As Time Goes By

Revised August 2004

Prologue

Imagine if you will, a sulky fifteen-year-old girl skulking around the house on a bright, gorgeous spring morning. Tall for her age with long, bright hair and large, dark eyes that set off her face she strode into the room she referred to as “Daddy’s office.”

The girl walked over to her favorite part of the house – a window seat that let in the sunshine. Plopping down, she pulled her long legs up in front of her and stared out the window. She was completely and utterly bored. Her father was gone to see a lawyer about her latest mishap at school. Until it was resolved, she was suspended for three days. She nibbled absently on the thumbnail of her right hand until she caught herself and stopped with a frown.

“Damn,” she swore under her breath. She was trying to break the habit. Her hand reached for the comforting weight of the necklace around her throat and gripped the Celtic cross hanging there. She turned it over and examined its familiar Gaelic inscription, then lost interest and began running it back and forth across the chain.

She gazed around the room. Pictures lined the walls, and stood proudly from the top of her father’s desk. She shook her head in wry amusement. A person could follow the progress of her life through those pictures from about the age of five up to a recent snapshot taken only last week. One would think that her father was afraid of never seeing her again and had created a veritable wallpaper of memories. It was almost creepy if she thought about it too hard.

She rose and walked about the room scanning the images. Occasionally there would be a picture of her father or a family friend but in the majority of the photos, she was there with the other person. One of the only exceptions to this rule sat on a table on the far side of the room. In a simple, old-fashioned gold frame was a picture of her mother. She picked it up now, examining the woman closely. They had similar hair: long, but her mother’s was a lighter shade while hers had a bit more red in it. They both had brown eyes, but her mother’s were blacker and more mysterious while her own were a warmer shade. Her skin was a bit darker than her mother’s light tan. She was a bit thinner than the woman in the picture was as well. Up until a few years ago, she’d seemed to be all elbows and knees, but she was beginning to fill out a little finally. Her mother was beautiful beyond anything she had ever seen while she was resigned to being merely “cute” or “pretty.”

She sighed and sank to the floor, still holding the portrait in her hands. What had her mother really been like? It had been so long ago since she died that the girl could barely remember. From the stories her father still told on rare occasions, she must have been an exceptional woman: brilliant, brave, and beautiful. She gazed out at the viewer from her side of the glass with a smile that spoke of happiness and love, but there seemed to be a bit of sadness in those deep eyes.

What could make a woman look like that? Did she know she was going to die so young? Was she reflecting on how hard it would be to miss her daughter growing up? Was she urging her daughter to do better…to be more? Or was that merely a projection of the disgruntled teenager stuck in the house because her ultra-conservative school couldn’t handle the dance she had performed at the recent talent show?

The girl suddenly noticed that the picture was much heavier than it appeared. The frame was relatively unadorned and nothing there indicated the heft she felt in her hands. She turned the frame around and for the first time observed that the back was rather thick. Was there another picture behind the first, or even a stack of photos?

She carefully eased the stiff board out of its hangings and removed it as well as a layer of paper. Before her lay a book bound in soft leather. She picked it up cautiously and opened the cover to find a new snapshot of her mother but this time she was not alone. She was sitting on the grass, leaning back in the arms of a strange man. He was quite handsome and they looked good together. Her mother was laughing, looking up into the man’s face and he was gazing down at her. The girl’s heart froze. There was such an air of intimacy between them. They looked carefree and happy, joyous even, and terribly, terribly in love.

The girl instantly hated him. Who was this person to be caught in such a compromising pose with her mother? Why had he never been mentioned in any of her father’s stories? Why did he look naggingly familiar? She picked up the picture with trembling fingers and rose with the book falling out of her lap. Walking over to a nearby mirror she gazed into it with the picture held up to the glass. She recognized with a dawning sense of awfulness that his eyes were the same shade of brown as her own. They had the same cheekbones, chin, lips, and smile. Who was this person? The picture fluttered to the ground after slipping from her nerveless fingers.

She turned, walked back to the book and opening it again found her mother’s name. It was a diary of some sort. The girl had always sensed secrets in her house and this small volume promised some answers if she dared to look. Hesitantly, she walked to her room to hide the journal until she was ready for the truth.

Book One – You Must Remember This

Chapter One

“Michael, are you sure the two of you are going to be okay by yourselves?” Mahleah asked insistently.

He regarded her with affection tinged with sadness. She was always worried about others but it was time now for her to move on with her own life and work towards her own happiness. Since the day that Nikita had blithely told him she didn’t love him – a claim he now knew was completely false – Mahleah had been by his side to help him through the darkness that had sought to engulf him. She had pushed it back with her kindness, her courage, and her love.

When he was ready to act, they had quarreled over his plan, which she found repellent. He was glad that her time in Section had not ruined her highly developed sense of honor, but he was only too aware that there were lines one would cross for the sake of a loved one that would shrivel the soul inside – especially when the life at stake was your child. He had followed through with his scheme hoping to regain not only his son but his love as well, but it was not meant to be. Adam was with him now, but Nikita was still in Section…was Section now, left in charge by the death of her father.

Mahleah was waiting for his answer.

“Yes,” he told her. “We’ll be fine.”

She sighed, clearly torn between her impulse to help him all that she could and her desire to begin her journey. Yet, if there was one lesson he had learned from her it was about love. She loved him, he was well aware, but in a very different way from the way that she loved…the man waiting for her on the other side of her trip. He understood this because he felt the same way. She and her lover had shown him on many occasions the various sides of an emotion he had barely comprehended before. Most of his life had been spent repressing its spirit for the good of whatever cause he was fighting for on that particular day. Mahleah’s example had made it clear that the cause, no matter how noble or worthwhile, was already lost if its adherents ignored the most basic and fundamental feelings – the ones that made them human beings. Now, he would apply this knowledge. No matter how much he wished that Mahleah could indeed stay with him, it would be asking her to deny her own happiness. He couldn’t do that to her.

He had recently dropped a small bombshell on her – finally revealing the few facts he knew about her recruitment into Section One and the strange man who had demanded he take care of her.

“Are you all right?” he asked knowing that the information had stunned her more than she wanted to show.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I think I know what happened, but the next time I see Logan he’s going to have a hell of a lot of questions to answer.”

This was it then, their last moments -- the beginning of a strange new path for them both.

“Go,” he said. “He’s waiting for you.” He wasn’t speaking of her mysterious protector, Logan, and they both knew it.

She couldn’t help but smile. “I know, but I need to be sure that…”

“We’ll be fine,” he repeated, knowing that like Nikita she hated that word but would respect its authority.

“Well, then,” Mahleah hesitated. “You’ll let me know if you ever…”

“Yes,” he interrupted again. She was stalling now and they both knew it. Excitement and nervousness ran through her veins in equal measure.

He pulled her close for a final hug and found that he was envious of her – for the joy she found and the contentment she was going towards – and of the man she was going to…for obvious reasons.

“Be happy,” he whispered, giving her a last, chaste kiss. One quick, bright smile later and she was gone.

Michael waited for a few moments and then turned to start his own new life: one where he hoped he could finally be the father his son deserved.

*****

On her plane ride to the States, Mahleah hoped that she was doing the right thing by leaving Michael and Adam. It felt rather selfish to be going off to pursue her own future when theirs was so unsettled. Michael had seemed so confident, though, that now was the time for her to go. Sometimes that was all one could do for a friend…but she would be sure to check on them very soon. She had lost too many friends in her lifetime to just let a good one slip quietly away from her.

Speaking of friends, she was on a pilgrimage of sorts. She had to make sure that her closest friends were doing as well as could be expected before she threw herself into reestablishing her relationship with Mac. After all, many times before their tenuous romance had been shunted aside to deal with an emergency. Now she wanted to avoid a few disasters before they headed her way. Maybe this time they’d have at least a few months of blissful peace together.

