Archive of Our Own

TEASER:

The treehouse was old, falling apart, twenty feet off the ground, and Jake's favorite place in the world. After carefully checking for anyone in the vicinity, the boy crept from the bushes and climbed the rickety ladder. Moving quickly, he pushed aside a broken board and slipped inside.

A camping lantern provided the only light. After turning it on, Jake sighed and sat, propped against the wall. He pulled out a notebook and a pen from his backpack and began to write. His concentration was interrupted by the sounds from outside.

Jake put down the notebook and crawled over to the other side of the treehouse where a tattered curtain hung over a crooked window. The boy pulled the curtain aside. Looking down, he could see straight into the house below. Two men were standing in front of the sliding glass door to the deck, arguing.

He recognized the first man as the neighbor who owned the house and the treehouse. "Huh," Jake muttered, "I wouldn't have thought that Mr. Blair would ever get mad enough to yell at anybody." The neighbor had a reputation for being laid-back. He hadn't even cared when he caught Jake climbing down from the treehouse; he had just told him to be careful.

The second man was no one he'd ever seen before. The boy strained to hear words, but all he could make out was the rise and fall of angry voices. He was about to return to his notebook when he saw the ugly shape of a gun in the hands of the second man.

Jake's heart was pounding as he watched Mr. Blair put up his hands and start backing away. The second man had a smirk on his face as he stalked towards Blair. As the boy stared, horrified, the gun recoiled, and his neighbor fell backwards to the floor, a crimson stain marring his once-white shirt.

With one hand clamped tightly over his mouth to stop any sounds from coming out and the other trembling on the windowsill, Jake watched as the gunman bent over the body. When the gun was tucked away, he knew that Mr. Blair was dead. Jake drew back from the window as the man stared out the glass door, searching for any sign of life in the backyard. Fortunately, he didn't look up. Without even realizing he was doing it, Jake committed every detail of the man's appearance to memory.

The man drew the blinds and shut them-Jake could no longer see what was happening in the house. Through his panic, he decided that the last place to be trapped by a murderer was twenty feet in the air. Jake quickly descended the ladder to the ground, cutting through the yard towards the house where he now lived.

It was his bad luck that the man walked out the door just in time to see him slip under the bushes. Jake looked back, met the killer's eyes...and then he ran.
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PART ONE, SCENE ONE:

"Come on, come on, SCORE!" Peter cheered as the Sonics wing landed the puck in the opponents net. He was sitting on the edge of the couch, a beer in one hand, and a pretzel in the other. Both almost ended up on the floor with his enthusiasm.

"Peter, it's an exhibition game. They're playing for fun. It doesn't matter who wins," Mary Margaret Skalany said dryly, looking over at her former partner. She was curled up on the opposite end of the couch, also with a beer in hand.

Peter grinned unrepentantly. "You're the one who wanted to bet on the outcome. And I'm in the mood for lobster..."

"They haven't won yet," she retorted. "Maybe you'll be buying *my* dinner," she said morosely as she watched another goal being scored. "Even if that doesn't look too likely..."

Peter laughed and got up as the second intermission was announced. He headed for the kitchen. "I'll make us a snack. Would you like another beer?" he called back over his shoulder, picking up her empty bottle.

"Nah, I'm driving." Mary Margaret pushed up from her comfortable spot and followed him into the kitchen, watching as he pulled out the fixings for nachos. Leaning against the wall, she looked around at her surroundings. Caine's loft had changed quite a bit since he had left for France a few months ago. "I like what you've done with the place, Peter, but isn't your father going to be surprised when he gets back?"

Peter grimaced. "What, because of the television?"

"And the stereo, and the furniture, and the computer..."

The young Shaolin shrugged. "Hey, he left. I'm spending more time here, waiting for people to 'Come to Chinatown; ask for Caine,'" he intoned sonorously. "I won't sit here twiddling my thumbs. I'm not my father; I can't spend hours on end meditating. I needed some of my life here." He scowled and bent over the food, dicing a tomato a bit too vigorously.

"Easy, partner," Skalany said, patting his arm. "You don't have to defend yourself to me." She studied Peter's averted face, trying to see what was going on behind those hazel eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?" she ventured.

He put down the knife and smiled, good humor restored. "No, but thanks, Skalany. Juice?" She nodded and he poured her a glass. "It's just..." he stopped as a knock sounded on the door.

"Do people actually knock?" Skalany asked, raising her eyebrows.

Peter turned red. "Uh...they do now."

"I'm not even going to ask."

"Ariel!" Peter said, surprised to see the dark-haired woman at the door. "Come in." He opened the door wider in invitation.

The young woman shifted uneasily, looking past Peter at Mary Margaret. "Actually Peter, I was hoping you could come out. I have a little...problem."

Peter frowned, visions of the kind of problems that could trouble the homeless street-waif running through his mind. "Why don't you move in here?" he suggested, "There's plenty of room, and I know you stayed with Pop for a while last winter..."

Ariel smiled, her face lighting up. "Thanks, Peter, but it's not that kind of problem." With a sigh, she stepped into the room. "I don't want to be gone too long.... Hello, Mary Margaret. Are you the only one here?"

Skalany smiled. "Just me," she said easily. "I can leave if you need to talk to Peter alone."

"No...that's okay," but the younger woman didn't sound too sure.

"What's up Ariel?" Peter asked, closing the door behind him. He looked consideringly at the woman. "What's the problem and how can I help?"

Ariel hesitated, looking sideways at Mary Margaret, then obviously reached some kind of decision. "I found this kid today...about twelve years old. He was collecting cans out of the trash. That would have been fine, except he was in Benny's territory, and Benny...well, he doesn't share."

Ariel stopped. Peter nodded, acknowledging the rules of street life. "So, the kid was getting the worst of it," he prompted, leaning against a chair. Mary Margaret came over from the kitchen and sat down, watching the younger woman.

"Yeah," Ariel agreed, beginning to pace. "I got Benny to leave him alone. The kid didn't look like he'd been on the streets for long. He was tough, holding his own with Benny, but not..." she hesitated, as if searching for a word, "...hard," she ended, her frown indicating that this might not be exactly the word she wanted. "I told him I would take him home, and he said that he didn't have a home anymore." She shrugged. "It happens, but sometimes..."

Peter rested a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. Ariel sighed. "Sometimes..." she repeated, her face looking weary and too old, "Whatever they're running from isn't half as bad as what they're running to. So I asked him what happened that made him think he couldn't go back and he blurted out that he saw a murder."

There was silence as she finished speaking. "Do you think he was telling the truth?" Peter asked, searching her face for clues.

The young woman nodded. "He's really scared, Peter. As soon as he said it, though, he clammed up...wouldn't look at me...wouldn't tell me any more. I told him you would help him. We were walking over here when he got dizzy. The Ancient's place was closer, so I took him there and came to get you."

Peter was already getting his jacket. "Did this kid give you a name? An address or any clue about where he lives?"

"No. I think..." Ariel made a face before continuing, "it...happened within the last few days though-I mean, he was still looking for bottles, not food. He hasn't gotten to the desperate stage yet."

Peter nodded grimly. "Mary Margaret, I know you're on vacation but do you think you could..."

"Go to the precinct and see if I can find anything?" his ex-partner finished. "Sure. Do you have your cellular?" Peter patted his pocket and nodded. "Okay, I'll call you as soon as I get something."

The young Shaolin kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Skalany. I owe you one."

Mary Margaret laughed. "Let's just say this cancels the dinner obligation."

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PART ONE, SCENE TWO:

Peter tried to keep up with Ariel as she danced ahead of him. His legs were longer but she was a blur of constant motion. He wondered where she was living now-had asked several times, but she wouldn't give an answer. Ariel was one of the mysteries of Chinatown.

When they reached the outside of the Ancient's building, the young Shaolin paused. He hadn't actually been avoiding Lo Si, but every time he tried to reconcile the fact that Ancient with was really Ping Hi... That the man who had helped raise him had then abandoned him to the cold world of the orphanage... Peter admitted to himself.

Ariel was waiting for him at the door. "Come on," she said impatiently. Peter sighed. Time and distance would only make matters worse. It was time to get on with his life and to figure out where the older Shaolin fit into that life.

As they approached the apartment, they heard a young voice raised in protest. "...Look, I appreciate the tea and all, but I'm fine. I just, uh, stood up too fast. If you just help me get out of this thing, I've gotta go."

The murmur of Lo Si's response didn't carry clearly. Peter hesitated at the door but Ariel pushed past him, opening it and leading their way into the Ancient's home.

The elderly priest greeted them in the entry with a bow. "Ah, Peter," he said. "It is good you have come."

Peter nodded, already uncomfortable. "Lo Si," he acknowledged.

The Ancient looked disappointed in the lack of warmth but just sighed. "I would like you to meet my new friend. Come this way." Lo Si led the way into his living area, Peter and Ariel trailing after him. He stopped beside the couch. "This is Jake," he said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. Jake appeared to be wrestling with the blanket wrapped around him. He looked about twelve; thick auburn hair hung raggedly over his eyes and almost hid the haunted expression in them.

He quickly looked away before he let their eyes meet. "Yeah. Nice to meet you. I'm just leaving now," the boy said, succeeding in freeing one arm from the blanket cocoon. Ariel tilted her head to the side and looked relieved.

"You're much better than when I left," she said, sounding surprised. "You scared me when you fainted like that."

"Hey!" Jake protested with a frown. "I did not faint. I just stood up too fast. Look, I really gotta get out of here now. If you'll just help me with this stupid blanket..." Twisting his body around, he continued his struggle. The Ancient looked on with just the slightest trace of amusement in his eyes.

Peter knelt beside the couch, examining the boy closely. What he could see of his clothing was filthy; dark circles, like bruises, under the boy's eyes emphasized the pallor of his skin. Jake stopped struggling and watched the young man warily. "What are you staring at?" the boy demanded rudely.

The young priest chuckled. "Nothing," he said easily. "Jake, my name is Peter. I hear you have a problem and I'd like to help."

