As Time Goes By

Book Three: A Sigh is But a Sigh

Revised August 2004

Chapter One

As she drove across the country, Mahleah’s mind was tormented by her contradictory emotions. A part of her wanted to go back to Sunnydale and have a long discussion with MacLeod – pull all of the issues haunting them out into the open. Yet the largest part wanted to flee, not the bravest stance she had ever taken, but irresistible for the moment.

She reflected on the fact that the last two times she had encountered Mac before arriving in California they had fought – once quite literally. There hadn’t been time to deal with her feelings about that duel, in which Mac had not recognized her, and ran her through. Section did not allow its operatives the luxury of catharsis and so the anger and pain had been suppressed only to bubble up a year later in their next encounter when Michael had been sent to cancel Mac. Again, they had quarreled and parted in what now seemed to be an established pattern. Well, this time she was foregoing the argument and leaving before things were said that couldn’t be forgiven.

He had said she should seek an alternative lifestyle, so she was running to the most stable, safe man she knew. He was someone who kept his feet on the ground and didn’t involve himself in dangerous past times like fighting in The Game. He was almost the opposite; she ruminated, on the brooding, intense, darkly passionate men she normally found herself with. She had found refuge with him before in a stormy time and she hoped he would prove a safe harbor again.

So, she headed toward Knoxville, Tennessee where her most reliable Intel told her that her old fiancé, Mark Fleming, was now living. Mark was a writer and a teacher, and she had always adored him for the security he provided…and his sensible walking shoes. Of all the people she knew, he was the most likely to supply the average, middle-America kind of normality she was seeking.

Chapter Two

Important news travels quickly by telephone. Cordelia was alone in the offices of Angel Investigations, since as she had put it, “Someone has to be here in case we actually get a client.” Her friends Angel, Wesley, and Gunn were all out together indulging in a pickup game of basketball with some of the guys from Gunn’s old neighborhood. Ostensibly, it was to give Wesley some physical therapy and stretch out his muscles which were now healed from a gunshot wound but needed strengthening. In reality, they were all trying to make sure that Angel got out more and interacted with people in positive ways.

It seemed to be working. Despite rare moments when she was able to catch a glimpse of his still raw pain over losing Buffy in his eyes, Cordelia was proud of him. He hadn’t retreated and continued to make slow steps forward in his ongoing quest to appreciate life more fully.

Thus, it was natural that she was the only person present for an urgent phone call from Sunnydale.

“Angel Investigations,” she answered brightly. “We help the hopeless.”

“Cordy, is Angel there?” a very anxious sounding Willow responded.

“Not at the moment,” Cordelia’s automatic smile at hearing the familiar face was fading as the tenseness of her old friend’s voice sank in. “Is there something I can do, Will?”

Willow sighed on the other end. “Well, we’re wondering actually if you’ve seen Mahleah.”

“Yes, we have,” Cordelia answered cautiously. Something was wrong, “A few weeks ago, why?”

“She’s not there now?” Willow persisted.

“No,” her curiosity was itching. “Willow, what’s wrong?”

“It’s kind of hard to explain over the phone, but Mahleah has lost her Immortality,” the young witch explained.

Cordelia shook her head in disbelief. How could that happen?

”She’s mortal now?” Cordy demanded. “You mean she’s a regular Jane Human like the rest of us, only armed with a sword?”

“Uh huh,” Willow agreed. “She and Mac had some kind of fight –he won’t say much about it – and he thought she might be heading in your direction.”

“Sorry, but we haven’t seen her. What’s the big panic, though? I mean, for a mortal Mahleah’s still a kick-ass kind of chick. She can take care of herself.”

“We haven’t figured out what caused this,” Willow explained patiently. “Or, what other kind of effects she might be suffering. We’d really like to find her. If Angel could help out it would be greatly appreciated.”

At that moment, Cordelia’s co-workers and best friends came ambling through the door. Gunn and Wesley were laughing and even Angel had a rare smile on his face. Seeing it made up Cordelia’s mind. Angel, like MacLeod was very old-fashioned. It was natural, of course, and sweet in many ways but if she were to tell him Willow’s news, he would anguish over Mahleah’s whereabouts and safety. She and the other guys had just managed to get his psyche patched back up so she was not going to screw with his head now.

“Sure,” she answered. Willow hastily bade her farewell and hung up. With a buzzing phone in her hand, Cordelia said loudly, “The check’s in the mail,” and made a production of putting the receiver down.

“What is it, Cordy?” Angel asked.

“Phone Company,” she lied without batting an eyelash.

Angel frowned, “I thought we had paid that one.”

“We did,” she said reassuringly. “Like I told them, the check’s in the mail. There’s probably just a mix up on their end. It’s nothing serious at all.”

Chapter Three

The past two and a half days had sped by in a blur of highways, motel rooms, rental cars, and recriminations. Mahleah pulled into a convenience store parking lot and slowly rolled up to a pay phone. Now that she was nearly at her final destination, she needed to reassure herself she would not be pursued.

Before grabbing the telephone receiver, she unzipped a small package that contained some final presents from Michael and Walter. Squinting at the small numbers attached to the telephone, she keyed them into a small handheld device as well as the number she would be dialing. It was highly unlikely that the person on the receiving end of her call would have the kind of technology needed to defeat this Section issued scrambler. Her signal would be bounced around the globe so many times it should have its own frequent flier miles.

Taking a deep breath, she made the call, hoping she’d be able to make an old friend see her way.

“Hi Joe, how are things?” she inquired with a tight throat and a dry mouth.

“Mahleah, where the hell have you been?” the Watcher demanded. “I’ve got Mac calling me nearly every hour on the hour to ask if I’ve had any news about you.”

“Well, now you can tell him you do…I’m fine but I don’t want to talk to him,” she responded firmly.

“Mahleah,” he protested.

“No, Joe, it’s just too soon. I have some issues I have to figure out for myself and he’s just one complication too many,” she said.

“Complications like you’re the first Immortal on record to have suddenly become mortal again?” he asked wryly.

“Yeah,” she laughed nervously, “Exactly.”

“Mahleah, there’s something you should know about Mac,” he started but she cut him off.

“No, Joe, I’m sure there’s a lot to say but now is not the time. Look I just wanted to pass the word along that I’m doing great and I’m following my destiny, whatever that may be. I want you to promise me something, though,” she warned.

“What’s that?” he asked warily.

“Promise that you won’t have me watched or followed,” she requested flatly. “I’m not Immortal any more so it’s really none of the Watchers’ business what I’m doing. Pull off the people I’m sure you’ve got scouring the earth for me. At this point, you’re just indulging in a personal favor to Mac anyway. If I want you guys to know where I am, I’ll tell you.”

He was silent for a long moment, considering her request.

“I mean it, Joe,” she repeated heatedly. “I still have to worry about the consequences of my former life in Paris.” Even if it was a secure line, she didn’t want to mention Section by name. “If someone is following me I’m going to assume he or she has hostile intentions and act accordingly. I swear if I find out that you’ve had surveillance on me or that you reveal anything about my location to anyone I’ll never speak to you again so help me God.”

Sensing she truly meant it, he sighed and agreed, then added, “But Mahleah, we’re still your friends. Hell, I consider you family. It’s not fair that you just cut off all communication with us. We’re going to worry about you – I’m going to worry about you. You’re mortal now and the dangers just increased exponentially.”

Her voice softened, “Hey, I’ll be fine. I was blessed with the best teachers in the world to make sure I had all the skills I needed to survive no matter where I was or what happened to me. I’ll check in every now and then to let you know how I am. This won’t be a permanent thing, but right now I really need some time and some space to figure things out, you know.”

“Sure,” he agreed. “But about Mac…”

“No,” she wouldn’t let him finish. “I’ll talk to you later Joe. Bye.”

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

In Seacouver, Joe hung up the telephone with a frown. He had not wanted to agree to her conditions but in the end, it was best if she trusted at least one of her old friends to be completely straight with her. He only wished she had allowed him to finish telling her that Mac was now mortal as well.

“Trouble?” a familiar voice inquired.

He looked up to see Methos approaching.

“Sort of,” Joe replied. “That was Mahleah and she still won’t listen to a word I have to say about Mac.”

“First things first,” the Immortal said calmly. “We join your brother watcher in Sunnydale and find out just what the hell is happening to everyone, and then we can find our runaway and knock some sense into her.”

“Methos, I really don’t think you should come with me,” Joe said with concern. “I mean we don’t know what’s causing you guys to lose your Immortality. You shouldn’t risk it, until we figure it out.”

“But Joe...” Methos started to argue weakly, but this time it was Joe who interrupted.

“No, it’s too dangerous. If we find out that the cause is something that won’t affect you, I’ll give you a call but until then stay here and take care of this place for me, huh? I’d hate to see it go under because of all my traveling.”

He saw Methos open his mouth, presumably to debate the matter longer, but he changed his mind and swiveled around to look at the door. Following his friend’s gaze, Joe saw a stunning blonde strolling towards them. His mind froze and not because of the woman’s attractive figure or wheat-colored hair.

“You’re…you’re…” he stammered.

“An old friend,” Methos announced with pleasure.

“But what are you doing here?” Joe demanded, with his mind in a whirl.

“It’s good to see you, Joe,” she replied with a smile. Her voice was rich and lightly accented.

“Does either Mac or Mahleah know you’re in the country?” Joe was growing angry.

“No,” the blonde shook her head. “And it’s best that they don’t, actually. I just like to check on them every now and then. If they saw me…well, it would get complicated.”

“Heaven forbid,” Joe said with sarcasm. “You’d actually have to explain some things, wouldn’t you?”

“Joe,” Methos’ voice cut sharply through the tension. “She’s here to see me and find out about the people she loves. Don’t turn this into melodrama.”

“Too late.” The bartender muttered, “Much, much too late.”

********

After hanging up on Joe, Mahleah put her equipment away and drove off to the only address she’d been able to locate on Mark. Cutting off Kingston Pike she swung onto Alcoa Highway and headed toward the airport. It seemed her ex had moved into a house past Alcoa but before one reached Maryville. She hoped she’d be able to follow the directions she’d gotten off the internet for the address…those things were not always reliable.

This time she seemed to be in luck. As she pulled her car into the driveway, she saw his name on the mailbox. Her luck was improving. According to the University of Tennessee webpage, Mark was teaching a class right now. While she waited for him to get home, she’d take a nap. It had been a long trip.

As she drifted into dreamland, a stray memory carried her unconscious away.

Angel approached her cautiously, with a cup of the new herbal tea she loved so well in his hand.

“I really had a good time when we went to the movies a couple of weeks ago,” he ventured.

She smiled and accepted his offering, sipping the tea and enjoying the tentative opening he was presenting.

“So did I,” she told him.

Encouraged, he plunged ahead, “How would you feel about doing it again? Going out, I mean.”

Her smile widened, “You really haven’t done this for a while, have you?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, “Pretty obvious, isn’t it? I used to be so good at it. I think I just assumed back then that no woman could resist me and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Thanks to one special lady, I learned otherwise.”

“Oh, really,” she was intrigued. “What damsel actually turned you down?”

If he were human his checks would have been pink.

“Umm, I really shouldn’t talk about her. Let’s just say she gave me a quick lesson in women’s lib before I ever knew there was such a thing.”

There was a time when she would have bantered with him about his mystery woman, but she still hadn’t made it back to that, yet.

“Where did you want to go?” she changed the subject.

He bit his lip, “The opera, actually. Think you could handle that?”

She smiled again, widely. “I think so. What are they performing?”

“Faust,” he said softly.

She caught her breath and then heedless of his embarrassment, wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Oh Angel, I’d love to.”

Mahleah’s lips twitched in her sleep and she buried her cheek more firmly into her headrest as she lost herself in her pleasant past.

******

Mac groaned and tossed in bed as his drowsing mind showed him a scene he’d never witnessed in life.

Mahleah’s arms wrapped around Angel’s shoulders and her warm lips brushed his cheek.

When she pulled away, her dark eyes were sparkling with tears.

“I wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for you,” she told him. “I would have probably found the toughest Immortal around and given myself up. Thank you.”

His fingers cupped her face, “You just need time to heal, Mahleah. Your life may never be the same, but who’s to say it won’t be better.”

Mac sighed. The skin under his closed eyelids was moist and he held his pillow in a death-grip as the nightmare continued.

Chapter Four

Cordelia ran her fingers wistfully over Angel’s travel bag. He had decided that he would go away for a couple of months to sort out his feelings about Buffy’s death. Despite Gunn’s jokes about going to Vegas, she knew that Angel had decided to travel instead to the Himalayas. He had countered her implication that he would brood with the insistence that he wanted to meditate and contemplate the recent changes in his life and then he would be back.

Before he left though, she needed to have a talk with him. The lie that had blithely fallen from her lips now burned in her conscience. What if something had happened to Mahleah? Angel would never forgive her or himself for not being there to prevent it, and more importantly, she could never forgive herself. They were in the business of helping people and she had possibly denied that aid to someone all of them considered a close friend.

Sighing, she knew it was time to come clean and tell Angel everything before he left the country for a few months. Besides, it just felt wrong to have intentionally hidden something this important from him…it wasn’t her style. She was Cordelia Chase, who always told others what she thought even when they might not like it. She had made a mistake in trying to hide that phone call, and she intended to rectify it now.

She saw Angel finish saying goodbye to the others and walk towards her. It was now or never.

Smiling brightly to cover her anxiety, she inquired, “Can we talk for a minute?”

********

After the first pleasant surprise of Angel asking her to the opera wore off, she realized she had a problem. This was going to be the opening night of “Faust” and she had nothing appropriate to wear. After mentioning her problem to Wesley, he had advised her to consult Cordelia.

“That sort of thing is her cup of tea, really,” he insisted.

She was unconvinced. Her behavior toward Cordelia had not been very pleasant in the not so distant past and the girl still acted a bit skittish towards her. Still, this might be the best way to break the ice between them.

As it turned out, shopping on Rodeo Drive was something that Cordelia lived for but couldn’t afford much of. After explaining to Cordy that shopping for her was more about looking for music, antiques, or weapons, the brunette had swung into action.

“Leave it to me,” she proclaimed. “I can help you shop, match, and accessorize, and with your Swiss bank account to work with we are going to have so much fun.”

Personally, she hated shopping for clothes, but Cordelia was completely in her element. It had been so long since she tried on so many outfits. Nothing seemed to suit her own personal fashion coordinator though, until she tried on a hot little black dress. It was short, sassy, and low-cut while still managing to look elegant.

Standing in the mirror looking at herself, she knew this couldn’t be the dress. It just didn’t feel right. Granted she had finally moved past the more pinkish, flowery stage she had adopted right after her breakdown as a barricade against her past teasing actions, but she wasn’t ready to graduate to something this bold.

Cordelia studied her closely and proclaimed, “I think we might have a winner – you look incredible. Angel will absolutely freak when he sees you in that…it’s so sexy.” There was a long pause as she took in that statement as well as the admiring glances of a man waiting for his girlfriend to emerge from a dressing room.

“On the other hand,” the young woman quickly interposed, “I’ve noticed you’ve been staying away from black right now and you know that’s a good thing, and besides it’s not like you and Angel are really a hot item. You know, like if he didn’t have a curse on his soul. You do know about the curse, right?”

They had quickly agreed that it wouldn’t be fair to rub Angel’s nose in it so to speak (which left Cordelia moaning, “Bad, bad visual.”) and left the hot little black dress on the rack.

It took them four more stores, but they finally found the right dress. It was floor-length in a pale pastel blue with a beaded bodice. The neckline was scooped but not as noticeably as in the black number.

Cordelia’s eyes sparkled in the mirror. “This is the one!” she proclaimed. “I mean you look like a princess. It’s perfect.” She hesitantly reached out and touched the braid in front of her. “I’ll even do your hair, if you like.”

It was a nice way to begin again and this time as friends.

MacLeod had quit tossing in his sleep. It was much more bearable to dream about the tentative first steps of Mahleah and Cordelia’s friendship than to see her with Angel. Yet, the dream wasn’t over with yet.

*****

Mark Fleming had been having an average day. He had taught a morning class, sat through a boring staff meeting, had conferences with several students about their papers and had lunch with his best friend.

Of course, the lunch was as annoying as usual. Jason had been trying to set him up on yet another blind date. Mark had explained patiently over and over again, that these dates were recipes for disaster but Jason just wouldn’t listen.

He had to admit that Jason had generally shown good taste when arranging these outings, but inevitably, the relationships didn’t work out. Sometimes he just didn’t hit it off with one of the women, but usually, they were the ones that stopped the proceedings. They, quite reasonably, claimed that it was too difficult to get close to him, and that he had not only commitment issues but also a phobia toward intimacy. These were legitimate complaints but he just didn’t feel like working on them right now.

He didn’t bother to explain that his fear of getting close resulted from the fact that the last woman he’d been in love with, had been going to marry in fact, had turned out to have issues that made his look like Romper Room. Yes, it was hard for him to lower his barriers when the last person he had bared his soul to had decapitated a man. In all fairness, she’d had no choice in the matter but she hadn’t bothered to explain her life to him or the truth that this was what her life would always be like. He had found out in the worst possible way: by seeing her take a sword and slice it through another person’s neck. The explanation came later after he had thrown up everything he had ever eaten in a lifetime.

No, Jason was just going to have to lay off his efforts to play matchmaker. It was better for all concerned. Now he was heading back home for a quick trip because he had forgotten a few things he would need for his night class. He hoped it would be a quick trip, but right now, the traffic near the exit leading from 40 to Alcoa Highway was stuck in its tracks. There must be a wreck up ahead somewhere.

Sitting in the sunshine feeling pretty bored, he found a tape lying in his passenger seat. It must belong to Jason, he mused, turning it over in his hands. Oh well, he thought, I’m not doing anything now, and popped it into the car’s tape deck.

He was greeted with a barrage of guitars and a haunting voice, which declared:

We walked around till the moon got full like a plate
The wind blew an invocation and I fell asleep at the gate
And I never stepped on the cracks ‘cause I thought I’d hurt my mother
And I couldn’t awake from the nightmare that sucked me in and pulled me under
Pulled me under
Oh…that was so real
I love you, but I’m afraid to love you
I love you, but I’m afraid to love you.

Oh, perfect, he winced, popping the tape back out. There’s nothing like confronting me with my issues head-on, Jason. I’ll stick to Mariah Carey any day, thank you.

******

At the opera, she had the pleasurable experience of putting a jerk in his place who had taken advantage of Angel being gone for a moment to make a pass at her while his own date stood not ten feet away. Sailing away on the arm of the man she considered the best looking there, was a bonus.

The opera had been wonderful and moving, but the end completely unglued her. Angel had known somehow that coming to see this performance would heal wounds that had been open for far too long, and during the climactic “Ange pur, ange radieux” she had wept unabashedly for her lost innocence, and her lost mother. The strength and purity of the music pulled at her and allowed her to face the future again.

When Angel offered her a comforting hand to hold she smiled at him through the tears and knew for the first time in a long, long while that she would be okay. Redemption and forgiveness were possible if you had the faith and the resolve to reach for them.

While strolling hand-in-hand through the parking garage towards his car, they encountered the same jerk that had previously made an unsuccessful move on Mahleah. He was disgruntled since his rude conduct had lost him not only a potential conquest but his current date as well. His macho posturing got so annoying that Angel lost his patience and showed the incensed suitor his demon side. To drive the point home, she kissed him fangs and all.

The man might have been a chauvinistic pig but he wasn’t completely stupid and so ran like the wind. They reached Angel’s car in peace and drove away, but she noticed that Angel was unusually silent. They drove quietly for about fifteen minutes and then Angel parked them on top of one of the hills that overlooked the city. It had a wondrous view of the lights, the moon, and the stars…perfectly romantic except for the look on his face.

“Mahleah, why did you kiss me back there?” he asked finally, not looking her in the face.

“It seemed appropriate at the time,” she ventured. “Why, did I go too far? I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s not that,” he faltered for a moment. “It just seemed like you were trying to make a point or something.”

“I was,” she looked at him curiously. “I was telling that idiot that I was already taken so buzz off, already.”

“Oh,” he let out a deep sigh.

“What did you think I was saying, Angel?”

He met her eyes for an instant and then looked away again, and she could see uncertainty and pain darting through them.

“I thought you might have been telling him, ‘Look, you’re such a jerk that I’d rather be with this terrible monster than you.’ Something like that,” he admitted.

She realized that her action had been completely misinterpreted. “Oh God, Angel, no, that’s not it at all. I was trying to show how much I’d rather be with you and if I thought about your game face at all it was to demonstrate that I was with you willingly and not involuntarily in case he got any brilliant ideas about calling the cops to report a kidnapping.”

She caressed his face and made him look her in the eyes, “I’m not afraid of you, Angel. You’ve held me together these last couple of months when I confronted the ugliness in my own soul. I’m with you right now because I want to be, not because I feel like I owe you or anything. If I’ve learned anything from you, it’s that my debt can’t be paid in such a trivial way – it’s about passing on the good deed and trying to help others find that second chance that I got.”

His face lightened. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

“I kissed you because I wanted to,” she emphasized with a quick demonstration, and then pulled back, “If that’s okay?”

He smiled suddenly, “I’m not complaining. Well, I guess I was, but I’m not now and…”

She interrupted him, her mouth sinking softly into his.

“You know, Cordy isn’t going to like this,” she pointed out.

“Cordy?” he asked blankly.

“You know, Cordelia, your secretary and Gal Friday?”

“I remember Cordy, but what’s she got to do with anything?” He frowned. “Mahleah, there’s nothing romantic between me and Cordelia, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She laughed, “No, that’s not my point. I wasn’t the slightest bit worried about that, actually. The two of you are more like an older, fond but exasperated brother and perky, younger, annoying sister.”

“Much older,” he agreed. “So what do you mean?”

“I mean, Cordelia spent all day warning me about the implications of your curse and ensuring that I knew the limitations on our evening out,” she explained.

“She would,” he groaned. “Look, she’s right in a way. This can’t ever…”

“I know,” she agreed. “We can’t take a chance on making love, but I’m not really interested in that right now anyway. There’s been too much emphasis on sex in my life lately, and it’s not something I’m comfortable with right now.”

“So, what would you like?” he asked, gently but directly.

She laughed, and gestured at the landscape. “Let’s take advantage of the setup. I don’t want sex, but I’ve got no objections to some really heavy snuggling and some really light necking.”

He grinned, and her heart sped up. He really should do that more often, she decided, and I’m going to make sure he does.

“Light necking, and easy on the neck I suppose?” he teased.

“You read my mind,” she smiled and moved in closer, as she wanted to discover what his mouth tasted like past those tempting lips.

Someone was touching her arm. Mahleah jumped in her car seat and looked up in to the face of the man she had driven across the country to see.

“Hello, Mark,” she said with her heart in her throat.

******

The telephone was ringing as he groggily opened his eyes. Managing to bring the phone to his ear, he mumbled, “Hello?”

“MacLeod? This is Angel,” he heard and stiffened immediately. He really did not want to talk to the vampire right now.

“What do you want?” he asked wearily.

