitantly to Walter, "Do you think Mahleah’s attractive?"

He gave her a look that made her blush and rephrase the question, "Do you think she’s irresistible."

He grinned, "Sure I do, sugar, but what you want to know is whether Michael finds her irresistible."

Her flush grew even deeper as the older man chuckled, "Well, you know he does have 20/20 vision."

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Nikita demanded.

"It means he has eyes that can be dazzled by her brilliance just like the rest of us poor males. Don’t worry, though, I don’t know if he’s capable of appreciating some of her finer qualities."

"Like what?"

He shook his head sadly, "You live next to her, you should know better than anyone. Her sense of humor, her joy for living, her wicked way of teasing: things that Michael’s not known for possessing himself."

"I don’t know, I was thinking how much they were alike," she admitted. "They both speak a dozen languages or more, are ferocious in combat, and share the ability to hide their emotions when they so desire."

"True," he conceded, "but have you noticed that Mahleah only shuts down when it’s necessary? She’s learned something that Michael hasn’t: you can be a good operative and still act like a human being."

"You’re falling for her," Nikita accused.

"Sort of," he replied. "I’m not about to confuse what she feels for me with true love, though. That’s for romantics like you and Michael."

"I’m not a romantic," she protested, "and Michael definitely isn’t."

"Sugar, you are, without a doubt, the most romantic person I know. Maybe Michael isn’t now, but I think he could be."

"With the right incentive?" she responded.

He detected a note of bitterness in her voice and asked with surprise, "What’s eating you, sugar?"

"Don’t you know?" she stared at him in astonishment.

"Know what?"

"Part of their cover story is that they are lovers, Madeline said so herself."

"No doubt to torment you," he grumbled, "So what? It’s just acting."

Nikita was remembering how seriously Michael took his undercover work. He was always quite thoroughly in character. She recalled playing Sage to his Peter, young psychic wife to his devoted husband. Hell, he was so convincing in his confession of love during their capture by Red Cell that she had betrayed the Section. He would do whatever it took to make Kassim, and Hamad, believe the cover Madeline had prepared for him. The sticky question was, would Mahleah?

She quietly asked her friend, "How far do you think Mahleah could go to maintain a profile?"

He frowned, "She’s an actress; she can make any part seem convincing, but could she sleep with someone for Section? I think it would depend upon whether or not she liked whomever Section teamed her with and how desperate the circumstances were. If you were asking me if she would sleep with Michael, I would say no, not unless it was necessary. She’d know how much it would hurt you, and I sense that loyalty is one of her strongest virtues."

Nikita smiled, but Walter went on, "On the other hand, sugar, if the success of the mission or Michael’s life were on the line, yeah I think she’d give a passionate performance and apologize to you later."

Her face fell as she wondered what unforeseen circumstances her comrades were facing and much more important than the question of whether they would have to sleep together to protect their masquerade was whether they would actually return at all.

Chapter Seventeen

Mahleah was scheduled to keep a personal eye on De Longis this morning. She replaced his current monitor in the dining room and discreetly slipped into a chair near the wall. He caught the movement and stared at her over his glass of orange juice. She appeared sedate, if unfathomable, in a pale blue suit and ubiquitous Section-issued black shades. Her hair was pulled back in its usual braid and she wore low-heeled boots rather than pumps, and with her face devoid of any makeup she appeared about twenty.

"Aren’t you a little young for this job?" he asked.

"What I lack in years, I make up for in experience," she informed him coolly.

He liked the response. "Perhaps you could give me lessons, some time," he suggested. "I’d hate to be taken unawares as I was several days ago."

She tilted her head, observing him closely, "Perhaps you should let Kassim handle your training."

He stood up and walked nearer, "Oh, but he wouldn’t have your gentle touch."

She rose as well, "Somehow I think your chief of security would be easier on you than I would."

He had reached her side, "Quite possible," he agreed. "After all, your people tend to employ dangerous women. Beautiful ones, as well, I seem to recall a blonde beauty who escorted me into my little vacation."

She nodded, "I’m sure you also remember a very attractive brunette: dark eyes, beatific smile – her name is Madeline?"

He blanched. "Point taken," he said dryly. "I’m headed for the stables. Would you care to join me?"

"That is my assignment," she responded.

They began walking toward the door together, but he couldn’t resist one last quip, "I’d bet you’re very fond of riding stallions, aren’t you?"

"Of course," she said with dulcet tones. "Only I’m afraid the world is full of geldings. Shall we go, Mr. De Longis?"

***

Michael’s assignment caused him more than a little annoyance. He was asked to patrol the east wing of the house: check the security sensors, keep an eye out of unwanted guest, and generally be a cog in the wheel. That part of the job he didn’t mind, even if it was tedious. He could ascertain the layout of the building and examine the security arrangements personally. When the time came to retrieve Hamad, he wanted to know every inch of the property to ensure the mission’s success and the safety of Nikita’s team, as well as himself and Mahleah.

He was passing through a long corridor when he saw an open door. Peering inside, he was instantly spotted by a thoroughly bored woman receiving a massage.

"Come here," she commanded.

He walked into the room, wondering who she could be.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Michael."

"And what are you doing here, Michael?" her gazed raked him from head to toe.

"I’m a new member of the security team," he replied.

Her eyebrows arched, "Well, Kassim’s taste is improving I must say." She waved off the masseuse who was still working away on her back.

"Leave us," she commanded. Waving Michael forward, she inquired, "Are you good with your hands?"

Michael suppressed a sigh. Depending upon who this woman was, she could possibly get him closer to Hamad. He would rather not have to seduce her, but he couldn’t afford not to be nice, either.

"I’m quite capable of protecting you from attack," he said, willfully misunderstanding her.

"What if I wish to be attacked?" she demurred. "Come, I shall determine your talent myself. I still need a massage."

Inwardly he protested, but outwardly, he complied. He walked over to her and, after pouring oil onto his fingers, began to knead her shoulders.

"Mmm," she purred, "Very good, but lower if you please."

"Of course lower," he thought, as his fingers stroked down her back, "Why not? You’re pampered and bored and you enjoy having a man at your beck and call to agree to your every demand. I’ve met hundreds of women like you and unfortunately will probably meet hundreds more."

"Ooh," she squealed breathlessly. "That’s heavenly…a little harder please."

He gritted his teeth and complied. What was wrong with him? He had successfully completed dozens of Valentine profiles in the past. Why was his brain now rebelling?

The red-haired woman under his fingertips groaned in ecstasy. Just then, Bryson, Kassim’s assistant, walked by and decided to throw a drowning man a rope.

"Michael," he called. "There you are. The big man wants to see you right away."

Section’s top Valentine Op straightened in relief. "I’ll be right with you," he called.

The woman on the table frowned and sat up, letting her towel fall away from the upper part of her torso. "It’s so unfair," she pouted, much as a child with a new toy. "Just when I find someone new around here, Kassim has to take him away."

She wrapped her arms around Michael’s neck and kissed his throat, his cheek, and eventually his mouth. He accepted the kiss, not responding but not pushing her away either. She eventually let him go, promising, "I’ll find you again."

He walked out, feeling an incredible sense of gratitude toward the man in the hallway. As they continued walking together, Michael inquired, "Why does Kassim wish to see me?"

Bryson smiled, "He doesn’t. I just thought I’d rescue you from the vicious man-eater back there. They forgot to warn you about her, didn’t they?"

He nodded his head ruefully, and asked, "Who is she?"

"Oh, that’s Sherissa. She’s Hamad’s mistress and when he’s not looking she’ll nail anything in pants within a five-mile radius." Bryson examined his new colleague and said sympathetically, "It’s my guess you’ll have to fight her off again."

"Hamad’s mistress," Michael inwardly groaned. Of course, she would be, and since his mission was to get close to the terrorist by any means necessary, he would indeed have to face Sherissa again.

Chapter Eighteen

"I would enjoy lunch much more if I could get rid of this clown and find out where Michael is," Mahleah thought to herself.

She had endured about as much of Leon’s lewd comments and wandering hands as she could take without breaking body parts. He was a fellow bodyguard: young, reasonably handsome and incredibly cocky.