The only trouble is she had no idea where one of those friends was. He had disappeared about the time she went to prison and had left no word. Considering the information that Michael had recently given her she couldn’t help but worry. If Logan was involved in the espionage community it would explain much but it also posed the possibility that he had found himself in a tight spot that precluded contact with the outside world. She sighed. There was no use borrowing trouble. She would remain concerned until she heard from him, but until she heard otherwise she’d just have to trust in his ability to take care of himself.

As the plane’s wheels touched down, she sent up a fervent hope that at least one of the people dearest to her had finally managed to put his feet on the ground.

When she knocked on the door of apartment 42, she heard a familiar voice say, “Just a minute.” The unfamiliar sound of a baby crying caused her to wonder.

The door swung open and Mulder grinned when he saw her. “Come on in,” he invited. “I’ve got to finish changing Will.”

“Will?” she repeated, walking in to see an infant, calm now, lying patiently waiting for its diaper.

Stunned, she bent to get a better look. “Turned into a babysitter, Mulder?” she asked.

“Sort of,” he chuckled. “This is Scully’s son, William.”

“Scully had a baby and you didn’t tell me?” she chided.

“Technically you were supposed to be dead, remember?” he reminded her.

“Oh yeah,” she frowned. “You didn’t really buy that, did you?”

“No,” he agreed, “but then I’ve had some problems of my own to deal with. That’s all over with now, though, isn’t it, Will?”

The baby made a soft, gurgling noise and Mahleah felt her heart melt.

“Can I hold him?” she asked hopefully.

“Sure,” he laid the baby gently in her arms.

Will yawned and shut his eyes. She watched him, experiencing acute and painful envy.

“He must like you,” Mulder commented.

“I’m glad,” she whispered, and then looked up sharply. “You said this was Scully’s son – who’s the father?”

“Well that’s the million dollar question,” Mulder replied cheerfully. “Ask Scully if you want to know…I’m sworn to secrecy.”

She examined him closely. “It doesn’t seem to be bothering you,” she observed.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said honestly, and then admitted, “When she gets off from work today we’re going house hunting.”

“Hey,” she exclaimed, “that’s wonderful.”

The baby cracked a wary eye as if to warn her.

“Sorry, Will,” she crooned, and began rocking him. “So life’s going good for you, Fox?”

“Yep,” he agreed and then added, “You know you look pretty good with a baby in your arms. Maybe you should think about…”

“No,” she interrupted before he could finish the thought. “I can’t…Immortals can’t. I thought you knew.”

“Oh,” he said, his face falling. “I’d forgotten. Never?”

“Never,” she echoed. “It’s the price we pay for living forever.”

“That sucks,” he said grimly.

“Yeah,” she wasn’t going to argue with that.

“Mahleah,” he said seriously. “Scully supposedly couldn’t have any children either.” He tilted her face up to look at him. “I’ll say the same thing to you that I told her: never give up on a miracle.”

She smiled, but inwardly cringed. It would take more than one miracle to give her a child by the only man she would want to be its father. Some things were simply not to be and she would take the happiness she was given rather than yearn for the things she could never have.

******

Cordelia was beginning to feel like their lives were in a constant cycle of one step forward and two steps back. In the past year, she and her friends had been on the rollercoaster to end all amusement park rides. When Angel had discovered that his enemy, the law firm Wolfram and Hart, had brought his sire, Darla back to life it had changed him. He became obsessed with her…finding her…and helping her. Neither Cordelia, nor Wesley, nor Charles Gunn, their newfound friend, had understood Angel’s bizarre behavior. They had worried about him, but in their fear of pushing him too far, had not gone far enough in trying to help him past his problems.

Darla had been restored as human and when Angel was unable to prevent her from being turned back into a vampire he changed even more. Suddenly, he forgot the true reasons he fought evil and settled into an insane pattern of revenge seeking that saw him locking newly vamped Darla and Drusilla in a room full of Wolfram and Hart lawyers. He fired his friends and employees without blinking and left them to their own devices.

Cordelia had been very hurt that he could dismiss so casually the bond that had been between them all, and especially with her. She’d known Angel the longest of any of his LA friends and it had been painful to think that after all of that time he could treat her so coldly. Now, she thought to herself that she, Wesley, and Gunn weren’t innocent in the whole affair. They had been terrified that Angel was on the verge of becoming evil again and instead of trying to help him or at the last resort to kill him to prevent the disasters he could have unleashed upon the population of the city they had chosen the easy way out: they had done nothing…preferring to pretend that Angel didn’t exist.

Somehow, her friend had pulled himself back from the abyss although the details were still sketchy to her. He claimed to have had an epiphany that allowed him to see that all of the things that had been bothering him truly meant nothing. His personal crusade for salvation from the wrongs he had done was useless and indeed hypocritical. Faced with this reality he concluded that in such a world the smallest act of kindness meant everything. He had returned to his friends much humbler but still a bit isolated from the world.

Cordelia had realized a long time ago that for his own happiness as well as the safety of the general populace it was best for Angel to interact with humanity even if he felt awkward and out of place. He had been making more efforts after his epiphany to deal with the world around him although it was not a natural gesture for him. By the time they had returned from the home dimension of Lorne, their new demon friend who could read auras and guide people after hearing them sing, Angel had seemed more at peace with himself. In the other world he was forced to deal with the reality of the demon within himself and had managed to finally accept his dual nature: he needed both the human and the demon in order to be Angel, the champion of the Powers That Be and helper of mankind.

Just as he started to announce, with a rare and beautiful smile on his face, that there was no place like home, the other shoe dropped. Two steps back again. Cordelia sighed. She couldn’t blame Angel for his behavior – the news that Willow had brought them that night was tragedy of the most personal kind – and he had not tried to hide from the world in the way he might have a few months ago. Yet his heart was not in his actions and she had not observed him to shed a single tear. If only he would allow himself to grieve, she thought tiredly.

Now, he was sitting in his office – which Wesley had vacated as soon as Willow departed – staring out at the LA night. Why can’t I get through to you? Cordelia thought in frustration. This can’t be healthy; I don’t care how many times you’ve lost friends in your two hundred plus vampire years you have to let yourself mourn, Angel.

She was psyching herself up to make one more attempt to break through those steely barriers when the doors opened and a tall figure with a long braid and a longer coat came waltzing in.

“What does a woman have to do to get some service around here?” she announced cheerfully.

“Mahleah!” Cordelia exclaimed. “I’m so glad to see you!”

To the Immortal’s astonishment, Cordelia gave her a swift hug. It wasn’t just the fact that she was glad to see Mahleah alive and well, although they had all been concerned after her disappearance from prison. No, finally, here was someone who could stand toe to toe with her boss and friend. She’d even kick his ass if she had to, something the rest of them were not capable of. Maybe the wheel was turning and they were about to have that one step forward once again.

******

Duncan MacLeod wandered through one of Sunnydale’s many cemeteries. He had told Mahleah to meet him here, as he knew that she wanted to look up a few old friends on her way to him. Responding in kind, he had traveled to California to have a nice visit with Buffy, Giles, and the Scooby Gang and wait for Mahleah. He instinctively knew that the last stop she planned to make was with Angel in LA and it just seemed natural for him to check out the other half of that broken couple.

He rather expected to find her patrolling and so had been scouring the graveyards with no luck thus far. He’d actually had to dust a few vamps, which surprised him. Usually Buffy kept the population more depleted than this.

Hearing a noise, he silently moved in its direction. It sounded like a woman sobbing. He put his hand in his coat near his katana in case her distress was being caused by something with pointy teeth.

As he got nearer, though, he could see that she was alone. She seemed to be crying and talking to the tombstone in front of her and he was about to turn and respect her privacy when he recognized her.

“Willow?” he asked in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

Willow Rosenberg raised her head with a start.