“I just found out about Mahleah. Have you heard from her? Is she okay?”

“You just found out?” he repeated incredulously. “We called you days ago.”

“Yeah, there was a little problem in my answering service,” was the stern reply. “Has anything else happened?”

“Mahleah left word that she didn’t want to be found,” Mac told him. “Look, this isn’t your problem.” He suddenly remembered Angel’s own grief and softened his attitude a little. “I know you’re worried about her, but Mahleah is a grown woman and she can take care of herself. I want to find her, but it’s because we have personal issues to work out. Really, we don’t need your help.”

The voice on the other end was wary and a little hurt, “I was planning to take a sabbatical out of the country but I could postpone it and help you look.”

“That’s not necessary,” he repeated. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather do this myself.”

“Fine,” Angel responded. “I can understand that, but when you find her give her a message for me. If she ever needs anything, I’m just a phone call away.”

“Sure, that’ll be the first thing I do when I see her,” Mac said sarcastically. “You enjoy your trip and put us out of your minds.” He hung up before he realized what he was doing.

As the fog of sleep and the last remnants of the dream fled from his mind, he groaned. Great, he had just insulted and sneered at an offer of help from someone who cared nearly as much for Mahleah as himself. He was handling himself marvelously as a mortal.

******

“Joe, tell me about her,” the blonde woman coaxed.

“What do you want to hear?” Joe was still angry that it had taken this woman so many years to show up, and she still hadn’t gone to the person that needed her most.

“Anything, everything,” she pleaded. “Please. There must be some little tidbit you can remember from that vast reservoir of chronicles that would help me to know her just a little bit better.”

Relenting, Joe realized he knew the perfect story to share.

Chapter Five

“First of all to understand the point of my story you need to know about a couple of things. The first has to do with men and the second with music – or more specifically the men in Mahleah’s life and the ways she discovered her musical talent.

“Up until the last few years, the men that Mahleah loved most were the part of her life causing her the most pain and the chief culprit would have to be her dad. David just never got over the guilt of losing the woman he loved and for half of Mahleah’s life nearly forgot that she existed at all. On the few occasions that he managed to connect with reality, and with her, he could be a real bastard in many ways.

“This is also where music plays a role in the story because as a kid it was Mahleah’s only way to get close to her dad in any way. Through the music he played in the house or in a bar somewhere she gained some semblance of the man he was and the man he had been. Now, I don’t think she ever consciously realized just how driven she was to gain the love of this man but she was constantly striving to excel in everything she did in an effort not so much to please him but just to gain his damn attention. Forgive me if I sound bitter but I think David Brennan gypped Mahleah out of her childhood. She always had to be the adult because her “parent” was never in control of himself.

“Anyway, at the top of the driveway going down to their house lived the nicest couple in the whole county. They had raised their own children and watched them move away to better jobs in more profitable parts of the country and so always kept an affectionate eye on our girl. The woman’s name was Netty and her husband was Willie. Mahleah was constantly at their house, especially if MacLeod had to be somewhere else and the only person left at home was a drunken or even worse hung over David.

“Willie was a blues man from way back. He never played professionally, but he came from a long line of guitar players that stretched many generations. Netty never believed that she could sing but her efforts to make ‘a joyful noise’ were Mahleah’s introduction to spirituals and gospel music. When Mahleah desperately wanted to learn the guitar so she could do something with her dad, Willie was the natural person for her to turn to. He was patient with her and giving and she learned quickly.

“Unfortunately, while Mahleah’s debut of her new skills was phenomenal it had a bad impact on David. He grew jealous that she had asked someone else to teach her the main skill he possessed and took over her lessons. It’s hard for me to put into words both the skills and the damage that man did to her confidence and abilities.

“Mac has told me how he had to literally pull her guitar from her bleeding fingers. He had many fights with David about what he was doing to her, which also contributed to her insecurities since the two people she cared about most were fighting about her. What this led to was Mahleah practicing in her room but never playing in public again for many, many years.

“It didn’t help that her first big love was a guitar player who was murdered. The most precious thing Mahleah had given him was her own guitar. It wasn’t her first one, which had been a present from Willie and Duncan, but one of the few things her father had ever given her and it was actually autographed by her boyfriend’s favorite: Jimmy Page. When Kevin was killed his parents returned the guitar to her and it has followed her around the world ever since.

“What about singing, you might be asking? Mahleah does have one of the best voices of her generation, right? True, but with the disastrous experiences she had with guitar lessons she kept her singing strictly private for the longest time, with the occasional exception of a stint in Netty’s church choir.

“Kevin was the first person to truly appreciate Mahleah’s voice, and he encouraged her to share her gifts with everyone else. After he died, she still didn’t do many performances except to sing around the house.

“Another thing that went downhill after Kevin was Mahleah’s choice in guys. For a few years there she was automatically drawn to the person that would hurt her worst and in the end that meant physically as well as emotionally. A prick chased her for a year of college and then when she finally slept with him, broke off with her and started looking for another trophy to bag. Then there was Kenneth, the professor, who was really a vampire. I’m assuming that Methos will have told you a few highlights of Mahleah’s life so I’m not going to repeat that story.

“One impact Kenneth unintentionally had on Mahleah though was that in her efforts to regain her confidence she began doing theatre and taking voice lessons. Her voice instructor was a lovely individual named Dr. Ericson. This idiot had absolutely no idea what to do with a voice like Mahleah’s or what kind of setting to surround it with.

“This is where my story really begins since it’s about the night of her first recital. It was such an important night for her. I went along with Mac and Richie to see her. I still wasn’t completely accepted as one of the inner circle and yet they invited me to come along. It was a turning point in all of our relationships.

“I can still see her up on that stage with her long hair pinned on top of her head and wearing this long silky black dress. She was beautiful and more nervous than I’ve ever seen her. The audience was full of men in suits and women in elegant dresses. From the moment I saw her up there, I just knew it was all wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Don’t misunderstand me. Mahleah could and can be a slinky torch singer in a long, sexy evening gown singing old thirties and forties jazz songs. This however was not the situation. Dr. Ericson had picked all of her selections himself and we weren’t so lucky as to hear Mahleah’s rendition of ‘They Can’t Take That Away From Me.’

“Now, as an old blues man myself you may be thinking that I’m speaking from personal bias here – of course, I am, but that doesn’t mean that my opinion on this concert is misguided. Mahleah tried…she really did…but her heart just wasn’t in those songs. It was the driest, most emotionless performance I’ve ever heard her give. One of the few highlights was the Kate Bush song ‘Wuthering Heights.’ Ericson was encouraging her to use her upper range and it worked on that piece. The rest of it just fell flat, and Mahleah knew it too. I felt so bad for her and really wanted to strangle that teacher, who seemed to be blaming her personally for the problems with the performance rather than his bad judgment.

“After the last number we went backstage to see her, and caught an earful of Professor Ignorant bawling her out for the problems that she’d had. Mahleah had enough of his griping, told him off in front of everyone, and told him what he could do with his lifeless numbers. I nearly cheered.

“Afterwards she rushed out like her pumps were on fire, and maybe they were in their own way. We followed her as best we could to a student bar a few blocks away. It turned out she knew a couple of guys in the house band – they were from Memphis and related well to the culture clash Mahleah occasionally felt at being a Southern girl in California. One thing led to another and the guys finally managed to coax Mahleah into taking the mike on a few numbers with them. I think even they were shocked at the result.

“She started out with a song I’ve always loved hearing Tina Turner do, ‘Finger Poppin,’ and she not only put her heart into it she put her backbone and her lungs, too. The rest of us had just managed to find a table and sit down and the first time she screamed we nearly fell out of our chairs. Just as the first performance had been as wrong as it gets, this one was dead on, and oh so right.

“The problem that Ericson despite all of his degrees in music didn’t understand was that Mahleah is an earthy person. Being all dressed up, polished and shiny as a new penny, is not her style for long and in a matter of minutes she had discarded her expensive high heels and her hair was coming down her back. Sweat was beading on her forehead and she was finally in her element. Music for Mahleah is like that old adage about sex – if it wasn’t messy, you didn’t do it right. She likes her performances to be almost painfully honest, real and sometimes raw.

“By this time, she had discovered she had chemistry with the lead guitarist and she flirted with him incorrigibly during ‘Take You Higher’, which made Mac increasingly uncomfortable. This was another big development that night. I saw the first signs of an attraction between the two of them that went beyond the platonic. This was after Tessa died, but before Mac started dating Anne yet there were sparks a-plenty on that night -- especially when Mahleah sang Otis Redding’s ‘I’ve Been Lovin’ You Too Long.’ God, she made the hair on my arms stand up with that one. Her voice was drenched in desire and lust so painful I literally lost my breath for a moment. That was the moment and the song when Mahleah first realized what she could do.

“The band knew too and I could see her friends arguing with her over something. She kept shaking her head and they kept insisting. Finally, she seemed to give in and when they played the opening bars to ‘Piece of My Heart,’ I knew why she had been protesting. She didn’t want to seem like a cliché and attempt Janis Joplin, especially in California and I couldn’t blame her. This time the band was right and we were wrong though, because Mahleah threw off the last of her restraints. I think she figured if she were going to be damned for trying Janis, she’d go out fighting all the way. That was the only way to win in that situation really. She just gave that song everything she had and shut out everything else around her.

“We figured she was done after that number, because there didn’t seem to be any way to top it. The guitarist thought so too because he started whispering in her ear and we all could guess what about. MacLeod started getting antsy again and we were trying to reassure him that Mahleah could put this guy in his place without any help from us when she demonstrated that perfectly. She talked the guy out of his electric guitar, threw it on over the evening gown and proceeded to blast through Zeppelin’s ‘Bring It On Home.’

“The last one was for Kevin we all knew, and it was appropriate. The thing I was most struck with was the comparison to a situation back when she was in high school and Kevin was alive. The one thing that Mahleah was unafraid of doing musically from a very early age was dance. She wanted to be a ballerina but the teachers told her she was going to be too tall. As comfort, Mac and Tessa used to take her to lessons in about every dance form imaginable. All of those lessons kicked in one night in an unexpected way as Mahleah was listening to one of Kevin and his band’s rehearsals.

“I admit I was supposed to be watching Mac and not her, but I liked spying on these little jam sessions. The boys were good and I always had fun seeing what they were trying out next. That night though, Mahleah really hit a hot streak. They were playing ‘Whole Lotta Love’ and she suddenly started dancing – making up her own steps and following the music. I really think she forgot the guys were there at all until the end and then she started playing to them but at first, it was just her and the music. To me that moment was all about a teenage girl truly discovering her sexuality for the first time and the impact she could have on males.

“The night of her recital she learned another lesson: she didn’t have to dance or gyrate seductively to have the exact same effect. She had managed to channel all of the aggressions and frustrations she felt about every aspect of her life into the music in an unexpected way.

“No matter how good she gets at any performance I’ve seen since, she’ll never top that one for me because it was the moment when Mahleah finally and truly stepped into her own skin comfortably for the first time.

“Now, I hope this has given you the enlightenment you’re looking for but I need to pack for a trip to Sunnydale, lady.”

Chapter Six

Mark frowned as he pulled his sedate four-door sedan into the driveway of his house. There was a candy-apple red, mid-sixties corvette convertible already parked there, but he didn’t recognize it. Shutting off his engine, he strolled up to the strange vehicle where he received the shock of his life. Curled up in the driver’s seat, like a kitten in the sunshine, was his ex-fiancée, Mahleah. Apparently, she had fallen asleep waiting for him and she had snuggled up to the bucket seat. It seemed she was having a good dream as the corners of her mouth were turned up slightly. A wisp of hair had escaped from her standard braid and was lying against her cheek.

He swallowed hard. It wasn’t every day that a man came home to find Sleeping Beauty personified in his front yard. It was inevitable that they confront each other again, he supposed. There was still so much unfinished and unsaid between them, yet it didn’t change the basic fact that he still wanted no part of her world. Immortality lay between them, no matter how much his heart beat faster at seeing the familiar blend of strength and vulnerability that was especially present in her slumber.

The tiniest breath of wind stirred the strand of hair, which tickled her skin. Her cheek twitched slightly, and his hand involuntarily swept the errant lock back behind her ear. She stirred under his touch, and the whisper of a smile she’d had before slowly spread across her face into glorious, full-fledged life. Her lips whispered a word before her eyes gradually opened. He frowned again. Had she just called him an angel?

Those large, dark eyes finally focused on him, and the smile lost some of its certainty as she greeted him, “Hello, Mark.”

“Hello, Mahleah,” he returned. “What brings you to this neck of the woods? Shouldn’t you be hiding from the cops or something? Oh, that’s right; they think you’re dead, don’t they?”

Her smile disappeared, and he felt like kicking himself. Nice going, he thought. Forget the polite formalities and jump straight back into the old arguments.

“Yes, they do,” she agreed, slowly. “I came here to talk, but if I still make you uncomfortable, Mark, I can leave. I’d just hoped we could…” her hands gestured absently, “work something out.”

“What’s there to work out?” he asked in astonishment. “We broke off our engagement a couple of years ago, and you haven’t tried to contact me since.”

“Neither have you,” she pointed out. “Look, I’m so sorry about everything Mark. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth about me earlier, I’m sorry that you had to find out the way that you did, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t the person you thought you knew. I’m sorry, okay. It was my fault that I wasn’t honest with you up front, but I couldn’t do anything about the rest. I did what I had to do.”

He swallowed, and then admitted, “I know.” At her look of surprise, he added, “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it and you’re right. I mean, I didn’t want that guy to kill you, so what else could you have done? I understand all that now…even why you didn’t tell me up front. I still don’t like that you hid it from me, but I do understand. That doesn’t change the fact that I don’t belong in your world, Mahleah. I wasn’t comfortable with it then, and I’m still not today. I just can’t be in a relationship where I have to choose between wanting you to survive or someone else to die on a regular basis. Spending every day worried that if you walked out the door, I might be called in to identify your decapitated corpse is not a way of life I could ever choose. I’m sorry.”

He started to walk away, but she stopped him by saying, “You wouldn’t have to anymore.”

A car door slammed behind him, and he turned to see her walking toward him.

“What do you mean?” he asked cautiously.

“Just what I said,” she replied earnestly. “I can’t explain why this has happened, but I’m not Immortal now.”

His mind was spinning. Was this a trick?

Reading the doubt in his face, she sighed.

“Look, usually in this sort of situation an Immortal takes a knife or a gun and proves how quickly he or she can heal in a very dramatic fashion. If I were to do that right now, I’d probably end up in the emergency room for stitches, or worse. I’m not sure how I can show you…” Her eyes brightened, and she raised her hand. “Here, look at this. I caught my hand in my guitar case a few days ago. It left a nasty cut and bruise, and I’m still healing…see? If I were still Immortal, this would have been gone in a matter of minutes.”

Sure enough, there was faint scar on her hand and the yellowish tinge of a fading bruise. It was the first time he’d ever seen such things on her.

“I think I need to sit down,” he said quietly.

Inside his own house, sitting on his vaguely uncomfortable sofa he still felt like he needed to sit down.

“Look,” Mahleah told him gently. “I know this is a shock. Believe me, I’m still trying to take it all in myself. On the other hand, this is a chance for us to start over again with a clean slate with no pesky Immortality or other supernatural powers to stand between us this time. I know we shouldn’t jump into anything, and maybe we already missed the opportunity, but I think we should at least try.”

“You want to get back together?” he stammered. “Get married?”

“Whoa,” she said, getting up and pacing the room. “Let’s take this a little slower, shall we? Obviously last time we didn’t get to know each other as well as we should have. We can change that starting today. We don’t have to jump into bed with each other right this second. We haven’t seen each other in a long time. I think we can just work on being friends first.” She glanced at him, a little shyly. “What do you think?”

Think? His brain couldn’t really think now. It had starting locking up the minute it saw her and went into double overdrive when she said she was mortal. So if his head couldn’t think straight what did his heart tell him?

“I’d like that,” he said warmly.

“Oh good,” she said with a breath of relief, “Now, first things first. Are there any nice apartment buildings nearby?”

In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought and offered, “I have a spare bedroom you could use.”

She studied him carefully, “Are you sure? That could be kind of awkward.”

He shrugged, “If it is, you can find your own place. You wanted to get to know me better – the only way to truly do that is to live with me for a while. Try it for a few days and if we’re falling all over each other and not being able to talk about it, there’s some nice townhouses a couple of miles down the road.”

His eyes happened to glance over at the clock on the wall, and he jumped to his feet. “Oh, man I’m going to be late for class if I don’t hurry.”

Her dark eyes sparkled mischievously, “Oh, no you won’t. I’ll drive you there. Trust me, you’ll be on time.”

*****

Mark tensed under his seat belt as the red corvette hurtled around a corner. Incredibly loud guitar music was blasting a rhythm out of the car’s speakers. Bam-boom-bam, bam-boom-bam, foxey lady.

Gritting his teeth, he glanced over at Mahleah, who was coolly driving…one hand easily steering the speeding car and the other confidently shifting gears.

“Jimi Hendrix?” he questioned over the din.

“What?” she asked.

He waved at the obviously refitted stereo system. “Jimi Hendrix?”

She grinned, “Of course.”

Thump-thump-thump, thump-thump-thump, foxey.

“I know your dad liked him, but isn’t he well, just a little overrated?” he ventured.

She peered at him over the rim of her dark sunglasses incredulously as she pulled up to a stop sign.

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, is he really as good as everyone lets on?” he continued, falteringly aware that she was looking at him as if he were entirely crazy.

“My father is a guitar player,” she pointed out.

“Yes, I know but…”

“A really good guitar player,” she reiterated, “and to him listening to Hendrix is the closest thing to musical heaven.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean that you have to like him, surely?” he responded.

A car pulled up beside them in the lane turning left. The guy driving stared over at Mahleah. Well, stare was not exactly appropriate…drank her in was a little more accurate.

She noticed and pushed her sunglasses down further, rolled her eyes at the guy’s suggestive motions, and with a screech of rubber left him drowning in his own drool. Turning back to him, she smiled and responded, “Well, I don’t like him because my father does.”

“Good,” he smiled faintly.

“I like him because I have ears. Maybe you should clean yours out and listen a little more closely,” she said. Her voice was merry but it held an edge that he’d never heard before.

He took another look at his ex-fiancée and truly saw her for the first time without the rosy glasses of memory clouding his vision. Her bearing was more confident than the woman he had known, and she was dressed a little more aggressively. The angles of her face seemed a little harsher and she was humming…loudly. The woman he had proposed to had never played music around him during the time they were together. He’d thought that rather odd, considering both of her parents had been musicians but he hadn’t questioned it. Now, he wondered.

The song changed and an even more jarring burst of sonic boom came at him. He really didn’t know how Mahleah’s ears stood this kind of strain. She was probably not completely adjusted yet to having mortal eardrums.

She smiled at him and he blinked. She was starting to sing. “Curiouser and curiouser” as Alice says.

If you can just get your mind together
Uh—then come on across to me
We’ll hold hands and then we’ll watch the sunrise
From the bottom of the sea
But first are you experienced?
Uh, have you ever been experienced?
Well I have

Oddly enough her voice, a rough husky alto, sounded pleasant to his ears. The lyrics disturbed him however in a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint at first. As they hurtled off Alcoa Highway and onto Kingston Pike he studied her carefully and realized that he was uncomfortable with the sexual vibe she was putting off. There was a sensuality about her he had never noticed before – perhaps had never been there before and it was slightly off-putting. Not because he was a prude, but because she’d never had a sort of predatory feel about her in the past. They had agreed that they would take things slowly…one step at a time and here she was radiating come-hitherness from the heels of her leather boots to the way she had just licked her lips. It was too much, too quickly. If this was the new Mahleah, just what had she experienced?

*******

Class was a familiar relief. He enjoyed the discussions, the arguments, and the banter of his students and as always, he was sorry when time was up for the night.

“Next week we start poetry,” he announced, to a chorus of groans. “Oh come on now, it won’t be as bad as you think, I promise. What’s more to prove it, I want all of you to bring a favorite song lyric to class with you next week and we’ll take a look at them…decide which ones rate the honor of being dubbed poetry and which ones should be tossed out with yesterday’s junk mail.”

“Oh Mr. Fleming,” R. W., one of his students teased, “You’re so cool that everything we listen to will sound completely un-hip to you.”

“Oh yeah, completely retro,” his girlfriend Beca asserted with a wink.

“I gather you think I have no taste,” he replied dryly. “Well, you might be surprised.”

He began gathering his materials to put back in his leather briefcase. R.W. and Beca were among the last to leave, but before they could clear the door one of R.W.’s pals popped his head in to say, “Damn, man, you’ve all got to check out what’s sitting in the parking lot.”

“Why?” Mark asked, curiously. “Is there a problem?”

“Problem?” the young man grinned. “More like trouble with a capital T. Oh man, and does it have the best damn legs I’ve ever seen wandering around this campus…and she’s sitting in a pretty hot car, too – a classic beauty sitting in a classic car listening to a classic song.”

Mark’s mouth went dry, “Oh really.”

He followed his students out to the parking lot. From the moment he set foot outside, he could hear the noise…raw, urgent, and powerful. A voice screamed at him.

With the lights out it’s less dangerous
Here we are now
Entertain us
I feel stupid and contagious
Here we are now
Entertain us
A mulatto
An albino
A mosquito
My libido
Yeah.

At least that’s what he found out the man was saying later when he checked out the lyrics of Kurt Cobain on the Internet. Now he couldn’t decipher anything out of the chaotic mess that swirled toward him.

Parked under a streetlight, his former lover was sitting haphazardly in the ‘vette waiting on him. The fluorescent light flowed over the gold in her hair and bounced off the shiny leather of her black knee-high boots. Her skirt didn’t reach her knees and the way she was sitting showed an interesting amount of thigh. When she saw him she grinned and slung herself over the car door.

“I thought you’d never get here,” she said in a warm, inviting voice.

“Mr. Fleming, you know her?” R. W. asked in shock.

Mahleah smiled at him and the boy nearly melted at her feet.

“Sure he does,” she answered pleasantly. “I’m his new house guest.”

He felt the eyes of the boys on his back and heard the approval in R.W.’s voice, “Forgive me, Teach. You’re much cooler than I ever thought.”

“Thank you,” he said, politely and headed toward the car.

Mahleah flashed the kids another winning smile and turned back to him. The look turned more inviting, teasing even. He swallowed. Just what exactly had he let himself in for?

Chapter Seven

Joe walked into “The Magic Box” with a bag full of more Chronicles than clothes over his shoulder. Spotting his fellow Watcher, he slowly made his way to the table piled high with ancient volumes that were obviously the basis for current research into the extraordinary situation they all were facing. He had always liked Rupert Giles and greatly respected his work. The two of them had both had problems with their colleagues about the closeness they had developed with the objects of their assignments. Joe knew that Mac was like a brother to him, while Giles had been thrown temporarily out of the Watchers for his paternal feelings towards Buffy.

He gazed around the room, expecting to see MacLeod somewhere nearby. Spotting no six-foot-tall brooding Scot, he sighed.