When his hand brushed her thigh under the table for the umpteenth time, she finally said, "Please don’t do that anymore."

"What’s the matter?" he smiled.

"I’m not comfortable with another man touching me in that way," she told him. "After all, I am spoken for, and I doubt Michael would appreciate the way you’ve been pawing me."

"There," she thought, "I knew that cover story had to have some benefits. If he keeps at it, though, I’m not going to wait for Michael. I’ll starting snapping fingers myself."

"Oh, him," Leon breezily dismissed this mention of her so-called boyfriend. "I figure he’s a little tied up at the moment. The last time I saw him, he was heading toward Sherissa’s quarters. If she sees him, you’ll be lucky to get him back in one piece. Believe me, she’s insatiable." He grinned to show that he, at least, had survived the ravages of this demanding woman.

"Who is Sherissa?" she asked, a little alarmed.

"She’s the mistress of the man who owns this whole place," she was told. "She has very little to do except to please him, and he stays busy enough that she’s frequently bored."

"Oh great," she thought. "Hamad’s mistress is a bored nympho. Leon’s right, if she gets a glimpse of Michael, she’ll want him for dessert." She stood up and moved over to the windows.

At that moment, the "treat" in question, walked into the room. Mahleah, who had keen eyesight, quickly detected traces of lipstick that still adhered to his cheek and neck. She growled inwardly. It looked as if Michael had lost round one, or did he win? She wasn’t sure what his plan would be toward this woman.

She was angry, both for Nikita’s sake and the position this put her in. Although this was a mission, it stung her ego a little to know that he would let every Jezebel in the place leave her paw prints all over him when he was supposedly hers. She reflected for a moment. What would Nikita do in this situation? A second later, she thought, "Hell, forget Nick. What would I have done if some wench had gone around pawing Mac while we were together?"

A small smile came to her lips and it wasn’t a pleasant one. She knew exactly what to do.

Michael was looking at her, questioningly. She looked him in the eye appraisingly. He was, as she had pointed out last night, a gorgeous man and she let her appreciation fill her eyes. He gave a start. She let her gaze drift lingeringly down: his sensuous lips, his strong chin, his broad shoulders, and beautiful chest. All were catalogued by her stare. She made her look into a caress and not an inch of him escaped her notice.

He looked a little worried and sat down in one of the dining room chairs. She slowly strode toward him, her eyes full of lust and even a little danger. He shivered. Why did she suddenly remind him of her katana’s namesake, the tiger?

Reaching him, in full view of the other men, she sat in his lap, slowly straddling him until her legs dangled on either side of the chair. He swallowed, wondering what exactly she was playing at. Suddenly, Sherissa seemed a whole lot safer and much easier to control.

Her hands were caressing his hair and teasing the back of his neck. "I’ve missed you," she murmured huskily. She leaned in further, allowing the tips of her breasts to graze his chest, and tipping her hips closer to his.

"Did you miss me?" she inquired, and playing with his ear, whispered, "Play along. I’ll explain later."

"Of course," he agreed. His own hand got busy. One ran gently up the outside of her thigh and the other found its way under her jacket. She tenderly nibbled on his earlobe and her fingers wiped lipstick off his cheek. "That’s not your shade," she told him.

Her lips brushed away the offending touch and moved to his mouth. She kissed him, making a good show of it for the audience, nipping his lips and then smoothing them with her tongue. He knew she was trying to maintain their charade, but he hadn’t expected her to take it quite this far. He co-operated dutifully, allowing her access to his mouth and exploring a little on his own. She pulled away and laughed throatily.

"Oh, you’ve been a bad boy. I can taste someone else on your lips."

She began a chain of wet kisses down his jaw line, and he decided to just relax until the show was over. She felt the tension in him ease away, and made her way to his neck. When she reached the spot that still bore Sherissa’s imprint, she kissed it softly, and then bit much harder…a sharply grabbed, wet, sucking mouthful of flesh.

He yelped in surprise. She looked into his eyes and declared, "Looks like I have to start marking my territory. This alpha doesn’t share with any other bitch."

The men around them laughed. She released him and rose, rolling her hips forward as she did so, to give him one last reminder.

She began to walk away, but turned back to look at him, and he knew he’d been duly warned.

Little did they realize that Hamad had been one of the watchers and he found Mahleah’s passionate performance quite…provocative.

Chapter Nineteen

Mahleah exited to begin her shift of wandering the corridors. Michael was scheduled to watch De Longis and left moments later. Hamad had quietly stood in a doorway on the far side of the room unobserved. Now he came forward laughing heartily.

"What a glorious couple," he exclaimed, "And the woman…such fire and passion! What I wouldn’t give to be in his place tonight, eh Leon?"

The guard agreed, then added, "You know, sir, there is a way to be there vicariously."

Hamad looked curious, "Tell me more."

"Well, sir, I’ve been experimenting with video cameras, and I think I could set one up in their room for you."

His employer thought this over, and decided he liked the idea. If the woman was willing to give such a public display of -- well he wouldn’t call it affection so much as a furious territorial possession -- then what would she do in the privacy of her own quarters? Besides, if he liked what he saw, then maybe this new member of security could be convinced to guard his body in a much closer capacity. He was growing tired of Sherissa’s antics, and a change would be refreshing.

"Yes, do that Leon. Will I be able to watch as it happens?"

"I’ll make sure of it, sir," the man promised.

Bryson, finishing his lunch, didn’t like the way this was headed. He was 99% sure that this was Mahleah Brennan, and Hamad taking such an interest in her could not bode well.

************

Edward De Longis behaved himself on Michael’s watch, and the Class 5 op was about to head toward the dining room for something to eat – he’d accidentally skipped lunch – when Bryson appeared.

The Watcher had debated his actions, but decided that this would not interfere with the Game, and therefore not violate his oath. Although he really wished to warn Mahleah directly she knew of his organization and, with the superb eyesight that she’d displayed today, might very well spot the tattoo on his wrist. All considered, he thought it better to give Michael his warning. After all, the man had been through enough surprises for one day: although he granted some of them were nicer than others were.

He grabbed Michael’s arm, and drew him into one of the rooms they were passing. Michael looked at him with a questioning eyebrow raised.

Bryson spoke in a low voice, "I just thought you’d like to know that Hamad saw your girlfriend’s little display earlier. He was so captivated that he agreed to let Leon place a camera in your bedroom tonight so they could watch."

He started to leave, but Michael blocked his way. "Where will the camera be?" he asked quietly.

"I don’t know. Leon’s not the brightest fellow in the world, so it may be easy to find. I warn you, though; Hamad’s anticipation will only grow if you take away his peepshow. I think he wants to replace Sherissa, and while you can’t blame him for that, it looks as though Mahleah may be the frontrunner."

Michael let the other man pass, and pondered this new information. He had a difficult choice to make: should he leave the camera or take it out? If he left it, he and Mahleah would have to make good on the show she’d put on before. If he removed the equipment though, Mahleah might have to sleep with Hamad.

He sighed. Frankly, he was getting a little tired of people manipulating him today. He had to laugh at himself a little. He was accustomed to being the seducer, not the target and having the tables turned on him was more than a little unsettling. With Sherissa, he would have control eventually. Mahleah was another story. He knew that her vamp-like behavior was strictly mission-dictated, but the next time he would take steps to ensure he wouldn’t be the one getting manhandled.

*************

During the evening meal, Michael saw Leon slip out of the room and knew that Bryson was telling the truth. He wondered where exactly the other man would hide the equipment. His entire strategy tonight would depend upon the placement of the camera.

Mahleah felt Kassim enter the room and surreptitiously moved closer to Michael at the table. He glanced up and spotted their supervisor. "ShowTime," he thought, "Time for the curtain to rise on Act One."

He looked over at his fellow operative and when he’d succeeded in catching her eye, smiled broadly at her.

Mahleah caught her breath for a second, blinking in surprise. She’d never seen so many of Michael’s teeth before. Quickly overcoming her astonishment, she smiled back. His hand, below the tablecloth, suddenly discovered the seam in her pants. His fingers lightly brushed along her inner thigh. She gasped loudly.