Jake shook his head with exasperation. "I'm okay," he said. "The only help I need is unwrapping this thing from around me so I can leave."

Peter ran a hand through his hair. The kid was stubborn--this wasn't going to be as easy as he had thought. "Then how about I call someone to come get you?" the young priest asked.

The boy shook his head and looked away. "No," he said shortly. "There's no one to call."

Ariel patted his hand. "You can trust Peter, Jake. Really..."

"Like I trusted you? You left me with some old stranger," the boy jeered, darting one accusing glance her way. "Thanks, but no thanks."

Ariel bit her lip. "The Ancient's not a stranger and you know you need help. I told them what you told me this afternoon."

Peter looked at the ragged boy on the couch. "Is it true, Jake?"

Jake's answer was to pull the blanket around him, sinking down into the warmth. "I don't know what she's talking about," he said defensively. "She's crazy."

Ariel stood, her eyes flashing. "You wanted help earlier. You won't survive much longer on the streets. Remember what was happening when I found you?" Jake obviously did. The young Shaolin could tell from the way the boy's face twisted that the memory was not a pleasant one. "Tell Peter everything-he really can help."

Wary green eyes studied the concern in the young man's face. "Why would you help me?" he asked in a voice that was too suspicious for one so young.

Peter shrugged, struggling for the words to reassure him. "It's what I do. Ask anyone. They'll tell you 'Go to Chinatown, ask for Caine.' I'm Caine, I help." He looked at the boy in mute appeal. "Let me help you."

Jake studied the man in front of him. He did seem sincere and the boy knew he had reached the end of his own resources. Besides, there was something steady and comforting about the man waiting for an answer. "Okay," Jake said, releasing a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Squirming in his tight wrapping, he sat up a little straighter.

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PART ONE, SCENE THREE:

Peter pulled back for a moment, as Lo Si brought a steaming mug out. "Drink this," the old man commanded, placing the mug in the boy's hands.

"I'm going to float away if I drink much more," Jake grumbled, but he wrapped his fingers around it. He seemed to relax a bit more as the warmth embraced him. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the aroma and smiled. "Hey, this is hot chocolate!" It wasn't much of a smile but Peter felt encouraged by it. As the Ancient returned to the kitchen, the younger man leaned towards the boy.

"Jake?" he prompted, sorry to disturb even this brief moment of tranquility.

"I was in this treehouse," Jake began with a sigh. "It's the first thing I do when I end up with new people...find someplace private." He looked away, embarrassed.

"A secret place," Peter said, his voice filled with empathy. Jake nodded silently.
"And a new home...are you a foster kid?" the detective asked, as the bad haircut, the wary posture and the defensive attitude suddenly fell into place.

Jake grunted something that sounded like agreement, studying his mug with sudden interest.

"A secret place...a place to think, to dream?" Lo Si asked, the squeak of the kitchen door causing him to lose part of the conversation. He was carrying a tray with more mugs, this time filled with tea for the adults.

"More like a hiding place, just in case," Jake said, his mouth twisting bitterly.

"Just in case?" Lo Si repeated, tilting his head to one side. "In case of what?"

Jake looked up and met Peter's eyes...and relaxed. In the young Shaolin's eyes there was no hint of judgement, only understanding; but it was Ariel who explained. "Just in case the family isn't as perfect as they pretended to be to Social Services."

The Ancient frowned. "I have read about such...problems in the newspapers. No one can do anything?"

The three young people traded glances. "Sometimes," Peter finally said tightly, "Some...families...seem to be better at hiding the...their problems than others." The elderly priest nodded, his lips pressed together, a frown furrowing his already wrinkled brow. Peter waited to see if the Ancient had anything else to add but he remained silent as he served the tea.

"I was in foster care for a while," Peter explained to the boy, with a sidelong glance at the elderly Shaolin offering him a teacup. Lo Si dropped his gaze to the tea. "I do know how...difficult...it can be. Was your foster family involved in this murder?"

"No..." Jake pushed his hair out of his eyes and sighed again. "The Rogers are actually pretty nice, so far. But I've only been living with them for a few weeks and I didn't think they'd believe me." He studied his hot chocolate. "I kind of have a...reputation for not telling the truth."

Peter filed that away for future reference. "So, what happened?" the young Shaolin prompted.

"Wait," Ariel interrupted. "Jake, I'm really, really sorry, but if you're going to be talking about murders, I'd rather not be here. Peter will take care of you...people in Chinatown trust him. I trust him," she added, a quick grin lighting her face. "Tell him everything, and I'm sorry, but I just can't stay." She looked apologetic as she murmured good-byes to both Shaolin, and left the apartment, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Jake finished the hot chocolate with a sigh and the blanket fell off as he shifted. "Okay, here goes, the whole story." Voice tight with strain, Jake recounted the events that were impressed into his memory.

 

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PART ONE, SCENE FOUR

"That was three days ago," the boy concluded, clearing his throat. "When I saw that the...murderer...saw me, I took off." Studying his dirty fingernails, he confessed, "I was afraid to even go ho...into the Rogers' house. I thought he might connect me to them and I didn't want them to be hurt."

"Don't you think that they're hurt now?" Peter pointed out. "They have no idea what happened to you."

Jake looked stubborn. "But they're alive."

Opening his mouth to reply, Peter paused when his cell phone rang. He flipped it open. "Hello?" He listened for a few minutes, studying Jake. Lo Si quietly gathered the empty cups and carried them back to the kitchen.

"Mary Margaret..." Peter started, then stopped. "He was? When?.... Yes, I'll bring him.... Okay, okay," he said, sounding irritated. "We'll be there in a bit. Bye."

Jake looked suspicious again. "Who's Mary Margaret? Where are you taking me?"

Peter smiled. "My ex-partner. She's a cop who was with me when Ariel came by. I had her go down to the precinct to do some checking. They just found the, uh, body this morning. She wants you to work with a police artist and come up with a composite sketch of the man you saw."

Jake swallowed. "I hoped that maybe I'd imagined it," he admitted in a small voice, suddenly looking very young. "Do I have to do this?"

Peter put a reassuring arm around his shoulders. "Why don't we stop by my place first? I'll find you something to eat and you can take a shower and change. You'll feel better." Turning to Lo Si, he bowed awkwardly. "Thank you. I'll take him with me now. If anything comes up..."

Lo Si nodded. "You will let me know what happens?"

"Yes," Peter hesitated, then with a shrug turned to leave, his arm still around the boy's shoulders.

Jake turned back. "Thanks, Mister. You're not so bad for an old guy."

Lo Si's eyes twinkled. "You are not so bad yourself. I will see you soon."

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PART ONE, SCENE FIVE:

The precinct was quiet for once, only two patrol officers in the room, drinking coffee and filling out reports. The desk sergeant was also absorbed in paperwork, grumbling about quiet days. Mary Margaret had the detective's area all to herself. She hung up the phone with a bang, that echoed in the empty room, muttering "Peter Caine, you are the most irritating, infuriating..." She didn't hear the man coming up behind her.

"What's our favorite Shaolin up to now, Sweetcheeks?" Kermit asked, eyebrows raised.

Mary Margaret jumped, then whirled around to glare at the man behind her. "Kermit, don't sneak up on me like that. And *don't* call me Sweetcheeks!" she added, with a scowl that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Kermit ignored that, leaning over to study the computer screen. "So, what does murder victim Robert Blair have to do with our irritating, infuriating young Shaolin?"

Skalany rolled her eyes. "Can't pull the wool over your eyes, Mr. Griffin," she said sarcastically. Kermit just looked at her. "Okay, fine," she said with an elaborate sigh. "Ariel found this kid who said he saw a murder. I came in to check it out, and discovered that there was a victim found at this address. Peter went over to the Ancient's to get the kid."

With an absent-minded nod, Kermit pushed the scroll-down key and started reading the rest of the report. "Body not found for two days...no murder weapon at the scene...no apparent motive..." he stopped. "What's this? Sudden influx of cash over the past year?"

"He was a banker in Chinatown," Skalany pointed out. "That could mean..."

"...Mr. Blair was diverting funds to his own accounts...or maybe he was helping clean up some money for some of our unsavory friends." Kermit finished the reading the remainder of the report and straightened. "Hmmm...he worked for John's bank. I think it's been too long since I've seen my friend John. Maybe it's time for a visit." He looked at the other detective. "Do you have any idea who the kid is?"

Skalany tapped a printed report on the corner of the desk. "Ariel didn't give us a name; but the next-door-neighbors reported their foster son missing three days ago. I'd say he's our mystery kid. Jake Duncan...twelve years old...reddish-brown hair, green eyes..." she frowned. "Has gotten into trouble several times for telling tall tales."

"The boy who cried wolf," Kermit muttered.

"What?"

"If this is the right kid, maybe he ran because he knew no one would believe him. Have they publicized it?"

Skalany closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "Yes. It was on the news. One of those community bulletin things."

"So if our murderer watches TV, he knows exactly who saw him," the male detective said grimly. "And if it was Channel Three, you know Sandra Mason ferreted out all the information she could to tug at the heartstrings of the viewing public-including the fact that he has no real family and has a reputation for exaggerating. What do you want to bet the scum is looking for this Jake kid right now?"

"No bet," Skalany sighed, having already reached those conclusions herself. "I've called Channel Three, and asked them to send over a copy of the videotape they used in the report. We can find out exactly what they said."

"That will take some time. So why don't I just head over there and pick up our young Mr. Caine and friend."

Mary Margaret watched as Kermit entered his office, pulled his gun from a filing cabinet, tucked it into his holster, and made for the door. "Don't do anything illegal!" she suggested as he left. "Men!" she muttered, turning back to the computer.

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PART TWO, SCENE SIX:

Jake did feel better. He was clean and warm for the first time in days. He wasn't exactly a fashion plate; one look in the mirror made him grin. He was wearing a T-shirt of Peter's which hung almost to his knees over baggy sweatpants the Shaolin had told him his sister had left behind; he was actually happy the T-shirt looked more like a smock, since the sweats were pink.