“It’s good to see you, Dawson,” Giles greeted him, “Although these are highly incredible circumstances. Have you had luck in discovering any historical precedent for these unlikely phenomena?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. No one I’ve talked to could remember ever hearing of such a thing. An Immortal suddenly becoming Mortal -- it’s unheard of…and now we’ve had two to change. I did have one small hope of an answer: an Immortal I know says that this reminds him of something but he can’t remember what yet.”

“I would think that this kind of thing would stick out in an Immortal’s mind,” said a voice from the table.

Joe turned to see the young people he had met on his previous visit to Sunnydale staring at him. He replied to Xander’s comment, “That’s true but the man I spoke to is very, very old. He promised to spend his time trying to recall what he could, but he warned me that whatever incident he’s referring to is not exactly the same thing, and so may not tell us much.”

“Have you had any luck finding Mahleah?” Willow asked him.

“Yes, and no,” he admitted. “Before we could track her down she called me.”

“You’ve spoken with her?” Giles was relieved.

“Yeah, she said she was fine, just needed some time to clear her head and think about some things.” He hesitated. “She also made me promise not to send Watchers after her. If I do, she’ll cut all ties to me and that’s not something I’m willing to risk.”

“But she might need help,” Willow protested.

“Mahleah is a grown woman and she can take care of herself better than nearly anyone I know,” Joe replied. “She may be mortal now, but she still has all the skills she’s ever learned and those are more than most of us could pick up in several lifetimes. She’ll be okay by herself for a while. Where’s MacLeod?”

“Out,” Giles said, a little hesitantly. “I think he was getting a little claustrophobic in here. I suspect he went out to patrol for a while.”

“How’s he doing?” Joe asked, dreading the answer. Mortality would not be as hard for Mahleah – she hadn’t been Immortal long enough to completely forget how it felt to age, or be without the ability to miraculously heal. Mac on the other hand was over four hundred years old. This had to be a shock to him emotionally.

The others were very quiet before Anya spoke up, “He’s handling it better than I did at first when I lost my immortality.”

“Considering you conjured up a Willow vampire from an alternate dimension to help restore your powers, that’s not a particularly flattering statement,” Giles said dryly.

“He’s having trouble adjusting, then,” Joe guessed.

“I still think it’s Mahleah,” Willow exclaimed. “He misses her like crazy, and he’s blaming himself for losing her. If she was still here, I think he’d deal better with the other stuff.”

“No doubt,” Giles agreed, “but since she obviously prefers to stay away from him at the moment, there’s not much we can do about it.”

Joe pondered that for a moment before replying thoughtfully, “There may be a way, but it’s not anything we could do ourselves. I need to see if I can convince Mac to make a phone call to D.C.”

*******

Duncan knew that by now Joe would have had time to arrive in Sunnydale, but he wasn’t prepared to face his old friend yet. The double shock of Mahleah leaving and finding himself to be mortal had slowly ebbed away to leave him with an incredible amount of anger. He didn’t know who or what was playing games with his life but he definitely felt an individual hand helping the whole catastrophe along. The majority of his wrath was directed at that force, but there were still large helpings to go around. Thoughts of Mahleah right now made him furious, as did thoughts of Kate, and yet the main person he blamed for this whole situation was himself. He should have told Mahleah the truth when he had the chance. If he’d only done that then they could have faced events together.

Too late now, he thought, and dwelling on it is not going to make things any easier. What I really need to do is find out why this has happened, which means I should be back with the others in The Magic Shop helping with the research.

He made no move in that direction, though. Supernatural activity for the night was rather on the low side. He’d had few encounters with the creatures that go bump in the night. His steps lead him towards the woods where the Scooby Gang had concealed Buffy’s grave. They hoped to keep her death secret as long as possible so that evil didn’t move back to the Hellmouth lock, stock, and barrel.

Pausing a few feet away from Buffy’s resting place, he saw a small, familiar figure placing some fresh flowers before the headstone.

“Dawn?” he called softly.

She turned with a start that faded to relief when she recognized him. He walked towards her, worried that the fifteen-year-old would get hurt if she made a habit of wandering around this late by herself.

Learning the truth about Dawn Summers was the other big shock he’d had during his stay in Sunnydale. This tall, slip of a girl had only existed for a few months. Before that she’d been supernatural energy converted by monks into human form to protect her location from the crazed Hell god known as Glory. The monks had sent Dawn to Buffy and altered everyone’s memory so that they would believe Dawn was Buffy’s sister.

Duncan himself had been affected by the spell and he could remember meeting Dawn on his previous visit to Buffy and her friends. Glory had discovered Dawn’s secret in the end, however, and had nearly destroyed this world in an effort to return to her own. Dawn’s blood had opened a tear between all dimensions and it took Buffy sacrificing her life for the girl she truly loved as family to close the tear once more. He had sensed enormous amounts of guilt mixed with the sorrow Dawn felt over her sister’s death, and knew that she blamed herself for Buffy’s choice.

“What are you doing here?” he asked gently.

She shrugged, but he could see the glint of tears in her eyes, “I wanted to talk to her for a minute.”

Spotting a fallen tree, he led her to it and sat them both down. “Talk to me,” he invited.

“It’s just I was looking at the calendar today and I noticed that I only have about six weeks left before school starts again. Last year Mom had to coerce Buffy to take me shopping for school stuff…”

“And you were wondering who would take you this year?” he guessed.

“Sort of, I guess I was thinking more about how fast things can change. I mean, at this time last year the only worries I had in life were dealing with the fact that the world sort of revolved around my big sister because she was the Slayer and wondering how it was going to feel starting high school. Look at what’s happened since.”

“I wasn’t here, so why don’t you tell me about it,” he suggested.

She studied him sharply, “Did Giles put you up to this?”

“No,” he answered honestly. “I just thought it might help to talk. They’re all worried about you, you know.”

“Well, I’m not the only one,” she astutely shot back. “I’ve seen them looking at you with the big, concerned faces too.”

He bit his lip briefly before saying, “I’m fine, Dawn. No one needs to worry about me.”

“Uh huh,” she began to rise, “Ditto for me. I’ll see you around.”

“Wait,” he pulled her back down and sighed. “Okay, maybe I’m not fine, but I will be. I just have to adjust, I guess.”

Her eyes turned scornful as she said, “If all you’re going to do is spout clichés at me, I might as well leave. I may only be a teenager, but I can understand what it feels like to wake up one day and realize that your entire world has changed forever.”

Looking into that young, earnest face, he felt a little ashamed. She was being much more honest than he was.

“Yeah, I guess you do. So, what do you want to know? I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the idea that I’m not in the Game anymore. I suppose it was arrogant of me but I somehow always thought I’d be one of the last ones left in The Gathering. The Prize means little to me, but I’ve always been taught that I had to fight to prevent evil from winning – now there’s no way that I can.”

She nodded slowly, “It’s like you don’t have a purpose in life any more, right?”

He grimly agreed, “I keep asking myself where I go from here. It’s just not right, you see. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The last Immortal existing was supposed to become mortal – it’s part of the prize. Now, I’ve suddenly been thrust into it without any warning and it’s lost its meaning if that makes any sense.”

“Two years ago,” Dawn began, “Cordelia called me from LA Spike had found the Gem of Amarra here in Sunnydale, which made a vampire invulnerable to everything. Buffy took it away from him and sent it to Angel. Cordy told me that Angel was forced to use the Gem, which was set in a ring, to take out a really sick vamp that was into hurting kids. After that, he got to walk in the sun for the first time in over two hundred years. She was so happy for him, but after the sun went down he smashed the ring.”

“Smashed it?”

“Yeah, he said that the ring was a fake salvation. He didn’t really deserve it yet, and if he kept it he would forget about his true mission, which was to help the helpless. Is that sort of what you mean?”

“Umm, actually it is,” he said with surprise. He hadn’t expected to empathize with Angel, of all people. Feel sympathy for, yes, but to actually understand where the vampire was coming from was a rather odd experience.

“What I’m thinking is that you just have to adapt your purpose,” Dawn continued. “I mean you wanted to win the Game just to protect the world from evil, right? Well, can’t you do that here too? I mean, we fight off the end of the world on a regular basis. With Buffy gone,” she faltered for a minute then plunged on, “we could use all the warriors we could get, you know?”

“I’ll think about it,” he promised and kissed her on the cheek. “Now, it’s your turn. Tell me about your year.”

“Oh, you mean the year that I find out that I’m not really human, all my memories are fake, and I lose both my mother and my sister,” she asked sarcastically.

“That’s the one,” he insisted gently. “Come on, I was honest with you. It’s your turn to purge. How are you feeling, really?”

“At first I felt really lost,” she said slowly, “and it doesn’t help that the Scoobies are all off doing their little thing…having all these secret meetings that I’m not allowed to be part of. They’re all so brave in their sadness, you know. It makes me sick. It’s like we have to pat Dawn on the head and make sure she’s okay while we go about our own little plans. The only ones who actually talk to me are Giles and Spike. I don’t think they’re in on whatever’s going on. Which is kind of weird, don’t you think? Spike I can understand, they still don’t trust him, but Giles? Why wouldn’t they tell him what they’re doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, but his mind was already searching for an answer. The one that he came up with was not very pleasing. “But I’ll find out for you if I can.”

Chapter Eight

“Some things never change,” Mark chuckled as Mahleah dove into her strawberry waffle. After class, they had been starving and the ever-present Waffle Houses were one of the few places to find food in Knoxville after ten o’clock on a weeknight.

She smiled at him while enjoying the taste of strawberries and whipped cream. For some reason, he seemed more at ease with her now than before. She’d had the distinct impression earlier that she made him nervous although she wasn’t sure why. She supposed it could be the memories of their last meeting.

“Oh, you know me,” she teased. “I’d do just about anything for a fresh strawberry.”

A muscle in his cheek twitched to her amazement. She could almost believe that he took her literally.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “What have you been doing with yourself after your miraculous recovery?”

She assumed he was referring to her fake suicide in prison, and so responded jauntily, “Oh, that’s confidential. I could tell you, but then I’d be forced to kill you.”

When his eyes grew wide as the plates before them, she realized he had taken her seriously. “That was a joke, Mark. The truth is that I can’t talk about what I’ve been doing, except to say that I was trying to help people.”

He let out a deep breath, and she decided to change the subject.

“Have you seen my dad lately? How is he doing?” she asked.

“I haven’t seen him in several months,” Mark admitted. “It was just too hard to pretend that I thought you were dead, when I knew in all likelihood you weren’t. He was devastated, Mahleah. You really should go and see him.”

“And say what?” she shot back, hastily feeling a familiar guilt creeping over her. “Hi Dad, I’m still alive. Sorry I didn’t come and see you, but I was in jail for a while and I can’t even prove my story because I’m no longer…” she glanced around at the other customers in the restaurant, “what I was.”

“Couldn’t you tell him something?” Mark urged. “Come on, Mahleah, since you’re…”now he gazed around before speaking, “not playing that game anymore you wouldn’t be putting him at risk. He’s already lost one of the women he loved the most – don’t make him lose the other one as well.”

“Did Belinda leave him?” she demanded.

“No, but it doesn’t take Freud to see that Belinda is nothing but a substitute for your mom,” he insisted. “The two people he cared about most have left him.”

“Well, it was sort of beyond my control,” she hissed. “And, I’m sure if my mom could have had any say in the matter she would have preferred not to die in a car crash.”

An uneasy silence lingered between them. Mahleah returned her attention back to her waffle. She was startled by the sound of the nearby jukebox finally kicking out something other than the country tunes that had been playing continuously since they had arrived. The raucous strains of Aerosmith’s “Love in an Elevator” crashed through her subconscious and pushed forward a brief, but visceral memory.

Jade green eyes gleamed at her from half a breath away. Firm hands held her shoulders against the wall. A teasing whisper of a voice asked her, “Would you care to try something new?”

She reached for the stop button beside her and whispered back, “I love new experiences.”

Tremors ran through her body involuntarily. She realized that Mark was speaking but had no idea what he had just said.

“Sorry,” she apologized, a little breathlessly. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Is something wrong?” he asked in concern. “You’re shivering.”

“Umm, yeah,” she stammered. “The air conditioning is on a little high in here.”

He looked puzzled, “I would have thought you’d like that. You’re usually burning up at this time of year.”

“Yeah, I know,” she gave him a lopsided grin, “looks like this whole mortal thing changed my body chemistry or something.” The odd thing was she did feel a little cold so she wasn’t lying at all.

“Are you ready to leave?” he asked. “It’s getting a little noisy in here.”

She wiped off her mouth and laid her napkin on the table. “Sure, it’s rather distracting.”

Elevator buttons dug into one of her palms, which was trying to grab the slick walls. Her other was holding onto the man pressed against her for dear life. If she let go, she’d probably slide down to the floor and take him with her. As pleasant as that sounded, this position was creating sparks behind her closed eyes and she had no intentions of giving it up.

Bless that man’s memory, she thought hazily. She had mentioned to him once that despite her slightly risqué reputation, she’d never managed to have sex in this particular location before. Obviously, he had decided to rectify that oversight. Actually, she wasn’t much for such public places to get amorous but then neither was he, which made the whole situation doubly erotic.

Sliding out of the booth, she started to stand and swayed halfway back down. Mark quickly grabbed her arm.

“Are you okay?”

“Just a little dizzy,” she replied a bit woozily. She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. “I’ll be okay.”

“Are you sure?” Mark was in a fully protective mode now, she saw. Well, it’s not like he had much chance to fuss over me before, she thought in amusement. I’ll humor him for now, but too much of this would be annoying.

She leaned on him for a moment before pulling away, “I figure my body is just trying to adjust itself to all of these new changes.”

“It would have to be a shock to the system,” he agreed. “Would you like me to drive us home?”

Biting back a smile, she nodded, “That might be a good idea.”

Once outside in her rented ‘vette, she leaned her head back, closed her eyes and let the night wind and her mind carry her back to the past that was leaking into her consciousness so insistently.

*******

“Mac, I promised that I wouldn’t send any Watchers after her and I won’t break my word,” Joe said with a sigh.

Duncan turned away from his friend, knowing that Joe was right but unable to accept not being able to find Mahleah.

“I know she doesn’t want to talk to me right now,” he said slowly, “but I would feel so much better if I at least knew where she was…that she was all right.”

Joe cleared his throat, and Duncan turned back around. Willow was walking towards them with a small book in her hands.

“Here it is Joe. You were right, she packed in such a hurry she didn’t take many things with her,” the redhead told him.

“Put it on the table,” Joe requested.

Duncan looked at the book, puzzled. It was an address book. Did Joe think that she would have gone to one of the places in this small volume?

“I can’t send anyone to look for her,” Joe emphasized. “While that leaves me out of the picture, don’t you know anyone else with the resources and abilities to investigate that would care as much as we do that she’s safe and sound?”

Duncan’s voice reflected the bitterness he felt inside, “Sorry to tell you this Joe, but by now Angel is out of the country...”

Willow gasped, and both men turned to her.

“Left the country? Why? Oh no, he can’t have gone. We need him to…” she trailed off as she realized what she was saying. “We need him to recover from his grief,” she stuttered, much more like the nervous girl Duncan had known in a few years earlier. “Of course he had to get away for a time for some reflection and peaceful meditation. It will be good for him. How long did he say he’d be gone?”

Duncan scowled, “He didn’t mention it to me, but I figure that a man in his position would be gone for several months at least. He volunteered to postpone his trip and look for Mahleah but I lost my temper and told him we didn’t need him.”

He looked at his Watcher, “Sorry, Joe, I screwed up.”

“That’s okay,” his friend gently responded. “Angel could have been a big help, but I was actually talking about someone with even better resources than he has access to. Can’t you think of someone else? Someone non-supernatural who deals with this stuff for a living? Someone you know Mahleah has kept in touch with for years.”

Duncan’s eyes widened as he realized what Joe was suggesting.

“Yes,” he said hesitantly, and reached for the address book.

******

Agent John Doggett shut down his computer with a yawn. His report on their latest X-File was ready to turn into Deputy Director Kersh in the morning, for all the good it would do. While Doggett still couldn’t bring himself to believe in all of the theories that his partner Monica Reyes put forth or sometimes the beyond bizarre explanations that Dana Scully offered him, he had seen things that defied a simple, pat answer. Those kinds of answers tended to irritate the Deputy Director, who made it clear that he would tolerate no solutions that even hinted of a hypothesis Fox Mulder would have come up with.

“God, bed is going to feel good,” he muttered to himself, gathering his suit jacket and preparing to leave the office. The phone on his desk rang.

“Damn,” he exclaimed, and raged an inward battle over whether to answer it. Duty finally won out over his sluggish system and picked up the receiver.

“John Doggett,” he said wearily.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then a male voice said, “I’m sorry do I have the wrong extension? I was looking for Agent Scully.”

“No, this is her old office,” Doggett explained. “I’m her new partner.”

“Oh yes, I was told that Mulder quit the Bureau,” the man responded. His voice was slightly accented. European, Doggett thought, possibly English?

“Is there something I can do for you, Mr.?” Doggett let his voice dangle.

“MacLeod,” the reply came back and Doggett nodded to himself. Not English but Scottish, it seemed.

“I really need to get a message to Scully or I suppose, really the person I need is Mulder. Do you have their phone number?”

Doggett realized that the stranger knew that Mulder and Scully lived together. Was this an old friend?

“I’m sorry Mr. MacLeod but it’s against procedure to give out an agent’s personal telephone number. Would you like to leave the message with me? I’ll see that she gets it first thing in the morning.”

He could sense the man thinking this over. “I tried her cell-phone number but it wasn’t working,” MacLeod stated.

“Which cell-phone,” Doggett laughed. “She and Mulder lose or destroy at least three of the damn things a year. They couldn’t possibly live without one yet they go through them like popcorn.”

MacLeod laughed. “That sounds like the Mulder I knew. I’m going to trust you. This is very important to me, so please tell Scully to call me or have Mulder call me as soon as possible. Tell her a mutual friend may be in trouble.”

“A mutual friend,” Doggett repeated. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do, sir?”

The man laughed again, rather uneasily this time, “I’m afraid it would take too long to tell you the back-story, Agent Doggett. Just tell either Scully or Mulder to give me a call at this number,” and he rattled off a telephone number that Doggett recognized as having a West Coast area code.

He repeated the number and then asked, “And that’s the whole message, sir? A mutual friend may be in trouble and please call you?”

MacLeod hesitated once more, and then said, “You can add that the rules have changed and we’ve suddenly changed with them.”

“Okay,” Doggett replied, and thought, “Just another day in the office, and just another weird friend of Mulder’s…nothing out of the norm here, right?”

********

Back in Sunnydale, Joe watched Mac hang up the phone.

“Is that guy going to be any help?” he asked.

“He said he was Scully’s new partner,” Mac replied. “Surely he’ll give her the news.”

“Well, as good as Agent Scully is at her job, I think it’ll take Mulder to find Mahleah,” Joe began to say when he saw his friend frown and put a hand to his temple.

“Mac, are you okay?” he asked anxiously.

“Just a headache,” MacLeod said with a wince. “It’s getting worse I’m afraid and…ah!” he sank to his knees with a crash.

“Mac,” Joe and Willow rushed to the fallen man, and he writhed under their touch, screaming.

“Oh God, make it stop,” he moaned, as they looked at each other helplessly.

Chapter Nine

“Mac, come back to us, please,” Willow pleaded. The young witch held his head in her lap and was trying her best to keep him calm. Joe was holding the rest of his body down.

“Mac, can you hear us?” the Watcher asked.

Slowly, MacLeod wet his lips and nodded.

“What happened? What were you seeing?” Joe asked gently.

“Mahleah,” Mac said with a whisper. He cleared his throat and spoke a little louder, “I saw Mahleah…sort of. It was more like seeing pieces of things than an actual event.”

“What was she doing?” Willow asked. “Could you tell?”

Mac winced, and averted his eyes from Joe’s, “She was having sex in an elevator.”

Willow didn’t catch the pain in his expression and continued, “Oh, so it was like a memory, right? Why would that be so painful? Just the way it came to you?”

Duncan struggled to sit up, “Mahleah and I have never made love in an elevator.”

“Oh,” Willow was at a loss for words.

Joe remembered something he had learned about during Mahleah’s sojourn with Angel Investigations. “Doesn’t Cordelia have visions sometimes like this?”

Willow nodded, “She says they’re from the Powers That Be and are meant to direct Angel.” She glanced up at the man finally standing, albeit wobbly, before her. “She also says they’re incredibly painful.”

Hesitating, Joe asked, “Mac, I know you said it was just flashes but could you tell who she was with, or where they were? I mean, this could give us a clue to where Mahleah is right now.”

“Tall, green eyes, soft voice, French accent,” Mac said tersely.

Joe let that sink in for a moment before making the obvious guess, “Michael?”

“Who’s Michael?” Willow innocently asked.

Both men ignored the question.

“She’s gone all the way to Paris, then?” Joe was looking at Mac, who still refused to meet his gaze.

“From the things she told me before she left, Michael might not even be in France anymore, besides Willow was right: this felt like a memory, just not mine,” the Watcher could see his friend struggling to keep his composure.

“It was Mahleah’s, then?” At the Scot’s nod, Joe let out a frustrated breath. “What the hell is going on here? It makes no sense. Why are you getting glimpses into her memories?”

“I wish I knew, Joe,” Mac said with quiet desperation. “I wish I knew.”

*****

Lying back in the seat of the corvette with the wind in her hair, Mahleah remembered the beginning of her Section-sponsored courtship by one of her favorite people in the world.

She was laughing at one of Walter’s jokes when she heard a familiar low voice speak to her, “Mahleah.”

She turned to stare at Michael. She and the others had worried about him for the last week…since Nikita had left Section. They all knew that he wanted her to be free, to be happy, but it didn’t stop them from being concerned about what he felt being left behind, probably forever. She guessed that he didn’t, and couldn’t, think of the separation in those kinds of terms. He was probably rationalizing that if he survived enough missions and achieved enough goals perhaps George might take pity on him and free him to be with the woman he loved.

“I need to speak with you,” he said simply.

She nodded, and jumped down from Walter’s table to follow Michael into his office. He walked around to the other side of his desk and tapped in the code that would insure privacy for their conversation.

“So, what’s up?” she asked cautiously. It was doubtful he’d called her in here to pour out his heart. It was too dangerous in the first place and most importantly too out of character.

“I’ve been in a meeting with Madeline and Operations,” he told her.

She groaned. Any discussion that began like this couldn’t end well.

“What do they want now?” she slumped down in the chair in front of his desk.

“I was given a new assignment,” he said more slowly than usual, as if giving her a chance to fully understand every word, “A long-term Valentine mission.”

Her stomach churned. Anger blazed through her, red hot and blistering. Hadn’t the man been through enough? Wasn’t it sufficient torture that he had finally been separated from Nikita in the only way he would ever agree to? Now they were going to twist the knife in his soul a little deeper.

She cursed in three different languages, before gaining control of herself.

“Just when I think those people can’t get any more heartless, they prove me wrong every time,” she snarled.