Everyone at the table turned to look at her. She blushed, bit her lip, and then smiled faintly. They all appeared to be amused at her discomfort. She started to pick up her glass, but his hand started to travel higher, and she immediately reached below the table to grab it.

She faked a yawn, and then suggested, "It’s been a long day. Perhaps we should turn in?"

He drew both of their hands from underneath their cover and brought hers to his lips.

"Yes," he agreed, his green eyes sparkling with mischief.

They rose and as they walked away, he put a hand on the small of her back, caressing her spine. Kassim watched impassively, and Bryson hid his concern, but the rest of the men smirked knowingly.

Michael stayed in character down the hall, especially when he spotted Sherissa at the far end. Backing Mahleah into the wall, he gave her a blistering kiss while his hands wandered. She had seen the woman, not realizing who she was, and made no protest. In fact, she gave a little moan of pleasure as his tongue plundered her mouth.

Sherissa came towards them and cleared her throat. Michael continued to tease Mahleah’s throat, while the object of his attention opened one eye.

"Hello," she said politely. When the small, red-haired woman glowered at her, Mahleah suspected who she was and took great satisfaction in sliding her hands around Michael’s hips to squeeze his fine posterior. Shooting daggers at Mahleah with every glance, Hamad’s mistress went on her way. When she left, Mahleah pushed Michael away a little.

"You’re getting a little carried away, aren’t you?" she asked.

He smiled slowly and seductively, and she instinctively edged her way past him to make her way down the hall. He caught up to her, and grabbed her hand. They were now outside the door to their quarters. With her free hand, she reached for the doorknob, but he grabbed it and spun her into him.

He began kissing her again and could feel her confusion. He backed her into the door, and murmured, "Do you trust me?"

When she first entered Section, Mahleah would have hesitated to answer that question, but now she knew him better. Looking into his eyes, she saw a warning. "Yes," she answered without hesitation.

"Good," he replied, beginning to nibble on her earlobe. Very softly, he whispered, "Play along. I’ll explain later."

There is nothing like having your own words used on you to make a girl brazen. Just as Michael reached for the doorknob, she attacked him and they stumbled through the door in an awkward melee of broken kisses and flailing arms.

"Act Two," Michael thought.

Mahleah had realized three things. One: something had happened that she was unaware of, but that Michael was now warning her about. Two: he was attempting to extract a little revenge for her behavior this morning. Three: she could give just as good as she got. Until she got an explanation, she’d play along all right, and they’d see who backed off first.

He tried to shut the door and she reversed his earlier maneuver. Now, his back was to the closed door, and she was kissing him. Grabbing his shoulders, she pulled off his jacket.

"Thank goodness we’ve already shed our gun holsters," she thought.

Michael was bemused. It was obviously going to be a battle of wills between them. Unfortunately, he needed to locate that camera. Grabbing her jacket, he slid it down her arms and pushed her further into the room.

His eyes were scanning the room, without much result. He attempted to remove the binding from Mahleah’s braid, but she stopped him with a smile. She grabbed his shirt and began pulling it out of his waistband. Succeeding, her fingers flew over his buttons and then discarded the garment. She eyed his bare chest appreciatively and moved in, kissing his collarbone.

He gave her free access for a moment, continuing his search. He caught a glimpse of something on a bookshelf beside them. It was pointed toward the bed.

He subtly turned Mahleah in the right direction and sank to his knees before her. While his hands busied themselves with unbuckling her belt and unfastening her pants, his eyes were on that shelf. He could see it clearly now: a small camera tucked between two books. Leon was obviously counting on passion to blind them.

Satisfied, he pulled out the hem of the silk shell Mahleah had worn under her jacket and exposed her stomach. Deftly, he explored her bellybutton, making her squirm. He continued raising the silk and kissing the exposed flesh until he was on his feet again and the shell was lying on the floor.

Mahleah, meanwhile, was taking the initiative. Leaning in, she kissed his lips again. Their bodies moved in a sort of half circle. Suddenly, she hooked a leg under him and pulled. He found himself on the carpet with her above him. She began caressing his chest and kissing his shoulders. He responded by trailing his tongue up her neck to her ear, into which he whispered, "Camera."

They exchanged a glance, and she followed his eyes to the shelf and back. She ran her nails lightly down his abdomen and he shivered. In a kiss, she asked, "Who?" and he breathed back, "Leon."

She began running a line of biting kisses down his chest when suddenly she stopped and said aloud, "What’s that?"

"What?" he asked.

"I thought I saw a red light over there. Yeah," she stood up and marched to the shelf in question, "there it is. It’s a camera! Some damn jerk is taping us."

She turned back to him, "I’ll bet it’s that creep Leon. He couldn’t keep his hands off me at lunch. I guess he wanted to see what he was missing. Sorry, I’ve never liked being watched, and I’m not going to start now!" She turned the camera off.

She looked back at her companion and demanded, "Michael, what the hell is going on?"

“Apparently you made quite an impression on Hamad today," Michael informed her. "He instructed Leon to plant that camera. We now have a choice: we can turn the camera back on and say something about making a private video, or you can stimulate Hamad’s interest further tomorrow."

"What makes you think he wouldn’t want to get chummy if he did watch us?" she exclaimed.

"Perhaps he would," Michael agreed, "but the voyeurism might hold him off long enough for us to complete our mission."

"Our mission requires us to capture Hamad," she pointed out. "Getting friendly with him could only help."

"It’s up to you," he told her.

A corner of her mouth turned up slightly. "Since when?" she inquired. "I thought you were the leader here."

"I’m not the one who may have to sleep with Hamad," he replied.

She was touched. He would actually allow her to make the final decision. The outline of a plan began forming in her mind. While she was thinking it through, she sat on the bed and let herself fall backward.

"Well, if the profile required that I had to have sex, we’d turn the camera back on and run through the Kama Sutra, but I don’t think that will be necessary."

"Why?"

She sat up and began explaining her plan. He objected to parts and made his own suggestions. She agreed to some of his modifications and they both compromised on others.

"You’d better notify Birkoff," she told him finally. "I’m going to get ready for bed. Tomorrow’s going to be a very big day."

He pulled out a panel much like the one he’d given Nikita before her six months of freedom, and tapping a few keys established a link to Birkoff’s computer. A little later, she emerged in lavender pajamas and scrambled under the covers.

"It’s a go," he told her.

"Good," she responded, and yawned.

He got in on his side of the bed and turned off the light.

"Are you sure you can do this?" he asked.

She turned toward him, propping herself on her elbow. "Afraid I’m in over my head? I can handle it, Michael, or did you forget my colorful past?"

He had temporarily, but now recalled that she was accustomed to the teasing game. She smiled in the darkness, "One thing’s for sure: after all, I’ve been through the past few days, I’m going to rock Walter’s world when we get back!"

He turned to her in a mirror image of her position. "So you really are having a relationship with Walter?"

"Why do you feel that so hard to believe? Walter’s the most genuine, warm-hearted man in Section."

"True," he admitted. "As long as the age difference doesn’t bother you."

She laughed. "Would it shock you to learn I’ve dated men older than Walter?"

"Which of the studs was that?" he couldn’t help asking.

"You don’t want to know," she teased.

He felt odd warmth for her – a camaraderie he had never really experienced before. She was, he reflected, somewhere between himself and Nikita. Mahleah was not an innocent as Nikita was when recruited, and her outlook was considerably more sophisticated, but she retained a joie de vivre that he envied. Still she was, like him, a natural warrior with frightening control over her own emotions…when she deemed she needed it. They both were paying for mistakes in their past, and were willing to endure a great deal of personal sacrifice to protect the innocent. He hoped he could prevent her sacrifice from being too great.

He realized with a start that she was attempting to do the same for him on a more personal scale. She wanted him to see that shutting his feelings away was too high a price to pay for his previous crimes or his future responsibilities.

"Walter’s a lucky man," he told her.

"Thanks, Nikita’s lucky, too," she responded.

