Still don't own anything. I googled, but couldn't find out if the Dojo Duncan owned had a name, so I've given it one to suit my purposes. Thanks for the nice reviews I've gotten so far. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Con-crit is more than welcome.

We were never a deeply religious family, so I never thought about things like spirits, or life after death much past the vague notion that heaven was probably a nice place to be. Still, in the days after I spoke with Duncan Macleod, I couldn't help but think that my grandfather's ghostly hand was orchestrating my life from the Great Beyond.

I had World History again on Friday, and was thrilled beyond the telling of it when Duncan's gaze scanned the rows of students, and stopped when he saw sitting in the middle row. (Amazing how quickly some things become habit) He pointed at his own head, silently asking if I was recovered from my tree attack. I gave a thumbs-up sign and he smiled. Class flew by, and I even raised my hand to answer a question. I got the question wrong, but he smiled again, so it was worth it.

Then came Saturday. I was determined to find a Dojo where I could continue my martial arts training, and clearly jogging wasn't the safest way for me to stay in shape, so I asked Maggie, the townie, where I could go. After explaining to her what a Dojo was, she gave me a list of nearby gyms to check out, so Saturday morning I put on my comfy sweats and headed out into the town.

It was a big town, and every single gym on Maggie's list was wrong for what I was looking for. I just needed a place that had room for me to practice my kata, and had heavy bags to kick and punch. All the gyms had were some kickboxing classes and aerobics. I don't think I explained Dojo properly to Maggie. At any rate, I was walking down a street, feeling discouraged and a little lost, since I made a wrong turn somewhere, when a sign caught my eye. I read, in faded letters: Charlie's Dojo. I had to smile. Charlie was my grandfather's name. So, taking it as a good omen, I climbed the narrow stairs to the Dojo.

It wasn't much to look at, and aside from one guy punching a heavy bag and a couple of other guys sparring, it was empty, but it seemed, at first glance, exactly what I was looking for. There were large mats on the floor, a few martial arts weaponry on the walls, and no stylized gym clothes in sight. As long as it wasn't too expensive, it seemed perfect.

I stood there for a minute, wondering whom I should be talking too, when a young man came bounding out of a door across the room. "What can I do for you?" he asked, offering me a firm handshake and a used car salesman smile. I told him briefly what I was looking for and his smile, if anything, got wider. "Well, you've come to the right place. Are you looking to join a class, or just need a place to work out?"

"Work out, mostly. I think I'm a little past classes for now, at least in Karate."

"What level are you?"

"At home I'm a third level black belt."

He stared at me a moment, then laughed. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Why, do you want to take me on?"

"Oh no. I've seen enough movies to know what happens when a guy challenges an unlikely person's skills. That guy winds up getting his ass kicked. Especially," and he stepped slightly closer, and deepened his voice in what I assume was supposed to be a seductive manner, "pretty girls like you."

I have to admit it. I giggled. Well, he was kind of cute. "You have to watch out for little bald men, too. That's rule number one. Tiny girls and wrinkled bald men will always beat smart ass guys like you."

To his credit he laughed at that rather than taking offense. "I'm Richie Ryan. Let's get you signed up, and then maybe I'll take my chances and take you on, if you have time."

"Absolutely. I haven't had a good workout since I got here. I'm ready." He took me to the office, where I signed some papers and handed over my first payment, which wasn't as bad as it would have been at one of those fancy gyms, and soon we were back out into the Dojo. I stood there for a minute, wondering if I should take off sweatshirt. I was so used to the people at my old Dojo, I'd long forgotten the 'girl' part of being a girl, and I wasn't sure if I would be comfortable fighting a stranger in what was, basically a bra. Ultimately, however, comfort won out and I removed my shirt and began my stretching. I threw in some forms, too, just to show off a little, and then I was ready to spar with Richie Ryan.

We faced off, bowed, and began. He was good. It was good fun, sparring against someone who really knew what he was doing. We were pretty evenly matched, I think. I'm pretty sure I had been studying longer than he had, but he was a bit faster. He also knew some moves I didn't, which threw me off a couple of times. Finally, about fifteen minutes into it, he stiffened slightly as if he heard a noise and his eyes flickered toward the doorway. I took advantage of his distraction, and managed to scythe his legs out from under him, pin him with my knee, and bring my hand down toward his head with a mock chop. "Hai!"

Someone came in the room at that moment, and Richie said, "Hey, Mac! You're just in time to see me get beaten by a girl." I turned to see whom he was speaking to.

"Dun..Mr...Professor Macleod!" I practically fell off Richie and scrambled to my feet. "Um...hi." His gaze flickered over my body, and I was conscious once again of wearing only a sports bra as a shirt and crossed my arms over my stomach, feeling naked, even as I felt rather flattered at his checking me out. I mean, I'm sure it was just a standard guy thing, he probably didn't even realize he did it, but still... "Um. It's nice to see you. Um. Outside class, I mean." Now if I could just stop saying 'um'.

"Molly just joined the Dojo." Richie told him. "She's looking for a place where she can continue training."

"I promised my Sensei at home I'd continue training. This place seems to have what I need." I really hoped he didn't think I was stalking him.

"Really. How long have you been studying?"

"Since I was seven."

"She's good." Richie said, "She got me down."

"Well, I cheated, really. You got distracted."

"It's Richie's job not to get distracted," said Duncan with a stern glance in the younger man's direction, "you've every right to use that distraction to your advantage."

"Yeah, well, I'm good against people. It's trees I lose against."

Duncan laughed at that and I felt all tingly in my stomach. He had a nice laugh. "Well, Molly. Welcome to the Dojo. I'm the owner, so if there's anything you need, let me know." He smiled again, nodded to Richie, and then headed through the Dojo to the freight elevator on the other side of the room. I watched him go, then turned to Richie, who was looking at me with a bemused expression.

"So Mac is a professor of yours?" Oh God. He could tell I was crushing on Duncan. How embarrassing.

I started babbling to cover my discomfort. "Yes. He saw me run into a tree in the park yesterday. He teaches my History class. World history. I'm a Freshman. Archeology major. What about you? Do you go to the college?"

"Nope. Not the college type. So, Molly. What are you doing this evening? Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Whoa. That was sudden. "Actually, my roommates and I were planning on going to this party at one of the frat houses. You know, get the full college experience." I looked at Richie. He was cute, and charming, and probably a fun guy to date. I wasn't interested, but Anne or Maggie might be. "Do you want to come with us?"

Richie agreed, and I gave him our dorm name and number, and he said he'd come by around 9. I hung around the Dojo a bit longer, hit on the bags for a bit, but when it was obvious Duncan wasn't coming back down, I headed home.

All in all it had been an interesting day.