Michael just let her rant for a few more minutes before softly interrupting her tirade, “I’ve been ordered to seduce you.”

“What?” the oxygen was suddenly leaving the room. Her head was spinning wildly and she was sure he hadn’t said what she’d thought. “What did you say?”

He kept his body motionless and his expression blank. “I’ve been ordered to begin a relationship with you.”

“That’s what I thought,” she shook her head. “I don’t understand. What are they up to?”

“Madeline said that she refused to permit me to slip into the depression I experienced once before after losing Nikita. I was despondent and without focus which was bad for Section,” he repeated, still expressionless.

“And she thinks I can take Nikita’s place? She finally has gone insane,” she exclaimed.

“She pointed out that you kept me focused and sane the last time Nikita was…unavailable,” he continued.

“I could do that, I hope, without your having to sleep with me,” she pointed out.

“Operations was of the opinion that you were feeling too self-assured and independent. He says that there is nothing holding you to the Section. I believe he fears you escaping,” Michael added, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah,” she chuckled mirthlessly. “There’s nothing like the boss having a yen for you to make his logic get all twisty.” She blew out a deep breath. “So, what’s the plan here, Michael -- how do you feel about this?”

“How do you feel?” he countered.

“Stunned,” She answered honestly. “Although as punishments go, this one’s a double-edged sword. I mean I always enjoy your company and spending more time with you is not a hardship for me, but the idea that it’s being forced on you is repugnant.”

He was silent for a long time, leading her to prompt, “You never answered me. How do you feel about this, Michael? It’s so cruel to ask this of you right now.”

He remained silent.

“Musashi, I can always leave. I have my ways, you know that,” she began, when he finally answered her.

“No,” he said, finally meeting her eyes. “I’d rather not lose you too, right now...unless you’d prefer to leave.”

“I won’t if you’d rather I stay,” she reassured him. “Just tell me how you want to play this.”

His mask lifted and she saw the vulnerability he’d been hiding, “Nikita is gone.” He said, and the way his voice caressed her name revealed more than a thousand tantrums. “I want her to have a good life, a normal life the way she’s always longed for.”

“She would want you to be happy, too Michael,” she said in a hushed tone.

He nodded, “I know that. I’ll always have the past but I can’t afford to dwell in it.” He hesitated before saying, “You keep me in the present.”

She caught her breath, “Are you saying you want to go along with their plan?”

Nodding again, he clarified, “I’ll let you decide how fast things go. Madeline left the details of the assignment up to me.”

She realized that he wanted to relinquish that control to her and was immeasurably touched by that gesture. It implied a trust that was rare among the denizens of Section One and was difficult on a very personal level for someone with the control issues that Michael possessed.

“So, what you’re saying is we’ll hang out and do things together outside of Section, but how soon we get with the program is decided by me and not Madeline?” she was warming to this idea.

“Yes.”

She smiled widely. “In that case, Musashi, what are you doing tomorrow night?”

Chapter Ten

Mulder smiled as Scully sat down at the table in front of him with an apology.

“Sorry I’m late. I had two autopsies to do this morning aside from my normal classes,” she said, with a gleam in her eye that he couldn’t quite read. She had a surprise for him, he guessed.

“That’s okay, I was just enjoying the coffee and the sunshine,” he smiled. “This is a nice place. I’m glad I discovered it.”

She raised an eyebrow but let his statement lie unchallenged. Now he knew something was up.

“So, out with it -- what’s going on?” he quizzed.

She continued to play with his mind, by coyly responding, “What do you mean?”

His smile grew larger. It wasn’t often that Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully got into a flirtatious mood, but whenever she was it made the day so much more fun.

“I mean that you’ve got a twinkle in your eye and you’re trying to hide a smile so fill me in on the joke.” He was a little disappointed when her face grew more serious.

“Actually it’s not a joke,” she said somberly. “Agent Doggett gave me an urgent message this morning from Duncan MacLeod.”

His breath caught. This wasn’t good news, he could tell. Lord, he half-prayed, let Mahleah be okay. Surely, she didn’t lose a fight. She has to be alive; Scully wouldn’t have had that gleam in her eyes if something bad had happened.

“I called Mac back,” she went on, confirming some of his worst fears. “It’s Mahleah.”

“She’s not…” he couldn’t continue.

Understanding flashed across her face and she put a hand over his. “No, Mulder, nothing like that. She’s alive and well as far as anyone knows.”

He frowned, “What do you mean as far as anyone knows? Where’s her Watcher?”

Scully spoke carefully, “That’s the bizarre thing, Mulder. She’s not Immortal any more.”

“What do you mean? From all I’ve learned you don’t just grow out of Immortality like it’s some kind of childhood affliction. Once you’ve died the first time there’s no way to turn back even if you wanted to.”

She nodded, “Mac and Joe are working with others to find out how it happened, but regardless Mahleah is now as mortal as you or I.” Leaning forward, she looked at him searchingly, “Mac wants your help.”

“My help, why? I wouldn’t know where to begin,” Mulder was astonished. “Very little literature on Immortality exists outside of the Watcher chronicles. You know that. We wasted enough time four years ago trying to find more.”

“He wants you to find her,” Scully clarified.

He leaned back in his chair, “She’s disappeared?”

“Yes. Apparently, she and Mac had some kind of misunderstanding after the change and she took off. He’s extremely worried about her, and he would like you to find her,” she watched him quietly take it all in.

“I’ve always heard it was a mistake to get in the middle of a lover’s quarrel,” he finally responded.

“Mulder,” her voice sounded sad, and he suddenly remembered that she had always had a closer connection to MacLeod than he had, “he sounded terrible. He mentioned that he’s not sleeping well. He said that you didn’t have to tell him where she was if she objected, just let him know that she’s doing okay.”

“Why me?” he asked.

Her face lightened. “As it happens he had several reasons: your experience with the X Files, your degrees in psychology, your knowledge of Mahleah, and your current unemployed state. He thought you might be getting a little bored with all of this domesticity.”

“Never,” he quickly denied, but she just laughed at him. “Well, maybe a little,” he admitted. “It’s a bit of an adjustment from chasing aliens to changing diapers…but I love it,” he hastily added.

“Well, I have to agree with Mac on this one,” she teased. “Giving you a puzzle to solve that doesn’t involve governmental conspiracies, aliens, or even mutants sounds like a winner. He’s offered to pay all of your expenses and even more if you want.”

“He doesn’t have to pay me to help Mahleah,” he protested.

“Not as such,” she agreed, “but tracking her down could get rather expensive and you are only a former G-man, remember?”

He agreed absently, but already his mind was sorting through the possibilities. Where would Mahleah have gone?

*******

Mark was quiet getting ready for work the next morning. As he’d passed the spare bedroom he’d peeked inside and saw Mahleah with her long hair loose behind her sleeping soundly. Her lips were moving and a bare leg slid from beneath the sheet. At the sudden reminder that she used to sleep in the nude, he swallowed hard and softly went downstairs.

He was nearly ready to leave when he heard her descending. Turning he saw that she had donned a long, white bathrobe and pulled her hair into a ponytail.

“Good morning,” she greeted him cheerfully, albeit with a yawn.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized.

“That’s okay. I just need to get used to East Coast time again. Did you sleep well?” she asked, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

“Fine,” he lied, “How about you?”

“A little too well,” she laughed. “When I woke up I felt like I’d run the Boston marathon.”

She perched on a kitchen stool oblivious to the way her robe was parting.

Dragging his reluctant eyes away from the view, he casually inquired, “So, what are your plans for the day?”

“Well, I need to do some laundry,” she said with a grimace, “As well as some clothes shopping…never my favorite things. I really should head to the bank as well, since my cash is running low. While I’m at it I might as well start looking for a job.”

He slid his suit jacket on as he asked, “What are you looking for? Anything I can help with? I’m not sure if the University is hiring anyone in the history department right now.”

She shook her head vehemently; “I’d rather stay away from history for a while.”

“Why?” he was curious, as when they were seeing each other before she had loved teaching.

Shrugging, she replied, “The last time I taught a history class it ended very badly. I might look into teaching dance or something…with kids, maybe. I did a little of that last year and it was a lot of fun. Or, maybe a local dojo would take me on.”

“What would you do at a dojo?” he wondered.

She raised an eyebrow, “Duh, teach martial arts, silly.”

“Oh yeah,” he responded weakly. Honestly, he had thought that part of her life was behind her. If she weren’t in the Game any longer why would she need to fight? Still, acting as an instructor and passing on her knowledge might give her a way of keeping in touch with her roots while providing closure with the past.

“I might be late getting back,” he continued, heading toward the door. “I’ve got several meetings today and back to back student conferences. It might take a while.”

“That’s okay,” she waved him on. “Have a good day.”

“Yeah, you too,” he went out the door.

*****

Early in the evening, Mahleah sighed. She had spent the day obtaining funds in the most untraceable ways she had been taught at Section, putting in job applications at a few different places, and buying a few necessary items. Now, she was working on her laundry and fighting boredom.

Mark still hadn’t returned from work and all she could find on television was game shows, talk shows, court shows, and cartoons. She was really too restless to sit down, or she would have browsed through Mark’s considerable library to find something to read. Instead, she found herself drawn toward his CD tower.

His tastes were rather bland, she reflected wryly. Not exactly full of wild and crazy music the shelves held mostly classical with the occasional pop diva.

“Mariah Carey and Celine Dion,” she groaned. “Barbra Streisand? Okay, this doesn’t bode well. Surely the guy has a least one rocking record here somewhere.”

Scanning the titles carefully, she finally found one to her taste. “Aha, Sting,” she exclaimed, “Can’t go wrong there.”

Eyeing the living room carefully, she decided that if she scooted the furniture back she had enough room for a small dance workout. Things were starting to look up.

******

When Mark walked through the door he tripped and nearly fell over something in his path. Frowning, he saw a footstool that had been shoved across the room. He heard the sounds of music, followed its path to the living room, and stood frozen in place.

I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand

Mahleah was drifting across the floor dressed in only a sports bra and some sort of long, thin, baggy black pants. Her eyes were closed and her body was swaying to the Middle Eastern rhythm.

I dream of rain
I lift my eyes to empty skies above
I close my eyes
The rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of love

The muscles in her taut stomach rippled sinuously as her hips shimmied seductively. His briefcase slipped from his shoulder onto the floor, unheeded. He had only seen her dance like this once before and it had been the prelude to the first time they made love. It had astonished him at the time that someone as quiet as Mahleah had known how to belly dance, but then he hadn’t exactly discovered all of her depths at that time either. At any rate, it was a hell of a welcome home. Or was it? Did she even know he was here?

Sweet desert rose
Whose shadow bears the secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume that would torture you more than this

He damn sure wouldn’t be thinking about a car commercial the next time he heard this song. Obviously she had given the two of them a lot of thought in his absence and this was her response. The question was what he should do next.

Impulsively he went over to the stereo and programmed the CD to play the last song on the disc. She had sent him a message, now he was sending one back to her.

As the beat changed, Mahleah opened her eyes and saw him. Her eyes widened, but she smiled.

“Was it good for you?” she teased.

“Absolutely,” he said warmly. Sting’s vocals kicked in.

How many of you people out there
been hurt in some kind of love affair?
And how many times did you swear
that you’d never love again?
How many lonely, sleepless nights
how many lies, how many fights
And why would you want to
put yourself through all of that again?

She looked at him a little uncertainly, and he found himself wanting to take out the clips holding her hair to the top of her head.

“Dance with me?” he invited.

“Sure,” she accepted, and stepped into his arms.

One day you could be looking
through an old book in rainy weather.
You see a picture of her smiling at you
when you were still together.
Or you could be walking down the street
And who should you chance to meet
But that same old smile you’ve been thinking of all day?

Their bodies swayed together and he remembered just how good it felt to hold her. Inhaling, he drank in her vanilla scent and enjoyed the silky touch of her skin beneath his fingers.

Why don’t we turn the clock to zero honey
I’ll sell the stock we’ll spend all the money
We’re starting up a brand new day
Turn the clock all the way back
I wonder if she’ll take me back
I’m thinking in a brand new way.

He pulled slightly away from her and when she gazed at him, closed the gap again by kissing her gently. It was a small gesture, soft and inviting. When she didn’t pull away, he kissed her again tenderly. He stopped dancing and concentrated on the feel of her mouth under his. Lightly running his tongue across her lips, he waited until she parted them and gave permission to go deeper. Despite her formidable strength, she seemed quite vulnerable now and he was careful to not rush anything.

I’m the rhythm in your tune.
I’m the sun and you’re the moon,
I’m the bat and you’re the cave,
You’re the beach and I’m the wave,
I’m the plough and you’re the land,
You’re the glove and I’m the hand,
I’m the train and you’re the station,
I’m the flagpole to your nation.

It amazed him that despite her sensual presence she seemed tentative, almost hesitant in her responses. This was as he remembered it and it reassured him that no matter what experiences she had while away from him, this was still the girl he had loved. The contradiction between the sexy exterior and the sweetness of her lovemaking always intoxicated him. His fingers reached for the butterfly clips on her head when she gently pushed his hand away. Opening his eyes, he saw her smile as she released the three restraints herself. The amber locks flowed down her back and he ran his fingers through them.

I’m the present to your future
You’re the wound and I’m the suture
You’re the magnet to my pole
I’m the devil in your soul
You’re the pupil I’m the teacher
You’re the church and I’m the preacher
You’re the flower I’m the rain
You’re the tunnel I’m the train.

Taking her hand, he kissed it and then led her slowly to the stairs.

Chapter Eleven

Lips were trailing across her body, softly and ever so slowly. The gesture was meant to be tantalizing but instead was agonizing in its speed. She wished he would just hurry up and get it over with. Strangely, his attempts to be gentle and considerate were only making her impatient. Right now, she didn’t want slow and drawn out lovemaking. It was too…intimate, how odd.

She sighed, hoping he took it for a sign of pleasure. His technique was not dispelling her sexual frustration, which longed for something faster and more primal, and his attempts to engage her softer side were failing. It was too soon for her to feel the kind of emotions he was trying to expose. His caresses grew increasingly tender and her mental barriers grew higher and higher. Damn, how was she going to get through this without jeopardizing their fragile fresh start?

You’re an actress, a little voice inside her head advised. You know what to do. She forced little keening noises to come from her mouth and throaty moans to purr in his ear. Closing her eyes, she found comfort in her memory, which allowed her to temporarily pretend that the man on top of her was taller, with green eyes and darker hair. Even this didn’t work completely as she was all too aware that fantasy didn’t match up to reality but it made her acting a little more natural. Forgive me, Musashi, she thought, but I need your strength right now.

Duncan MacLeod gasped and rolled out of bed with a thud. Sitting on the floor of his motel room, he ran a shaking hand through his hair. Every night the dreams got worse. As if it wasn’t enough for his imp of a subconscious to make him dream about Mahleah sleeping with other men, it was also making him live through the experience as Mahleah herself. He didn’t know what was worse: the dreams where she was enjoying herself, or the most recent one in which she wasn’t.

As his head throbbed, he wondered miserably who the man in this dream was. He hadn’t really gotten a good look at him through Mahleah’s eyes. Was this Alexander Coffey – the one man he knew that Mahleah had had sex with against her will? There was a strange feeling of coercion in his memory but not of fear, which surprised him. Her rationale for seducing Alex was to save Walter’s life from Operations and Madeline. He swallowed hard and rose pulling on his clothes. He couldn’t stand the four walls enclosing him now and decided to go out for some night air. It beat the alternative of staying in this bare room and tell himself how ridiculous it was to brood over the fact that tonight he had dreamed that Mahleah had fantasized about Michael in order to fake a response with the mystery man.

******

Mahleah looked at the clock and groaned. It was three a.m. and she was unable to go to sleep. Cautiously she slid out of bed and tiptoed to her own room. Pulling on some old clothes, she silently made her way outside for some fresh air and a run.

She was a little angry with both herself and Mark. After all, hadn’t they promised to take things slowly this time? Now little more than 24 hours after their pact, she was coming from his bed. The truth was no matter how he might feel about things she wasn’t ready to pursue a sexual relationship with him. A few days ago, she had made love to Mac with everything in her heart and soul. Right now, those resources were feeling a little empty. How had Mark not noticed?

In fact, she had been rather passive, ceding him virtual control of the whole encounter. Didn’t he think that was rather strange? Mulling this thought over she nearly tripped when she realized no, he didn’t. He hadn’t found her behavior uncharacteristic. What did that say about their previous courtship? Had she really been that submissive? It was hard to believe.

Casting her mind back, though, she had to admit that in the beginning stages especially of their earlier relationship she had been very quiet, almost docile. She had been hurt badly when Mac disappeared after Richie’s death. For weeks, she had stayed on the barge waiting for him to return, and adamantly refusing to believe that he might not. Then for months, she had searched the world for him, to no avail. Forced to accept the fact that Duncan didn’t want to be found by anyone she had sadly returned to her roots and it was there in the mountains that she had met Mark. He had known that she was heartsick, although she’d never told him the reason why. His reaction was to treat her gently, kindly and as gingerly as if she were so fragile she might break if he breathed on her too strongly. At the time, she supposed, that was what she had needed. Mark had a very nurturing spirit and never resented the extra care it took to make any progress with her.

After months of his ministrations, she had started to feel like a vague approximation of her old self and it started to show. Out on a date one night they had been accosted by muggers and without thinking twice about it she had proceeded to disarm the leader and scold him about his lack of social skills. Mark had been shocked and now she understood better why. It must have made finding out about her Immortality a double blow and one that their engagement hadn’t survived.

Okay, now she understood what had happened in the past and why Mark had expected her to react the way she had tonight. The question was why had she continued to act that way? She seemed to be falling into an ugly pattern: Mac hurt her and she ran to Mark to forget the pain by pretending she was another woman entirely. That wouldn’t work this time. She truly wasn’t the same person that Mark had known before. In the intervening years, she had survived several baptisms by fire. She knew her own strength now, and couldn’t go back to pretending to be dependent on someone in order to hide from the stinging slap of reality.

If she truly wanted to give this thing with Mark a second chance then she had to be honest with him…completely honest. That meant introducing him to the full force of the maelstrom that comprised Mahleah Brennan. Otherwise she was wasting their time and treating him with disrespect.

*****

Mac ran faster, trying to escape his thoughts. Unfortunately they easily kept up with him and provided no answers to why he was frequently being bombarded by glimpses into the most intimate moments of the woman he loved. Were they real or merely figments of his twisted imagination? He had to admit that they felt right some how. This was the way he imagined Mahleah would respond in these situations, but that was the problem wasn’t it?

What did that say about his self-esteem that he was not only envisioning Mahleah having sex with another man but that she was fantasizing about someone one else while doing it? A man who was not himself, he hastened to remind himself. That hurt but he decided not to dwell on it any more. It was absurd to be jealous about something that was not likely to be real in the first place.

The thing to do, a voice inside his head urged, is to find a better place to put your thoughts. There’s lots of potential in this town if you’ll just pay attention instead of whining about an unstable bitch that couldn’t make up her mind what she wanted.

He froze in place on the sidewalk. Where in the hell had that thought come from? He shook his head feeling a little dizzy. Staggering, he braced himself against a nearby building. He could hear a loud, humming sound but it wasn’t in his ears. With a wince, he realized it was inside his head. The hum seemed to shatter suddenly and he suddenly recognized it as voices…dozens of voices, all speaking at one time. Their emotions rolled wildly through his mind: anger, pain, confusion, and fear. What was happening? Just when he thought he’d scream from the rough-edged insanity of it all the voices fell silent.

Shaky, he pulled himself up from his crouching position. He was grateful for the respite because if the cacophony returned he would quickly find himself carted away by men in white coats and fitted for a straitjacket.

They won’t return, a silky voice promised. As long as you listen to me, everything will be just fine, MacLeod.

He saw an attractive, leggy brunette down the block, and following the instructions he was being given, walked up to greet her.

“Hey, don’t you know that it’s dangerous to be out alone after dark,” he smiled, with his most winning smile.

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

So, she had allowed herself to slip into the old, familiar patterns of behavior with Mark. She was still upset with him for a couple of reasons. He hadn’t followed his own rule, for one, about them keeping things cool for a while. Paradoxically, her second reason was that while he had aroused her sexual expectations he hadn’t exactly fulfilled them. Tonight, she had needed to forget, to be taken out of her mind and thoughts for a while. Honestly, she just needed to get laid…passionately, and hungrily, by someone who would refuse to let her have the time to think. Instead she had gotten Mark’s attempt to make love to her and all she could concentrate on was the contrast between what he was doing and the way her past lovers had made her feel.

Okay, so it wasn’t a fair comparison really. For God’s sake, the last completely normal, human guy she’d had sex with was a Valentine operative who had been given extensive and intensive training in how to satisfy a woman. Then of course her two non-mortal lovers had over six hundred years of experience. Of course, Mark couldn’t compare. It wasn’t right of her to expect him to.

Actually, she was still ashamed of the fact that she had closed her eyes and did her best to imagine Michael as the man touching her and not Mark. That was just wrong. Aside from the fact that it would have destroyed her ex-fiancé to discover that she had to fantasize about an old lover just to pretend that she was enjoying herself, she felt dirty. By invoking Michael’s presence, she felt like she had tarnished something precious to her. She felt an almost overwhelming urge to apologize to him.

The ironic thing was that her subconscious had deliberately chosen the one man who probably would come the closest to understanding her plight. As a former Valentine op, Michael would never presume to judge her for doing whatever she had to do to get through the night. Their friendship was strong enough to confess and be forgiven for such strange transgressions. On the other hand, she couldn’t possibly have thought of Angel or Mac. She’d had only one night with the vampire and while it had been strange it was also treasured and she wouldn’t give that memory up for anything and as for Mac…conjuring up his image would have been a profanation as well as a mockery. It would never happen.

Sighing, she picked up her pace. Her body was still uneasy and itching under her skin for something, she couldn’t have. Thoughts of better times hadn’t made things any better.

So, do something about it, a voice in her mind advised her. Go get your car keys…you’re only about fifteen minutes from the Strip…surely there’ll be a bar there still open. You can find someone willing to scratch that itch for you since that pathetic loser inside couldn’t do it.

She stopped in confusion. Where had that thought come from? It wasn’t hers. In fact, it sounded more like…Felicia, Felicia Martins?

If you don’t like that idea, just go back to that prick inside and make him do what you want, the dead Immortal coaxed. Ride him hard, put him away exhausted and tomorrow go find a better boy-toy.

Mahleah put her hands on her head and moaned. What the hell was this? She didn’t need the ramblings of a dead power-drunk egomaniac that she had killed several years ago. This was craziness.

Suddenly, she realized she could hear all of them – all of the Quickenings she had taken since becoming Immortal…all of those dead people were talking to her. She was immensely grateful that the number was not that large. Shuddering, she wondered how terrible the din would be if she were older, with more notches on her belt, so to speak.

This was intolerable. She found herself putting her hands on her head and slowing her breathing. Concentrating, she managed to find a quiet spot in her brain and focused on it. A wave of calm swept over her and she felt like herself again.