“Duncan, is that you?” she asked forlornly.

“Yeah, it’s me, what’s wrong?” he repeated.

Instead of answering, she moved and as the moonlight hit the inscription on the tombstone, MacLeod understood her sorrow. With a heavy heart he read: “Buffy Anne Summers: 1981-2001 Beloved Sister and Friend…She Saved the World a Lot.”

Chapter Two

Angel turned when he heard the familiar voice at his door say, “Anytime Cordelia is that happy to see me, I get a bit worried.”

“Cordy’s always happy to see you,” he responded lightly.

“Liar,” she retorted. “I can think of several occasions that she would like to have run me out of here on a rail.”

“You’re not the same person that you were then, Mahleah,” he told her.

“Yes, she mentioned that too,” Mahleah walked further into the room. “I think the quote went something like, ‘You know you’ve done the whole good to evil and back to good thing.’ Apparently, she feels that knowledge is useful right now. Then there was something about my ass-kicking ability, but I hope I don’t need to pursue that one any further.

He tried to smile at her wit but the best he could manage was a ghost of a grimace. Mahleah swallowed her frivolous comments and came up to him. Reaching out to touch his face she told him softly, “I grieve with thee, mhurninn.”

In the sudden stillness of the room, he could pick out the sound of the beating of her heart: a reminder that unlike him, she was still alive. His thoughts, chaotic and painful, reflected on the three occasions in his life that he’d had dealings with Mahleah Brennan, or Mahleah MacLeod, or Morgan MacLeod, as he had also known her.

*****

18th Century

Galway, Ireland

Liam winked at Eileen, the fair-haired serving girl of the latest tavern he had decided to frequent. She seemed to be a bit taken with him and as usual, he turned that advantage into a free drink and possibly a bedmate for the night. Eileen’s sweet tongue and soft curves would be the perfect balm for an ego still stinging from the latest tongue-lashing with which his father had gifted him.

As he sipped his ale, he noticed a tall lad, a stranger, sitting nearby and scowling at him. No doubt, he was envious that the pretty tavern wench paid little attention to him, preferring to bestow her smiles on Liam. Too bad, he thought with a smirk.

The frowning boy leaned in to accuse, “Ye ken that the lass will hae to pay for yer drinks from her own pocket?”

“What are you, her brother?” Liam teased. The stranger’s accent identified him as a Scot, mostly likely from the Highlands.

“Nay,” the lad shook his head. “Just one as wishes her well.”

“Aye, my young friend, she’ll be doing well enough tonight,” he winked at the young Scot, whose scowl deepened.

Their attention was diverted by a stifled yelp that came from the corner of the room. Glancing over, Liam saw that Fergus O’Connell – a huge, brute of a man with a temper to match – had a vice-like grip on the girl. He sighed in disappointment. If it had been a smaller man than Fergus he might have protested on Eileen’s behalf, but Fergus O’Connell sent transgressors away bleeding and broken. Besides, he owed the giant ten pounds that he had no way of repaying. Sadly, he would have to say goodbye to an evening with the bonnie Eileen.

Finishing the last swig of ale, he set down his cup and rose intending to try his chances at a different tavern down the street. The sight of the Highland lad boldly walking up to Fergus and demanding that he unhand the lassie at once stopped him. Liam winced. Oh well, the boy was old enough to learn that good deeds would be punished when you were facing overwhelming and incredibly mean odds.

Fergus laughed, of course, at the lad’s fierceness. Secure in his commanding height and impressive muscles, he had no fear of a half-grown boy no matter how long the lad’s legs were. Incredibly, the laugh turned out to be on him.

With astonishment that rapidly turned to awe, Liam watched as the unknown Scottish boy who didn’t even have a beard proceeded to slowly pulverize one of the biggest bullies in Galway. Whirling like a banshee, the boy kicked, punched, and threw Fergus and his four cohorts in all directions of the bar. Stopping by the owner on his way out, he pulled out a purse and grandly bestowed it upon the stunned proprietor to “make up for all the fuss.”

After watching the lad saunter casually out the door as if nothing had happened, Liam had a moment of magnanimity. Thinking he would warn the boy that Fergus had an even meaner brother, he stepped out of the tavern expecting to see the lad walking down the street. The Highlander had vanished. Shrugging, Liam decided he’d been saved from carrying out his benevolent impulse and should find amusement elsewhere.

Later that evening, slightly tipsy and feeling triumphant after a lucky run at cards, Liam was walking back to his father’s house when he found himself accosted by a couple of the unhappy men whose money he had just won.

“Jimmy,” he said cheerily. “David, how are you lads this fine evening?”

“We want our money back, Liam,” Jimmy growled. His bloodshot eyes glared menacingly at Liam.

“Well now, I’m afraid that’s impossible,” he responded. “You lost that money quite fairly so I think I’ll just be on my way.”

David spoke up, now. He was quieter than Jimmy and more desperate. “Liam, you don’t need our money. Your father has plenty.”

“Ah now, surely you don’t believe my old man gives me a shilling anymore?” Liam laughed bitterly.

“Good for him,” Jimmy mocked. “He shouldn’t give a drunken sot like you anything.”

“A drunken sot, am I? Well, Jimmy now, maybe you should be taking a look at your own self,” Liam said agreeably, but his stomach was clenching from the insults as well as the reminder of his father’s disdain.

“Are you going to return our money?” David demanded.

Liam had to give this very little thought, “No.”

Jimmy swung at him, but he was moving slowly and Liam easily ducked beneath the punch. He was not as lucky with David who had pulled out a knife, which pushed past his shirt and scraped along his ribs. Taking advantage of this weakness, Jimmy grabbed him from behind and David brandished his knife.

“Now, are you going to give us those winnings?” David was obviously losing his patience.

Now, Liam actually had plans for this purse that for once didn’t involve wine, women, and song. It was going to be used to buy a birthday gift for his little sister and so he did not intend to give it up. He wasn’t sure how he was going to keep his property or stay in one piece but something had better occur to him soon as David’s eyes were fast changing from the glow of desperation to the gleam of mania. He swallowed hard.

As Liam closed his eyes and braced himself for the sting of David’s knife, he felt something heavy plow into he and Jimmy from behind. Opening his eyes once again he saw the mysterious Scottish lad scowling down at a patch of crimson that was seeping from his side.

“Well, that was damn clumsy,” he muttered. Remembering that David still possessed the knife, he calmly knocked it out of his hands and then sent the man sprawling to the ground. Jimmy rose and tried to tackle the boy, which was a mistake. He went soaring over the lad’s shoulder.

Liam laughed. “How does it feel to fly, Jimmy boy?” he called.

His rescuer raised an eyebrow, “You canna just keep your mouth shut?”

Their attackers, groaning, got up unsteadily.

“This isn’t over, Liam,” Jimmy promised. His smaller friend was limping and so they hobbled away, leaning on each other.

Liam laughed again with relief.

His new ally shook his head in disbelief.

“What?” Liam asked.

“Ye’re more trouble than even I kent,” the boy said wearily.

“Regardless, my fine lad, I owe you. This money was fairly won and it’s going tomorrow to buy a pony for my little sister’s birthday.”

The boy gave Liam an odd look, but said nothing. Liam suddenly recalled that David had slashed his rescuer as well as himself.

“You’re hurt,” he pointed out.

“Nay,” the Scott denied. “I’ll be fine, but if ye’d like I’ll take a look at your wound.”

Curious to find out more about this mysterious savior of people in distress, Liam assented and followed the boy to his camp. By the light of a fire, the warrior turned healer, and washed and dressed Liam’s injury. As his nurse turned aside to put away supplies, Liam got a better look at the slash in his new friend’s side. It was quite an interesting wound as the shirt was stained with blood but he could make out no scar. The skin was clear, perfect, and quite revealing. Taking another, more appreciative look at his companion Liam smiled.