"Despite your insinuations, we are not dating," he tried to explain.

"A situation that can easily be rectified, my friend."

"Tell her the truth, you said," he reminded her, "How about you? Are you going to tell her all about your part in this mission?"

"I have no problems telling her," she replied, "and if you’re smart you won’t either."

He was silent for a while and she was about to think he’d fallen asleep leaning on his hand. "Can I ask you something?" he said finally.

"Sure."

"Why wouldn’t you let me unbraid your hair earlier?"

He heard her sigh. "You would ask a tough one, wouldn’t you? Well, I don’t mind people touching my hair or patting my braid or whatever, but anything else is rather personal for me. I’ve had long hair most of my life and as I tend to be an active person I always have it up, or back or something. Only family or close friends usually see me with it down. Once I became an adult, the only men that have ever loosened my hair are my lovers. Even when I go to have it trimmed, I unfasten it myself. It’s just too intimate for strangers, or for pretend make-out sessions."

He sensed rather than saw her smile in the dark. "We’re bonding pretty well, so you may very well see me with my hair down, but you’ll never unbind it unless we actually become lovers. We both know how unlikely that is, so don’t take it personally."

"I won’t," he promised, then added a question, "So, will Walter get to…"

She put a hand over his mouth, "My turn for a question. So, if I had chosen the camera, would you have gone through with it?"

He thought about it for a moment and then said, "Yes."

She found his cheek in the dark and kissed it. Then she curled up to her pillow and told him, "Go to sleep, Musashi, and dream of Ni-ki-ta. Hopefully, you’ll see her tomorrow."

Chapter Twenty

In the middle of the night Mahleah awoke to find a long figure curled up against her back. His breath lightly tickled her ear, and an arm was slung over her hip.

"I guess I turned into a giant teddy bear," she thought sleepily. He twisted from a dream and pulled her closer. His hand came up to cup one of her breasts, and as her eyes snapped open he murmured once again the four letters dearest to him, "Kita."

"Okay," she thought, "that just saved you from getting thrown violently back to your side of the bed. Unfortunately, for both of us, I’m not her, but if you need to believe I am while you’re sleeping that’s fine. Only this," she touched his hand, "has to move."

She gently eased his hand to lower, more neutral territory, trapped it there with her own in case it tried to stray again, and went back to sleep.

In the morning, dressed in a long, oriental style jacket, she went to see Kassim. He was discussing the day’s activities with Bryson. When he saw her, he dismissed his assistant and stood.

"What can I do for you, Mahleah," he courteously asked.

"I came to warn you: get De Longis out of the house today if you can," she told him steadily. "I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I wanted to ensure that you would maintain your agreement."

"As long as my master lives, Michael is safe," he assured her, and then added, "You have my apologies for the annoyance Leon caused last night. He and Hamad bring out the worst in each other. If I had known earlier, I would have warned you. I gather you spotted the camera?"

"Yes, how did you know?" she asked curiously.

"I overheard the tongue-lashing he was given by Hamad when you shut down their surveillance. It was quite amusing in a crude sort of way."

She smiled, "No doubt. Speaking of ludicrous vulgarity, where can I find Sherissa?"

He raised an eyebrow. "She’s usually dining in her quarters at this time."

"Breakfast in bed, huh?" Mahleah laughed. "Well, she’ll just have to rise and shine a little earlier today."

He studied her with interest, "What do you intend to see her about?"

She smiled unpleasantly, "Oh nothing much…just the small matter of keeping her lips off my man."

She turned at the door and advised him, "In about fifteen minutes, she’s going to need all the help she can get, if you would be so kind as to arrange it."

***********

Mahleah strode into Sherissa’s quarters without knocking. The petite, red-haired woman was actually out of bed, but eating breakfast by the large picture windows at the far side of the room.

She glared at the intruder and demanded, "What do you want?"

"I’m one of the new members of the security team," Mahleah told her pleasantly. "I’m here to investigate the possibility of a hostile takeover."

Sherissa sneered, "You’re that overgrown slut I saw in the hallway with Michael. What are you doing here? Do you know that I could have you thrown out of here and keep Michael all to myself, bitch?"

Mahleah stopped walking toward her and cocked her head to the side. "Now, see you’ve got it all wrong," she protested, and sighed. "I guess I’ll just have to explain. You see," she said with an expression as deadly in its sweetness as honey-dipped arsenic, "I’m the bitch that slept with Michael last night, and you’re the slut that’s been trespassing on my territory."

"How dare you?" the woman’s brown eyes blazed. "Get out of here, before I call the guards."

"The truth hurts, darlin’," Mahleah responded placidly. "Let the boys come on down. They’d love to see you get what you deserve."

Sherissa let out a shriek of fury and hurtled toward the larger woman in an attempt to slap her, or gouge her eyes out, Mahleah wasn’t sure which. She calmly used the woman’s forward momentum to throw her several feet away.

Sherissa fell in a graceless pile on the floor and Mahleah made a tsk, tsk sound. Sherissa’s eyes narrowed and she threw the nearest object – the proverbial vase – at her rival.

Mahleah dodged it and the lamp that followed. She shook her head sadly, "Can’t you do any better than the typical cat fight maneuvers?"

Sherissa darted to the table and grabbed a knife, "I’ll cut your heart out for this," she hissed.

"Hmm, you’ve got me there," Mahleah quipped. "Unlike you I actually have one to reach for."
Screaming, Sherissa lunged at her. In a flash, her knife hand was caught and twisted behind her. She was on her knees whimpering.

Mahleah leaned over and told her, "Now, are you going to learn to leave other women’s men alone?"

Sherissa gritted her teeth and tried to spit in Mahleah’s face. The Immortal was impressed: she’d thought the woman softer than this. At that moment, the security team, minus Michael, rushed in.

"What is the problem here?" Kassim demanded.

Sherissa staggered to her feet, "Kassim, throw her out!"

"A member of my team, why?"

"She…she…" Sherissa was so furious she sputtered.

"She didn’t even hit you," Mahleah pointed out. "I merely restrained you from hurting me."

"A likely story," Leon scoffed. "You were upset because I told you she made a pass at Michael yesterday."

"Is this true?" Kassim turned back to Mahleah.

"Did I like seeing Michael walk in with another woman’s lipstick smeared all over his face? No, but I haven’t hurt her, yet."

Sherissa, angrily shouted, "You won’t be able to hurt me, but I’ll hurt you. Oh yes, I’ll have your Michael, and I’ll have him begging for more."

Mahleah looked almost rueful. "Not if your jaw is wired shut, nighean na galladh," she sighed. She punched Hamad’s mistress squarely on the jaw.

Leon shouted, "You shouldn’t have done that!"

She shrugged her shoulders and punched him too. Then all hell broke out.

*************

While the commotion in Sherissa’s quarters was taking place Michael had made his way to the room where the security systems were monitored. He discovered that Leon had installed one of his cameras in Sherissa’s room too, and saw on a monitor that Mahleah was quite successfully keeping all of the security in the building tied up in one spot.

A free-for-all appeared to have broken out. Guards were fighting each other, Sherissa was staggering back into the fray, and Mahleah was in the center of it all. He noticed that Kassim was watching but not taking part. The security chief could very well end the whole thing at any time, so Michael hurried.

Going to the computer terminal, he infiltrated the security network and gave himself administrative access. This allowed him to readjust all the timers to shut down the complete system in one hour. He hoped that would give them all enough time to complete their plan safely. After all, he still had explosives to plant.

Sherissa ran at Mahleah again, but the taller woman sidestepped, grabbed the hem of her attacker’s robe and wrapped it around her head. Then she firmly booted her in the rear and over the couch.

The operative was a little amazed at how much trouble she’d managed to stir up. After she punched Leon, one of his friends had stepped forward objecting. Interestingly, Bryson had punched him, and suddenly everyone was choosing sides.

Hamad and Edward De Longis walked into the room with the former shouting, "That’s enough!"

The commotion began to die away, as everyone realized that Hamad was in the room. "What is the meaning of this insanity?" he demanded.