Opening her eyes, she realized she was nauseous. After losing everything she had eaten during the day, a single thought drove her back onto her feet.

Mark and I really have to talk.

Chapter Twelve

“I didn’t know you were Catholic,” Jeremy, Mark’s Teaching Assistant, remarked. He, along with his date Kelly, was sitting diagonally across from Mahleah at the table.

Mahleah’s nerves were more than slightly frazzled. Pounding dance music was making her head hurt, which was strange since she should have been enjoying it. The cigarette smoke in the club though was also making her a little queasy. This would have surprised her, not because she normally enjoyed the scent but because she was used to the hazy atmosphere in places like this, only these were not ordinary circumstances.

Mark had coaxed her into coming with him tonight since his brother, Brian, was in town with his fiancée. It was the first time any one in the family had gotten to meet Tamara, and Mark was anxious to make a good impression. That much she could understand. What puzzled her was why he thought that bringing his best friend Jason along with them was such a good idea.

It was no secret that she and Jason didn’t like each other very much. On the first occasion, that they met Jason had given her a lecture on how seriously she had scarred Mark after their breakup. She couldn’t exactly explain that the reason for the separation had been because he’d seen her cut someone’s head off, and the guilt that pricked her conscience wasn’t alleviated by the hostility she saw in Jason’s hazel eyes.

So, she had agreed to join the fun tonight as she and Mark joined the three other couples. They had eaten dinner already, and now the party had taken up more festive activities at a new club that had just opened.

Following Jeremy’s gaze, she looked down to see her Celtic cross staring back at her. She fingered it absently, as if drawing strength from its presence.

“Not really,” she finally answered.

Mark frowned, “Not really? What does that mean?”

She shrugged, “My mom was Catholic and my dad comes from a strictly Protestant family. I’m comfortable with either one.”

“You told me that you used to sing in a Baptist choir,” Mark observed.

“Yeah, that was when I’d go to church with my next door neighbor, Netty. A lot of the most important people in my life are, or were, Catholic, though,” she said thoughtfully.

“Were as in converted to something else, or were as in dead?” Jason asked.

She shot him an annoyed glance before answering, “Dead, actually.”

“Well, this is gloomy,” Nadine, Jason’s current girlfriend announced. “I thought we came here to have fun, not to talk about death and religion.”

“True enough, baby,” Jason agreed. “How about something much more interesting: a game of Truth or Dare?”

“I don’t know,” Mark responded slowly, looking at Mahleah. She could read his face. He didn’t know if she could handle some of the types of questions that were likely to be thrown at her. She could handle them fine, she just didn’t know if he could deal with the answers.

“Oh come on,” Nadine was bubbly. “This will be so much fun.”

They decided to play the ‘hot seat’ version, in which everyone around the table gets a chance to ask a question of the person being challenged. Mahleah sighed, took a long drink of her ginger ale, and faked interest when all she wanted was to go home and take about half a dozen Tylenol.

When her turn to challenge Jason came, she found herself asking something she already knew the answer to. She had observed Jason and his numerous liaisons with great interest in the last month. She had seen the way he treated them and considering his attitude toward her, she knew that he was not among the great sensualists of our time as that would imply he actually liked women or himself for that matter.

“Have you ever read the Kama Sutra?” she inquired, as innocently as possible.

Jason laughed, “Does watching it on video count?”

She smiled tightly, “No.”

Tamara’s warm brown eyes caught her attention and she realized that she had at least one ally tonight. Nadine, on the other hand, seemed to have taken personal offense at Mahleah’s response. She saw the other woman sizing her up in a rather nasty fashion.

When her turn arrived, she fielded some obvious questions: “What is your favorite room in the house to have sex in?” “I’ve found the bedroom the most comfortable, haven’t you?”; “What is the most romantic city you’ve ever been to?” “Paris.”

She was surprised that Brian asked the first truly personal question, “How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

Smiling warmly with fond remembrance of a lost time, she replied, “16.”

Jeremy surprised her with his query. “I’ve heard you talk about Paris,” he said with a grin. “And, I know that France is supposed to be full of fledgling artists who would be drawn like bears to a honey tree to you. My question is: have you ever posed nude?”

She blinked in surprise, and then considered the idea. Had she? Most of the times that she had been drawn had been without her permission, so it was unlikely that she had…wait a minute, not exactly nude, but not exactly clothed either. She had woken up one morning to find someone she’d trust with not only her life but also her soul as well sketching her. Since she normally slept without clothes, she was technically nude, but she was still slightly covered by a sheet. Did that qualify?

“Never completely naked,” she said with a grin.

It was Mark’s turn, and he was biting his lower lip introspectively. When he looked up, her heart sank. He looked far too serious.

“How many men have you been with since we broke off our engagement?” he asked.

Uh oh, this couldn’t bode well.

“Umm, define with,” she said weakly.

He stared at her incredulously, “With, as in sexually.”

“What I mean is,” she explained, “How much contact are we talking here?”

“Why?” he asked flatly.

“Because,” she said defensively, “I went through a period where I was a little wild, but I was still picky about whom I allowed in my bed. I’m assuming you mean lovers, then?”

“Yes,” he said in a tight voice.

She closed her eyes and began reviewing. At least by this definition she could eliminate all the men she had teased back in her dark period. Who did that leave? She refused to count Seymour – that didn’t involve her at all. It was Claire’s unfinished business and she’d actually only been along for the ride. So, that would mean Angel, Walter, Mac, Alex Coffey (she winced), and Michael.

“Five,” she said steadily. One of those had not been by her choice and another was only allowed one night, but she wasn’t going into those kinds of details.

He nodded, but she could see him running through the possibilities in his head. Damn, she thought. Why in the hell do men ask questions that they don’t want the answer to?

It was now Nadine’s turn and she was practically tugging at her leash to get back at Mahleah for her scorn of Jason.

“So, exactly how many times have you read the Kama Sutra?” she demanded.

Mahleah blinked. How many times indeed?

“I honestly can’t answer that,” she told the woman.

“Why not,” Nadine retorted.

Mahleah shrugged, “I haven’t kept track.”

Jeremy laughed. “Suffice it to say, more than once?”

Unable to hold her smile back, she agreed.

Looking past Nadine, her smile faded. She was dreading this moment.

Jason studied her intently, before asking with a smirk, “Okay, Miss Knows-All-About-Any-Position, tell us all about the most erotic moment you’ve ever experienced. You know: who it was with, what you were doing…all the juicy details.”

She caught her breath. Now her heart was pounding as much as her head. God, she wanted to reach across the table and punch him. By the gloating in his eyes, he knew that her most intensely erotic experience had absolutely nothing to do with Mark. It did however involve magic, literally. She wasn’t sure she could describe what had happened to these people, but it didn’t matter. It was not something she intended to share.

“I won’t answer that,” she said firmly.

“Oh,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You won’t, huh? Why is that?”

“Because it’s private,” she responded. “I guess I’ll just have to take the dare.”

Jason’s smile got broader and nastier. “Well, then, let me see what I can come up with for our erotic expert.” He glanced around the room, before finally pointing to a table in the far corner. “There, do you see him?”

“Yes,” she replied calmly.

“I dare you to go up to him, steal him away from his date, and take him out on the dance floor.”

“Is that all?” she inquired icily, knowing there had to be more.

“No, I want you to show him a real good time,” he wiggled his eyebrows to indicate just how ‘good’, “and then when he thinks he’s home free I want you to walk away.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Let me get this straight,” she was growing angry. “You want me to cock tease a guy out there, leave him swaying in the breeze and then go home with Mark?”

“You heard me,” he said smugly.

What kind of cretin could ask the girlfriend of his best friend to do something like that? She fumed.

“It’s either that, or answer the question,” Nadine said cattily. “And since you obviously don’t want to do that, I guess you’ve got no choice.”

If she didn’t get out of here soon, she was going to either eviscerate someone or throw up…maybe both.

“What’s the matter?” Jason jeered, “Know you couldn’t even get him out on the floor?”

Oh, he wanted to play hardball now, did he? Well, he’d see exactly how hard his balls were when she got done with them.

“Oh, that’s not the problem,” Mahleah said with a wave.

“You’re really arrogant enough to think that you could have any man in this place, aren’t you?” he accused.

“Oh no,” she told him sweetly. She looked around the room with a practiced eye, honed to sharp insights under the tutelage of Madeline. “Do you see that couple over there? That guy wouldn’t bother to look at me twice – he’s completely in love with that woman with him. On the other hand, the dude at the bar…he would meet me out in the parking lot inside of five minutes. The couple across from us--I could get that guy’s attention but eventually he’d head back to his girlfriend.” She stood up and stood behind Jason, pointing out other potential conquests. Her voice had dropped to a husky purr of sexual self-confidence. “That guy sitting by the door has scoped me out six times in the last five minutes – he’d do me up against the wall with his grandmother watching. The biggest challenge in the room, but doable, is the irresistibly sensitive but studly guy at the table by himself over there. His date is running late, and he’s been calling her on his cell every few minutes to check on her. It might take me the rest of the evening, but if I tried hard enough I could have him – for one night. Then he’d hate himself in the morning.”

Her voice was caressing Jason’s ear, and she was subtly bending lower so he could catch her scent and feel the heat from her body.

“I could even have you if I wanted, Jason,” she whispered in a tone of velvet-covered steel. “Just listening to me you’re already half-stiff.” Her long fingers reached out to examine the evidence. Raising her voice to a normal pitch, she exclaimed, “My bad…there’s nothing halfway about that, is there?”

She had made her point and now she was making her exit. Leaving them all with gaping mouths, she strode away to her car. Thank God, she still had the keys. Mark could take a taxi home.

Chapter Thirteen

Mark had been silently contemplating Mahleah’s answer to his question so intently that he wasn’t immediately aware when the friendly game of Truth or Dare careened off the rails and into Timbuktu. When the sounds of fierce arguing finally penetrated his consciousness he couldn’t believe that he had missed his chance to deflate this before it got unpleasant. Before the confrontation ended it had moved well past Ugly Street and onto Viciously Down and Dirty Boulevard.

He sat in shock as challenges were issued that had no business coming out of his best friend’s mouth and then his girlfriend took up the gauntlet in a totally unexpected way. When she rose from her seat and approached Jason, her body language screamed predator. No one else at the table was aware that Mahleah was as lethal as she was beautiful but Mark silently prayed that she would control her temper enough to restrict her retaliation to only humiliating Jason instead of hurting him.

When she finished taunting her prey and delivered her killing blow in a verbal manner he was relieved, but still paralyzed. He remembered all too well the night over a month and a half ago that she had woken him up, her body pale and trembling, to explain that there appeared to be unexpected side effects from her mortal status. It was unnerving to say the least, to find out that the residual personalities of the Immortals that Mahleah had killed were trying to come out to play. She had described the way one in particular, Felicia Martins, had attempted to overwhelm her mind while she was out running.

It had been a scary moment for them both, but since then Mahleah had seemed to control her inner demons well. He knew it wasn’t effortless – he had seen her practicing meditation exercises and various forms of exercise to strengthen her mental and physical discipline. They had also agreed to slow their romantic relationship. He had been surprised to learn that she hadn’t felt ready for their lovemaking, and ashamed that he had pressured her into it. They had taken things much more gradually and last week had finally seen them sharing a bed again.

Throwing off his lethargy, Mark came back to the present. Mahleah had left the club over ten minutes ago. He had believed at first that she would cool off and return for him, but he realized now that she must have taken the car and returned home. Not that he blamed her really. Glancing over at his brother, he smiled uncertainly.

“I think I should call a cab.”

*****

When Mahleah arrived back at the apartment her head felt as if it were bursting apart at the seams. Little sparkles darted in and out of her vision and she was glad she hadn’t had to drive very far. Staggering into the house she rushed into the bathroom and threw up. Not feeling any better, she yanked desperately at the binding of her hair. The weight of its pinned curls might as well have been marble. Dropping hairpins haphazardly she sank to the floor and rested her face against the cool tiles. She had never felt this bad in her life. Of course, childhood as a pre-Immortal hadn’t prepared her for the reality of a normal mortal life. She rarely ever caught even a cold before, and if she did it was a mild case that rarely lasted over a day or so. God, she’d been so lucky.

Her body instinctively curled into a ball as she tried to calm her mind from the chaos. Unfortunately, the simplest meditation skills were miles away in a brain that felt like exploding. Sleep, she thought wearily, if I could go to sleep maybe, it would go away.

The front door slammed and the vibration traveled through the building to jar her aching body.

“Mahleah,” Mark called.

Great, that was all she needed…to explain to Mark why she had deserted him at the club, embarrassed him in front of his brother, and humiliated his best friend. She swallowed.

“Okay, I understand you were upset with Jason,” Mark announced, his voice growing louder as he neared the room. “I just have one question: which one of your split personalities were you channeling?”

What? Anger coursed through her body, causing the sparks in her vision to collide angrily with nearly audible hissing sounds.

“What do you mean?” she asked, just as he arrived at the bathroom door.

“I mean,” His voice trailed off as he took her in, sprawled across the bathroom floor, struggling to rise from the tiles. “My God, Mahleah, are you okay? What happened?”

“I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” she snapped. “What does it look like? My head is hurting so bad that I starting throwing up. What do you mean which personality was I channeling? I wasn’t channeling anything but myself – live, uncut and only slightly censored. If you think I’m apologizing to that pig then you’re seriously deluded.”

“No,” he said softly. “I don’t expect you to make nice to Jason. He was completely out of line tonight, but I don’t want to talk about him right now.” He grabbed a clean washcloth from a shelf and soaked it in cold water. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling so bad?”

“I didn’t want to ruin your evening with your brother,” she groaned.

He began wiping her face off with the cold cloth. “He would have gotten over it. Have you taken anything for this?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I took a couple of extra-strength Excedrin about an hour and a half ago. Doesn’t seem to have done a damn bit of good.” She managed to push herself to her feet and felt the world spin around her.

Mark caught her before she toppled to the floor again. “Easy,” he said gently.

“Oh Lord, I’m going to be sick again,” she told him.

He held her hair back while she threw up and then cleaned her face. “I think you have a migraine. There’s not a lot you can do except try to sleep it off.”

He eased her slowly back to her feet and led her to her bedroom. Quickly, but carefully he helped her strip off her clothes and slide under the sheets. He pulled the curtains to keep out the streetlights and then walked back to the bed. Sitting gingerly on the edge, he stroked her hair softly and rhythmically hoping she would find it calming.

Several minutes went by and he was about to think she had finally succumbed to the blissful oblivion of sleep when she spoke in a low, hoarse voice, “Why did you think I was being controlled by one of the Quickenings?”

He kept his tone light and non-threatening, “I’d never seen you behave in such an aggressive way before. Like I said before though, he deserved it.”

She stirred feebly, “I can be aggressive, Mark. It doesn’t mean that the spirit of Felicia Martins is trying to claw her way out. What I did to Jason was mild compared to some of the things I’ve done to people before.”

He was silent for a long time before responding, “I’m afraid I know very little about your past – you tend to avoid it in conversation. That’s partly my fault, I know, since I wasn’t very open-minded about your life as an Immortal. I’m sorry for that.”

His fingers brushed her cheek, and he felt her respond sleepily, “I promise I’ll tell you.”

“Not tonight,” he said firmly. “Go to sleep, Mahleah. There’s time for other things later.”

She stayed quiet, and he decided to get her a fresh compress for her head. Returning to the bathroom, he flipped on the light switch. Mahleah had craved the dark in her earlier visit, and so this was his first opportunity to see the small trail of blood on the tile. In shock, he looked at the rag he’d used to wipe her face with earlier and saw scarlet streaks…

Chapter Fourteen

Willow slipped out of bed and padded softly to the window so she could look out at the night sky. It still felt odd to be staying in Buffy’s house and living in Joyce Summers’ old bedroom but Dawn had needed someone to be with her so she and Tara had moved in without much discussion. Supporting Dawn made Willow feel useful, as did reprogramming and maintaining the Buffy robot that Spike had hired someone to make for him a month or so before the real Buffy died. The Buffy-bot was no longer the sex toy of a sexually frustrated vampire suffering from unrequited love. Instead, she helped create the illusion that the Slayer was still active and keeping Sunnydale safe for human beings.

Yes, Willow had duties and responsibilities but she needed to do more. Every night she was haunted by dreams of alternate dimensions where Buffy’s soul was tormented in every conceivable way. Every morning she awoke with a renewed determination to rescue her best friend from such a hell. She had already recruited the reluctant assistance of three helpers: Tara, Xander, and Anya. Despite their initial shock at her plan and some resistance, she had eventually won them to her way of thinking…for now anyway.

They still needed to gather some ingredients for the spell and wait for the perfect time. She just hoped they were able to find the Urn of Osiris before that time came and went. She swallowed, trying to moisten her dry mouth. Then, there was the matter of Vino de Madre – Wine of the Mother. The others had no clue what it was or why it was needed, but she understood. Magic required a balance: life for life, death for death. In order to obtain Vino de Madre she would have to take an innocent life. Thank God, it didn’t have to be human but the thought of killing a fawn and capturing its life essence made her own blood run cold.

How could she possibly do this? Nearly two years ago she had been the one to insist on attempting a nonviolent solution to the problem of an Indian spirit killing people in Sunnydale. She refused to celebrate Thanksgiving because of its place in the covering up of the attempted extermination of Native Americans in this country. Now, she was actually contemplating slitting Bambi’s throat. God, what had happened to her?

Unbidden, the images of Buffy being tortured by demons reappeared, and she stiffened her backbone. Nothing came without a price. If the choice was a baby deer or Buffy, then her heart knew which side she would come down on. After all, it wouldn’t be the first blood she had stolen for the sake of this resurrection spell and a good thing that she had enough foresight to obtain it when she had the opportunity. Surely there could be no more powerful lure for the soul of this particular Slayer than the sorrow-drenched blood of her first love?

********

Duncan woke when a hand flung itself across his chest rather roughly. Blinking, he managed to see a head with long, dark blonde hair lying on the pillow next to him. His heart sped up but as his brain started processing information he realized that the hair was a bit too blonde and not quite long enough to be the person he wanted.

He stifled a groan. It had happened again. The night when the voices in his head began whispering, he had found himself in bed with a woman with a marginal resemblance to Mahleah. Since then, he had been mostly successful in controlling his mind. He still heard the ghosts of the past speaking to him but he ignored them and refused to allow them to influence his behavior. He had begun to believe that he had successfully adapted to this latest quirk of his mortal existence.

The women were a compromise, actually. One of the voices he heard most persistently was that of Kronos, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Kronos wanted world domination but had been appeased so far, by efforts to demean the relationship Duncan had with the woman he loved. It appealed to Kronos’ sense of cruelty and his love of corruption.

Gingerly, Duncan slid out of bed and began pulling on his clothes. Luckily, the woman asleep in front of him had understood that last night was a one-time arrangement. She wouldn’t be expecting pillow talk or cuddling this morning. Fully dressed, he quietly left, knowing he needed to find help before Kronos’ meddling went too far.

Reaching the street he realized he wasn’t far from Rupert Giles’ house, and despite the late hour he decided it was his best bet to go there and try to explain to the Watcher what was happening and ask for his aid in making it stop.

******

Since Buffy had died, Giles had not slept more than a couple of hours a night. The knock on the door gave him an excuse to cease his weary tossing and turning.

Cautiously, he peered out the window before opening the door. In Sunnydale, it paid to be cautious before inviting someone in. He wasn’t terribly surprised to see Duncan MacLeod standing there. The poor man had a lot to cope with lately, and there had not been much relief for him. He, Joe and Willow suspected that both MacLeod and Mahleah were suffering from the effects of a spell but so far had found no reliable method of actually aiding the ex-Immortal.

“MacLeod,” he said levelly, and stood aside to let the other man pass. He made it a rule never to invite someone in, even if he knew that person. If they actually needed an invitation it could mean that the individual he’d known was dead, and the thing wanting in his home was a vampire.

“Giles, I need your help,” MacLeod began without preamble. “There’s something I haven’t told you guys about.”

Giles closed the door and gestured for MacLeod to sit down.

“A new problem, is it related to the visions and nightmares that you’ve been having?” the Watcher inquired.

“I don’t know,” Mac answered wearily. “I think it’s more to do with the physiological incompatibility of being a mortal having the memories and Quickenings of an Immortal.”

“The Quickenings, what exactly do you mean?”

Duncan wet his lips, before speaking, “I think that there is magic involved with Immortals and Quickenings. I mean, there has to be some mechanism that makes having the strength and personalities of all these other people inside your head easier to bear. Granted, on rare occasions it short-circuits and that’s when you have a Dark Quickening but mostly Immortals aren’t troubled by the fact that the remnants of others stay with you.”

Giles was beginning to see his point. “I see, and a normal human being is not equipped to deal with the stress of having these phantom souls, so to speak, in his consciousness.”

“Exactly,” MacLeod agreed, glad that the Watcher understood what he was trying to say.

“So, how are the Quickenings manifesting themselves?” the Englishman asked.

“I started hearing them speak to me about two months ago -- just whispers at first, then increasingly loudly. It got to be intolerable, but then one voice separated itself from the rest.”

“Who,” Giles asked, curiously.

“Kronos,” MacLeod answered sadly.

Giles caught his breath. That was an unexpected and unwelcome bit of news. “What does he want?”

“To take over the world,” the Scot replied, bluntly. “I’m able to resist that idea, though, so instead he has fun literally screwing with my life.”

“Could you be more specific?”

MacLeod exhaled, loudly, “Two different nights he caught me vulnerable enough that it was harder and harder for me to control my actions. He knew that I would fight anything directly evil, so instead he encouraged me to pick up women instead.”

“Oh,” Giles replied, with a little embarrassment.

“Yeah,” MacLeod laughed bitterly. “He makes sure I find the tallest woman around, preferably with long, amber hair.”

He rose suddenly and began pacing around Giles’ living room. “I can’t keep doing this, Rupert. I thought I had it under control until I woke up tonight in a stranger’s bed. What if he catches me weak enough that I lose control all together? I could hurt someone.”

“No, you won’t,” Giles said firmly. “We are going to help you, Duncan. You don’t have to go through this by yourself. We’ve suspected for some time that you’ve been affected by a spell of some sort. Unfortunately, we haven’t had much luck in researching it, but I do think that between Willow and myself we should be able to find something that will help minimize the influence of Kronos…turn down the volume in your head, so to speak.”

“That would be great,” Mac sat heavily back on the couch.

“Dawson has been in contact with a friend of his – an ex-Watcher named Adam Pierson,” Giles went on. He noticed MacLeod lift his head with interest. “Pierson believes he knows someone that may be able to provide us with some assistance if persuaded to do so. He claims she’s the most powerful practitioner of white magic in this hemisphere.”

“Arian,” MacLeod interrupted.

“Yes, you know of her?”

“Sort of -- I’ve known people who studied with her. She’s incredibly old…and not human, either.”

“No,” Giles admitted. “If the rumors surrounding her are true she’s not, but she could provide us with invaluable assistance both with your immediate problem and the more serious one we have yet to talk about.”

Mac frowned, “Which is?”

“Who has done this to you and what are their future plans?”