“I need to visit the Highlands if they have any more lasses like you around.”

After a quick glance down at her side revealed that David’s knife had cut through more layers of cloth than she had expected, the lady gave his question some thought.

“Weel, I expect I’m no different than any other in some ways, and verra unique in others,” she told him calmly.

“I’m Liam,” he offered. “What’s your name?”

“Morgan,” she answered. “Morgan MacLeod.”

“So Morgan,” he asked with genuine curiosity. “What causes a woman like yourself to go wandering around the countryside dressed this way? Is it just a whim?”

“Och, no,” she smiled at him broadly. “It was meant to keep me out of trouble.”

They both stared at each other and laughed until tears were streaming down their faces.

“Where did you mess up?” he asked when he managed to catch his breath.

“Oh well,” she said sheepishly. “I have difficulties in minding my own affairs sometimes.”

Re-examining her, he put on his most rakish smile and declared, “I wouldn’t have any difficulty in minding an affair with you.”

She leaned back and shook her head bemusedly, “You never give up do you?”

“Nope, not when I see something worth pursuing,” he told her.

“And I bet that bonnie face sees that you get most anything you want,” she said ruefully. “Tell me something truthfully: did you mean what you said about buying your sister a birthday present?”

“Yes,” he said with no hesitation. “Now answer something for me. Do you really think I have a bonnie face?”

“Aye,” Morgan said laughing. “I’m not blind so I must admit it is, but I like it most because it reminds me of a friend I used to know.”

“Really?” He edged closer to her. “What was this friend like?”

“He was a good man who believed the worst about himself,” she answered. “He saved my life.”

“So, you rather owe him a favor, don’t you now,” Liam leaned in a little further.

She appeared rather pensive for several minutes. He wished he could read her face, which told him nothing about her thoughts.

Finally, she replied, “Aye, I do,” so softly that even as near as he was he could barely hear her.

A mischievous light twinkled in her eyes as she put a hand to his face and caressed it.

“‘Tis a very bonnie face, Liam,” she whispered, and then took him by surprise by kissing his chin. He had expected her to be more of a challenge.

Her lips roamed over his face and she murmured, “Ah, mhurninn, you taste so good.” Her sharp teeth caught the edge of his ear and he yelped but she soothed the sting with her lips and tongue.

“Ssh, love, just let me hold you. I’ll not hurt you, I promise. It’s a fine, proper night for love, wouldn’t you say?”

As her lips descended to his he couldn’t have agreed more.

Liam had settled into a satisfied slumber when something woke him. Groggily he opened his eyes to see Morgan donning her male garments once again.

“Where are you going?” he asked in alarm.

“Och, you’re awake,” she said. “I’m afraid I have to go.”

“Now?” he protested.

“Aye,” she replied calmly. “Why not?”

“But…but what about…” he sputtered.

She raised an eyebrow, “What about what, Liam?”

“You and me,” he managed, feeling ridiculous.

“Oh, it was quite nice,” she said pleasantly, “but it wasn’t forever and always, you ken.”

“Nice,” he repeated. He didn’t know what was worse: her describing their lovemaking as “nice”, or the fact that she was leaving him. It wasn’t supposed to work this way.

She came over and kissed him lingeringly to dull the edge of her words, “A lovely time was had by all, but I’ve only been passing through and now I must go. Besides, did you not say that the friendly gentleman I fought in the tavern had an even more likable brother and both of them were sure to be looking for me?”

“Yes,” he answered. His mind was stunned. Since when did women do the wooing and the leaving? He had genuinely liked Morgan. She was refreshingly different from anyone he’d ever known and there were hints that she’d traveled long and far. He, too, would like to see the world someday and he’d hoped she would share some of her adventures with him. For once, he wanted more than a simple bedding and yet that appeared to be all he was going to get.

She strapped her gear onto her horse, but then turned back to face him. The amusement was gone from her expression, which now appeared sad. Her eyes were dark and deep and as old as the moon.

“Liam, I must go. I have no other choice. Before I leave though I want you to know two things. The first is that the path you have chosen so far in life will lead you to a penance beyond your comprehension.”

He was bewildered. What was she talking about? Wasn’t she doing the exact same thing to him?

She sighed and walked back to him. “I shouldn’t have said that, but I had to. For your own sake, mhurninn, think about your actions.”

“And the second thing?” he asked, his voice sounding brittle and strangled.

Her face softened. Putting her arms around him, she said tenderly, “This wasn’t just any night to me, either, but some things are never meant to be.” She kissed him and then rode away.

He watched her and wondered if he would ever meet anyone else half as exciting. He had preparations to make for his sister’s birthday, but after that he would try his luck in the taverns again. One of the maids had informed him that a beautiful, well-born lady had been asking about him. Perhaps his adventuring days were just beginning.

*******

Present-day Los Angeles

It was a strange friendship, Angel reflected, that began during his last days as a human. The beautiful, well-born lady had turned out to be Darla and her kiss had changed his entire life and death. His sire was still roaming around the city and he would have to deal with her again, but not just now.

As Morgan, Mahleah had done all she could to turn him away from his destiny as Angelus, knowing that it would change history and could even mean her own death. Of course, he hadn’t listened to her excellent advice and so it didn’t matter what she’d tried to do. Now he was unable to tell her about things he knew about her future. Her counterpart from the future had told him her whole story and helped him come to grips with the fear and pain he’d had about reverting to Angelus and hurting the people he loved the most. She had helped them all really but most of all…Buffy.

He finally allowed himself to think that name…to let it reverberate in his mind. Buffy…Buffy Summers the Slayer, the young woman he’d loved. He found himself on the floor in Mahleah’s arms sobbing.

“It’s my fault,” he moaned. “I left her. She asked me to stay with her forever after her mom died, but I couldn’t handle being so near her and not really being able to touch her. If I’d only been able to control myself I could have been there with her.”

“It might not have changed a thing,” Mahleah sadly pointed out.

“Yes, but at least I would have seen her one last time,” he whispered. “At least she would have known I still loved her.”

“Oh, mhurninn,” she bit her lip. Tears were streaming down her face as well. “She knew…oh, she knew.”

Chapter Three

Night had fallen so Angel and Mahleah walked outside into the old hotel’s garden. Mahleah found a seat on a unused fountain and gazed up at the sky.

“It seems like such a long time since we’ve stargazed together,” she sighed.

“Now that you mention it,” Angel commented lightly. “Just what the hell happened to you, anyway? We were worried sick, until MacLeod finally let us know you were alive. Didn’t he mention the two or three phone calls he was getting a day until he finally got some news?”

“No,” she said her brow furrowing. “He never mentioned it. I wonder why.”

“Well, where’ve you been,” he prompted.

“I’ve been wondering when you would ask,” she chuckled. “It’s a very long story, my friend.”

“Well you can start with your fake suicide,” he prompted. “Was it just a ruse to escape prison?”

“Not exactly.” She was silent for a moment and he joined her at the fountain. “It was more like an induction. I was recruited by a group that thinks it’s the most covert antiterrorist group in the world although I was constantly amazed at how many people had actually heard of us.”

“The Initiative?” Angel asked, managing to suppress most of the bitterness from his tone. The Initiative had been a secret military group operating out of Sunnydale last year performing secret experiments on vampires and demons. One of their top soldiers, Riley Finn, had become the new love in Buffy’s life. Apparently, things had not quite worked out for them as Willow had recently informed him that Riley had rejoined his comrades and left Sunnydale for Ecuador, he believed.

Mahleah shook her head, sounding amused. “Oh no, the Initiative was a project that we helped clean up after Professor Walsh lost it and started working on her more ghoulish side projects. Buffy and the Scooby gang stopped them, but we mopped things up afterwards. We often got called in to save one agency or another from their mistakes.”