Sherissa stepped forward. Her expensive nightclothes were torn, and she had a bruise on her jaw. "This, this…woman attacked me," she announced in a shrill voice.

Mahleah wondered where exactly the insult in that sentence was supposed to be located. Was she intended to dispute the fact that she was a woman? Not hardly.

Leon started to say something, but Hamad waved everyone into silence.

"I’ll deal with this," he said firmly, and taking Mahleah by the arm, he left for his quarters.

Chapter Twenty-One

Hamad sprawled across a divan and gazed at the woman in front of him. Damn, she was tall! He was accustomed to Sherissa’s small stature and found himself fascinated by the length of Mahleah’s legs. He imagined them wrapped around his back…

She cleared her throat as if reading his mind. Aside from her voluptuous figure, he was also amazed by her aplomb. She stood before him, with her hands at her sides, completely at ease.

"So, you are the infamous Mahleah?" he finally said.

"Yes, and you are the even more infamous Hamad," she responded.

"You’ve attacked a member of my household, provoked a riot among my staff, and generally created chaos this morning. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Perhaps you should try putting Sherissa on a shorter leash," she suggested. "To clarify matters, I’ll add that I was the attacked, not the attacker."

"Hmm, perhaps," he agreed. "Are you sure that revenge played no part in this little escapade? I’ve been told that Sherissa made a bit of a nuisance of herself yesterday."

"If you expect me to disagree with that statement, you’ll have a long wait," she chuckled. "The fact remains that she tried to hit me, stab me and brain me with breakable objects."

"All part of her charm," he airily dismissed. "I was referring, however, to her more troublesome habit of making advances towards all the handsome men I employ."

"I don’t think she cares if they’re handsome," she replied, "but yes, I had a problem with her leaving stains all over my boyfriend’s clothes. Do you have any idea how difficult it can be to get makeup out of clothes?" She stared at him a second and then shook her head. "No, I guess not."

He laughed in surprise.

She waited for him to quiet down and then asked, "So are you going to fire me?"

"Perhaps, but maybe you will be the most valuable employee I have. I’m looking for a new personal bodyguard: someone who will work very closely with me. I have many enemies who could try to kill me at any moment – night or day."

"Ah, here it comes," she thought. "Well, are you looking for a bodyguard or a mistress?" she asked him bluntly.

"Both really," he admitted.

"You expect your lover to take a bullet for you?"

"If I’m paying her for it, yes."

"Remind me not to put you on my Christmas card list," she thought. "I think I’ll pass on the promotion, if you don’t mind. I assume I still have a job?"

"I don’t know. You and your boyfriend, what’s-his-name, seem to stir up a lot of trouble among the ranks."

"His name is Michael and do I understand that you’re thinking of firing him, too?"

He shrugged, "Why not?"

She sighed, knowing she needed to continue with the game for a little while longer at least. "Is there anything I can do to change your mind other than sleep with you?"

He pondered the options available to him and then smiled broadly, "Do you dance?"

Chapter Twenty-Two

Michael armed the last timer with ten minutes to spare before the security grid went down and Nikita’s team came in. There would only be twenty minutes for them to secure the building, collect Hamad, and be on their way before the explosives began detonating. It would be a tight schedule, but he was confident that they could pull it off. Nikita was a good team leader, and by now, Mahleah would be in position with Hamad.

He frowned. In fact, the thing worrying him was the exact position she might be in with the terrorist leader. She had been sure she could handle Hamad without much trouble, however, so he’d reluctantly agreed.

In the distance, he saw the unmistakable figure of Kassim come into view, accompanied by someone else…De Longis?

He walked towards them calling, "Have you seen Mahleah?"

They stopped. Kassim had a frown on his face. "Is she not with you?"

"I haven’t seen her since early this morning," he told them.

"Then she must still be with Hamad," De Longis said. He exchanged a glance with his bodyguard that made Michael very uneasy. Mahleah had gone to a great deal of trouble to see that he didn’t have to endure Sherissa’s insatiable whims; he should, at the very least, return the favor if he could.

"Would you please go to your cousin and make sure she’s okay?" he asked De Longis.

Kassim stepped in, "Sir, we need to leave now."

Michael stared into Edward’s eyes until the other man blinked. Without a word being said, De Longis knew that if anything happened to Mahleah he would be held responsible.

"Look Kassim, I’ll just go rescue the fair damsel from my cousin’s lustful clutches and we can all go," he said cheerfully.

"The woman can take care of herself," the Immortal said firmly.

De Longis exchanged another glance with Michael and repeated, "I’ll go get her. Don’t worry," he clapped Kassim on the back, "everything will be fine."

He strode away. The older man regarded Michael intently. "I tell you the same thing I told your lady: if Edward De Longis dies, so do you and she’ll follow shortly after."

He stalked off, obviously upset. Michael stood frozen to the spot for a moment. Mahleah had evidently been protecting his life as well as his virtue and he’d not known a thing.

Outside Nikita counted down the last few minutes before she attacked. Per instructions, she’d made sure her team knew that Hamad was the official priority. They also knew and agreed that unofficially Michael and Mahleah’s safe retrieval should be their secondary focus. Many among them, remembering the times Michael had brought home teams when the odds were impossible and the ways Mahleah made them laugh and feel better about themselves, decided that such safety was paramount. When they’d asked about De Longis, Nikita told them that according to Section he was acceptable collateral. If he survived, good…if not, oh well.

**************

When De Longis entered his cousin’s rooms, he found Mahleah performing an Oriental dance. She had made it more Indian than Middle Eastern and refused to remove any clothing. She claimed that he had only asked for a dance and not a strip tease.

He’d jokingly asked if she was modest and she’d replied yes and scowled when he laughed. The truth was she had additional reasons beyond the obvious for not wishing to remove any clothing. It was very close to the time when Nikita’s team would move in and she had no wish to have to make a choice between getting blown up trying to dress or run out half naked. More importantly, though, she wanted to keep her concealed weapons, well, concealed.

He’d made a snide remark about getting over her shyness the night before with Michael and she’d said it was nothing he hadn’t seen many times before. When Hamad tried to say that he’d seen it all before as well, she’d scored by pointing out that he hadn’t seen her, and that must be important otherwise he wouldn’t be so awfully eager about it.

Having nothing else to say for the moment, he shut up and she began to dance. She made her own music through the rhythm of her heels and the swaying of her body and it guided her. She hoped she didn’t screw up, since only half her attention was on this moment.

Hamad sat watching her in fascination. Just before Edward’s arrival, he’d thought, "If she’s willing to do this to keep her boyfriend’s job, what would she do to save his life?"

He was mapping out the ways she could repay him and the tortures he could inflict upon Michael when the door opened and De Longis entered.

"Aren’t you done with her yet?" he inquired.

Hamad scowled, his fantasy world shattered for the moment, but then brightened and beckoned for his cousin to join him. "Look at this miracle, Edward: a bodyguard with the beauty and passion of a houri."

Edward sat down next to his cousin and regarded Mahleah with trepidation. He was nearly certain from both Kassim and Michael’s agitation that something was about to happen at any moment. Yet, Mahleah appeared so graceful, so relaxed – as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

A couple of minutes later his illusion was shattered by the sound of gunfire echoing through the house. Hamad cursed and went to an intercom trying to reach his guards. No one replied. Cursing again, he went to a drawer and pulled out a loaded pistol.

Mahleah stood in the middle of the room, calm but alert. She’d retrieved her own gun. De Longis looked to her to lead him out of this mess. At that moment, Hamad looked up and knew. De Longis was a poor actor and his duplicity was carved in every line of his face along with his terror. Hamad himself was much better at hiding his intentions.

"We need to locate the rest of the security team," he told Mahleah. She nodded, when suddenly he was behind her with a knife to her throat.

She was shocked and angry. Why didn’t she see it coming? Unfortunately, she had been looking at her target when De Longis made his fatal mistake or she might have been more on guard. Now she stood, barely breathing, as Hamad held a knifepoint to her chin with his left hand and with his right pointed a gun at his lackless cousin.