Chapter Fifteen

Ignoring the faint, unpleasant buzzing in her head, Mahleah paid the clerk for her cappuccino and took a long sip. She hoped the caffeine would stave off the headache before it got too firm a hold on her…. She had plans for the evening. She was through with her duties for the day as a translator and part-time teacher of English as a second language, and she was gathering supplies to provide Mark with a most memorable evening when he got home from his night class.

He’d tried to insist that she go to the doctor to have her headaches and occasional nausea checked out, but she refused. The night of her huge migraine headache she’d apparently had a nosebleed, which had frightened him, but Mahleah had no plans for extensive tests with any doctor. Considering her history, and the fact that she had no clue what had turned her mortal to begin with, she was wary of what medical tests could reveal. It was true that she stayed tired a lot lately, and her temper had been shorter than normal but she was resolved to stop herself from lashing out at him just because she felt bad.

Besides, she was beginning to get a constant and familiar itch just under the skin. Although she and Mark were sharing a bed again, they still did not have sex that often. He apparently still felt guilty about inadvertently pushing her on that first night together and between that and her recent bout of headaches and crankiness there hadn’t been much nocturnal activity between them. She gave him full credit for tenderness though. Whenever she felt bad, he was always there to take care of her and make sure she had anything she needed. It was rather sweet.

She sighed. Now, if she could only get him to be a little more adventurous in his lovemaking. Recently, she had decided that if she wanted more from him, she’d have to show him what she meant. Tonight’s little scenario was specifically designed to bring out the primal side of her altogether too civilized-for-his-own-good-sometimes boyfriend.

******

Mahleah had hinted that she had something planned for the evening, so Mark made sure he didn’t hold his class late. As he pulled up at the apartment, he noticed that there was only a faint light coming from the windows.

He scooped up his jacket and briefcase and let himself in. The outer hall was dark but there was illumination ahead and music as well -- a strange, rather eastern sounding beat. Dropping his things on the table beside the door he walked into the living room and froze.

The room had been transformed somehow into an exotic paradise full of candlelight and odd but strangely intoxicating smells, yet the sight of Mahleah stopped him in his tracks. She was bedecked as if stepping straight from the erotic imagination of a poet’s feverish fantasies. Her hair was loose and fell down her back in thick waves. Her face was veiled, but her eyes were heavily made up with kohl and smoky colors that made them as deep as midnight and as dark as sin. Around her neck, she wore a gold necklace that was rather like a collar and heavy gold bracelets surrounded her wrists and ankles as well. The thinnest, most diaphanous cloth covered her body wrapped repeatedly in a complicated but translucent pattern.

Her eyes smiled at him with a sultry smirk and her head motioned toward the one chair left in the room…obviously for him. He slowly sank into it, not able to tear his eyes away from the dance she was beginning for him. Dimly, he recalled talking to her about the dance he had interrupted when she first moved in, and her surprise that he had taken it for a seduction.

“If I ever decide to seduce you,” she’d chuckled, “there’ll be no question about my intentions.”

The music had gained a modern dance beat that merged with the eastern rhythms to sound like nothing he had quite heard before – although he granted he was not the musician of the family.

Out of body experience interferes
and dreams of flying I fit nearly
Surrounds me though I get lonely
Slowly.

Not the sort of thing he would have chosen himself, but it was obviously working for her and there was no denying the pull her swaying body was exerting on his own. He noticed that one end of the cloth seemed to be attached to her wrist, as she slowly unhooked it. Turning gracefully, she unwrapped one of its folds from around her body. His mouth went dry.

Moving up slowly
Inertia keeps
She’s moving up slowly
Slowly
Moving up slowly
Inertia creeps
Moving up slowly
She comes
Moving up slowly

Her stomach was bare now as was most of one of her legs. There was a glint of gold at her abdomen. Looking closely, he could see a small chain circling her belly with a charm of some sort hidden from view past her navel.

In my home no chrome as clear as
See me now with my nearest dearest
Been there when I’m over careering
Room shifting is endearing
Between us is our kitchen
Would you found my irritant’s itching
Been here before
Been here forever.

Like a spool of silky thread she just kept unwinding, at the speed most calculated to drive him crazy. As one bare breast came into view, he realized that she had anointed her body with oils to make her skin gleam in the candlelight. His hands were shaking with the effort required to keep from reaching out and ripping the rest of the veils away. The enormous amount of candles in the room made it seem overly warm, or was that just the fact that Mahleah only had one fold of material left before her body was completely uncovered?

She comes
I make no sound in my eiderdown
Awake I lie in the morning’s blue
Room is still my antenna in you
Nylon burns the bedspread with two
Gravity’s zero see me stall
I bounce off walls lose my footing and fall
It can be sweet though incomplete though
And the frames will freeze
See me on all fours
It’s been a long time.

The chain around Mahleah’s waist held tiny bells, which now began to softly ring since there was no longer soft material silencing them. She still had not removed the cloth from her face. Mark’s mind was awhirl. He had never been the kind of man to frequent clubs that offered naked dancing women. The little exposure he’d had to so-called exotic dancing had convinced him it was cheap, tawdry and completely un-sensual. Tonight had been an eye-opening new experience. This was no ordinary bump and grind being performed before him. Mahleah’s steps seemed timeless and deliberate, performed as much for her own benefit as for his.

Finding himself unable to sit any longer, he jumped to his feet and pulled her to him, kissing her collarbone. She seemed to enjoy his ministrations but then pushed him away to perform some of her own. Long, agile fingers released the buttons on his trousers and then slipped inside to dance over his flesh. A few minutes of this was all he could take.

Forgetting himself, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her against the wall. She seemed to enjoy this and was making noises much like purrs as his hands slid across her slick skin. Bedroom, his hazy mind thought, and he started steering her in that direction. His mind shorted out again when her hands began to wander and he ended up pushing her down on the stairs. Before he realized what he was doing, he found himself buried deeply inside her without having even finished removing his clothes. Her hands urged him on, as if he could possibly have stopped.

I caught your radio waves
I caught your radio waves
Will you take a string
Say you string me along
Say you string me along
Say inertia creeps
Inertia creeps and she comes
Say she comes
Say she comes
Say she comes
Say she comes.

When his head had stopped spinning a little, he became aware that he had collapsed on top of her, pinning her body to the stairs and to his shock and dismay he realized that he hadn’t even removed the veil from her face so he could kiss her.

I treated her like an animal, he thought with horror, and pushed away. She pulled the last scraps of cloth away from her and he saw with surprise that she was smiling.

“Come,” she held out her hand, and he slowly took it, allowing her to lead him upstairs. Reaching his bedroom, he saw that she had lit candles there as well.

“Mahleah, I,” he started to say, but she put a finger over his mouth and kissed him lushly. Her skilled hands began removing his clothing, and in short order he was as bare as she was. Her dark eyes twinkled as she ran her hands down his chest. Pushing him back onto the bed, she quickly followed and straddled his body.

“My turn,” she proclaimed in a husky voice, and he shivered.

******

The alarm clock blared noisily and Mark jumped. Sleepily, he scratched a shoulder and then winced. Opening his eyes wider and probing the offensive area, he found a large scratch. This reminded him of the night before. Beginning to slip out of bed, he realized that part of his skin was stuck to Mahleah and part to the sheet. That damned body oil she was wearing last night, he thought. It was all over the bedclothes and all over him as well.

He headed for the shower to wash away the remnants of their debauchery. Glancing in the mirror, he saw with a sigh that he had a few more scratches and a couple of bite marks. Luckily, they were not in a place where anyone would see them at work. Oil and makeup were smeared across his body as well as small abrasions where her various jewels and accessories had been pressed into and against him.

He got his shower scalding hot before stepping in and washing himself as clean as he could. Frankly, he was astonished at his actions the night before. They had been completely uncharacteristic and he was more than a little uncomfortable remembering them. Was this how Mahleah wanted him to behave? Hissing at the sting of his cuts, he knew he didn’t have it in him.

*****

Mahleah ignored the throbbing in her head. Today was going to be a good day. She went to her own half-bathroom to brush her teeth and rinse her mouth out – thereby, hopefully decreasing the queasiness of her stomach. Mission accomplished she washed the leftover makeup off her face and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She’d like to take a shower as well, but she’d wait until after she worked out first. Mark didn’t like to be late to work, or she’d work out later and shower with him now. She grinned. Her plan had worked well. Playing the dancing slave girl had succeeded in drawing out the primitive side of her lover and before he could allow himself to be shocked at his own behavior she had indulged in fulfilling a fantasy of her own: the slave girl who turns the tables on the sultan. It hadn’t been the most mind-blowing sex she’d ever experienced, but it had been a hell of a lot of fun. She’d definitely think about repeating the experiment the next time she had the opportunity.

Pulling on some loose-fitting clothes, she began stretching her muscles out. Hearing the shower cut off, she waited until Mark emerged into the hallway to call cheerily, “Good morning.”

He stared at her for a second, and then mumbled, “Good morning.”

She frowned. What was his problem? For that matter, what in the world was he carrying down the stairs? Curiosity overcoming her, she followed him and saw with amusement that he was applying a stain stick to the most obvious remnants of last night’s festivities.

“Let me do that,” she volunteered. “I’ve got a little practice. We’re lucky they’re cotton; that oil never comes out of silk.”

He frowned, but kept working at the laundry himself.

Okay, note to self, Mahleah thought. Skip the plans for full-body massages later tonight.

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I’ll buy you a new set if you like.”

“I guess this happens often.” He gestured to the stained sheets.

“No, I don’t often do the dance of the seven veils,” she said patiently, adding in her mind, I usually don’t have to.

He stopped, looked at the sheets and then dumped them into the washer.

“Mahleah, I’m sorry about last night,” he said, with all evidence of being serious.

“For what?” she was confused now.

“I lost control of myself. I could have hurt you.”

She knew she shouldn’t but before she could stop it, the laugh bubbled out of her, “Hurt me, you?”

He winced, and she apologized quickly, “That didn’t sound right. I know I’m only mortal now, Mark, but I’m not fragile. You didn’t hurt me at all; so, don’t worry about it. I had fun, didn’t you?”

“Fun?” he stared at her. “Last night was incredible, but…”

“But,” she was quickly beginning to get irritated, “today you have to deal with stained sheets and a few scratch marks and it’s not worth it. Is that it?”

“Scratches, bites, bruises, scrapes,” he agreed. “That’s not the issue, though. Mahleah, I don’t know what you expect from me, but I’m not the wildest man on the planet. You can’t even remember how many times you’ve read the Kama Sutra, and I’m still baffled how the hell we managed to get ourselves into some of those positions last night. Yes, I enjoyed it, but that just wasn’t me.” He sighed. “I guess what I’m saying is, I can’t compete with your past.”

“I never asked you to,” she retorted. “What exactly are you basing these assumptions on, anyway? Because I had an extremely liberal education, you’re painting me as Mata Hari? You don’t know my past, remember?”

“You promised you would tell me,” he reminded her.

She walked to the closet and pulled out Tora. She needed to get out of the house and clear her head.

“You don’t have time to listen to my life story,” she said grimly. “You’ll be late for work.” She opened the back door and started outside, katana in hand.

“Where are you going with that thing?” he asked in alarm. “The neighbors are liable to see.”

She rolled her eyes at him, “I’m going outside where I can have enough room to do my katas properly. I didn’t realize you were so terrified of public opinion.”

“I’m not,” he said, stung. “I was just worried that they’d call the cops on you. Normal people don’t swing swords around in the backyard, you know.”

“No, I’m afraid I wouldn’t,” she shot back. “This is the only life I know – mortal or Immortal…it’s just who I am.”

Without another word, she strode outside, leaving him standing in the kitchen.

Chapter Sixteen

Mulder stretched out gratefully on his motel bed and reached for the phone. Dialing a number so familiar he didn’t have to think about it, he waited and hoped for an answer.

“Scully,” Came the reply, musical to his ears.

“It’s me,” he told her, happily.

“Mulder, where are you?” she responded instantly.

“Some small town in the middle of nowhere,” he sighed. “I’m getting nowhere, Scully. Mahleah’s been taught by the best to cover her tracks and I really don’t think she wants to be found.”

“You still need to look for her,” she insisted. “We’re all worried about her, and she needs to know that.”

“Well, I’ve struck out repeatedly. I had a little luck at first with the car rental agencies, but even that has dried up now.” He changed the subject. “How’s Will?”

“Fine,” she reassured him. “He’s asleep right now.”

“How are you, Scully?”

Her voice was softer as she said, “I miss you, Mulder.”

“Yeah, I miss you, too,” he admitted. “It’s not the same without you out here shooting down my theories.”

“So, find the woman already and come home,” she ordered, teasingly.

“I would if I could,” he retorted. “At the moment I’m out of bright ideas. Got any you’d care to contribute?”

She was silent for a moment, and he closed his eyes and smiled, visualizing her thinking. Finally, she responded, “Maybe you’re going about this the wrong way, Mulder. Like you said she knows how to hide her tracks well, so you’re not likely to find much physical evidence. What you should be doing is thinking about her – what state of mind is she in, where is she likely to go? Work up a profile on her. That’s what you do best, remember?”

“What I do best, huh?” he teased, in a husky voice. “I thought my talents best lay in other areas.”

She made a sound of amusement, “Well, yeah there’s the way you can come up with a hundred bizarre theories before breakfast…all without the slightest bit of scientific basis. You take the Gold Medal for that.”

“Bizarre, I’m hurt,” he feigned a tremor in his voice. “Is that all I’m good for?”

“Well, you’re starting to get that diaper thing down pretty well, and you’ve got a decent jump shot,” she wasn’t buying the fake pain for one minute. There was silence for a moment and then she spoke again in a more serious tone, “Mulder, I have a strange feeling that Mahleah needs you to find her.”

Mulder was silent for a moment. Scully would probably never admit it, but some moments he would swear, she was psychic. He wouldn’t ignore her intuition.

“I’ll start the profile tonight,” he promised.

“Good, G-man.” There was the sound of a baby crying in the background. “Oops, our son is awake. I’ll have to go now.”

“Kiss him for me,” he said softly. “I’ll be back soon.”

“We’ll be waiting,” she responded simply. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Scully.”

He hung up the telephone and grabbed a notepad from the nightstand. He would start making notes for his profile now. What state of mind was Mahleah in and where was she likely to go?

The details were sketchy, but he knew she’d had some sort of fight with MacLeod after they discovered she was mortal. The result was she had disappeared. When he’d seen Duncan, the older man had not wanted to explain very much of what had happened. Mulder’s instincts told him that whatever argument had arisen between the two lovers, Mahleah had felt personally rejected. Where would she go for refuge?

He tried to recall all of the conversations he’d ever had with his friend, either personally and by phone or e-mail. She had been a Godsend when Scully’s cancer was at its worst. He had literally been coming apart at the seams, but she had held him together so that he could always seem strong and positive when talking to his partner.

Later, it would be his turn to pick up the pieces. Something clicked in his mind. That time, Mahleah had felt rejected as well – by MacLeod. He strove to remember the entire talk they’d had.

She’d just arrived in D. C. after spending about six months scouring the world searching for Duncan MacLeod. The Highlander had disappeared after accidentally killing their friend, Richie Ryan. Mahleah had spent weeks in Paris waiting for her lover to return, and then set out to find him.

He’d been startled when he saw her. She’d lost weight and the dark circles around her eyes testified to the fact that she was more miserable than even her Immortal constitution could heal. In an attempt to cheer her up, he’d taken her to the movies and on the way their way back from the theatre he’d talked to her very seriously about her options.

“Mahleah, you can’t go on this way,” he told her.

“That’s why I want your help,” she responded, quietly with a touch of desperation in her voice. “You’re FBI; surely you can find him for me.”

He took a moment to consider what he was going to say. “I have more resources, yes,” he finally agreed, “but you know MacLeod better than I ever could. If you can’t find him, it’s not likely that I would have any better luck.”

He stopped walking, and put a hand on her arm. “I know you don’t want to think about this but have you considered that maybe he doesn’t want to be found – by anybody?”

Her tall frame crumpled before his eyes. “Yes,” she admitted, in a voice barely above a whisper. “What I don’t understand is why. Why wouldn’t he come to me? I lost a close friend too, and with Mac leaving, I feel like my whole world imploded. Doesn’t he know that he made it even harder for us by disappearing?”

He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, as they continued to walk. “Sometimes,” he began slowly, “grief is so overwhelming and so intense that a person can’t share it. You have to put yourself in his shoes, Mahleah. He’s feeling such strong guilt and remorse that he probably can’t bear to look at himself in the mirror much less face those whose love and respect mean the most to him. When he can accept what he’s done, I think he will come back.”

She stopped by a bench on the sidewalk, and clung to its back. “I understand all that,” she told him with a touch of anger in her voice. “What hurts is that he didn’t understand that I want to help. I want to be there for him, and try to ease his pain. That’s the nature of a relationship – you’re there for each other through the bad as well as the good. I feel useless right now…like everything we’ve ever been through meant nothing.”

He guided her to the other side of the bench and sat her down.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said gently. “Right now, MacLeod feels like he’s not worthy of your compassion. In his mind, he needs to earn the right to be with you again. I know you don’t see it that way, but it’s not something he can easily change. He may live in the Twentieth Century now but he was born in what, the Seventeenth?”

“Sixteenth,” she immediately corrected, but he could see her processing the information. “He’s dishonored himself; he feels like he’s disgraced his name and everything he stands for. He’ll have to find a way to make things right before he’ll let himself move on and grieve like a man.”

“You do understand,” Mulder told her, squeezing her arm.

“I know him better than he knows me, I think,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. “He taught me most of what I know about morality and honor, but you see I don’t think he has dishonored himself. He was tricked – it wasn’t his fault. It’s tragic that he has to face the consequences of that deception but it wasn’t something he could have prevented.”

“How long will it take him to realize that?” Mulder asked her.

She laughed bitterly, “It could take years.”

He nodded, agreeing. “So, what are you going to do for that time?”

“What do you mean?” she asked in confusion.

“Are you going to continue to search for him in hopes that you’ll eventually find him so you can smother him with love and understanding after you kick his ass for deserting you all, or are you going to move on with your life?”

“Move on?” she was starting to panic, “How?”

“Settle in one place for longer than a day or two, find a purpose, get a job maybe, meet people, mend the other relationships in your life,” he explained. “You know a hell of a lot more people than Duncan MacLeod.”

Her wide brown eyes met his cool hazel ones. “But he’s the only one I can’t imagine life without.”

He sighed, “You’ve never really had to. Have you? Even when the two of you fought in the past you always knew you just had to call and he’d be there for you, right?”

A slow blush made its way up her face, “I guess that’s true.”

“That’s not entirely healthy, Mahleah,” he scolded her. “All of your life you’ve depended on him – shouldn’t you learn to depend on yourself?”

“You’re saying I should just give him up?” she protested.

“No,” he said patiently. “The two of you are Immortal…unlike us poor mortal slobs you’ve got a good shot of having enough time to let things work out naturally. What I’m advising is that you find out who Mahleah is…not just Mahleah, Duncan MacLeod’s student, friend or lover.”

She sniffed, but he could see her resolve weakening. It was a low blow, but he knew he had to say it, “What would Mac want you to do? Would he want you wandering the world looking for him, denying yourself any kind of peace? Or, would he want you building a new life for yourself – something you can be proud of?”

Her chin raised, and he could see a small spark in her eyes. It wasn’t strong but it was a start.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Honestly, like my bones have been shattered, like ground glass and they’re eroding my skin from the inside out,” she said painfully.

“Ouch,” he winced at her imagery.

“I guess that’s a step up, though,” she said hesitantly. “Feeling pain is better than feeling nothing, right?”

He stroked her hair softly; “It’s a step in the right direction.”

Mulder chuckled softly to himself. It was a sign of just how far down the path of despair that Mahleah had been that she hadn’t attacked him for having the nerve to give her such advice when his own life had been in such sorry shape. She had followed it, though. She’d returned to the mountains she’d known as a child and started teaching. She’d improved her relationship with her father, which had been strained since his second marriage, and ultimately she’d found Mark Fleming.

Mulder shook his head. He felt sorry for Mark. A genuinely decent man, the English professor just had no clue about what made Mahleah tick. He’d always thought that relationship couldn’t last, and honestly it shouldn’t. Mark was a rebound guy, not a genuine permanent love that could heal her wounded heart. He was just a bandage that kept her insides from falling out while they healed from the inside. When that comfort had been ripped away, Mahleah had fallen to pieces for a time.

That was all in the past now, though. His friend had seemed to be happier and more content than the last time he saw her. So, he was back to his original question: where would she go after feeling rejected by MacLeod once again. His eyes fell on the notepad where he’d been sketching notes, and he caught the name Mark again. Could it be that simple? Hmmm, he mused to himself. Maybe he should track down Professor Fleming and see if history had repeated itself.

Chapter Seventeen

Angel stared out at the night sky over the Pacific Ocean. His trip to Sri Lanka had ended abruptly when he discovered that the monastery he was staying at had been taken over by demon monks. Fighting had brought him perspective, though. The time he had spent there alone with his memories and his grief had allowed him to sort through his emotions. Image after image, scene after scene had been taken out, examined and analyzed. Now, it was time to finally say goodbye.

His soul protested, but his mind insisted. Buffy was gone, and nothing he could do would change that fact. He knew that Cordelia and Wesley had been worried that he would decide to join her, indeed that had been his first impulse but he was stopped by the thought that she would be so disappointed in him. She had given her life to protect her sister and save the world. The least he could do was ensure that her sacrifice had not been in vain.

At her funeral, Giles had taken him aside to explain that Buffy had died content. She had been tired of making decisions that meant who lived and who died. Now, she had achieved the peace that had eluded her for so long, and he loved her enough to be grateful that she would no longer have to fight, no longer have to kill, and no longer have to suffer.

Besides, he was raised to be Catholic and according to the faith of his people if he killed himself he would condemn his soul to eternity without her. No, he would wait until it was his time, and The Powers That Be were finally finished with him. Perhaps, then he would be allowed to rejoin his love in her rest.

Knowing Buffy had changed him in so many ways. She had inspired him, accepted him, loved him, and strengthened him. When he had fallen in love with her, he had taken on her fight…her struggle to help the world any way she could. As the Slayer, her primary responsibility was to save the world and prevent whatever apocalypse the forces of darkness were attempting to raise. As a Vampire with a soul, he had found that his calling led him to those troubled by the demons within – the area that he was an expert in, even if he hadn’t found all the answers.

Now, the souls that depended on him, even loved him in their own way were calling to him. He had been gone away long enough. His soul would be forever split in two, with half longing to follow its mate into the ether, but his heart – while bruised – was leading him back to his family. People needed him still, and so he had to return to them and to life, as hard as it was. Buffy would have wanted it that way, and he’d always found it hard to deny her anything.

*****

Tara found herself shivering after the Scooby meeting broke up. Anya had managed to find the last known Urn of Osiris on E-bay, and Willow had declared that tomorrow night they would bring Buffy back. She had never known her girlfriend to be so focused on anything before, and it concerned her not a little that this concentration was on a spell that by all rights they shouldn’t be attempting at all.