“So you’ve been working for them all this time?” Angel was slightly angry. There had been a funeral for Mahleah. Her father, family, and mortal friends all believed she was dead. Yet, even the ones who knew something else was going on had no idea what had happened to her. Why had she not contacted them to say she was safe?

“It was dangerous for anyone to know where I was, Angel. The people I worked for took their secrets quite seriously. I can’t tell you their name or where I was…I’m only telling you of their existence because there was a recent change in leadership.” Her dark eyes were pleading with him to understand. “I know you were working so hard to get me out of prison by legal means but I suppose I was meant to help people that I never would have known in any other way.”

“Did you at least let Duncan know eventually?” Angel finally asked. The man had been practically frantic with worry about her.

She shook her head and laughed, “No, he tracked me down. Never underestimate the tenacity of a Highlander.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” he asked carefully.

She looked away from him, and then back up at the stars before speaking. “The last time I saw Mac I was prepared to intervene between him and the man ordered to kill him.”

“Why would you do that?” Angel asked, puzzled.

Her words were low but clear, “Because his opponent was my friend as well as my current lover.”

“Would you care to run that by me again?” Angel requested, feeling his head spin.

Mahleah sighed. “It was a very tense time. Duncan and I had said goodbye months previously as my bosses had discovered he knew about our organization. They wanted him dead, and so I had to persuade him to get out of town. Michael was a very good friend and fellow operative whom the higher authorities we worked for kicked around. He was in love with an agent named Nikita, but it was decided by the higher ups that she interfered with his efficiency or some such nonsense. They went so far as to brainwash her…turn her into a robot with no feelings or desires but to serve her masters. It took a lot of work, but eventually Michael was able to deprogram her.”

“Are you sure these people don’t work for Wolfram and Hart?” Angel asked grimly. He was appalled but not really surprised at the story. “It sounds like their favorite line of dirty tricks.”

She flashed him a quick grin in remembrance of the law firm Angel had thwarted so often in the past they had declared him a nuisance. In an attempt to gain his cooperation, they had kidnapped her without any real knowledge of her personality or her Immortality. After learning as much as she could about their plans, she had had great pleasure in slapping around a few suits, throwing around a few goons, and making her way the hell out of Dodge. Unfortunately they had come up with much more effective ways to play with and torture his psyche.

“No, although I wouldn’t be surprised if one was a secret partner of the other,” she declared with a snort. “As you might imagine Nikita was rather confused after everything that had happened to her. She was offered a chance to regain her freedom and she left the organization. After that, our bosses decided that Michael needed a new focus. They never resented the fact that he and I made a good team. In fact, plans were then underway to promote our fearless leader and his right hand woman to the next level and we were in line to replace them. To cement this bond a little more, and to keep his mind off of any plans to track down his lost love, Michael was ordered to seduce me.”

“Ordered to seduce you?” Angel was amused. “What a punishment worse than death.”

She punched him in the arm rather hard. “Okay, smart aleck. What they really wanted was a hold on Michael and a way to manipulate us both. He and I were under no illusions about the arrangement; in fact, he never tried to deceive me about the reasons for the relationship. It was okay though, because it fit our own needs as well. We were both pretty lonely and our affair which was supposed to weaken us in some ways actually did the opposite.”

Mahleah fell into a pensive silence and Angel recognized that she would not tell him much about that odd relationship or Michael. It would not be right by her standards to divulge secrets that belonged to a bedroom left far behind. Just as she would never reveal the details of the strange ménage á trois she had once experienced with Angel to anyone else, she now respected the privacy of her other lover. He wouldn’t want her any other way.

She licked her lips and continued, “Suddenly Duncan popped back into the picture. He hadn’t returned because of me, but to help someone else who was in trouble. His efforts happened to bring him to the attention of my supervisors and they gleefully decided this was their opportunity to be rid of him. Michael was, bar none, their best field operative and so they trusted the assignment to no one else. To get rid of a troublesome problem and demonstrate their power over us all, they ordered Michael to kill Duncan or they would kill me. The problem was they knew he would be loath to hurt me emotionally as much as physically and he was clever enough to work out a fake death. To prevent such an escape, he was ordered to bring back proof of his handiwork: Duncan’s head.”

Angel shifted uncomfortably, “His head? Had they figured out your secret?”

Mahleah shook her head and raised an eyebrow. “Remember I said that the second in command was a woman? Her name was Madeline and she was trained to read people and exploit their weaknesses. She had seemed to have a strange liking for me in the past, but she would never let an emotion get in the way of her progress. She discovered that Operations, the man actually in charge, had secret plans to leave her behind with Michael and take me with him on the next level. Deciding to use any leverage she could to cripple my spirit, she watched me very closely. During a briefing, we were shown the results of a bomb attack by our latest target. A couple of the bodies were headless.” She glanced over at him. “You can imagine that it was hard for me to conceal my reaction. Immortals find it hard to be stoic about decapitation.”

“I can understand that,” he said dryly. “It’s not something I’m terribly fond of myself for the same reason.”

She smiled, and continued. “Madeline noticed my revulsion and analyzing my past history decided that it was a haunting reminder of my former crime. I was secretly racked with guilt over my dismemberment of my victim although he was a sadist and a rapist and therefore beheading was my hidden worst nightmare. Of course, she got that part right but for the wrong reasons. Michael was the only one in our organization that knew about my Immortality, and Madeline smilingly informed him that if he didn’t kill Duncan MacLeod in the way that would most traumatize me then I would suffer the same fate. Essentially Michael’s choice was my head or Mac’s.”

“Poor guy,” Angel said in sympathy. He’d had to make equally hard decisions and he pitied, from the bottom of his soul, anyone placed in such a crucible.

“Yeah,” Mahleah agreed. “Fortunately for us all, I got wind that something was up and followed Michael to his destination.”

“What could you do, though?” he wondered aloud. “Michael’s hands were tied and I doubt even Mac is noble enough to just let some mortal take his head.”

“Mac, possibly but it wasn’t likely under these circumstances. It would have meant that the bad guys won and his spirit wouldn’t have been able to rest easily with that conclusion. To tell the truth though, I wasn’t worried about Mac. I went there to keep Michael alive because he had finally decided that the only way out of the whole mess was if Mac killed him. The poor guy had lost everything in life he cared about and it wasn’t in him to destroy my happiness.” She snorted indignantly. “As if I didn’t care that he would be gone…stupid man. He hoped to warn Mac to get me out of the country and hopefully wreck all of Madeline’s finely laid plans.”

“A last heroic sacrifice that would save the day?” Angel asked slowly. “So, did you manage to prevent this disaster?”

Paris, France
Several months earlier

Mahleah had trailed Michael to a warehouse a rather sizable distance from the loft where he had left her lying tangled in his sheets. She had been exhausted in the most wonderful of ways and had slipped into a light, contented sleep when she felt him slip from the bed. She sensed him staring at her for the longest time and the briefest of caresses had slid down her hair and across her cheek. She had been about to open her eyes and say something when she heard him getting dressed. After recalling some evasive conversations about chats he’d had recently with Madeline, she had decided to lie still.

Now, she was still confused about what he was up to but she was damn well going to find out. Her body still hummed and tingled from the results of the most wild, passionate bout of lovemaking they’d ever had and it increased her anger exponentially. How dare the man treat her like that? He’d always been honest with her, even about his recent assignment to form a romantic liaison with her. Why had he now treated her like the target of a Valentine op and used his entire, considerable prowess to ensure that she would be too happily drained to realize his absence?

It had shocked her to the bone to discover that the purpose of this covert action was to attack someone even dearer to her than Michael himself, Duncan MacLeod. She could hear the clash of swords and ground her teeth. The telltale clink of a dropped weapon spurred her into action.

Launching herself from her hiding place behind a tall stack of crates, she grabbed the lost katana lying on the floor and used it to slash the hand of the man still holding a sword. As his grip loosened, she kicked the blade from his hand and stood between the two of them glaring.