Peter laughed as he walked into the kitchen. "Sorry," he apologized, taking in the overall impression. Jake looked like he had once been a taller person who had shrunk.

"Don't worry about it," Jake said, pulling a chair up to the table filled with take-out Chinese food. He grabbed something that smelled like garlic and dug in. "They're comfortable...and I've worn worse."

The smile faded from the Shaolin's face as memories came back to him. "Yeah, I guess you probably have." There was a brief silence.

Jake had always been uncomfortable with silence, so he started talking. He couldn't think of anything to talk about, so he said the first thing that popped into his mind. "There was this one pair of jeans...I could have fit into one leg. The kid who owned them before was also six inches taller than me. I tried shrinking them in the dryer, but I left them in so long they started smoldering...when my foster mother found them... So, you were a foster kid too?" Jake asked, breaking off the monologue, knowing that he was saying too much. He paused to chew, deliberately slowing himself down. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until the first bite. Now he wondered if he would be able to stop.

Peter picked up another container and started eating; using chopsticks with skill Jake envied. "Yup. I was put in an orphanage at twelve, spent some time in foster homes, and ended up with the Blaisdells. They took me in when I was fifteen."

"Fifteen?" Jake asked, pausing to take in this incredible revelation. "Nobody keeps kids that old."

Putting the container down, Peter looked at him steadily. "People do, Jake. I'm proof."

"Yeah, but you were probably perfect," the boy muttered under his breath.

"Hah!" Peter snorted, thinking back to the day he had met Paul on the basketball court. "Far from it. I'd had some pretty bad placements. I was angry at the world, insolent, rude...I had the biggest chip on my shoulder."

"What happened?" Jake asked, intrigued despite himself.

"Paul..." the delighted grin that spread across Peter's face made him look years younger. "Paul and Annie brought me home and accepted me. They wouldn't let me sulk, they asked for my opinions, treated me just like family. They...cared." Peter became pensive as he thought back. "Living with the Blaisdells...I felt like I had come out into the sun after a long, dark winter."

Jake was envious. "You lucked out. I wish that could happen for me. Do they still live around here?" He looked down at the containers of take out food and made a face. "So, do you go over to their house for real meals?"

Peter laughed out loud. "Yeah. I guess you can tell that I'm not the world's greatest cook?" Jake's nervous expression relaxed at this display of good humor. "I haven't got back into the habit of cooking for myself yet...I was living with Paul and Mom until only a couple weeks ago. I do go home for 'Mom-meals' at least once a week."

"So this is a new apartment?" Jake asked, looking around the comfortable surroundings.

"Not really... It's a long story." Peter shrugged. "Basically, I had a little...accident a few weeks ago. I needed someone to look after me, and it seemed easiest for everyone if I moved back home. This was my father's place. I'm living here until he gets back from France."

Jake looked confused. "But I thought... You said you were in an orphanage."

"I was...but my father wasn't dead. Like I said before, it's a long story."

Jake shook his head. "I guess it must be. So which one is home?"

Peter hesitated. "I guess they both are. I sleep here, but Paul and Annie's is where I grew up." Abruptly, he stood and poured himself a glass of water. "You know, if you don't stop talking and start eating, Mary Margaret is going to think we got lost. Are you almost ready to go?"

"Almost," the boy said, throwing a longing glance at the still full containers of food. "Can I take this with me?"

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PART TWO, SCENE SEVEN

Jake grumbled about not being able to take food in the Stealth as Peter herded him down the stairs. "It's not like I'm going to spill anything!" he protested.

"Forget it," Peter replied with a laugh. "No one ever plans to spill something...and you ate so much that there's no way you could fit anything else in your stomach anyway." Something tickled at the edges of his senses, and he reached out one long arm to stop the boy. "Wait," he said, pushing Jake behind him on the staircase. "There's something..."

Jake stopped moving, looking frantically around for any sign of something wrong. Peter cautiously edged down the stairs, his back to the wall, wishing for the comforting feel of his Beretta in hand. Eyes searched the darkness for movement; he listened intently for any sound. Sensing the form approaching, he sucked in a deep breath and jumped around the corner.

"Expecting someone?" a voice asked dryly.

"Kermit!" Peter jumped, flushing slightly. "I nearly clobbered you."

Eyebrows raised, the green-shaded detective chuckled. "I don't think so. Who's your friend?"

Peter looked around to see that Jake had crept down the stairs and was standing behind him, poised as if ready to flee. The kid looked terrified. "Hey, Jake," he reassured him. "It's okay. This is my friend Kermit."

Kermit felt slightly guilty for being the cause of the panicked expression in the boy's eyes. "Hi Jake," he said easily. "Sorry about the scare."

"I wasn't scared," the boy scoffed, but his breathing was still ragged. Both men let it slide, moving back into the shelter of the building.

"Peter, Skalany said she called you..."

"We're heading down to the station now," the young Shaolin said, an edge of irritation creeping into his voice. "I wanted to give Jake a chance to clean up and have something to eat. She didn't need to send you down to pick us up."

Kermit looked at him over the top of his dark glasses. "It wasn't Skalany's idea. We discovered that Sandra Mason broadcast a community alert for your young friend." He saw understanding flood Peter's face. "I thought it might be better if you had some back up."

"What community alert?" Jake asked, the confusion he felt clear in his voice.

"The Rogers must have been quite worried about you," Kermit said, studying the boy, who squirmed under his regard. "They posted missing child flyers about you all over the city--your picture was even on Channel Three."

"Me? They did that for me?" Jake asked, sounding startled. He thought about it for a moment, then asked suspiciously, "Are you sure it was them and not Social Services?"

"Social Services wouldn't go to the trouble." Peter's voice was bitter with memories. He shrugged when both Jake and Kermit looked at him. "They don't have the staff or the time to get on it that quickly." The explanation sounded lame, even to him.

Thoughtfully, Kermit studied his friend, then changed the subject. "Anyway, I just happened to be in the neighborhood and I thought that I'd stop by and give you a ride." Peter's raised eyebrows earned him a glare. "Are you ready to go?"

"We *were* just leaving," the younger man pointed out. He put one hand on Jake's shoulder and pulled the boy into his side. "You're ready, aren't you?"

"I guess so," Jake said, sounding uncertain. "Um...do you think... should I call the Rogers from the precinct?"

Peter ruffled his hair. "I think that's a great idea," he said softly.

Kermit shook his head, watching the play of emotions over the two faces. "Come on, let's go," he said gruffly, opening the door. "I brought a department vehicle, so... Look out!" he shouted, leaping back at Peter and pushing both the Shaolin and the boy to the ground. The car he had seen approaching from out of the corner of his eye drove past, spraying bullets that hit the wall where they would have been standing. The car didn't stop, but continued on a swerving course down the street, hitting parked vehicles on the sides.

The police detective jumped to his feet. Pulling the Desert Eagle out from under his jacket, he got off a shot at the fleeing car. He was running after it when he heard a shout from behind.

"Peter! Are you okay?" Jake's frantic question caused Kermit to whirl around. Jake was trying to struggle out from beneath the dark-haired Shaolin, who was motionless, sheltering the boy.

Kermit's heart plunged to his stomach as he reached for his friend. "Peter!"

"Ow..." Peter groaned. He opened his eyes. "I'm fine," he reassured them, pulling away to let Jake climb to his feet. "Paul always said I had a hard head; I guess he was right. Jake?"

"I'm fine too." Narrowed eyes looked from Peter, rubbing his forehead, to Kermit, standing grimly on guard. "They were trying to kill us," the boy said, his voice flat.

The two men's eyes met in a brief moment of understanding. Peter answered. "Probably. We've got to get you into protective custody. Let's go, Kermit. We can call it in from your car. They'll send someone over."

Kermit shook his head. "They won't find anything."

"No," the younger man agreed, "but they can try. The important thing is to get Jake out of here to someplace safe."

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PART TWO, SCENE EIGHT

Skalany was waiting for them when they reached the 101. "What took you so long?" she demanded. "You should have been here half an hour ago." The pencil in her hand gave signs of being gnawed on...a silent admonishment to their delay.

"Sorry, Mary Margaret," Peter apologized, leading Jake through the crowded room. "We did come directly here, but there was some traffic. It seems our shooter wrecked the car not too far down the street from my fath...the loft. We got stuck."

The dark-haired detective didn't appear mollified by this explanation. "You have a radio," she pointed out. "Weren't you listening to it? I tried to reach you...the sketch artist went home ten minutes ago."

Kermit opened a door, motioning the little group into his office. "That's all right. We can do it better on the computer anyway. Want to tag along?"

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, Skalany followed them. "Why not, after such a warm invitation?" She softened slightly as Peter introduced her to his newest "client."

Jake looked at all the toys on the desk as Kermit booted up his computer. "Wow," he commented, picking up a shiny robot, "What did you do-rob a toy store?"

Kermit didn't even look up from where he was crouched over his keyboard, his fingers flying. "Nah. I bought them all...to keep a certain nosy detective from touching things he wasn't supposed to."

Peter dropped the interlocking puzzle he had just picked up as Skalany laughed. "I'm not that bad!" he protested.

"No, it only seems that way," Kermit agreed. "All right, here's the program. Jake, you sit right here beside me and we'll work on this portrait. First, which of these is closest to the shape of the guy's face?"

Jake stared at the shapes on the screen, concentrating. "That one," he said, pointing. Peter and Skalany looked on as Kermit led the boy carefully through the eyes, nose, lips, chin, eyebrows, ears, and hair. Jake hesitated only a couple times, closing his eyes in an obvious attempt to see the parts in his memory before looking at the choices.

The precinct's resident computer expert finished inputting all the data, asking one last question; "Did you notice any identifying characteristics?"

"You mean, like a mole or a scar or a tattoo?" the boy asked. He shook his head. "No."