She constantly reminded herself that Buffy’s death had not been natural – she had fallen into a supernatural energy vortex, which meant that there was a real chance that Willow’s spell might bring her back…the real Buffy and not some kind of zombie. Yes, they had a good chance of pulling this off, but should they? Tara believed very strongly that tampering with death went against the natural order of the universe, and she had mentioned that to Willow. Her lover, however, was convinced that these were special circumstances.

Every night she woke to find Willow tossing restlessly in her sleep, or standing by the window looking out at the night sky for answers that would never be there. It was obvious that something would have to give soon, or the redhead would snap entirely.

They’d never spoken about the nightmares, although she’d offered to listen. It wasn’t until she heard Willow tell Xander that Buffy’s soul was in jeopardy that Tara had realized what those dreams must consist of. If it were true that Buffy’s soul was trapped in some demon dimension, then Willow’s plan would be a rescue. How could they possibly know, though?

Tara sighed. Despite her misgivings, she knew she would help her love in any way she could. It was true that aside from their personal grief, Sunnydale needed the Slayer. Faith was still in prison, and it seemed that the line now ran through her. As long as she lived, there would be no other Chosen One performing her sacred duty on the Hellmouth.

Willow was just a little obsessed, Tara argued with herself. It was understandable. It didn’t mean that she was being drawn to the darker forces of magic. After all, the two of them together had managed to create a charm for Duncan MacLeod that gave him a bit of peace. While it couldn’t eliminate the remnants of the Quickenings, it metaphorically wrapped them in cotton wool and allowed him to be able to think clearly for the first time in months.

A witch who could perform such a benevolent act was not in danger of becoming drunk on her own power, or reaching for forces she couldn’t control, right?

Tara shivered again, and wondered why she felt so cold.

*****

Spike didn’t know why the Scoobies were meeting yet again tonight without him, Giles, or Duncan. He had a sneaking suspicion they were up to something and preferred to keep Dawn out of it. That was fine, but why would they keep the older adults out of the picture as well?

He mentally shrugged his shoulders. Oh well, they’d tell him when they got around to it, as usual. Frankly, he didn’t care as long as it didn’t put Dawn in any danger. He’d promised Buffy that he would protect her kid sister until the end of the world and he intended to keep his word.

Knocking on the door, he was startled when Duncan MacLeod stood on the other side. They regarded each other. The Highlander was a bit too much of a Boy Scout for his comfort but Dawn liked him.

“Is that Spike?” he heard the fifteen-year-old call.

“Yeah, it’s me lil’ bit,” he answered.

“Come on in,” she invited.

MacLeod raised an eyebrow, but let Spike pass into the house otherwise unchallenged. Bloody hell, the vampire thought in disgust. And, I thought my grand-sire was a goody two shoes.

“Mac was helping me with my history,” Dawn said, a bit bubbly. “He makes it all sound so exciting.”

Spike took one look at her pink cheeks and sparkling eyes and groaned inwardly. Obviously, Dawn had a crush on the former Immortal. Wasn’t that just peachy? What was it with Summers’ women and older men? Older men, he snorted. MacLeod could have come over on the bloody Mayfair.

“Does he now?” the vampire replied. “Well, that’s understandable, isn’t it, luv? I mean, he’s twice Angel’s age, isn’t he?” And far too old for you, young lady, he said with his eyes.

She got the message, but pouted a little. Hey, you’re supposed to be the big rebel, her look returned. Why can’t you let me have some fun?

“Maybe in a few years,” he mumbled and she shot him a look.

“So, what is everyone up to any way?” she asked the two of them.

“I’m not sure,” Mac frowned. “Everyone seemed very preoccupied this afternoon.”

“It’s probably just because the Watcher left,” Spike dismissed.

Dawn’s bright countenance faded a bit at the reminder that Giles had returned to England. She smiled again when she looked at MacLeod.

“Well, he promised that he’d come back if he were able to find out something about your curse, right Duncan? Or if your friend Adam managed to get you guys an audience with that Aura person?”

“Arian,” MacLeod corrected. “Yeah, he said he’d be in touch very soon.”

*****

One of Duncan’s favorite poets once wrote that “The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men/Gang aft agley, /An’ lea’e us naught but grief an’ pain, /For promised joy!” Burns might easily have been talking about the night of Buffy’s resurrection. Of course, another chap named Murphy also came up with an appropriate tribute, “If it can go wrong it will.”

And so of course, as Willow, Xander, Tara, and Anya cast the spell to bring their beloved friend back it was inevitable that things happen that were not entirely planned. For instance, the fact that a demon biker gang chasing the Buffy-bot through Sunnydale broke up not only the spell but the Urn of Osiris as well was not the way the Scoobies had expected the plan to work. When hiding out from said biker gang, the spell was supposed to have failed…it didn’t. Unfortunately, Buffy was still in her coffin, buried in her grave when the magic took effect and the revived Slayer was forced to punch a hole through the lid and claw her way through the dirt in order to escape the confines of her tomb.

They never meant this vulnerable Buffy to see Sunnydale being looted by the gang of demons or for her to witness the Buffy-bot being pulled viciously into four pieces. They never dreamed that a confused and dazed Buffy would return to the tower where she had died and nearly jump again. Luckily Dawn was there and the Slayer didn’t jump, if only because she had to save her little sister one more time.

They never meant for any of that to happen. Of course, they also never meant to hurt Buffy in any way and good intentions mean a lot, don’t they? Especially when you intended to rescue the savior of mankind from the hell dimension she was trapped in and restore her to the loving world that she had left five months before. Of course, her mother was still dead, her father was unable to be located, her surrogate father was in another country, she still couldn’t be with the love of her life because he could lose his soul, her replacement boyfriend had left her after paying vampires to suck his blood, and then of course, there was the fact that she had never been in hell at all. Her memories of the afterlife were of warmth, peace, and love…she believed it to be heaven. Telling them that would have shattered their illusion that they had accomplished a wondrous, heroic feat and saved their friend from torment -- after all, they had meant well….

Feeling that one suffering soul was enough, Buffy kept her peace about the hell she was now enduring but couldn’t help but put some distance between herself and her old friends. It was best that they not know these things. So, she found herself spending most of her time talking to Duncan and of all people, Spike. At least with them, she didn’t have to pretend to be normal Buffy, back from the dead and loving it. There were advantages to knowing people over a hundred years old. They stopped expecting things from you and just let you be. They didn’t push her, and she liked it that way. No one pierced her bubble of numb obliviousness until she got a telephone call from Angel.

Chapter Eighteen

Mortality, Mahleah concluded, was decidedly overrated. Sighing, she adjusted that thought. Being mortal with someone who had problems grasping the facts of Immortal life was the difficult part. She had finally told Mark as much of her life story as she could, editing bits of life in Section to prevent him from learning too much about that agency. Still, he knew about Walter and Michael and about her mission with Alex Coffey. He’d heard incredulously that there were other, stranger, beings in the world than Immortals – like vampires and werewolves. He was still struggling with the concept that such creatures could exist and so didn’t protest too badly when she told him about the one good vampire she knew.

He’d learned how dark her life had become after he broke up with her, and how Angel had pulled her out of the abyss she was falling through before she completely shattered at the bottom. Admittedly, she’d kept the details about her relationship with the souled vampire rather ambiguous. She was being honest with Mark, but there was such a thing as going too far. There was no need for him to know that the answer to Jason’s taunting question, “What was your most erotic moment?” was to be found in a bed which no longer existed, but had at one moment held her whole world – heart and soul.

Finally, he had learned about her childhood, her training, and her relationship with Duncan MacLeod. Learning that her most serious love affair had been with a man over four hundred years old had made Mark thoughtful and later withdrawn.

Sighing, Mahleah looked around the room at the wedding reception in full swing. It had been a lovely ceremony, she admitted, with Brian and Tamara smoothly repeating their vows without a hitch. The bridal couple had already left for their honeymoon but the guests were still in full party mode. Three tables away from her she could see Mark talking to his father and Jason, who it turned out, was beloved by Mr. and Mrs. Fleming. Apparently the jerk could do no wrong in their eyes, and had forgiven him for any bad impulse he had succumbed to over the years.

Mahleah had left for quieter surroundings as all three men were drinking. She had explained to Mark years ago about her distaste for alcohol, but that hadn’t stopped him tonight from being slowly wasted as he bonded with his male companions.

Suddenly a friendly voice cut through her thoughts, “Hey, remind me not to go with your travel agent on my next vacation.”

“Huh?” she asked, smiling at Jeremy.

“Whatever mental trip you’re on right now is definitely not the fun-filled place it should be,” he scolded her lightly. “What’s the story?”

He offered her a glass of champagne, which she declined.

“No thank you,” she told him politely. “I never touch the stuff.”

“You mean champagne or alcohol in general?” he raised an eyebrow.

“The latter,” she answered.

“Really, I’m intrigued,” he sat down beside her. “How did you ever survive in Paris without drinking wine?”

“By ticking off a number of waiters, I can tell you,” she chuckled.

“At least you can laugh about it,” he observed cheerfully. “That’s an improvement. So, what had you brooding?”

“Brooding?” now she laughed fully. “Oh God, my life is inside out. I’m supposed to be the one badgering the brooder into lightening up.”

“Ah, you have some experience in that area,” he grinned. “So, how am I doing so far?”

“Not bad,” she admitted.

“Then why do I still see clouds across your forehead? Does this storm have a name? No, don’t tell me, let me guess…Mark.” When her face remained motionless, he tried again, “Okay, how about Jason.” Still not finding the reaction he was looking for, he went for broke, “Or, Mark when he’s with Jason.” Glancing over at the table with the parties in question, he added, “I’m guessing his father wouldn’t be in your good graces right now either.”

“I just don’t understand,” she finally exploded. “How the hell can someone as nice as Mark be friends with a jerk like Jason?”

“Friendship can be a strange thing,” he told her, leaning back.

She eyed him with interest. She felt an underlying depth to that statement which was at odds with his light tone.

“Sounds like you have some experience in this area,” she said pointedly.

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess you could say I do. Many years ago, I hung out with this guy. I don’t know that you’d call us friends exactly. He never let anyone in close enough for that kind of thing, and I probably don’t either. We’re not wired that way, I guess. Anyway, compared to him I was a gentle dove cooing contentedly on his perch.”

“He was a bad ass, huh?” Mahleah teased.

His eyes glittered, “You have no idea. Whatever he wanted, he took it. If he had to work a little or scheme a lot for it, that only made it sweeter when he took possession.”

“A lady’s man?” she guessed.

He snorted, “Oh yes, of the highest caliber. Believe me; I was ecstatic just to get a chance with the runners-up. He definitely had great taste in women…in everything really.”

“So, what happened?” Mahleah’s curiosity was piqued. “Did a woman come between you?”

“Not exactly, I told you he never let anyone too close. He had companions: besides me, there was another man and two women. He went everywhere with them until the day he changed.”

“Changed?”

“Yeah, he became the complete opposite of everything he had been. Suddenly he felt remorse for everything he had ever done…which let me tell you was a hell of a lot,” Jeremy said without a smile.

“You say it, like it’s a bad thing,” Mahleah said, her brow furrowing.

“Let’s just say I never found guilt complexes to be the life of the party.” He responded.

“What happened to him?”

“I’m not sure,” he frowned. “I’ve heard a rumor saying that now instead of presiding over the night life he used to be the master of, now he spends his time preaching to others about how wicked it is.”

“Maybe he’s happier that way,” she suggested.

“Maybe,” he acceded. “I miss him though. He could throw one hell of a party.”

“An interesting story,” she commented, “Although I’m not exactly sure of the moral here.”

“A lot of guys have a disreputable influence in their lives,” Jeremy said warmly. “Nine times out of ten they grow beyond them. Give Mark time and he’ll get tired of Jason’s idiocy.”

“Hmmm, maybe,” she said noncommittally “Hey, how come Mark’s the professor and you’re only the T.A, yet you’re so much smarter?”

“I’ve been around,” he shrugged.

“Got an old soul,” she laughed.

He laughed in response, and rose. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

She saw him go outside and decided it was time for some action. Friends of hers had invited her to drop by and see them play at a local club. If she left now she could still catch a few hours of good music. That left her with the problem of Mark though. He couldn’t possibly drive home.

Rising, she walked toward the table where he sat with his father and his best friend just in time to overhear a rather frank discussion about her.

“You can’t mean she fondled you in public?” Mr. Fleming demanded of Jason incredulously.

“Fondled is too gentle a word,” Jason snorted. “Manhandled comes to mind.”

“But that would imply that she’s more of a man than you are,” Mark joined in. “Hey, I guess that’s about right, actually.”

Jason started getting angry, “Look who’s talking. I’m thinking that wild bitch you’re living with is a bit too much for you to ever tame.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Mark shot back. “Her wildness is her most attractive quality, isn’t it?”

“Son, no offense, but you’re not the type of man I see Mahleah staying with. She needs more excitement in her life than quoting poetry from a bunch of dead Englishmen.”

Mark’s face was flushed from anger and alcohol, “Is that so? I guess that’s why she pulled a Salome the other night…danced around stark naked until I threw her on the stairs and screwed her brains out.”

Okay, Mahleah thought, enough is enough. She had felt slightly sorry for Mark and winced at the insults his nearest and dearest had thrown at him. That was no excuse for airing their sex life in public. The gloves were coming off and they were about to find out what she was like when she was truly pissed.

Storming up to the table she grabbed Mark by the ear and twisted until he came out of his chair.

“All right, Casanova, I’m taking you home now,” she said in a hot, furious voice.

“Ow!” He yelped. “Let go. Mahleah, you’re hurting me.”

She released his ear and grabbed his shoulders – the better to steer him out the door with.

“Now, hold on,” Jason protested. “That’s no way to handle your precious boyfriend.”

Directing her attention to him, she replied, “You are the scum of the earth and if you’re lucky you’ll never see me again.”

She started to turn away, but Jason was finished. He grabbed her arm and declared, “I’m not afraid of you.”

As she focused on his fingers digging into the flesh on her arm, the look on her face made him step away.

“Then you’re even stupider than I gave you credit for,” she said in a deadly tone.

“What are you going to do? Hurt me? Be my guest, sweetie,” he sneered.

“Jason, if you say one more thing to me – ever – I swear to God, I’ll bitch slap you so hard you’ll wake up in an alternate dimension,” she warned.

Looking past a suddenly shaky Jason Mahleah addressed her lover’s father, “Mr. Fleming, I wish I could say it had been a pleasure but we both know that would be a lie. Let’s just say it’s been an experience neither one of us wishes to repeat.” With that declaration, she grabbed Mark’s arm and led him out the door, pausing only long enough to retrieve the long, light jacket she’d been wearing over her dress.

Outside, Mark pulled away from her. “Where do you get off talking to my father that way?” he demanded.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mahleah saw a couple leaning on a car, making out. She recognized Jeremy, who had not brought his girlfriend with him to the reception. She didn’t think they had broken up, though, either. Men, she fumed in disgust. The couple, hearing the intrusion, chose to move further away from the impending scene.

“Where do you get off telling your father or Jason for that matter about our sex life? A highly fantastic version of it, as it goes, that bears no resemblance to reality. Screwed my brains out? Don’t make me laugh,” she countered.

“You didn’t seem to be complaining too much that night,” he said furiously.

“That’s called discretion,” she replied, just as hotly. “Something you obviously know nothing about.”

“Oh yeah, you’re so damn discreet that it took me nearly three months to find out who you’d been sleeping with since we broke up,” he told her caustically.

Mahleah had heard a faint noise. It could have been the woman with Jeremy having a good time, but something just sounded wrong. Her nerves were tingling in a way she hadn’t experienced in months. There was danger nearby.

Mark started to open his mouth again, but she put a hand up warningly, “Ssh,” she instructed.

Confused, he did as she asked. Training her ears intently toward the sound she’d heard before, she made out the faint sound of a woman’s voice saying, “Please no,” very weakly.

Quickly, Mahleah pulled out Tora from the folds of material in her arms and passed the coat itself over to Mark. Leaving him stuttering with questions that she didn’t have time to answer, Mahleah darted away hoping that the problem was something that a katana could cure.

The sight that greeted her eyes was horrible and unwelcome. The couple she had seen before was struggling – the unknown woman rather weakly now – and the man, Jeremy she confirmed sadly, was at her neck. He was a vampire, she realized.

“Let her go!” she commanded, roughly.

Jeremy looked up, surprised. His yellow eyes glinting as he recognized his antagonist.

“Mahleah,” he greeted her. “Do you always go to weddings packing such extensive weaponry?”

“Yes,” she answered tersely. “Let her go, now.”

Unceremoniously he dropped the woman to the ground. Appraising Mahleah’s fighting stance, he noted, “You seem to know what you’re doing. Don’t tell me you’re the Slayer – I’d heard she was shorter.”

“No, I’m not the Slayer,” Mahleah said, trying to restrain the wince of pain that the memory of Buffy brought with it. There was no need to tell Jeremy that the Slayer he was referring to was dead.

“But, you know her,” he noted. “Isn’t this interesting? I knew there was more to you than met the eye. Not that the visible part isn’t delectable.”

“So, were you planning on eating me too?” she had to know. She’d liked Jeremy. In fact, he was one of the only people she’d cared for at all during her stay in Knoxville.

“Oh no,” he shook his head, emphatically, and then paused to consider, “Well, not unless I was desperately hungry and then, I’m afraid anything goes. I like you and I’m not completely evil, you know.”

“Oh really,” she said with disbelief. “What do you call draining that poor girl at your feet?”

“Necessity,” he told her bluntly. “I have to eat, you know and I promised myself that I wouldn’t feed on Kelly. It’s a trade-off, you see.”

“Oh,” she said, a little stunned. Comparatively speaking, this was noble behavior for a vampire.

“Now, I’m nothing compared to others of my kind,” he said pleasantly, “My friend that I was telling you about before? He would have killed you before you could blink. Of course, he was the Scourge of Europe once upon a time.”

“Scourge of…you know Angel?” her grip on her katana loosened, slightly.

He made a face, “No, I most certainly do not. I knew Angelus before he became the spineless, boring creature he is now.”

“The others you spoke of,” she was putting it together now, “The other man and the two women: Spike, Darla and…” her grip on Tora, tightened, “Drusilla.”

“You’ve heard of them, too,” he noted. “My, my… what secrets you’ve been keeping…or should I say company?”

At that moment, Mark wondered towards them.

“Mark,” Mahleah warned. “Get out of here. Call 911 and tell them to send an ambulance.”

Jeremy’s amber eyes twinkled at her, “I’ll make you a deal, Mahleah. I’ll let you save the girl and in return I’ll make your problem over there disappear.”

She shook her head, “Never going to happen, Jeremy.”

“Oh come on,” the vampire scolded her, “Honestly, you won’t even miss him. I already knew you two were wrong for each other and now it’s glaringly obvious. He’s the most boring man in the world. Hell, Angel or whatever he’s called these days is probably more fun than Mark over there.” He flashed a mouthful of fangs. “Unless he lost his touch when he gained his soul he’s also probably a much better lover than our esteemed Professor ever dreamed. You’d be so much more satisfied.”

“You know nothing about me, about Mark and certainly not about Angel,” she told him. “Mark, get out of here!”

Jeremy sighed, “I guess we’ll just have to see who’s fastest won’t we?”

Without another word of warning, he lunged toward Mark in a blur. As he passed her, Mahleah brought Tora down once and then choked as a cloud of dust blew down her throat, up her nose, and in her eyes.

Mark stepped up cautiously beside her, “What was he?”

“A vampire,” she said, wearily. “Please go call 911 and get some help for this woman.”

After Mark had made the call, they waited nearby long enough to see that Jeremy’s victim was probably going to make it and then left.

Mark was quiet for a long time as Mahleah drove them home. Finally, he said, “So, that was a vampire?”

“Yes.”

“Did I hear him right? He said that he was feeding on other women to keep from hurting his girlfriend.”

“That was his excuse, yes,” she said tightly.

“Isn’t that kind of…well, noble? I mean, the way you described vampires I expected them to be much more….”

“Look,” she snapped. “Was it good of him not to feed on Kelly? Yes. Does that justify him using someone else as a midnight snack? No.”

“Maybe he didn’t plan on killing her,” Mark suggested. “Maybe he just wanted to appease his bloodlust.”

Mahleah snorted, “Whatever. I can’t believe that you of all people are defending a vampire. You broke up with me because I killed an Immortal and now you’re sitting here making up excuses for Jeremy.”

“What about you?” he asked, quietly. “I mean, one of your best friends is a vampire.”

“A vampire with a soul,” she quickly corrected. “A vampire who is doing his damnedest to make up for all the horrors he committed as the Scourge of Europe.”

“Maybe Jeremy could have learned to take that path, too,” Mark insisted.

“He. Had. No. Soul.” Mahleah intoned slowly. “Vampires can feel affection and love of a sort but they’re still evil. Believe me. I found out the hard way.”

They both fell into a deep, uneasy silence that lasted the rest of the trip. When they arrived back at the apartment, there was a strange car in the driveway. Mahleah frowned.

A tall, lanky figure emerged from the rental car and leaned up against the door, patiently. When Mahleah walked up to him, hazel eyes regarded her warmly and a lopsided smile greeted her, “Mahleah.”

“Mulder?” she said in shock.

Chapter Nineteen

“Hello, Mahleah,” the ex-FBI agent said warmly. “You’ve led me on a hell of a chase.”

“Mulder,” she repeated again, hardly able to take him in. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” he smiled lazily. “What else?”

Shaking off her stupor, she gave him a hug.

“Don’t think I don’t appreciate the visit,” she said warily. “But would you mind telling me why you’ve been chasing me in the first place?”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said, the humor fading from his eyes. “There are lots of people worried about you.”

She stiffened, “I told them not to look for me.”

His voice was soothing as he explained, “They just want me to tell them that you’re okay. I don’t even have to tell them where you are.”

She frowned, but her body relaxed somewhat. “I must be slipping. I didn’t think anyone would be able to track me here.”

“I didn’t,” he admitted. “You covered your trail well. In the end, all I had to go on was my knowledge of you. I was hoping there would be a pattern in your behavior, and so here I am glad to be proven right.”

“Pattern?” she winced, and glanced back at Mark. Hesitantly, she introduced them, “Mark, this is Fox Mulder. Mulder, this is Mark Fleming.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Mulder said politely, and shook Mark’s hand.

The English teacher eyed the newcomer and then sighed, “I’m sure you have a lot to discuss. Why don’t you take him to hear that band you were raving about?”

“Are you going to be okay?” Mahleah asked, a bit stiffly.

He chuckled bitterly, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Without waiting for an answer, he headed toward the apartment without a backward glance. Mahleah looked at Mulder and shrugged.

“I was going to go hear some friends play. You game?”

“Sure,” he agreed.

*****

As she drove, Mahleah squirmed restlessly, repeatedly pulling at her seatbelt nervously. She fiddled with the radio and turned the volume up. If the noise was too high, she could pretend not to hear Mulder when he spoke.