"I trusted you," he declared, "and you betrayed me. We were family and you helped my enemies. You brought their spies into my house."

"Please," Edward pleaded, "You don’t know what they did to me, Hamad. I had no choice. Please, don’t kill me."

"Hamad, don’t do this," Mahleah echoed his plea. If De Longis died, there would be hellish consequences to face. "Please."

"For the sake of our grandmother, please don’t hurt me." Tears were running down the young man’s face. Mahleah felt her own eyes get moist.

"Our grandmother was a whore who dishonored my family’s name," Hamad said viciously and Mahleah winced. "You are truly her progeny and now I will erase this mistake from the world."

He shot and Mahleah felt her heart try to leap from her chest as she saw Edward fall to the ground and gaze lifelessly up at the ceiling.

"No!" she screamed and struggled, trying to get free. The point of the knife nicked her chin and she felt a small rivulet of blood begin to slide down her collar. Hamad put away his gun, and readjusted his grip on her. The knife was moved directly against her throat and he held her so hard she could barely breathe.

"I’ve seen you in action," he told her. "You’re very good. So good, I’ll bet your people will want you back."

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," she tried to warn him. "They won’t negotiate."

"Then, we’ll both die," he told her grimly.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Michael was attempting to get to the east wing when he saw Nikita approaching him. She gave him a brief, albeit, radiant smile then got serious.

"Where are Mahleah and Hamad?" she asked.

Michael noticed she put Mahleah first. Leave it to Nikita to worry about friends first, terrorists later. "They should be together," he replied. "Mahleah was supposed to be securing him while I planted the explosives. I’m on my way to find them."

They both looked up when Mentz warned, "Nikita!"

Hamad walked toward them, clutching an angry Mahleah. His grip on the knife was so tight that she couldn’t move her head a millimeter. She wanted to scream that they should just shoot Hamad, but they needed him alive. She could make him kill her but she was too cautious to do so. It wasn’t so much a matter of letting the team see her die, as it was fear of the danger they were all in after the death of De Longis. Besides, all Immortals took the threat of a blade to the neck seriously.

"Let her go!" Nikita growled.

"Certainly," Hamad replied pleasantly, "If you let me go as well."

"We can’t do that," Michael told him. Mahleah noticed that his blank mask had returned.

"Oh, I think you can," Hamad’s voice became meaner. "Otherwise, this lovely woman dies. You wouldn’t want that, would you, Michael? You know what a waste that would be. Maybe she’s not really your girlfriend, but I bet you feel something for her."

Michael refused to turn away from Hamad’s stare although Nikita shot him a glance that probably boded ill for the future.

"My feelings for her are irrelevant," he responded coolly. "We never negotiate."

"Then I slit the beautiful one’s throat," Hamad promised.

"Why are you doing this?" Nikita protested. "Our orders are to bring you back alive."

Hamad smiled unpleasantly, "If you are who I think, death would be preferable."

Michael had hoped that Mahleah would be able to help herself, but saw with a sinking heart that was impossible. She barely blinked, much less twitched a muscle. Suddenly, a shot came from overhead. It hit Hamad in the back, and he sagged. Mahleah slumped with him. She managed to knock the knife away from her throat, and staggered a few steps away.

Nikita saw the gunman aim at Michael and knocked him out of the way. She and Mentz began firing towards the assailant, who fled. Michael made his way to Hamad and felt for a pulse. The man was still alive, but he would need medical attention soon.

"Where’s Mahleah?" Nikita asked, kneeling next to him.

He looked up sharply. He had slipped fully into mission mode and concern over Hamad had outweighed his worry over his partner. She was gone. He strode over to where he’d seen her collapse after Hamad was shot, and found a trail of blood leading away.

"Michael, time’s running out. What should we do?" Mentz asked.

************

The bullet that had put Hamad down had traveled through his body and into Mahleah’s side. She managed to drag herself into the dark recesses of a hallway leading from the large room she had been in. She needed a few minutes to pull herself together and let her body mend before her comrades could see her wounds. She really didn’t want them to wonder how her bleeding side healed so quickly.

She braced herself against a wall and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the pain. Unfortunately being Immortal only meant that her injuries wouldn’t kill her; she still felt just as much agony as a mortal did.

She was brought back to awareness by the distinct snap of a hammer being cocked. Opening her eyes, she saw the last person in the world she expected to cause her trouble at this point in the game: Sherissa.

Sherissa was angry and scared and determined that Mahleah could help her escape the mansion alive. On the other hand, if she had to die, she was determined that she would take this woman with her.

"Get on your feet," she ordered.

Mahleah tried to obey, but groaned and fell back down.

Sherissa felt no pity. Her finger tightened on the trigger of the pistol. "Get up, or die right there."

***

Nikita was torn between running up the staircase after the gunman that had shot at Michael, finding Mahleah, and getting the hell out of Dodge. After all, the timers would go off in three minutes.

Michael gazed down at the trail of blood that led to a nearby hallway. His mind was racing. Inwardly, he laughed derisively at himself. He was supposedly gifted with the ability to pull a rabbit out of his hat on every mission. Right now, he needed to pull off a huge miracle and he had little time to plan how to do it. If he could help it, though, he wasn’t going to leave Mahleah behind to die.

Of course, he had to ensure the team’s safety first, and Nikita was leaving whether she liked it or not. First, he needed to ascertain if Mahleah was even still alive. He grabbed Nikita’s headset, "Birkoff, can you determine Mahleah’s location?"

In the van outside, Birkoff’s fingers danced over his computer’s controls until he found the signal he wanted. He sighed in relief. According to the tracking sensor every operative received, Mahleah was still alive.

"Yeah, Michael, she’s moving away from you towards the courtyard, actually. Where the hell is she going?"

"I don’t know," Michael admitted. "Can you jam the signals on the timers long enough for me to retrieve her?"

Birkoff swallowed hard, and set to work. He succeeded in part, but still wasn’t happy with the result.

"Michael, I can give you six minutes, that’s all."

The class five operative immediately turned to Nikita. "Take your team back to the van."

"No," she protested. "I’m coming with you."

"Ni-ki-ta, I have no time to argue with you. Hamad needs attention. Take him and the team back to the van. Mahleah and I will join you shortly."

She stared at him in shock, but could see that he was deadly serious. When he was in this mood, he was quite capable of shooting her in the leg and having Mentz carry her to safety.

She nodded reluctantly in agreement. Turning to go she changed her mind, spun on her heel and grabbed him. "You make sure you make it out of here before the place blows up, you hear," she told him firmly. Then she leaned in, and ignoring the whole team gave him a quick, fierce kiss.

He allowed himself the luxury of staring after her for a whole five seconds before he turned to follow Mahleah’s trail.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sherissa marched Mahleah through the corridor. Again Mahleah tried to reason with her.

"Sherissa, this place is wired to explode very soon," she warned.

"All the more reason for getting out of here," the woman replied.

They were nearing the exit to an open courtyard that lead to the gardens when Mahleah felt the tingling presence of Kassim. Knowing where the greater danger lay, she spun to face Sherissa. The gun was still pointed, but her left arm swept Sherissa’s arm away from them and her right hand came down in a blow that knocked the gun to the ground. It discharged, but the bullet went into the wall. Mahleah brought her fists up, and as she had done to Michael previously, caught Sherissa in the Brachial Plexus. The small woman sank to the ground, unconscious.

Mahleah pulled herself together and went out to face Kassim. If she was lucky, she could talk him out of this fight. If she were unlucky, she wouldn’t be returning to Section….

Mahleah cautiously walked into the courtyard. Behind her lay the main part of the house, before her the east and west wings curved around the open space and a fountain was placed in the center. Paths lead away from the center out to Hamad’s gardens. Mahleah had managed to spend an hour in them the day before. They were quite lovely and no expense had been spared to make them appear European. Green grass decorated with roses and wildflowers beckoned, but the trail led through tall hedges. In fact, Hamad had insisted on a small maze being set up before one got to the garden proper.

She didn’t see Kassim before her, and turned. He was standing on a balcony overlooking the beautiful vista, but he had eyes only for her. She swallowed. This was not going to be easy.