Kermit hummed softly as he tapped on the keyboard. "We'll just pull this all together, and..." He spun the screen around so that they could all see it. "Is this your murderer, Jake?" Skalany winced at the unfortunate choice of words, but the boy seemed to be oblivious.

"He's not *my* murderer," the boy objected, still unaware of the phrasing, studying the face on the screen. "His chin had a little dent-thing in it," he said, critically. The computer expert pounded a few keys and modified the chin. "Yeah," Jake said slowly, "that's him." They all stared at the face.

"Anybody recognize him?" Kermit asked. There were headshakes all around, except from Jake, who was staring at the computer screen, his face pale. The detective frowned and turned the monitor back. "I'll just print a couple of copies of this..." he murmured, doing so. "And let's just, oh, for the heck of it, check this guy against our database."

Jake shook himself, trying to throw off the effects the face had on him. "What next?" he asked uncertainly.

"We find the guy," Peter said, trying to inject confidence into his tone. He was worried about the boy, whose demeanor seemed to be jumping between cocky street brat and terrified child.

"Yeah, sure," Jake agreed, but his voice sounded doubtful.

The computer beeped, and Kermit made a wordless sound of disgust. "Nothing," he told the others. "He hasn't been arrested here. I'll send out a description for other possible matches, but it will take a few days. In the meantime..."

"John?" Peter asked.

"John," Kermit agreed. They both turned to look at Jake, who glared back at them, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

"What?" he asked, his voice edgy. "Who's John? How do you guys seem to talk without saying anything?" He moved to the edge of his chair. "Where are we going now?"

"You're not going anywhere," Peter said, picking his way carefully, afraid to hurt the boy. "Since Blair was a banker, we have a friend who might be able to help us figure out what he was up to. I want you to stay here with Skalany."

"No," the boy objected. "I want to go with you."

"It's not safe, Jake," Peter tried to explain patiently, but the boy did not want to listen. He shook his head and looked obstinate.

"I'd feel safer with you than sitting around here." A soft rap on the door interrupted him.

After a quick glance at the resigned expression on the young Shaolin's face, Kermit rose to answer the door. He was not really surprised to see Lo Si standing there. With a sigh, he opened the door wider. "Won't you come in?" he asked, the irony lost on his elderly visitor.

"Thank you," The Ancient said, sweeping into the room. "I have come to...guard our young friend."

"How did you...never mind," Skalany said, cutting herself off with a quick gesture. "Trade secret; I know. Look guys, it's getting late. I know John will keep the bank open for you, but the precinct is going to start looking pretty deserted in an hour or so. Why don't Lo Si and I bring Jake over to the Blaisdells? With both Paul and the Ancient watching over him, this kid will be safer than Fort Knox."

Kermit grinned. "Now why didn't I think of that?" He shook a finger as Skalany opened her mouth. "Don't say it, Sweetcheeks."

Tilting her head, she grinned. "Say what?" she teased.

The younger Shaolin watched the banter, looking amused. "Is that okay with you, Peter?" Mary Margaret asked, noticing his expression.

"I'll call Paul. I think Mom and Kelly were going to be gone today anyway. It's fine with me, if it's all right with Jake."

"Staying with your foster parents?" Jake asked, looking intrigued. "I guess that wouldn't be so bad," he said begrudgingly. "If I really can't go with you."

"You can't," Kermit told him, with a steady gaze.

"Okay then, so me, the old guy, the lady cop and the foster father will all be hanging out somewhere, waiting for you?" The boy raised his eyebrows as he ticked off each person on his fingers. "I have two questions: First, where are we going...and second, can we stop on the way and get something for dessert?"

=====================================

PART TWO, SCENE NINE:

Officially, the Maple Street branch of the Metropolitan Bank was closed. Unofficially, John Durham, a former associate from Kermit's mercenary days, was waiting at the door to let the two men inside.

"I asked my secretary to stay as well," he said, his cultured tones making the ordinary words sound aristocratic. "Is this police business, or personal?"

"A little of both," Kermit admitted, motioning Peter to proceed him through the door. They waited as John locked the doors, then followed him into his office. The bank manager took a seat behind his large desk, waiting for the other men to take the chairs in front of it.

"So, what can I do to help?" John asked, steepling his fingers and resting them below his chin. He watched as Kermit set a folder on the desk between them and opened it, handing his former associate two pictures-one of Robert Blair, the second the computer composite of the unidentified murderer.

"Do you know either of them?" Peter asked, studying the banker's face. "The man in the photo is employed by Metropolitan Banks." The older man frowned as he picked up the computer sketch and studied it. He shook his head and put it down, picking up the photograph instead.

"Robert Blair," he said immediately, recognizing the face at one glance. "He works in our branch on the other side of Chinatown."

Kermit leaned forward. "What do you know about him?"

John shrugged. "He's a nice enough chap. Was promoted to vice-president of the branch office about nine months ago...a little young, but he appears to be very motivated to advance."

Peter and Kermit exchanged glances. "Anything else?" Peter asked hopefully.

The banker put down the photograph and tapped one hand on the desk. "Hmmm...I was speaking to his supervisor a few weeks ago at a division meeting. He was concerned that Robert seemed to have a little too much cash on hand. He bought a new sports car and started talking about a vacation home he was building in the mountains." He looked at the crestfallen expression on the younger man's face and chuckled. "Not quite what you were looking for?"

"We had hoped that you might have heard something more," Peter admitted.

"Let me call in Maria, my secretary. Robert was considered a "good catch" and she may have heard something not brought to my attention. Maria...is known for her handle on...gossip," John confided with a smile. Leaning down, he pressed a button on the intercom and summoned his secretary.

Maria turned out to be a lively looking brunette in her thirties, who was obviously flattered to be consulted in a police investigation.

"Oh yes," she said, her professional demeanor firmly in place. "Robert Blair. There are several girls here who are trying to catch his eye. He's a quiet one, but the girls think he's good-looking." She looked expectantly at John, who smiled.

"Please tell the detectives anything you can think of about Mr. Blair," he said, encouragingly. "Even...er, rumors may help in their investigation."

Maria shifted in her chair and took a deep breath. "Well, I have heard that Robert came into some money lately," she admitted, leaning forward. Her eyes sparkled with the excitement of sharing secrets. "He was dating Jennie, in accounting, a few months ago. She said that he spent more on one date than she spent in a month...dinner at very expensive restaurants, box seats to theatre performances, front row seats at concerts. He tipped extravagantly too...and one time, he didn't like the dress she was wearing, so he brought her down to one of those exclusive shops downtown and bought her a designer gown." Maria leaned back and sighed. "That's what led to their break-up...she felt he valued appearances and money more than her. There was no lack of girls who went after him after he and Jennie broke up though. Some of the stories I heard..." She shook her head and pursed her lips, looking at the men. "Well, he wined and dined more than one woman in this office, but none for more than a couple weeks."

Peter was amused at the influx of information, but it wasn't quite what he had been looking for. He tried again. "Did you hear any rumors as to where the money came from?"

Throwing an uneasy glance at her boss, Maria slowly nodded. "Jennie told me that he was implying it was a family inheritance. But Robert was an orphan--he had no family to inherit from. He told one of our cashiers that he got lucky in the lottery, and I heard from someone else that he won it in Las Vegas." She lowered her voice to a conspiring whisper. "I did hear that he has some...unsavory friends."

"What kind of unsavory friends?" Kermit's voice was sharp.

Maria looked flustered. "Well...friends involved in crime. Criminal activities," she shared, her eyes wide. "That was another reason Jennie broke up with him. She said the last straw was when they ran into some drug dealer at a concert...and he knew Robert. Well. She knew who he was because of some newspaper story. Maybe you need to talk to Jennie," the secretary said, sounding suddenly uncertain. "Did something happen to Robert?"

"Yes," Kermit said, his tone forbidding questions. "Something did. Where can we find this Jennie?"

"If it's all right with Mr. Durham, I can give you her address," Maria said, looking over for reassurance. John nodded, and she stood, suddenly eager to depart. "I'll go get it for you. Do you need me for anything else, sir?"

"No, thank you Maria." They sat in silence as the young woman left the room. "Obviously, I need to speak more often with Maria concerning the interpersonal relations going on in this bank," John sighed. "She's only been my secretary for two months, I had been told that she had her finger on the recent gossip, but I was not aware that she was such a font of knowledge. So, what did happen to Mr. Blair?"

"He was murdered," Peter said.

"Oh dear," John murmured. "And obviously, you think that it concerns his recent influx of cash. I can do some searching through records, see if I can discover anything connected with his accounts."

"Thank you John." Kermit stood. "That would be extremely helpful."

==============================

PART TWO, SCENE TEN

"I just have to go fill out some paperwork," Skalany said, after Kermit and Peter left to talk to John. "Can you two stay here for a few minutes? As soon as I'm done, I'll drive you over to the Blaisdells." At Jake's uncertain look, she grinned. "There's nowhere in this building that's safer than Kermit's office. Even a mouse would think twice about entering his inner sanctum." Lo Si chuckled and the detective left, closing the door firmly behind her.

The Ancient turned to the boy, who sat huddled in a chair. "You are...uncertain of your future?" he asked.

"Why do you care?" Jake asked, his shoulders hunched unhappily. He looked around the room for something to occupy his time, and picked up another of the little toys off the desk.

Lo Si watched as he manipulated the toy, waiting. "Why should I not care?" he asked, wanting to draw the child out. "We must help each other; it is our purpose."

"Yeah? I wish more people believed that." Jake looked up, then his eyes slid away from the elderly Shaolin's steady regard. "It would make life easier for a lot of kids."

The Ancient's gaze sharpened. "Was it so bad, the way you grew up?" Jake's choked off exclamation was his only answer. Lo Si tried again, concern for the boy making him persistent. "Tell me, so that I may understand. What is it like to be left in the care of others?"

Jake looked at him soberly. "Do you really want to know?" As the Ancient bobbed his head, the boy grimaced. "It sucks. Oops. Sorry," he said, peering out from underneath the fringe of ragged hair at the old man.