“What the hell is going on here?” she demanded, looking first at MacLeod who was silently nursing his bleeding hand, and then Michael who was down on one knee looking stunned. Anger flowed through her quick and furiously. She had never been so mad in her life. “You ridiculous, witless, lamebrained numskulls! Why in the bleeding, bloody hell are you two trying to kill each other and why shouldn’t I just finish the job on both of you right here?”

She spun on her heel towards Duncan. “I can’t believe it. You were about to kill someone you knew was a dear friend of mine…a mortal no less -- someone who is not evil and not even a part of the Game. What were you thinking?” She snorted contemptuously, “Or what were you thinking with? Do you still plan to attack him? ‘Cause if you do, you’ll have to come through me first.”

He shook his head silently, letting her rant. She whirled around on Michael. “And you! God, I don’t know who I’m more upset with: him for nearly killing you, or you coming out here to kill him. To add insult to injury you steal my sword to do it with. Now, you have your own sword that we practice with. The only reason to take Tora was to hurt Mac even farther. You deceived me and treated me like a fragile, addlebrained creampuff to be coddled and cosseted before you ripped out my heart.”

Michael had risen and she was now backing him up against another row of packing crates. “So that was the reason for the fireworks tonight. I mean, you’re always a good lover, Michael but damn! You hoped that you could wear me out enough that I would be oblivious to what was going down until it was all over.”

He remained silent, taking her verbal tirade without blinking.

“But you know what hurts the most, Musashi,” she said in a lower voice that tried to tremble. He looked away from her for the first time since she’d burst into the proceedings.

She took a deep breath and told him, “You were planning on letting him kill you. You were willing to die without saying a word to me. Do you have any idea how I would have felt when I learned that not only were you dead but Mac was the one to do the bloody deed?” Involuntarily, a tear ran down her face. “Stupid, inconsiderate man – didn’t you know you would have destroyed my world?” she whispered.

Michael sighed, and when she had finally run out of words told her, “I was ordered to cancel Mac.”

“So you just decided that a better solution would be to let him kill you instead?” she demanded. Two more tears joined the first and ran hotly down the slope of her cheek.

He brushed them away with the tips of his fingers and then gently stroked her jaw-line with the knuckles of his hand. “It was Duncan’s life or yours,” he confessed.

So what, she thought impatiently. “Idiot,” she choked. “He and I are Immortals. We could have faked our deaths. This was unnecessary. It’s a good thing I don’t age…otherwise my hair would be white as snow right now.”

Pulling her to him, he whispered in her ear, “I was told that my choice was either his head or yours.” She stiffened in shock at his words and he continued, “Mac is a good man and I couldn’t cancel him. This seemed the best alternative.”

“Do they know?” she asked with cold fingers of fear gliding down her spine.

He shook his head, “No. Madeline believes that you are haunted by the memory of the crime you were sent to prison for and beheading would completely unnerve you. Operations just wanted physical proof that I had completed my assignment.”

“And she thinks you know about my fear of losing my head and would do anything to prevent my worst nightmare from coming true,” she completed. “She’s actually right for the wrong reasons. Operations is just…” she ran out of words, and he tightened his hold on her.

Running her fingers through his hair, she said gently, “My poor Musashi…always stuck in the worst possible place in the universe, trying to make decisions nobody should even have to contemplate.” She kissed him softly, and then pulled away. “You beautiful, noble idiot,” she said fondly. “Haven’t you learned yet that there are always alternatives?”

Disregarding his puzzled look, she told him, “Wait for me outside please. I need to talk to Mac for a few minutes.”

Michael nodded, glanced toward his former opponent and left.

Mahleah turned to see that Mac had given them more privacy by moving further away and keeping his back to the tender tableaux.

“Would you really have done it?” she asked calmly, though her heart was racing.

He looked her in the eye and replied honestly, “I don’t know.”

“Do you mean you actually thought about killing Michael?” her lungs were burning, as if it was suddenly hard to breathe.

“He was using Tora,” he pointed out. “And I could feel your presence. I wasn’t sure it was you, of course, but the odds were good. It seemed like an ambush and I nearly let my pain take over.”

“Ambush? Me?” the ache in her lungs spread through her bloodstream until her whole body was on fire with a bitter ache.

“That was before he let me past his guard too easily,” he said, tipping her chin up to look at him. “I was taking all this in when you made your grand entrance. My brain was screaming at me that it was all a trap but my heart wouldn’t believe it. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I’ll never fight you for real again. One time nearly killed me.”

“When I saw the two of you fighting,” she began but broke off and wrapped him in a fierce hug.

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

She pulled away to demand, “Reduce my theater of operations and get the hell out of France. I can’t take being pulled in different directions at once.”

“All right,” he agreed wearily. “I guess you have to go now.”

Her eyes and hands memorized every line of his face. “Yes,” she said sadly.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “but before you leave –“ He pulled her to him and she lost herself in his kiss. It was a wild, possessive reminder that even a four hundred-year-old Immortal had boundaries to his patience. The fire in her blood burned hotter but more pleasantly and coursed back through her body.

Breathless, they stepped away from each other and took one last, hungry look. Then he kissed her wrist, saying, “Goodbye for now, cariad,” and walked away.

Mahleah stood collecting herself as her brain rapidly decided what to do about the problem in hand. The rapture in her blood faded to a cool steel stream as she held onto her anger but directed it at the true source of her anguish.

Mahleah had found a miraculous taxi earlier and used it to follow Michael to the warehouse. Now she rode back in his car. Studying him surreptitiously as he drove, she finally asked, “Michael we’ve always tried to be honest with each other. Why didn’t you tell me about all this?”

In his careful, quiet way he replied, “I thought it would hurt you less if you didn’t know.”

“Wrong,” she answered. “Thank God I followed you to put a stop to this nonsense. That leads me to another question.” She paused, thinking of the right way to phrase it in order to convey the pain he’d given her tonight. “Am I just another Valentine op to you? Why did you…”

He interrupted her in a measured tone, “It was goodbye.”

Now she understood and felt ashamed of her outburst. If she was asleep and didn’t hear him leave it would have been a bonus, but he hadn’t brought Section into the bed with him as she had feared.

Glancing over at her, he commented, “I failed to complete my assignment.”

This was his way of asking what happened next. According to Madeline’s scenario Mahleah’s head was now forfeit and Operations would probably be angry enough to cancel Michael as well for disrupting his plans.

“Don’t worry about that,” she said grimly. “I’ll need some help from you and Walter but I’ll take care of this.”

His face looked doubtful, but he refrained from arguing.

Good, she thought. It’s long past time that Madeline and I had a few choice words.

The next morning, she stood outside the door to Madeline’s office. Her body was taut with tension but she had worked out the passionate side of her anger the night before. Now she held onto cold fury. Behind this door, she would find either an ally or an enemy and at this point, she nearly preferred the latter. Unfortunately, that would make things even worse for Michael so she had to be at her best.

Using a special code that Walter and Michael had worked on for hours, she simultaneously opened Madeline’s doors and began a feedback loop from a tape already prepared. No record of this conversation would ever exist except in the participants’ memories.

“Mahleah,” Madeline smiled at her coolly. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Thanks to another special gadget of Walter’s that disguised its presence, she was able to pull out Tora and lay the blade next to the delicate flesh of Madeline’s throat.

“I think you’ve finally lost your head,” she told the astonished woman.

“How do you think this will help your situation?” Madeline inquired.

Damn, Mahleah thought, grudgingly admiring the older woman’s calm under fire.

Aloud, she said, “I’m making a statement. There is a point in which even you can go too far, Madeline, and this time you have.”

“I assume you’re referring to Michael’s assignment to kill Duncan MacLeod,” Madeline responded. “Did he succeed?”