"Kassim, I did all I could to help De Longis," she tried to tell him. He wasn’t listening to excuses.

"You let my master die," his face was utterly calm, except for a muscle in his cheek that twitched and his eyes, which blazed.

"No," she exclaimed. "I tried to talk Hamad out of it, but it was no use. Besides, I told you to get him out of here, remember? Why did he come to us, anyway?"

Kassim started down the stairs leading from his perch. "Because Michael asked him to; indeed, Michael practically demanded it."

"Michael?" her heart sank. If her fellow operative had indeed sent Edward De Longis into that fatal situation she knew that nothing she could say would change Kassim’s mind.

"I warned him then that if anything happened to my master you would both die. Unlike other people I have met, I keep my word. I missed him earlier, but I will find him again." He had reached the bottom of the steps and was now walking toward her. "Don’t worry, he will soon join you."

"No Kassim, leave him out of this," she begged. "He has no idea what we are, and doesn’t know why De Longis was so important to you. He was worried about me. Don’t punish him for that."

His sword, a scimitar, was in his hands now. "A life for a life," he proclaimed. "You swore to protect Edward De Longis, last in an old and noble line. You failed. Now it’s time to pay the penalty."

She nodded sadly, "There can be only one."

Her right hand reached behind her. One of the main reasons she refused to strip for Hamad was the fact that she had Walter’s favor strapped to her back underneath her long jacket: a soft leather sheath holding Tora. She drew the katana out and faced him.

***

Michael hurried along the hall, as fast as he could go. Unfortunately, the blood trail was getting smaller and smaller. This gave him a bad feeling. If Mahleah were dead, she would stop bleeding. Up ahead he heard the sound of metal clashing, and suddenly a faint cry. The sound gave him an adrenaline rush and he ran even faster.

***

Kassim was the oldest Immortal Mahleah had ever faced. Not only was he good, he was also passionately determined. She was on the defensive, blocking his blows, but seeing no way past his guard. He began backing her up into the labyrinth. Trying to keep some awareness of where she was going, she left a small opening and Kassim’s blade raked across her left arm. She cried out, but managed to step back and raise her sword again.

He was watching her intently. Her style had seemed so familiar to him. His brain started nagging him as soon as he spotted her ivory-hilted katana, but after a move that began Japanese and morphed into something Italian he knew for certain. She was a student of MacLeod’s. His heart sped up. Fate was kind to him today. Not only, would he be able to punish one oath-breaker, he could show justice to another. He’d told MacLeod before he would take one of the Highlander’s line to replace Nasir Al Deneb.

They entered the rows of hedges almost as tall as trees. One of Mahleah’s feet began slipping on the grass, and immediately Kassim took advantage. She felt fire lick across her body as his scimitar slid across her ribs.

He backed up a step to come in for the killing blow, and she threw herself through one of the hedges. The prickly stems scratched her face and hands. When she found herself in a new line, she quickly put a few rows between herself and her opponent. She needed to buy her body a little time to repair itself as much as possible.

***

Michael had passed Sherissa’s body without stopping. He reached the courtyard, but didn’t see Mahleah anywhere. Beyond him laid the maze, but had she gone there or ducked back into the house? He spotted the balcony and sprinted up its steps to get a better view. He saw Mahleah duck into a bush to get away from Kassim who was chasing her with a sword. He swallowed and looked at his watch: time was quickly running out.

***

Mahleah had made her way to the center of the labyrinth. A path led straight from her feet to the garden beyond. She steadied her breathing and concentrated on listening. Her shoes had been discarded in favor of bare feet. She grinned ironically. A country girl knew how to fight without shoes, and she wasn’t going to slip again if she could help it. She had positioned herself next to the opening she hoped Kassim would take, and held Tora ready.

Everything seemed perfectly peaceful and still here, in complete contrast to the house where people had been screaming and bullets had been whizzing. She could hear water running below her to keep the flowers irrigated. She almost thought she could hear ants crawling through the grass. Suddenly, her ears detected a small sound near her. She gathered her strength and struck just as the figure rounded the corner.

***

Michael had gotten a little lost in the turns of greenery. He stopped for a second, realized where he was at, and proceeded toward the center.

***

Mahleah caught the hand wielding the blade toward her, and Tora thrust through Kassim’s chest. She was still bleeding heavily herself, as her frantic haste had not given her system much chance to rest and repair. He fell to his knees.

She pulled the katana out and stepped back. He stared up at her expectantly. "Do it," he told her hoarsely.

She stood there hesitantly. She didn’t really want to have to kill him. If he would only promise….

Reading her thoughts, he shook his head, "No, a life for a life, remember? If I live, you may regret it later. Go ahead; with my master’s family gone I’ve broken my own oath. I have nothing left to live for."

Tears in her eyes, she struck. She saw the Quickening rise from him with trepidation. She knew he had been a very powerful man, and she’d never received this potent a Quickening while wounded this severely. It could very well kill her. When it struck, she screamed.

***

Michael stared for a second in bewilderment. Lightening was appearing out of a clear sky. He heard Mahleah scream, and ran into the clearing. She was lying on the grass, and he thought with horror, "She’s been hit by lightning!"

He raised her up and she opened her eyes, and said his name weakly. He looked beyond her and saw Kassim’s headless corpse. He stared at her, "Why?"

She licked her lips and tried to answer, "Had no choice…way of my people…leave me…explosives…."

Her head fell back and he saw with rising fear that she was no longer breathing.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Michael stared at her in horror. No, his mind refused to let this happen. After all that they had gone through on this mission, he wasn’t going to let her die now. He laid her back on the ground and began CPR.

"Breathe," he demanded. There was practically no time left. In fact, he was astonished that the building hadn’t fallen to bits around them already. He kept applying pressure to her chest and blowing into her mouth. He was about to give up when suddenly he felt her lips twitch under his. He looked into her eyes and she grinned at him weakly.

"We have to stop meeting like this," she whispered.

He ignored her feeble quip and said, "We must leave – now!"

She nodded and he tried to help her to her feet. It was no use. She was still too weak. She sagged in his arms.

"Go on," she gently urged. "Leave me."

"Not likely," he replied grimly. He threw her over his shoulder like she was a sack of wheat and began running as fast as he could while carrying a six-foot woman. They were already in the garden, if they could just get some more distance between them and the house….

Outside the van, Nikita and company waited anxiously. They had done all they could. Now Michael and Mahleah’s lives lay in the hands of fate.

"Five, four, three, two, one," Birkoff counted down sadly.

On cue, giant fireballs erupted from each wing and the main part of the building began crumbling. Nikita stared at it with tears in her eyes.

Birkoff came out of the van and stood by her watching the carnage. After a moment, he touched her on the shoulder.

"Nikita," he said softly. "They’re gone."

"No," she shook her head violently. She could feel tears stinging her eyes, but she refused to cry. Michael and Mahleah were not dead. They weren’t. She knew it. She could taste blood in her mouth and realized she had bitten her lower lip viciously.

"No, they made it out. We just can’t see them yet. There’s too much smoke. Michael found her I know it."

"Even if he did," he pointed out, "they may not have had enough time to get out of the building."

"No, they made it," she insisted almost frantically.

He didn’t have the heart to insist they leave yet, besides she was the team leader. Her team looked nearly as miserable as she was.

Mentz suddenly caught sight of something in the haze. "What’s that?" he asked.

Nikita stared at the spot hopefully. Something was slowly, but surely, moving toward them.

"Michael!" she screamed and ran into the smoke.

Birkoff squinted, and just as his friend had predicted, made out the figure of Michael coming toward them. He saw with a start that Mahleah was lying across Michael’s shoulder and his chest tightened. Of course, he was glad to see Michael alive, but what had happened to Mahleah?

Nikita helped them into the van and as the others climbed in, she yelled to the driver, "Go!"

Michael gently stretched Mahleah across the floor. To Birkoff’s relief, she looked up at him laughed softly and said, "Well, that was a rough trip, but the view was spectacular."