"I am familiar with the term," Lo Si said placidly. "Go on."

"You really want to know?" Jake asked, surprised. No one had ever actually asked him how he felt about anything for a long time. Except for the Rogers, he reminded himself, flushing as he remembered that he had planned to call them. He looked around the room for a phone, but instead, saw the Ancient, waiting.

"I want to know," the old man said. His eyes were kind and it dawned on the boy that he wanted to tell him about his past. Somehow, he sensed that the elderly man needed to know.

Looking down at the pink sweatpants, Jake started fingering a spot where bleach had worn a tiny hole. "I ended up in foster care after my parents died; we didn't have any relatives," he shared, remembering the little boy he had been. "The people in the first group home were nice...but there were so many other kids that needed attention... I was quiet, so they pretty much fed me and sent me to school and left me alone." The hole was getting bigger, but Jake didn't seem to notice. He stole a glance at the old man, to see if he was really interested or was just being polite. Since Lo Si looked like he was listening, the boy went on.

"My caseworker decided that I needed more individual attention, so they put me in a foster home. The first one wasn't so bad; it was a couple who wanted to help kids. But then he got transferred, so they moved...and I got sent back. Then they put me in another home." Jake put his finger in the hole and absentmindedly twirled it around.

"That one was...bad." He paused and for a moment, Lo Si thought he had finished, but after a brief hesitation he went on. "Not for me, not at first anyway, but for this other kid there. I told people, but she denied it, and the rest of the 'family' said I was lying. I learned to keep quiet; but eventually, someone noticed the...bruises...and I was pulled out of there."

"You were punished for telling the truth?"

"Well, yeah," Jake said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "It wasn't like they wanted the truth coming out, and the other kids were scared. So I ended up in another home, where all they cared about was the money coming in. After the last place, that was fine with me, but they didn't like my attitude, so I was moved again."

The Ancient frowned. "Were you not consulted?"

Jake snorted. "Why? They didn't like me. They were the adults...I got moved. That's the way it works."

Lowering his head, Lo Si contemplated his hands. "It does not sound like a caring system."

"Yeah, well... Anyway, the next place was another bad one... but I ran away, so the pulled me out of there. The one after that was okay; another group home, but it was temporary, and then I got moved to the Rogers." Jake shook himself as he realized he had worried a two-inch hole in the pink sweats.

"Is your experience typical?" The Ancient's voice was unemotional, but something told Jake that the answer mattered to him very much.

The boy pulled his hands away from the hole and sighed. "I don't know. Some kids are placed only once. Some kids are bounced around even more than me. It's not something you talk about...'Hey, my foster father hits me-what about yours?'" he mimicked savagely. "It's embarrassing enough not to have parents...if the other kids find out that you're used as a punching bag too...." He shrugged. "You try to make the best of it. It could always be worse, right?" He looked over at the Ancient and jumped up. "Hey man, you look like you're gonna keel over. Are you all right?"

"I am...fine."

Jake looked at him. "Well, you don't look fine," he said, wrinkling his forehead. "You know, if you're upset because of what I just told you, don't be. I'll survive. I had great parents, before. I know what life is supposed to be like." The old man still looked unhappy, so Jake decided to confide in him. "You know, I haven't told anyone...but I think the Rogers are really good people. If I haven't blown it with this murder thing..."

"You have not," Lo Si said, his voice stronger. "You also have made new friends, who care about you. Peter and Kermit, Mary Margaret and I...we would come to you if you needed help."

Staring at the old man, Jake felt a flood of emotion. "Th...Thanks," he said, forcing the word past the lump in his throat, feeling that one word was not adequate but unable to say anything else.

"Peter was in foster care," the Ancient said, allowing the boy to pull his defenses around him. "Did he tell you?" he asked, bright eyes examining the child in front of him.

Jake nodded. "Yeah. He didn't say anything specific, but I could tell he had a rough time too. He didn't ask me any questions, so I think he already knew the answers. I'd guess he had the same kind of placements as me. He said that this guy Blaisdell we're going to see saved him though."

Lo Si folded his hands together and bowed his head. "That is so."

"Do you know the Blaisdells too? Is that where you met Peter?"

"Paul Blaisdell is a good man and his wife Annie is amazing," Lo Si answered, a smile stealing over his sober countenance, "but that is not where I met Peter. I have known him for a long time."

Skalany opened the door, interrupting them. "Ready to go?" she asked cheerfully. "The bus is leaving!" Jake watched as the ancient Shaolin pulled himself to his feet and walked heavily to the door. Following in the man's wake, he wondered what Lo Si had really been trying to find out in their conversation.

=========================

PART THREE, SCENE ELEVEN

"This is the address," Peter said, peering at the ill-lit numbers on the mailbox. "Maria said she telephoned, so Jennie will be waiting for us."

Kermit pulled the car into a parking place and climbed out. "Not the type of neighborhood you'd expect to find Blair's girlfriend," he said, inspecting the old Victorian homes converted into apartments and duplexes.

"Maybe that's why she's his ex-girlfriend," Peter pointed out, ringing the doorbell. It was opened as soon as his finger left the buzzer.

"Come in," the woman who answered said, pulling the door wide. She glanced at Kermit's badge as he held it out. "Take the first door to the left." They did so, and ended up in a homey living room. The dark mahogany woodwork was left over from an earlier period in the home, but the white walls and bright furnishings contrasted to the gloomy wood, making the room cheerful. Jennie dropped down onto a chair, motioning for the men to take the couch. "Maria said this was about Robert? What did he do?"

Both men looked uncomfortable. Obviously, she hadn't heard about the murder yet. Kermit cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Miss Ford..."

"Please, call me Jennie."

"I'm sorry, Jennie, can we ask you some questions first, before we tell you what he did?"

"Okay," the woman said slowly. "I'm not going to like this, am I?" she said warily, clearly not expecting an answer. Tucking one strand of brown hair behind an ear, she took a deep breath and braced herself. "Ask away."

"Did you date Robert Blair?"

"Yes. We went out for about a year. I thought he was sweet." She smiled at some memory; then pulled herself back the present. "But he...changed about seven months ago. He came into some money and he started being more concerned about appearances and the cost of things, rather than..." she broke off, turning red. "We broke up. I haven't really spoken to him much since then, except at work. Since we work for the same bank, we sometimes run into each other at training sessions or functions."

Peter pulled Jake's sketch out of the envelope. "Do you know this man?"

She took the sketch from his hand and studied it with a frown. "Hmm...he does look kind of familiar." Peter held his breath; Jennie bit her lip and squinted at the picture. I think...he used to be at some of the business functions Robert would drag me to. If I remember correctly, I believe he's a customer at Robert's branch. I think his name is Jimmy. Jimmy..." she closed her eyes and frowned, obviously trying to recall the man's last name. "Jimmy...Curtis, I think."

"Did Robert know him well?" Kermit asked.

"Nooo...well, maybe. The last few weeks we were together, Robert became very secretive. We ran into this guy," she tapped Kermit's computer composite, "at a couple parties. Robert acted strangely around him."

"Strange how?"

"False. Too loud, too friendly, not friendly enough. Fake." She shrugged. "I don't know how to explain it, but it wasn't normal. It was like he was putting on a show for someone. Maybe me, even. Detectives..." she looked at them steadily, "why aren't you asking Robert these questions?"

"Jennie..."

"He's dead, isn't he?" she asked, her lips trembling.

Peter tried to take her hands. "Yes. He is. I'm sorry, Jennie."

She took the tissue Kermit offered and wiped her eyes. "Don't be sorry for me. The Robert I knew died months ago. The stranger who took his place looked like him, but wasn't. Either that or I never knew the real Robert. I'm not sure which is worse." She dabbed at her eyes again. "So, what does Jimmy Curtis have to do with it?"

Peter hesitated, then plunged in, knowing that the situation would be common knowledge by the next day. "Robert was murdered. We're looking for this man for questioning."

Her eyes widened. "Murdered? And you think Jimmy Curtis did it?"

"We didn't say that," Kermit jumped in, "We just want to ask him some questions."

The look Jennie threw him said 'Yeah, right,' as clearly as if the words had been spoken.

"Jennie..." Peter said, placing one warm hand on her shoulder so she would look at him. "We don't want to alert anyone yet to this suspect. We need to protect some of the facts of this case so we can catch the killer. Could you not mention our visit?"

"Yeah, sure," Jennie said, looking overwhelmed. "I won't say anything. Maybe I'll just call in sick to work."

"Can we phone anyone for you?" Kermit asked, glancing around for a phone.

She shook her head, still teary. "My sister lives upstairs; I'll go up there after you leave," she said, obviously pulling herself together. "Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?"

"I think that's it," Peter answered, after a quick look at Kermit. "Thank you for all your help. Are you sure...?"

Jennie's mouth lifted in a brave attempt at a smile. "I said good-bye to Robert months ago. But thanks." She led them to the door. "If there's anything else I can help you with, please call," she said, her voice trembling.

Kermit and Peter watched as she climbed the stairs to the apartment above. A second woman opened at her knock, and they heard Jennie crying as the door closed behind her. Once outside, they exchanged looks. "You think she was telling the truth?" Peter asked.

"Oh yeah," Kermit answered. "I don't think Robert Blair knew what he gave up." They walked down the steps and to the car. Silently they climbed in.

======================

PART THREE, SCENE TWELVE

Jake slid down to the floor on the back seat of Skalany's car. "What are you doing?" the detective asked, curious.

"Lady," Jake answered, his voice impatient. "People were shooting at me a couple hours ago. I don't want anybody to see me."

"Uh-huh," Skalany nodded, watching the boy in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes met the Ancient's as Lo Si opened the door behind her and sat down near the boy. "I really don't think that anyone knows you're there...but if it makes you feel better to sit on the floor, that's fine with me." Stepping on the gas, she pulled the car from the curb and into traffic.

Lo Si smiled down at the figure on the floor. "There is no one watching," he assured the boy. "You may sit on the seat."