Now Mahleah was going to be taking her biggest gamble. If it didn’t work, she probably would have to kill Madeline.

“No,” she replied honestly. “I got there before things went too far. If I hadn’t and either of them had died, your head would already be gone.”

Madeline blinked in slight surprise.

“What?” Mahleah mocked. “Are you shocked that I would be capable of reproducing the murder that sent me here to you? You’ve underestimated me for once. Killing that disgusting, sadistic pig has never bothered me in the least. I only regret when I inflict unnecessary pain on others or hurt the innocent. In your case neither applies.”

“Still my death will not help you,” Madeline told her. “As soon as it’s discovered you will be cancelled and Michael as well for suspicions that he may have been your accomplice.”

“This is true,” Mahleah nodded, “and yet am I not doing the world a favor?” She pressed Tora a little closer.

Swallowing carefully, Madeline appraised her, “You’re delaying your blow and yet your profile would indicate that you wouldn’t be enjoying my discomfort. What do you want, Mahleah?”

“A…treaty if you will,” Mahleah replied. Now began the real chess match. She would kill Madeline if backed into a corner and she saw that the other woman sensed this but it was to both of their advantages to make a deal.

Madeline raised an eyebrow, “What kind of treaty? What could you possibly offer me that I don’t already have?”

Mahleah stepped back and lowered Tora, “An ally against Operations.”

She could see the wheels turning in the brunette’s head.

“Why would I possibly have any need for such an ally?” Madeline inquired. “Operations and I have worked well together for many years.”

“Ah, but the handwriting is on the wall,” Mahleah said smoothly, “and a smart woman like yourself has already read it and is beginning to make preparations. He’s been telling you that he wants Michael and me to be your replacements when the two of you go to Oversight, right? Well, it’s been made plain to me that if I ‘cooperate’ I’ll be the one to move to Oversight and you’ll remain here as Michael’s second in command.”

“Even if this were true, why would I believe that you’d pass up the chance for such a large promotion?” Madeline countered. “You’re smart enough to realize all the advantages to such a role, including the benefits to your friends. You would be in a much stronger position to ensure their safety, wouldn’t you?”

“True,” Mahleah admitted, “but I don’t like the job requirements. I have no interest in becoming Operations’ mistress, no matter how special the rewards might be. He disgusts me, and it was his idea that Michael should bring back Duncan’s head on a platter so to speak. No, Madeline, have no fears on that score. Perhaps we could work toward a more amenable arrangement?”

“Such as,” Madeline prompted.

“Such as seeing that you and Michael got promoted, Operations got his wings clipped a little, and I got my freedom,” Mahleah suggested. “Sounds like a win-win situation if I ever heard one.”

“Your freedom is non-negotiable,” Madeline said automatically. “No one ever leaves Section One.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t call it freedom,” Mahleah parried. “I would be on special assignment. Trust me, no one would ever find me unless I wanted him or her to. I’ll even throw in the proviso that if Michael ever needs my assistance on an assignment he can contact me, but only Michael. Think about it, Madeline. What would you have to lose?”

“That depends on what you’re gaining out of this arrangement,” Section’s top strategist responded smoothly. “You’ve been very eloquent on what I would gain, but what are you gaining by the ‘treaty’?”

“Protection for Mac, Michael, and myself,” Mahleah told her, and was careful not to hold her breath. Would Madeline go for this deal?

Madeline thought about this stipulation and made one of her own, “Only for this situation. If Operations finds him again, MacLeod will have to take his chances and neither you nor Michael would have carte blanche to do whatever you wanted.”

“Agreed,” Mahleah gave her assent, but added, “but you would subtly discourage Operations from acts that would endanger our lives unnecessarily.”

“Agreed,” Madeline said with amusement.

Mahleah finally sat down. One battle had been fought but the war wasn’t over yet. She still had the big, bad ogre to deal with, Operations himself.

With her hair unbound and brushed until it gleamed in contrast to the inky black of her suit Mahleah walked towards Walter at Munitions being careful to catch the eye of Operations in the perch at the same time. Walter looked up and exchanged a carefully, guarded glance with her.

“I was so sorry to hear what happened, darlin’,” he told her and enfolded her in a hug. In a whisper, he added, “This is a dangerous game you’re playing. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Yes, trust me,” she replied in his ear. “The first part is all taken care of so it’s all downhill from here.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he warned. “Operations keeps a close eye on you.”

“I can pull it off,” she reassured him. “I’ve got lots of help to support me and I’m going to go up there and give the performance of a lifetime.”

“Well if you break a leg, make sure it’s his,” he encouraged.

Smiling, she kissed his cheek and pulled away. Taking a deep breath, she headed for the perch.

She had made an odd discovery today. While she was still the same honest person who found it difficult to play the roles that Section thrust upon her she’d found what really bothered her was to deceive someone she either liked or trusted. Acting in the theatre meant she played someone entirely different from herself and this she could do well, but when it had come to playing the Valentine operative she had felt her performance to be entirely lacking. Today she was going to be living a lie but it didn’t bother her because she didn’t care in the least what Operations thought of her.

As usual, there was no problem for her to see him. Operations wasn’t about to deny access to the woman he was trying to coax into his bed. Well, she’d hardly be a treat for the eyes today. She’d indulged herself in a gigantic crying fit a couple of hours ago thinking of everything that had happened and how badly it could have ended and still might. The tears had left her eyes red and swollen and her complexion pale and tired-looking. That was the theme for the moment: a grieving widow.

Raising her chin, she walked into the perch and stood before him. Truly her hardest piece of acting came in repressing her repulsion and her desire to slam him into the glass behind him.

“Mahleah, I was told you needed to see me,” he said with a smile.

The wolf from “Little Red Riding Hood” crossed her mind. All the better to eat you with, my dear, she thought sardonically.

“Sir, I wish to request a couple of days downtime,” she said formally.

“For what reason?” he asked.

“I’m afraid of not being up to my usual standards, which could result in someone getting hurt,” she answered.

“Are you ill? Perhaps you should report to the MedLab. You do look a bit washed out,” he commented.

“No sir, I’m in excellent health. I’ve just received some very disturbing personal news that I need some time to process,” she allowed her eyes to brim with tears.

“I’m sorry, Mahleah. I heard about MacLeod’s death, but it’s not been confirmed yet. Perhaps he merely left the country,” he told her.

She shut her eyes briefly. When she opened them, she could feel the tears beginning to brim over but a spark of fury made its way into her voice.

“His death has been confirmed, sir. I saw the…head myself,” she managed to say. This was true. She’d seen, felt, and tasted it but she couldn’t exactly add that.

“How?” he was startled.

“Michael thought it best that I see it with my own eyes,” she spat out, allowing the anger she felt at the whole situation make her voice high and scratchy.

“Michael?” Obviously, Operations hadn’t considered this possibility and it seemed to stun him. Recovering, he gave his consent. “Yes, by all means Mahleah take a week if you’d like it. We need all our people to be at their fullest efficiency levels but especially our top operatives. Is there anything else I can do to help you?”

God if she didn’t know any better she would have believed he was sincere. “No thank you, sir. I’ll be fine. I just have to…adjust.”

She turned and had almost made it out of the perch when his voice, strangely gentle, stopped her.

“Mahleah, what happened to MacLeod’s head?”

She turned her head back to look at him and all of her fury and hate blazed in her eyes, “I gave it the respect it deserved and had it cremated along with his body. As soon as I leave Section I’m spreading the ashes down near his barge.” She marched out.

Down the stairs, she passed Madeline who raised an eyebrow in question. At Mahleah’s nod, she smiled and continued. Mahleah stood on the stairs listening. Soon she was rewarded.

“I gave Mahleah a week of downtime to cope with MacLeod’s death,” Operations informed Madeline. Was that a trace of pity in his voice? Impossible.