Michael stared at her for a long moment, and then to Nikita’s complete astonishment he laughed.

Chapter Twenty-Five

On the plane ride back to Section, Nikita was amazed by Mahleah’s powers of recuperation. She insisted that she’d only had the wind knocked out of her, and was fine now.

Hamad’s vitals had stabilized, so the mission was considered a success. Nikita was glad but she was still trying to unravel the strange phenomenon of Michael actually laughing. Previously she had only seen him do things like laugh or smile when he was on a Valentine mission. Well, she had to take that back: he had smiled at Adam and Elena. That could be construed as part of a mission, but she believed he had been genuine in his affection for them. So, what exactly did he feel for Mahleah and how had she been able to get him to laugh? Where did the bruise on his neck come from? She saw that he was headed toward the woman now.

Mahleah was sitting quite comfortably, tapping her feet to the music one of the operatives had managed to smuggle on board.

"Turn that up!" she called to him and obligingly the sounds of "Pour Some Sugar on Me" blared through the speakers.

Michael shook his head at her. "I wouldn’t have picked you as a Def Lepard fan."

"I’m not," she shrugged, "but that song sounds awesome cranked up on a good stereo. It kind of makes me nostalgic for my youth."

"Oh, you’re so ancient now," he commented.

"Not yet," she grinned. "But I’m working on it. Sit down, Musashi. What can I do for you?"

He obeyed her instruction then said in a low voice, "You can explain a few things for me."

He saw her defenses instantly flare up, and continued, "We both know you suffered more injuries than merely getting the wind knocked out of you. I tracked you through a trail of blood, and I know you get hit by lightning."

"What did you actually see?" she challenged. "Hamad was holding me when he was shot, why couldn’t the blood have been his? Did you actually see me be hit by lightning? Maybe it struck beside me?"

He frowned, "I can’t prove that you were shot no, but I still…"

She lay a hand over his lips, "Musashi, let me ask you something. Do you care about my well-being?"

He gave her a puzzled look, but replied, "Yes."

"Do you think I’m a danger to Section?"

"Actually, I do," he told her, "just not in the typical way."

She gave him a look of mock exasperation and continued, "Do you trust me?"

They both knew this big question. Michael trusted few people. He considered her question carefully and then answered, "Yes."

"Then please don’t ask me too many questions," she pleaded. "There are things I’d rather keep you out of. I live a dangerous life just because of my very existence. It has nothing to do with terrorists or threats to the security of the world, it just…is."

"You said you had no choice but to kill Kassim," he reminded her. "You mentioned something about your people. What did you mean?"

She sighed, "That secret may be more dangerous to know than the location of Section One. Just know that my people live a strange existence. We frequently fight each other and have for centuries. Some of us try to avoid it, but at times there is no choice."

"So, the swords and the decapitation are some kind of ritual."

She nodded, "Something like that, yeah. Michael, I really can’t explain any more. If our friendship means anything to you, though, you’ll make sure I don’t end up in the MedLab."

"I’ll see what I can do," he promised.

"Good," she began humming along to the Aerosmith song now playing.

"So, are you reminiscing about the guy sweet enough to lick?" he inquired with a raised eyebrow.

She smiled at him, marveling at his newfound ability to joke. "You’re referring to the first song, I suppose. Yeah, I guess it does remind me a little of Kevin."

"How about this one?" he asked, gesturing slightly.

“‘Love in an Elevator’?" she laughed. "I guess it reminds me that there are things I haven’t tried yet."

"Really," he was mildly surprised.

"Yes, I guess my bad girl image will just have to be penalized a little."

He was shaking his head at her when she noticed the disgruntled expression on Nikita’s face. "Ooh, I think I’m getting you into trouble," she said ruefully. "Why don’t you send Nikita over to talk to me for a few minutes?"

He did as requested and the tall blonde ambled over and slung herself into the chair beside Mahleah. "Look, Mahleah, I know you two were under orders and all…"

"But how did Michael get a hickey on his neck? I was wondering how long it would take you ask me that?" Mahleah chuckled. "Well girlfriend, it was an attempt on my part to protect him from the ravages of a barracuda named Sherissa who was dying to sink her teeth into poor Musashi."

"Sherissa? Who was she?"

"Sherissa was Hamad’s mistress and she didn’t like me very much for some reason." She looked Nikita in the eye. "The truth is Nick that aside from a couple of make-out sessions when we were under observation, and the fact that we did have to share a bed: nothing happened between me and Michael. Like I said, I did have to convince Sherissa that his heart belonged to another woman, but I always kept that in mind."

"Michael doesn’t love me," Nikita protested.

Mahleah waved a weary hand at her, too tired to protest the obvious, "Whatever."

After a lengthy debrief upon their return in which she was delighted to discover that not only did Michael keep his word about preventing her from paying a visit to the infirmary, but all of her teammates refrained from mentioning anything strange about her appearance. She thought to herself that she would have to do something nice for them.

She returned to her apartment and slept for a few hours, although it seemed a little strange to be sleeping alone again. She woke to a knock on her door. She threw on a kimono and answered it.

"Hey darlin’," Walter greeted her with a bouquet of flowers. "Did you miss me?"

She grabbed him and shut the door. "I hear we owe you our lives."

"What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"Well, the way Birkoff tells it, you told him how to get another minute out of those timers."

"Birkoff has a big mouth," he muttered.

She laid the flowers to the side and wrapped her arms around him. "Oh, but when you learn how generous I can be in thanking someone you’ll bless his name."

She fully intended to finish what they had begun before the mission began, and if Michael needed "Kensei" tonight, he could fly to Japan.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Seacouver, Washington

Duncan sat down at Joe’s bar and looked at his friend expectantly. "You said you had some news about Mahleah," he offered.

"Yeah," Joe stopped wiping the bar and looked at the Scot. "The household she was living in was completely wiped out. My man Bryson barely escaped. He said that Mahleah worked for some sort of anti-terrorist group. She and another guy paved the way for a full-fledged attack. During the commotion, she and Kassim fought."

Duncan wet his lips nervously, "And?"

"She won," the Watcher told him. "That’s the good news. The bad news is that Bryson lost track of her. He has no idea where she is now. It’s still possible I suppose that Jesley saw her in Paris."

MacLeod sighed, "Remind her of what I said before."

Joe nodded, and then looked at him expectantly.

Involuntarily, MacLeod smiled slightly. “Hand me the phone,” he ordered, “you might as well share the long distance calls to Los Angeles.”

Paris, France

Outside Notre Dame

Mahleah sighed. There were times when she hated being Immortal even though she was a child for one of her kind. Kassim had not been evil, and she truly had not wanted to kill him. Was this what it was going to be like -- forced into battle for eternity? At least Kassim had found a point to his existence. He had made a vow to protect a family and it gave him purpose. She supposed that really was why she had taken his head. She couldn’t stand the lost look in his eyes at the end.

She wanted to live a meaningful life no matter how long it lasted, but she didn’t want to live for only one goal. Life should be experienced to its fullest, and she wanted to see the world and know as many people as she could. Maybe they weren’t all perfect, and some of them hovered in the gray areas between good and evil but companionship was the greatest gift humans were given.

She hoped Michael and Nikita would learn that lesson soon. Nikita would only need a little nudging while Michael would probably require a kick in the rear, but even he was showing signs of improvement.

She regretted that no one had bothered to get Sherissa out of the house before it exploded. Yes, she was vain and even vicious but her greatest sin lay in allowing herself to be bored and who could not lay claim to that vice at some point or other?

Thinking of sins and retreat from everlasting warfare reminded her of her old friend Darius. She stood up. It wouldn’t hurt her to stop by his chapel and light candles for the souls of those that were lost today. Even if she wasn’t Catholic, she was sure Darius would approve of her saying a prayer for their souls.

In the meantime, she would make sure she lost the woman following her. She knew the Watcher was only doing her duty, but if she found out where Mahleah lived there could be terrible consequences.

She would take the most Byzantine-like route she could think of to the chapel and after that she would return home. She had left a man in her bed, and while she could make him no promises he deserved to wake up with her beside him.

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