Reluctantly, Jake looked up. "You're sure?"

"I am sure."

Jake peered anxiously out all the windows before slumping against the seat back. "Guess I look pretty stupid, huh?" he asked the elderly man beside him. "It wouldn't be the first time," he said, his mouth twisting in a grimace that was meant to be a smile.

"You do not look...stupid," Lo Si said, placing a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. Jake flinched, then relaxed into the touch.

The car ride seemed to take a long time. Jake was yawning and trying to keep his eyes open when they drove up to a large house in a very nice neighborhood. Without hesitation, Mary Margaret pulled the car into the open garage bay. The boy waited until the garage door had closed behind the car before opening his door to get out.

Standing at the top of a short flight of steps was a tall man. Jake stopped, half asleep already, hanging back to assess the man as the adults greeted him.

Skalany led the way up the steps. "Cap--Paul!" she said, grinning when he put one arm around her shoulders in a quick embrace. "Peter said you were ready for some excitement, so I brought you a couple refugees from Chinatown."

The man lifted one bushy eyebrow. "Excitement? He asked if I could put up a friend for the night. Of course, when has anything that Peter is involved in been that straightforward?" he added dryly. He turned to the elderly priest now mounting the steps. "Lo Si." Jake didn't understand the sudden guarded tone in the tall man's voice. The Ancient obviously did.

"Paul Blaisdell," he said, bowing slightly. "It is a...pleasure to see you again."

"Hmmm...Likewise," Peter's foster father said, his tone polite. He looked past Lo Si to the boy behind him. "You must be Jake," he said kindly.

"Yeah," Jake answered, shifting awkwardly. Paul held out one hand; not sure what to do, Jake put his own hand out. Warmth and strength closed around him momentarily, then the man let his hand go and motioned him to follow the others. They entered a warm and fragrant kitchen. Fresh brownies were cooling on a rack on the counter. Even though minutes ago, he had been ready to fall asleep, Jake's mouth started watering at the enticing aroma.

"Peter said you would remind me of him," Paul said, the laughter in his voice reflected in his eyes. "Brownies were his favorite as a kid...help yourself. There's milk in the refrigerator."

"Where's Annie?" Skalany asked, as Jake closed his eyes to enjoy the first rich bite. Spotting a clean glass on the counter, he carried it over to the refrigerator.

"She and Kelly went to visit Carolyn for the evening," Paul answered. "Both Carolyn and the baby came down with a cold, so my two Florence Nightingale's went over to take care of them." He lowered his voice; "I told them to stay overnight, until all of this was settled. Did anyone follow you?"

"I didn't see anyone," Mary Margaret said, her own voice not much louder than a whisper, "and I was watching. I don't think so. Lo Si?"

"I did not sense anyone following us here. Nor do I feel that we are under observation now."

Paul folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. "Good. Peter and Kermit called just before you got here. They think they know who the man in the sketch is. While they're waiting for a warrant, they're going back to talk to John and do some research."

"Isn't it a little late?" Skalany asked, glancing at the clock.

Paul chuckled. "Obviously, you have never seen John Durham in action. The man never rests until he solves the problem. Peter and Kermit should have an answer by morning.

"And speaking of morning..." he said, raising his voice. "Jake--it's pretty late. I've put you in Peter's old bedroom. Are you ready for bed?"

Jake jumped, startled out of a half-doze at being addressed, and knocked over the glass of milk, which crashed to the floor. It shattered into pieces, milk splattering on the floor and furniture. The boy froze, staring in horror at the glass, then his gaze moved up to the adults. "I-I-I'm s-sorry," he stammered, his face pale. "I...I'll pick it up." He backed with jerky steps toward the paper towel rack near the sink, his eyes darting between the adults.

Paul's lips tightened as he observed the boy's reaction. "Jake, it's all right," he said gently. "It's only a glass. I'll clean it up."

"B-but..."

"Mary Margaret will show you up to Peter's room," Paul continued, in the same calm voice. He walked across the room to stand beside the boy. Slowly, he reached out and rested a warm hand on Jake's shoulder. Giving it a little shake, he grinned. "You look tired. Don't worry about this...we've had more than our share of spills and broken glasses in this house. Peter was especially clumsy for a couple years. I'm used to cleaning up messes."

"Yeah?" Jake asked, his wary pose relaxing slightly.

"Yeah," Paul grinned. He moved the hand to tousle the boy's hair. "You look like you're about ready to go to sleep on right where you're standing. Why don't you follow Mary Margaret, and I'll see you in the morning. If you need anything during the night, just yell. I'll hear you."

"You're sure?" There was nothing left of the tough guy from the car, Skalany thought, watching as her former Captain soothed the frightened child. She wondered suddenly what Peter had been like when he came to live in this home.

"Positive," the deep voice rumbled. "There's a toothbrush on the bathroom counter for you-the blue towels are yours. I also put out some pajamas on the bed, and clothes for tomorrow on the chair. Do you need anything else?"

Jake shook his head silently, overwhelmed at the show of generosity. Mary Margaret smiled at him, "This way," she said cheerfully. "I'll help you get settled." The men could hear their progress as she led the boy through the house, chattering along the way.

When they could no longer be heard, Paul stalked to the sink. With a dishrag, he wiped up most of the milk, and picked up the larger pieces of the glass. Lo Si watched silently as he threw out the pieces and got a broom. It only took a few minutes to finish cleaning the mess. His movements were controlled, but the older man could feel the anger coming off him in waves.

"Damn," Paul finally said, sounding weary. He turned around to look at the Shaolin standing quietly in the corner. "Are you planning on staying awake all night, or can I make up a bed for you in the den?"

"I will remain awake." Thoughtfully, the Ancient studied the man standing before him. "Jake told me something of his...history this evening."

"Really." Paul's comment was flat. It did not encourage further discussion.

"Yes. You recognized the fear in him with very little to go on. As if you've dealt with it before..."

Paul looked down at the priest. "Lo Si, if you want information, ask me. Don't beat around the bush."

Drawing his dignity around him, the Ancient nodded. "Very well. Was Peter like Jake when you first met him? Had he been...hurt before he came to you?"

Paul's blue eyes grew flinty. "You mean, in addition to the hurt you caused by deserting a kid in a situation with which he was totally unfamiliar?"

The Ancient winced. "Yes, after that," he acquiesced.

"Yes," Paul said bluntly. He stared at the lowered head. "When Peter first came here, he was just like Jake; jumpy, apologetic, expecting the worse. It took a long time for Annie and me to get past his barriers. A few times, I wasn't sure we could do it." A wry smile tugged up one corner of his mouth. "Annie knew we could though...she wouldn't let me or Peter become discouraged."

"What had happened to him?"

Paul shook his head. "Only Peter knows the whole story, and he's not talking. Before we took him, they showed me his file... However," his voice hardened, "I promised that I wouldn't share that with anyone, you and his father included. If you want to know what happened, you'll have to ask Peter."

"Peter will not tell me."

"Then perhaps you should let it go." Paul's voice softened as he saw the anguish in the elderly man's face. "Peter had a bad time, but he's made it past that. Maybe you need to admit that you made a mistake, and go on."

"I did not know. I thought it would be for the best."

"You were wrong."

===============================

PART THREE, SCENE THIRTEEN

John called them on the cellular just as they were pulling up in front of the bank. "I think I've figured it out," he said, his clipped tones animated. "Where are you?"

"Almost at your door," Kermit answered.

The banker was waiting for them when they reached the building. "What did you discover from Jennie?" he asked, ushering them back into his office.

"The name of the guy in the sketch is Jimmy Curtis," Kermit said, satisfaction apparent in his voice, "Jennie says he's a customer at Blair's branch, and from what she said, they had more than a work-related acquaintance. You?"

John raised one eyebrow. "Robert was definitely laundering money."

Peter leaned forward in his chair. "How can you tell?"

"It wasn't difficult," the older man stated, "I designed the bank's computer system. Although I have every confidence in my people, I thought it...advisable to build a few extra security steps into it." Kermit snorted; John grinned at his reaction. "Of course, I have a password that enables me to check into what's going on... Once I knew to look, the signs were unmistakable." He tapped a pile of printouts on his desk. "Robert hid it well, but the pattern was there."

"So can you give us names of the accounts involved?" Peter asked. He leafed through the printout, whistling at the amounts of money involved.

"Give me about an hour, and I can give you any information necessary."

Kermit checked his watch. "Can you give us enough to connect Jimmy Curtis to Robert Blair right now? I'd like to pick him up, and I'd like to have more to put on the warrant than Jake's sketch and Jennie's story. I'd rather not put either of them on the spot like that."

Bending over his computer keyboard, John typed in a few commands. Peter watched him, thinking how much the banker looked like a certain detective when he was absorbed in his work. He looked over at Kermit, and the ex-mercenary grinned at him. "Who do you think gave me my first modem?" he asked, reading the younger man's mind.

The printer came to life as John punched in one last command. "Here you are, proof that Robert was involved with Curtis." He handed the resulting papers to Kermit.

"John, thank you for all your help," the young Shaolin said. "You've saved a kid's life."

"Happy to oblige," John answered. "Come back tomorrow...later today," he amended, "and I'll have the rest of the information for you." He nodded to Kermit, words not needed between them.

===========================

PART THREE, SCENE FOURTEEN

Kermit slammed the door as he got into the unmarked car.

"You've got the warrant?" Peter asked, the familiar feeling of adrenaline pumping through his body.

"Yup." The older detective tapped the paper tucked into his inner pocket and frowned. "Simms is sending two uniforms to meet us at the address."

"Why? We can handle it," the young Shaolin protested, with a quick glance at his partner.

Behind the dark glasses, Kermit's face was carefully blank. "Pete, you're a civilian now. You can't be part of the arrest."

"What?"

"You're a civilian," Kermit repeated. "Not a cop. The uniforms are there to go in with me. The Captain said you can go along for backup. You have to stay in the car though." Seeing that Peter was speechless, the detective started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. "At least you're going," he pointed out. "And believe me, that took some quick talking."