He turned the knob back down, and examined her closely. “What’s wrong, Mantha?”

Mantha, she let out her breath through her teeth. Just six little letters, two small syllables were all it took to get past all of her defenses.

“I’m a bit on edge tonight,” she said shortly. “I was forced to kill the only person in town that I actually liked.”

“Vampire?” his voice was warm and understanding, as he took a guess.

She nodded curtly. “Jeremy, Mark’s TA. He was going to kill Mark, so I had to….” She broke off for a moment, and then raged, “Why do I feel so bad about it? I mean, he was evil…he had no soul, so why should I feel guilty?”

“Because you do have a soul,” he said steadily, “Because you care. Because you haven’t allowed yourself to become hard and cold, and life – even if it’s undead life – still means something to you.”

“Maybe, but then I had to listen to Mark question me about doing it. I mean, he’d be dead now if I hadn’t and yet he had the nerve to defend the vamp to me.” She was still bitter about that.

“They were friends,” Mulder pointed out.

“Yeah, well I’m his lover,” she snapped. “And I was his fiancée when I was forced to kill Jean Samuelle. It didn’t seem to get me any consideration.”

“As I recall you’d left out a few details about your lifestyle,” Mulder responded, “The whole Immortal thing and the Game, for instance.”

“That’s in the past now,” she grumbled.

“Yes, it is,” he agreed. “Are you getting along any better now that barrier isn’t between you?”

She was silent. As if to underscore his argument, the radio started playing the opening strains of a U2 song. Recognizing it instantly, she immediately reached out to turn it off. Her favorite band would only open old wounds tonight and this song in particular hit far too close to home. Before she could succeed in changing the station however, Mulder’s hand caught her wrist.

“No,” he insisted. “Since when do you turn off your favorite music?”

I’m not afraid of anything in this world
There’s nothing you can throw at me that I haven’t already heard
I’m just trying to find a decent melody
A song that I can sing in my own company.

“I can’t listen to this,” she pleaded. “Please let me turn it off.”

“No,” his voice was implacable. “It’ll do you good.”

I never thought you were a fool
But darling look at you
You gotta stand up straight, carry your own weight
These tears are getting nowhere, baby

“Mulder, I can’t. Listening to U2 hurts too much,” she said with a voice hoarse with unshed tears. “They always remind me of Mac.”

“Maybe you need to remember,” he replied.

You’ve got to get yourself together.
You’ve got stuck in a moment and now you can’t get out of it.
Don’t say that later will be better now you’re stuck in a moment
And you can’t get out of it.

“He doesn’t love me,” she confessed, with her heart breaking inside her chest. “He’s getting back together with his wife – his Immortal wife. He doesn’t want me.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Mulder said softly. “I’ve seen the two of you together. He’ll always love you, Mantha.”

I will not forsake the colors that you bring,
but the nights you filled with fireworks
they left you with nothing.
I am still enchanted by the light you brought to me
I still listen through your ears and through your eyes I can see.

“It’s true,” she told him, simply and surely. “He told me to find someone else – someone who could grow old with me and give me children. He had a necklace he was going to give her with their initials on it. It said….” She could barely choke the words out, “It said ‘forever’ on it.”

“So you went back to Mark,” he filled in the blanks.

“Yes,” she nodded.

And you are such a fool
To worry like you do
I know it’s tough and you can never get enough
Of what you don’t really need now…my, oh my.

“How’s that working out for you?” he asked, wryly. “From my standpoint it looks a bit like two trains colliding rather messily.”

“He got drunk tonight and started telling the guys about things that should have been left in the bedroom,” she said tightly.

She felt him examining her closely and conclude, “And you’re still highly pissed off about that, aren’t you?”

“Hell, yes!” she exclaimed. “How dare he? I mean, one minute he’s lecturing me on how I’m too wild for his tastes and the next he’s bragging about my desperate attempts to jazz up our pathetic sex life. What exactly does he want from me?”

You’ve got to get yourself together
You’ve got stuck in a moment and now you can’t get out of it
Oh love look at you now
You’ve got yourself stuck in a moment and now you can’t get out of it

“I think he doesn’t know himself,” Mulder admitted. “What about you? What’s holding you to this relationship? You’ve said that you have trouble understanding each other and admitted that the sex isn’t great. Is something else keeping you here?”

“He’s a good guy,” she said in a soft voice. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

I was unconscious, half asleep
The water is warm till you discover how deep…
I wasn’t jumping…for me it was a fall
It’s a long way down to nothing at all

“Don’t you think you’re already hurting him?” Mulder asked as nicely as possible. “Are you in love with him? Be honest…with yourself if not with me.”

“No,” she admitted, feeling shame creep up her face.

“Then, for God’s sake, Mahleah let him go. Make a clean break and let him move on with his life. Yeah, you’ll hurt him a little, but a lot less than if you let this charade keep going,” Mulder urged.

You have to get yourself together.
You’ve got stuck in a moment and now you can’t get out of it.
Don’t say that later will be better now.
You’re stuck in a moment and you can’t get out of it.

She was quiet for a very long moment, before sighing and telling him, “I’ll think about it.”

“How about thinking about this as well,” Mulder pushed on, knowing he might be taking things too far. “Duncan MacLeod will always love you as long as his head is attached to his body.”

“I know,” she said sadly. Looking across at him, she added, “but that’s different from being in love. I can’t do it, Fox. I can’t go back to him. You mentioned a pattern earlier? Well, Mac and I have one too. We hurt each other and separate, then we get back together and hurt each other even worse than before. I can’t do it anymore. I know love is not all strawberries and roses but it shouldn’t hurt that much either. It’s not healthy.”

And if the night runs over
And if the day won’t last
And if our way should falter
Along the stony pass

“You’re right,” he reluctantly agreed. At her start of surprise, he grinned at her for a split second. “The romantic in me wants to see you two back together but the psychologist in me knows that there are issues that need to be settled before you can work out your problems. As much as I hate to admit it, you guys have some identity crises going on that you’ll have to work on individually. Just promise me one thing, okay?”

“What’s that?”

“Just don’t forget to follow your heart, huh?”

She stiffened beside him.

“My heart?”

“Yeah, sometimes our heads can be too cluttered. Listen to your heart and let it lead you where you need to go, okay?”

“Follow my heart,” she whispered, thoughtfully.

And if the night runs over
And if the day won’t last
And if your day should falter
Along the stony pass
It’s just a moment
This time will pass.

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

Her friends had warmly welcomed them after reaching the club. A set and a half of songs later Mulder had joined with those friends to coax a willing Mahleah up on stage. It was good for her, Mulder reflected. Music was one of her two preferred outlets for stress and since there was no violence on hand, singing would have to be it.

He had been worried about her when he saw her. There was anger in her eyes and her body, but also a hopelessness that concerned him. Although she didn’t realize it, Mahleah was a symbol of hope to her closest friends. No matter what catastrophe nearly crushed her, ultimately she would pull through. He could see that spark in her now. It didn’t mean that all her problems were solved, or that she was instantly happy. Rather instead that she had again reached inside herself and pulled out the strength to continue on the journey. He was intensely curious to know where that path would lead her, but doubted he’d live to see the end of it. It was true that Mahleah was mortal now, just as he was, but he refused to believe that she would remain that way. His intuition told him that many, many adventures lay ahead of his friend and he’d learned to trust that sixth sense no matter who else might doubt it.

What he hadn’t expected, though, was that Mark Fleming would arrive at the club. Luckily, the man was smart enough to take a cab, rather than trying to drive himself, as he still didn’t seem perfectly sober. Considering everything he had gone through in one evening, though, that wasn’t exactly unexpected.

He tried to greet the professor, but Mark just took a seat beside him in silence and gazed up at the stage. There was a lot to see right now. Mahleah and the band were tearing through a frantic rendition of “Nobody’s Fault but Mine.” Mahleah had the lead vocals and had borrowed a harmonica. Now however she was being pinned between the two guitar players and loving every minute of it. She leaned backwards and wrapped an arm around the guy closest to her, as the other lead guitarist stalked toward her. It happened that person was female, but it didn’t decrease the sexual chemistry between the three on stage.

Mulder caught a look at Mark, and saw the man frowning. Inwardly, he shook his head. How could this man have been with Mahleah as long as he had on two different occasions and not understand her any better than he did? Mahleah was straight, but she was also very comfortable with her sexuality. In situations like this, the remnants of Kali’s personality came out to play a little, and they didn’t threaten her. One look at Mark’s tense face showed that he didn’t share that sentiment.

“She’s responding to the music, you know,” Mulder said, in an attempt to ease the man’s mind.

“What?”

“Mahleah, she’s not responding to the girl – she’s reacting to the guitar. Doesn’t mean anything,” Mulder shrugged.

Mark looked at him in disbelief as the song wound to a halt. Mahleah came down off the stage with a huge smile on her face.

“God, that was tight,” she said cheerfully as she gulped down the club soda waiting for her.

“You don’t say,” Mark responded bitterly.

Mahleah raised an eyebrow, “What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry if I’m not liberated enough to enjoy hearing my girlfriend make remarks about another woman’s ass.” He shot back.

“Excuse me?” she said in disbelief. “Who said anything about anyone’s ass? I was talking about the music.”

Mulder allowed himself a little grin. He’d tried to tell the guy, but the idiot wouldn’t listen.

“Mahleah, those people were all over you,” Mark spat. “How could you just let them paw you like that?”

“Whoa, back up,” she commanded. “First off, nobody was pawing me. We all got a little close yeah, but nobody was touching anybody’s private parts. It was just a little show for the audience, Mark. Hell, they loved it. What’s wrong with you?”

“I guess I’m the only person in the audience who found it disturbing and undignified,” Mark retorted harshly.

“Undignified?”

She was starting to be really worked up now, Mulder noticed. He stayed really still so that neither of them would notice him.

“Are you so worried about your public image?” she demanded.

“My public image, what about yours?” he shot back.

“My public image is no concern of yours,” she said in a low, deadly tone.

“How do you figure that? You’re my girlfriend. We live together. You left my brother’s wedding reception tonight so you could come here and party with your ‘friends.’ How’s that going to sound when it gets around campus?” he asked.

“You know what?” she said, with an icy chill to her voice. “It’s not going to sound half as bad as this. Let me just relieve you of those burdens right now.”

She stalked back up to the stage and had a little chat with her friends. When the music started again, Mulder winced. Despite the fact that he had encouraged Mahleah to break up with her lover, he really hadn’t foreseen it taking this public a turn. Leave it to Mantha to tell it the way it was in a song.

I’ve taken all that I can take
And I’ve given you all that I have to give
But my feeling is gone.
I’ve got to make a move.
It’s a mass confusion
And I’m trapped in an illusion.

It ain’t right lovin’ to be lovin’
Said it ain’t right to hug to be huggin’
But I can’t help it how I feel.
All I know is my feelin’ for you
It just ain’t real.

Mark’s eyes were about to pop out of his head soon, Mulder suspected. Knowing the next verse of the song, the ex-FBI agent didn’t think the rest of the song was going to help. Well, he’d told her to be honest and to break his heart now rather than later. Too bad for the guy he had to piss her off so much when she told him.

I’m tired of making love that I don’t feel
And I’m tired of pretending when it ain’t real
But my feeling is gone.
I’ve got to make a move.
It’s a mass confusion
And I’m trapped in an illusion.

It ain’t right lovin’ to be lovin’
Said it ain’t right to hug to be huggin’
But I can’t help it how I feel.
All I know is my feelin’ for you
It just ain’t real.

Mark’s eyes closed tightly for a moment, and Mulder was almost worried. When he opened them again, Mulder was relieved to see that though there was hurt in the other man’s eye there was also relief. It was over…for good this time. They had finally been truthful with each other and now life could move on.

Pleasing you just to satisfy
But you don’t know how I feel inside.
Oh I know it ain’t right to love to be lovin’
Said it ain’t right to hug to be huggin’
But I can’t help it how I feel
All I know is my feelin’ for you
It just ain’t real.

As the music died down, Mulder heaved a sigh. It could have been much worse, actually. At least with this song Mahleah was acknowledging her own responsibility in the whole mess.

Right now, she and Mark were staring at each other openly, and silently saying their good-byes. Finished, she strode over and bummed a guitar. Strapping it on, she spoke quietly to the band and began the opening chords to “Dazed and Confused.” Mulder grinned in anticipation. Mahleah’s take on one of the great but chauvinistic rock/blues tunes should be interesting. He wasn’t disappointed. In the first verse, she turned the tables on the original writer of the song.

Been dazed and confused for so long it’s not true
Wanted a man never bargained for you
Lots of people talking few of them know
Soul of a man was created below…

This was healthy Mulder ruminated. She could get the entire post-breakup male bashing over with at once and still gift the audience with some good music. He glanced back over at Mark, who was still frozen to the spot.

“She’s just venting. Don’t take it personally,” he offered.

Mark looked at him.

“I feel like I’m seeing her for the first time,” he replied slowly. “All the time we’ve been together she’s had to constantly repress her personality. I’ve been holding her back. I look at her right now and she’s so earthy and free…”

“Earthy is a good way to describe her,” Mulder agreed.

“Tell her,” Mark hesitated. “Tell her that I hope she’s happy. That’s all I ever wanted for her, really. We were fooling ourselves to think it could ever work out between us, but if she ever just needs a friend…”

“I’ll tell her,” Mulder promised.

“Thanks,” Mark smiled at him, and then took a long last look at Mahleah before slowly rising and leaving.

Mulder turned his attention back to the stage. Mahleah’s eyes followed her former boyfriend out of the club before turning a slightly watery smile back to her old friend. Seconds before blasting into a solo, she touched her head and then her heart and winked at him. He wasn’t exactly sure what that signified, but his intuition told him she was on the right path.

Pulling out his cell-phone, he hit redial. When he got an answer, he said cheerfully, “Scully, I’ll be home soon…”

Chapter Twenty

When Buffy had heard Angel’s voice on the other end of the telephone, it was everything she could do not to cry. He sounded so excited and yet so confused that she was alive again. She knew the feeling. Well, the confused part anyway. He absolutely insisted that he had to see her and she couldn’t refuse. It was Angel, after all and she had been dead. She understood his desire to see her as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, that meant she had to put off discussing her plans with Giles. He also had news about a healer that he wanted to bring to Sunnydale to meet with Mac and some strange new prophecy about what was elliptically referred to as the ‘Bringers of the End.’ There was so much that everyone wanted to talk to her about and so much that everyone wanted her to give them. The problem was that there was so little of her to give these days. She felt like a part of her was still lost, somehow…floating in the ether between earth and heaven. Would she ever get that part of herself back? Maybe seeing Angel would force it back down into her body where it belonged.

She knew Giles had come back from England just to see her, and she was being a little rude to run off like this so soon, but she couldn’t stop herself. The only people she could truly communicate with these days were Spike and MacLeod. That was mainly because they could relate to her experience. Spike had clawed his way out of a coffin, as had Mac. In fact, while MacLeod hadn’t been buried every time, he’d probably died and come back more than anyone else she knew. Now, like her, he was trying to find a place for himself in the strange new life he’d been forced into. Still, she found herself shying away from the topic of heaven to him. Why had she told Spike? She really didn’t know. He was there, just when she needed someone to open up to. He knew better than to breathe to another person what she had told him and he had cared for Dawn while she was…not gone. Gone implied that she’d been on a trip somewhere. No, she’d been dead and her body had been six feet under the ground and decaying.

Stop it, she scolded herself, and kept her foot on the accelerator. Angel had said halfway between LA and Sunnydale. She knew the place he meant. She’d been staying with her father the summer after she died the first time and discovered a beautiful lake an hour outside of LA. While she was away, only that place had brought her a measure of peace and she’d told Angel about it. It was rather sweet of him to think of it now. Of course, it also meant that it cut the time in half that he would have to wait until seeing her.

Arriving, she pulled over and found his black convertible already waiting on her. Taking a deep breath, she slowly unbuckled her seat belt and opened the car door. As soon as her feet felt the ground beneath them, she spotted him and began to tremble. A part of her wanted to get back in the car and flee as far from him as possible.

No, she told herself sternly. That wouldn’t be fair to him. He’s believed you to be dead for months. He has the right to see for himself that you’re walking and talking again. She ruthlessly repressed a sigh, Even if you left your emotions scattered helplessly between here and the grave.

“Buffy,” his familiar husky voice washed over her.

She swallowed. Until now, she hadn’t realized how hard this was going to be. She’d forgotten that Angel tended to wake up nerve endings she hadn’t known she had and emotions that she kept trying to bury.

“Angel,” she replied softly.

He rushed at her – a large, dark blur that scooped her off her feet and crushed her to his chest.

“Buffy, Buffy, Buffy,” he kept repeating. “You’re alive. You’re really here.”

Gingerly, he put her back on her feet, and then collapsed to his knees with a groan. Clasping her tightly around the waist, he began to weep softly.

Buffy closed her eyes tightly. Oh God, she couldn’t do this right now. It was too real, too painful, and too hard. His tears were eating away at the thick walls she had built to keep herself numb…to keep herself sane.

“Angel,” she whispered, trying to retain her hold on her emotions. Involuntarily, her fingers combed through the back of his hair soothingly. “I’m here, Angel. I’m okay.”

Gradually, his sobs died away and he hesitantly caressed her face.

“You’re here,” he repeated. “You’re so beautiful.” His touch was so loving, and his tone so reverent that she felt her control trying to break.

As if sensing her weakness, he gently brushed his lips against hers. “Oh God,” he sighed. “I never thought I’d kiss you again. Please, Buffy let me…” His mouth moved against hers again, and she allowed him to deepen the kiss. Yet, she didn’t respond to it either, and after a few seconds he pulled away.

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

“Nothing,” she lied.

On the drive down, she had struggled with the thought of confessing everything to him. Of all people, Angel would understand, she knew. She wouldn’t tell him, though. Not now, after she’d seen him. Of all the beings on this planet Angel made her feel the most alive, but to be that open she’d have to deal with all the pain and anger and sadness she had buried deep inside herself. She’d also have to see the pain in his own eyes when he found out she’d been ripped from paradise. That would hurt even worse. No, she couldn’t do this.

“Buffy, something’s wrong. What is it? You know you can tell me anything,” he told her, his large brown eyes pleading with her to open to him.

Stepping away from him would be hard, but nothing compared to what telling him the truth would be like. It was the cowardly way out she knew, but now that was all she could do.

When he began kissing her again -- her forehead, her cheeks, her jaw-line leading once again up to her lips -- she pulled away.

“We can’t do this, remember?” she pointed out. “It’s why you left in the first place.”

“I’m sorry,” he said mournfully. “I never should have left you. If I’d been with you…”

“I’d still have died,” she replied steadily. “There’s nothing you could have done, Angel. If you’d stayed, we might not have even lived to see Glory move into town. Angelus might have killed us all a few months after graduation. You did the right thing. I get that now.”

He stepped toward her, “Buffy…”

“I have to get back,” she interrupted. “I can’t leave Dawn all night.” She turned away to her car, but paused to say over her shoulder without looking. “It was good to see you, Angel.”

She drove away.

******

When Angel returned from seeing Buffy, he was greeted with Cordelia and Wesley parodying his and the Slayer’s relationship for Fred and Gunn’s amusement. It was nearly the last straw. Something had been wrong with Buffy, but she refused to allow him in. Perhaps it was too late for them to rebuild their bond at this point but it still hurt like hell to see his two best friends make fun of something they obviously did not understand.

He couldn’t turn to them. In fact, as he’d once informed Buffy herself when he was tore up inside about seeing her, the only person he could share that with was himself. Still, he did have a mission and lately he’d been ignoring it.

He decided that helping people didn’t always involve seeking out strangers and dropped by the wreckage that used to be Caritas. Lorne, the green, anagogic demon host of the karaoke bar was sort of a friend and his business had been wrecked by Gunn’s old demon hunting pals a few weeks ago. Earlier they had dropped by to see Lorne to ask him about Fred, who was missing. Lorne had bitterly made a few remarks about being used but gave them enough information to help find the girl.

Angel’s conscience was bothering him, though. Lorne had made a good point. The only time Angel ever dropped by to see the demon, was when he needed information or wanted Lorne to read someone’s aura. Tonight, he had sensed that the host of Caritas needed a little comfort himself and no one had provided it.

“Lorne,” he called, hoping that his green-skinned friend hadn’t gone back to bed.

“Here,” he heard a voice in the dark. Training his night-vision on the spot, he saw Lorne slumped around a liquor bottle.

Looking around, Angel located the lights and flipped them on. Stepping to the host’s table, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Do I look okay?” came back the waspish response. “My beautiful bar is in rubble and you want to know if I’m okay.”

Angel found a chair that wasn’t smashed and pulled it up to the host’s table.

“What do you want now,” Lorne grumbled, “Fred run away again?”

“No,” Angel replied. “I was worried about you. Can I help?”

“Look at this place,” Lorne said bitterly. “It looks like the set of a Mad Max movie without the leather.”

“You can rebuild, can’t you?” Angel inquired. “If it’s a matter of money, I don’t have a lot but I could help a little.” He thought for a moment, and added, “I might know someone else who could help too. His name’s David Nabbitt. He’s a multi-billionaire and he knows about demons. I could give him a call, if you’d like.”

Lorne eyed him, “Why?”

Angel shrugged, “You do good work here. You’re always trying to help people find their path.” He gave a half-smile, “Even if you normally dress like Carmen Miranda.”

“At least I have color in my wardrobe,” Lorne sniffed. “Unlike some monochromatic types I could mention.” Relaxing his grip on his glass, Lorne gripped Angel’s hand, “Thanks, Angel-kins. It’s nice to know that someone notices.”

“I know,” Angel replied wryly.

Lorne narrowed his eyes, “Don’t worry about it too much, honey. You two are on two different paths right now it’s true. The Powers need things that way right now. It doesn’t mean that the door’s been slammed shut in your face.”

“Sure felt like it to me,” Angel chuckled a little, unhappily.

“No, the door’s still ajar…not by much, I grant you, but it’s not closed.” Lorne closed his eyes for a second, and then regarded Angel thoroughly. “For now, though, something’s coming.”

“What?” Angel asked apprehensively. In his experience, predictions like this weren’t good things.

“I can’t see clearly enough, but relax big guy. I’m getting mostly good vibes here.”

“Mostly,” Angel raised an eyebrow.

“Well, there’s also some disturbing clouds coming toward you, but when aren’t there, right?” Lorne pointed out.

“Good and bad headed my way,” Angel sighed, “Just another typical week.”

End of A Sigh is But a Sigh

The songs quoted from herein are:

“So Real” – Jeff Buckley

“Foxey Lady” – Jimi Hendrix

“Are You Experienced?” – Jimi Hendrix

“Smells Like Teen Spirit” – Nirvana

“Desert Rose” – Sting

“Brand New Day” – Sting

“Inertia Creeps” – Massive Attack

“Stuck in a Moment” – U2

“It Ain’t Right (Lovin’ to be Lovin’) – Ike and Tina Turner

“Dazed and Confused” – Led Zeppelin

Continue to The Fundamental Things Apply