“That’s wise,” Madeline said smoothly. “I was ready to recommend such a step myself. She’ll need a while to adjust, I’m afraid.”

Operations sighed, “It’s too bad we had to take such a drastic step but he knew far too much about Section. And on top of that, he was such a wild card. We were never able to predict exactly what he would do. No, he had to be eliminated.”

“You sound almost sad,” Madeline noticed.

He gave a wry chuckle, “Duncan MacLeod represented ideas that I used to cling to: truth, honor…loyalty. It’s ironic that to survive we have had to destroy those ideals.”

“His world was a much simpler place,” Madeline agreed.

Bull, Mahleah thought. Mac’s world, and mine, is as full of gray areas and tricky decisions as yours. That’s no excuse for your behavior.

“What will this cancellation do to her relationship with Michael?” Operations asked Madeline.

“It’s likely to put a strain on the personal component. They’re both too professional to let it affect their work as a team. How would you like it handled? We could encourage a breakup or a reconciliation…either should be possible.”

He was silent for a long time and Mahleah was about to leave figuring that Madeline would tell her the answer later, when he finally spoke.

“If we can prevent a breakup, it might be advisable. Your profile of Michael indicates that he needs someone to look after and it might be better for Mahleah to keep him close to her.” His voice, which had been softer, now returned to its normal briskness. “After all we have to keep our best team functioning at peak capacity.”

Mahleah crept silently away, wondering at the man’s paradoxical nature that he could demonstrate sympathy for her but deliver the order that would have destroyed her life in the first place. Paul Wolfe, she finally concluded, was a very strange and confused man.

Chapter Four

Present Day LA

Angel saw Mahleah pull herself back to the present with an effort. She smiled and answered him.

“Yes, I managed to convince Michael that there were other ways out of the mess. We convinced Operations that Mac was truly dead but that I had willfully taken charge of the body personally and had it cremated. He oddly had a soft spot for me and actually believed our version of the truth. Madeline we managed to make a deal with that said that we would watch her back if she watched ours. So, all was well that ended well.”

“And that was the last time you saw Duncan?” he inquired.

She nodded, “My friends were heading into turbulent times and I didn’t want to abandon them.”

“You’re out now,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, like I said there’s been a change in management. Nikita’s now in charge.” She waved off his look of puzzlement, “Don’t ask – it’s a really long story. Michael and I both have our freedom and so I’m off to try to resume some sort of normal life.” She flashed him a grin, “Or at least as normal as my life ever gets.”

They fell into a companionable silence for a long time just watching the night sky and enjoying each other’s presence. Angel reflected on all the things he couldn’t say to her. The Mahleah he had first known -- the woman who had traveled into the past to save the lives of three of her closest friends -- had enjoyed a very close bond with Buffy. They had bonded during a difficult time and shared their strengths and their inspirations. The Mahleah who sat with him now, the Mahleah of this time, had met and liked Buffy but was actually closer to him. He had introduced the two women and it had been strange to see them getting to know each other all over again.

On his first encounter with Mahleah in Sunnydale, he had been unnerved by her history as related by Buffy. Though Mahleah had seemed familiar to him, he had put it down to the fact that he had met her briefly years ago when she was a child. It wasn’t until she had finished her long tale on Christmas Day and he learned about her experiences in the past that he had wondered about that nagging familiarity. Yet until the night when they’d spent hours first talking about their various pains and losses and then sparring until nearly dawn that he had remembered his encounter with Morgan.

Her strange life was much as the fabled ouroboros, the snake that represents eternity; it doubled back on itself and swallowed its own tail. He had been certain that the budding relationship between them couldn’t last because according to history she was supposed to marry Mark. Their time together was, to quote a line from her favorite movie, Shakespeare in Love, only a “stolen season.” Now incongruities were toppling all of his previous suppositions.

The movie itself was one that played a large role in her future history. She had gone to see it several centuries from now with MacLeod, and he had proposed to her that night. The plot actually inspired her in her adventures in the past by encouraging her to don male clothing. Yet, ironically the first person she ever saw the film with turned out to be himself. It didn’t make sense. He had been steeling himself to let her go on her predestined path with another man when suddenly she was thrown into prison. Her work with her antiterrorist organization was not something that had occurred in her original story. Mahleah MacLeod had striven hard not to upset the balance of history, but obviously, things had changed anyway for Mahleah Brennan.

As if reading his mind, Mahleah looked at him.

“I wanted to tell you something,” she said, hesitantly. “About a year ago I had the strangest encounter with a fortune teller. She looked at my palm and immediately knew what I was and it was if seeing an Immortal was commonplace for her…business as usual. Yet when she took another look she got really excited and said that my lifeline was trying to loop back or something and that the lines in my hand were in the process of reforming themselves. It was creepy. She said something had changed my path – that originally I was supposed to get married but not anymore.”

If Angel actually had breath, he would have been holding it. “What else did she say?” he urged.

Mahleah licked her lips. “She told me that I would have four great loves in my life. That’s the standard line, right? You’re going to meet a tall stranger, take a voyage, come into money, and have a great love. This is the weird thing, though: she said that two would be mortal and two Immortal. And when she described the two who weren’t mortal she said one would be of my kind and the other not but both would be cursed.”

Angel reeled back, stunned as if he’d been punched.

Mahleah noticed his discomfort but continued, “Three would be kindred spirits but the fourth would be my soul mate. The odd thing was I could have sworn I had a dream several years ago that said about the same thing – I just couldn’t remember the details. I used to have a lot of those but they stopped…not long after this particular dream actually.”

The part of Angel’s mind that was still functioning tried to make sense of this. He had already suspected that both Mahleah’s had shared an unconscious psychic link of some sort. The ancient Mahleah’s dreams must have been bleeding over into the mind of her younger counterpart. They stopped when the older woman returned to her own time and the woman with him now had suffered a major identity crisis in attempting to deal with the world without the hidden strength she had depended on all her life. Together they had worked through a lot of that angst without her ever knowing its cause.

Mahleah paused, then continued, “I’ve thought a lot about what she said since then and I think she’s partly right.”

“Oh?” he asked in surprise. He hadn’t really expected her to believe the palm reader.

“There are five people, not four, to whom I’m closer than anyone else in the world,” she said softly.

“Michael and MacLeod,” he immediately guessed.

Smiling, she nodded. “That’s two of them. A third would be the man I just left in Washington, D.C. He entered my life at a point when I was literally lost and helped me find my way back home. It’s not been very easy to keep up with him over the years but he’s always been there with me, sharing his sense of wonder and excitement about the world as well as a determination to find the truth about a situation. There’s another – although he comes and goes he’s always been there whenever I needed him. I think, in some ways, I trust him more than anyone else in my life – although he does have so explaining to do when next we meet.”

She moved closer to him and ran her fingers through his hair. “I didn’t even need the clues about unusual immortality or curses to know the last one, Angel. Mulder helped me through the literal darkness but you guided me through the time when I was completely lost spiritually. You don’t know how often I’ve had to lean on that during the time I’ve been gone.”

“Glad I could be here,” he said simply.

She pulled him into a hug, “You know it’s so strange. I love all of you but in very different ways.”

He rubbed her back lightly as he replied, “I’ve heard it said that every time you love you feel it differently and someone once hypothesized to me that four loves would symbolize the heart, the body, the mind, and the soul. The trick is to discover which love is which.”

He felt her smiling, and she pulled briefly away from him, “I guess that’s the journey,” she agreed. “So, what about the fifth? I guess he’s the wildcard.” Her grin widened. “That fits more than you could ever now. Suddenly her expression darkened, “The part that worries me is the curse. She said that both immortals were cursed. Now, we know what magic has been laid on you, but what…”

“Has been done to MacLeod,” he finished solemnly.

She nodded, “Exactly.”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to go find out,” he invited.

Continue to As Time Goes By – Book Two: A Kiss is Still a Kiss