"Great. Backup." Peter said, staring out the window.

=============================

PART THREE, SCENE FIFTEEN

Jimmy Curtis lived on the edge of Chinatown, in a rundown apartment building. A cruiser was already parked outside the front entrance. Kermit pulled up behind it.

"Can't I just..."

Kermit sighed. "Backup, remember? Do you have a gun with you?"

Peter shook his head. "I've gotten out of the habit," he said with a rueful grin. With a scowl, Kermit reached over him and unlocked the glove box. Reaching in, he pulled out a .38 special and handed it to his friend.

"Take it. There's an extra clip in there too." He watched as Peter checked to see that the gun was loaded.

The weapon felt strange in his hand, comforting yet...unsettling. Peter tucked it into the front of his jeans. "I'll just wait here," he said, not looking at the other man.

"You do that." Kermit got out of the car and walked up to the cruiser. The two officers were already out, waiting impatiently.

"I'm Brady, that's Canfield. Is this guy liable to bolt?" the taller one demanded.

"Griffin. Don't know. Let's go see, shall we?" Kermit looked at the address and the layout of the building. "There should be a fire escape from the apartment. Brady, you wait out here. You can watch the outside of the building." He handed the officer a picture of Jimmy Curtis. "Watch for him. Come on." Motioning to Canfield, they took the stairs to Curtis's apartment on the third floor, guns drawn.

Kermit knocked on the door sharply. "Jimmy Curtis?" There was a rustling noise inside the apartment, but no one came to the door.

"He's not going to come out," Canfield growled.

"Jimmy Curtis, open the door, this is the police. We have a warrant for your arrest." Kermit cursed as the unmistakable sound of a window being opened came to his ears. "Don't make it worse!" he shouted.

"I can open the door." After an approving nod from the detective, Canfield kicked the door beside the lock. It flew open.

Inside the apartment, curtains were fluttering in the wind from the open window.

Canfield covered Kermit as he made a quick check of the empty apartment. Reaching the window, he looked outside. Curtis was climbing down the stairs. "Freeze!" Kermit shouted, "Police!"

Curtis didn't even look up, concentrating on fleeing. Kermit realized that a shot would ricochet off the iron stairs. "Cover me!" he ordered. Hearing Canfield grunt in agreement, he threw one leg over the windowsill and jumped out. Rapidly, he followed Curtis down the stairs.

Brady was waiting at the bottom. "Freeze!" the uniformed cop shouted. He cried out in pain as Curtis jumped over the railing and landed on him, knocking the officer to the ground.

"Damn!" Kermit swore, seeing his suspect fleeing into the darkness. He reached the ground and ran, following.

A new figure appeared at the end of the alley, standing there, waiting. "Stop," the man uttered, the voice calm and even. Curtis didn't even pause.

Kermit almost missed Peter's move, the raised hand that he remembered seeing Caine use to put out candles. Peter...pushed...and Curtis stopped as if he'd run into an invisible brick wall. Peter and Kermit reached the fallen criminal at the same time.

With a grin, Peter dangled a set of handcuffs from one finger. "Thanks," the detective growled, grabbing them. Pulling Curtis's hands behind his back, he cuffed the man. "Read him his rights," he said to Canfield, as the officer came to a halt behind him.

Brady limped up behind his partner. "We'll take him down to the station," he said, looking guilty.

"You do that," Kermit said, glaring. He turned to Peter. "I thought I told you to wait in the car."

Peter shrugged. "I don't follow orders very well. Besides, something told me you needed me."

"Shaolin senses?"

Peter grinned. "Nah, I heard you yelling."

==================

PART FOUR, SCENE SIXTEEN

Kermit finished the paperwork and leaned back in his chair. "I love it when the criminals make it so easy," he said with a Cheshire cat smile. "'Jimmy' turns out to be Jaime Cortez. I just got the report from the Chicago PD. Jake may never have to testify...the guy's wanted by the feds on a variety of interesting charges. They're sending someone to pick him up...he'll be in federal custody by this afternoon. He won't be out for a long, long time."

"Did he say why he was so worried about Jake?"

"He thought he had put 'Jaime' behind him...figured that if Jake came to us, we'd eventually get word back to Chicago...rightly, as it turns out. He figured if Jake disappeared, he'd be able to stay in town longer."

"I can't believe that he tracked the kid to my fath...my place," Peter said, thinking about the drive-by shooting.

"Evidently, someone saw Sandra Mason's report, then saw Ariel with Jake, and told Cortez. He asked around, uncovered her connection with Caine, and took a chance." Kermit pushed up his glasses. "He thought it would be an easy way to take care of his problem...told me that he figured an old priest wouldn't be a problem. I guess his informant didn't realize that the 'Caine' that lived at the loft had changed."

"Did he say why he murdered Blair?"

The detective looked disgusted. "Blair wanted more money. He thought that his system would guarantee him a bigger piece of the action. Cortez didn't agree. Sheer stupidity."

Peter nodded and looked at his watch. "I think I'll head over to Paul's now. I didn't want to call and wake them up earlier."

"Do you really thing that either Paul or Lo Si has slept?" Kermit asked, looking at the younger man. "You know them better than that."

The younger man shrugged, averting his face. "Do I?"

Kermit stared at him, his expression unreadable. "I think you do."

Peter grimaced. "I would have said I did a few months ago."

Kermit took off the shades and massaged the bridge of his nose. With the armor gone, he looked tired. "They're human, Peter. They have flaws. Maybe they're not exactly who you remember, but it's your perception that's changed, not them. Both Paul and Lo Si made some mistakes. They're still your family."

Peter sat silently. Kermit replaced the glasses. "Just think about what you're doing to the people around you."

"Thank you, Dr. Griffin," Peter muttered.

Kermit's eyebrows went up. "You're welcome. And there's no charge for today's session."

The younger man scowled. "Are you always this pushy?"

There was no hint of mirth in the teeth-baring smile he got in reply. "Only when it's absolutely necessary."

 

===================

PART FOUR, SCENE SEVENTEEN

Paul was sitting on the front porch swing, a mug in his hand. He watched as Peter pulled up and got out of the Stealth. "Morning," he said, taking a sip of coffee.

Peter climbed the steps and sat beside his foster father. "Morning." They sat in companionable silence for about two seconds. "Jake's safe. We caught the guy."

"I thought you would," Paul said, taking another sip, admiring the sunrise. "There's some coffee in the kitchen, if you want some."

"No. Thanks." The swing rocked back and forth.

Paul put the mug on the floor. "Out with it," he said with a sigh. "What's the matter?"

Peter's expressive eyes were clouded. "Nothing," he said defensively.

"You're only this twitchy when you've got something to say that you don't think I want to hear."

"That's not it. I just... Seeing Jake... He brought back a lot of memories."

"For me too," Paul admitted. "Good or bad?"

"Both." Peter looked at his foster father from behind lowered lashes. "Mostly good though. I was remembering my first few weeks with you."

"And that's good?" Paul teased, his mouth twitching with the effort to hold back a smile.

"I was a brat."

"You were young," the older man said, remembering that boy long ago, the mood swings, the anger, the neediness. He smiled at the young man who would always hold a special place in his heart. "Annie and I understood."

Peter flushed. "Yeah, but I was still trouble. If it hadn't been for you...I don't know what would have happened to me. I'd probably be dead."

"Peter..."

"No, let me say this Paul. I've been acting like that brat since you came home. I pretended like everything was okay between us, but I was still angry that you left us. Left me," he amended. "I know your reasons, but I still couldn't get past those walls I had erected around my feelings."

"Peter..."

The young man shook his head. "Let me get this out," he pleaded.

"Seeing Jake...he reminded me so much of what I was like...what my life was like before you and Annie. And I realized...since you returned, I've been that kid again. It didn't matter that time had gone by, and I'm an adult now...in my heart I was that scared little brat with an attitude. Back then, I didn't want anyone to care for me, because then I'd have to take a chance and care about them...and then they'd leave me. You got past those defenses and opened the world for me. This time..." he ducked his head and looked away. "I was afraid that if I cared about you again, you'd leave, and it would be my fault."

"Can I talk now?" Paul asked. When the younger man nodded, he put one warm hand on the back of Peter's neck. "Son, I'm not going anywhere. I can't guarantee that nothing will happen to me; life doesn't work that way. But I love you, and nothing will ever change that."

"I love you too, Dad," Peter said, his voice muffled. Paul reached down and with one finger under his son's chin, tilted his head up so that his hazel eyes were in sight.

"Now that we have that straightened out," he said with a smile, "I suggest we go wake up the rest of the house so that we can be ready when Jake's parents come to pick him up."

Peter smiled, his eyes shining as he stood and pulled Paul to his feet. They embraced briefly before walking into the house, Paul's arm around Peter's shoulders.

Lo Si backed into the hallway before they saw him.

==========================

PART FOUR, SCENE EIGHTEEN

Jake fidgeted nervously with his breakfast. Skalany had made her famous pancakes for all of them, but in the boy's case, they had ended up as an unappetizing heap of crumbs and syrup on his plate. He had spent breakfast cutting the pancakes into smaller and smaller segments; Mary Margaret had watched him put exactly two pieces into his mouth. "What time are they coming?" he asked, his voice anxious.

"They should be here in about thirty minutes," Peter answered, his voice calm. He hadn't eaten much of the pancakes either, Mary Margaret noticed, looking at his plate. In fact, only she and Paul seemed to have much of an appetite. Lo Si had politely refused the offered plate earlier.

"They're probably mad at me," Jake said gloomily, making a pattern in the mushy pile in front of him. "Damn. I really liked that treehouse."

Peter and Paul exchanged a quick glance. Paul cleared his throat. "Actually Jake, when I talked to the Rogers, they were very worried about you. They were very relieved that you're fine."

"Yeah?"

Blaisdell nodded. "Yeah. In fact, they asked if they could come over and pick you up...I had suggested that we meet at the precinct, since I was going to bring you over there later this morning to fill out some forms. Kristine said she didn't want to wait that long."

"She did?" the boy asked, sitting up straighter. "Really?"

Chuckling, Paul nodded. "And then Will said to remind you about some tickets to a hockey game tomorrow night."

Jake's face lit up. "Will *still* wants to go?" He turned to Peter. "It's the best game of the year...a great exhibition game...the Sonics are playing the Bruins. Will got us tickets at center ice. Wow!" Looking down at the unappetizing mess in front of him, he made a face.

"Would you like another pancake?" Mary Margaret asked, her eyes dancing with laughter.

"Thanks," Jake said, gratefully accepting a new plate. He had just finished eating when the sound of a car pulling into the driveway caught everyone's attention.

"They're here," Peter said, looking out the window. "I'll go let them in." Getting to his feet, he walked to the front door. Will and Kristine Rogers turned out to be a couple in their early forties; Will was tall and athletic-looking, Kristine only a few inches shorter, her face wreathed in laugh-lines. The young Shaolin could feel the worry radiating off their tense bodies. "Hi, I'm Peter Caine," he introduced himself, holding out one hand. "Jake's in the kitchen. Please come in."

Will took his hand in a firm clasp. "Thank you so much for helping Jake."

"Jake's a good kid. It was my pleasure."

"Where is he?" Kristine asked, grasping his hand in turn, and looking anxiously past him. "We've been so worried...I won't be happy until I see him with my own eyes."

"This way," Peter said, smiling as he led them towards the kitchen. They were halfway there when Jake came out to meet them, looking scared.

"Hi," he said tentatively, biting his lip. "I'm sorry..." The rest of his words were lost as Kristine scooped him up into a big hug, her eyes wet with unshed tears. Will looked on, patting his wife's shoulder, waiting for his turn.

Jake looked dazed when he was finally released. "I thought you'd be mad..." he said. He looked from Kristine to Will. "Why aren't you?"

Kristine put one hand on his cheek. "Honey, we aren't angry. I just wish you had trusted us enough to come and tell us what you saw. We would have helped."

Will spoke up, his voice a deep rumble. "Jake, Kris and I know you've only been with us a few weeks, and it takes time for trust to develop." His lips quirked, "God knows, I hope that this is the biggest problem we'll ever face. But, whatever comes our way in the future, I hope you'll bring your problems to us instead of trying to handle them on your own."

Chewing his lip, Jake studied the man standing before him, his face a mixture of hope and confusion. "I...okay." Kristine hugged him, and Will ruffled his hair. When Jake looked over at his new friends, his smile was wide. Peter grinned back, conscious of Paul's hand on his back.

Will turned around, offering his hand to Paul. "Will Rogers," he said, with a self-deprecating grin, "No relation. Glad to finally meet you, Mr. Blaisdell. Thank you for taking such good care of our boy."

"No problem," Paul said, blue eyes twinkling.

"I understand there's some paperwork to be filled out?" At both Peter and Paul's affirmations, he nodded. "Do you suppose we could take Jake to breakfast and meet you at the precinct? We'd like to catch up with him on what happened."

"Can we go eat at that place around the corner from the bike shop? It's got the best waffles," Jake put in eagerly. He looked offended at the laughs from Paul, Mary Margaret and Peter. "I'm a growing boy," he said, sounding offended, but the hint of a smile hovered on his lips.

They left with the promise of meeting in two hours at the precinct.

"I'm off," Skalany announced, as the Rogers van drove out of sight. "I'll meet you in two hours too, but I want to go home and change. Would you like a ride home, Lo Si?"

Peter had almost forgotten the silent priest. "No, that's okay Skalany. I'll give the Ancient a ride home." Mary Margaret acquiesced, waving cheerfully as she drove away.

"I guess I'd better clean up the breakfast mess before your mother and Kelly get home," Paul said. "If you want to take a nap, you can sleep in your room."

"Thanks Paul," Peter nodded, knowing an excuse when he heard one. "I guess it's just you and me, Lo Si," he said, watching as his father walked back into the house. "Would you like to take a walk, stretch your legs before we drive home?"

"That would be...good," the Ancient said, studying Peter's averted face. "Shall we go?"

=====================

PART FOUR, SCENE NINETEEN

They walked in silence for several minutes, Peter shortening his strides so that the smaller man could keep up. Unconsciously, he led the priest to a small pond just outside the neighborhood, a place where he had gone as a boy to reflect on things that were bothering him.

Squatting at the edge of the water, Peter looked out across the surface. "I guess you heard most of my conversation with Paul," he started, not looking at the elderly man.

"I did not think you saw me," Lo Si said.

"I guess my senses are getting better," Peter admitted, picking up a leaf and studying it intently. "I felt your presence as we walked in the door."

"Ah." They sat, watching a hawk fly in lazy circles above them. Peter was determined to let the old man talk first, but he finally gave up.

"Lo Si... he ground to a halt, unsure of how to address the older man. "I'm not sure what to say to you."

"Then...it is mutual," Lo Si said. Something in the timbre of his voice caused Peter to turn his head and study the man. For the first time in his life, Peter saw the countenance of his elderly friend look upset. In the temple, even after the fire, he had seen that face sad, uncomfortable, worried; but never upset. Quickly, the younger man looked away. "Peter...I spoke to Jake last night. He told me what it is like to be a foster child."

"Not exactly what you expected?" Peter forced out, finding that his throat was tight.

"No," the elderly priest answered simply. "When I left you, I did not know that it would be...like that. I assumed that it would be like the temple; where the good of the children comes first."

"Sometimes, it is," Peter said, looking at the leaf as he tore it into strips, "Sometimes...it's far, far different."

Lo Si nodded sadly. "Peter...I am sorry. If I had known..."

"You wouldn't have sent me there? I'm not quite sure I believe that, Lo Si." The young Shaolin looked across the water, his eyes seeing the past. "You always seem to think you know best. Even if you had known what it would be like, I think you would have still separated me from my father...'for our own good'," he added bitterly.

"Perhaps," Lo Si said, staring at the ground. "But I would have arranged for guardians to watch over you and protect you from harm."

Peter threw down the pieces of the leaf. "You don't get it, Lo Si," he said angrily. "You're shocked because you just discovered that I spent three years in some pretty nasty situations. But it wasn't because of the physical stuff that I was such a wreck...it was because there was absolutely nothing I knew or recognized. You left me with strangers! Everyone I cared about was dead. You made me think you were too old and feeble to take care of me; then you just disappeared." He took a deep breath, calming himself. "It doesn't really matter, because the past is past. We've already talked about this. The fact is that I did go through all that."

"Yes," Lo Si said, his head bowed. Peter looked over at him.

"But as long as you brought it up, I do have one other thing that's been bugging me since our last conversation." Lo Si remained silent, so Peter went on. "When I made my decision after the training at the temple, you couldn't accept that. For some reason, you thought that my life would be complete only if I took the brands."

Lo Si's whisper was barely audible. "That is true."

Studiously avoiding looking at the elderly Shaolin, the younger man continued. "I have no doubt that you dropped a few words into my father's ears...after our time in the northern temple. Words to make him think that my decision there was not...thought through completely." Lo Si said nothing, and Peter knew he was correct. He sighed. Picking up another leaf, he shredded it.

"Peter..." the Ancient's voice was full of pain. Peter looked up. "I have made many mistakes in a long life. Leaving you in the orphanage was one of them. The means through which I coerced you to take the brands may have been another." The young man pressed his lips together, looking back over the pond.

The elderly priest moved to stand beside him. "But Peter, I love you as if you were my own child. I did not mean to cause you such pain; it is only now that I have come to realize the extent of my actions." He laid one hand carefully on the younger man's shoulder. "I promise that I will not try to...adjust your life to a path in any way, without your knowledge."

Peter's hazel eyes glinted at he looked over at the man he had known for so many years. "'Without my knowledge.'" he repeated.

Lo Si gazed intently at the younger man. "Yes."

"You promise."

"Yes." Lo Si bowed, his face shadowed. "And...I am sorry for the mistakes I made in the past."

"I will hold you to that promise," Peter warned, "I don't intend to be manipulated into any other situations that I don't want or understand." His voice softened. "Lo Si...I know you didn't know what the foster homes would be like." He shrugged. "Shit happens. Uh, sorry."

"I am familiar with the term," Lo Si said, a sparkle coming back into the somber eyes at the unconscious echo of another young man's words.

Peter laughed, not knowing the cause of that twinkle, but happy to see it. "Can I walk you to my car, Lo Si? I believe we have some police forms to fill out."

The elderly man bowed. "Peter, you are an amazing young man. I am very grateful we have come to know each other again."

"Yeah, me too," the younger man admitted. Putting one arm around his friend's shoulders, they walked together back to his car.

====================

PART FOUR, SCENE TWENTY -- EPILOGUE

They returned to the Blaisdell home just in time to see Kelly's car pull into the driveway. Peter ran to open the passenger door and wrapped his mother in a big bear hug.

"Peter!" she laughed, batting at him. "You're awake already? Don't crush my ribs! Did you have breakfast?"

Peter's eyes met Paul's as he came down the steps. "Sort of. Dad can tell you the whole story. I have to take the Ancient home and change."

Annie's face fell. "Oh. I was looking forward to seeing you. You've been so busy the last few days. Will you be home for supper tonight? We're having spaghetti." She sounded like she expected him to say no. Peter felt a momentary twinge of regret, knowing that he had turned down far too many offers in the past.

"I'd love to, Mom," he said, kissing the top of Annie's head. "What time?"

She beamed. "Like you don't know. Come home early though, I'd like to catch up with what you've been up to."

"Okay. Hey, Squirt," Peter said, laughing at his little sister. Pulling her into his arms, he tucked her head under his chin.

Kelly made a face up at him. "What's put you in such a good mood?" she asked, returning his hug.

"Oh, I dunno. Knowing how lucky I am, I guess. Seeing somebody else get the same chance I did. Solving a murder. Staying up for thirty-six hours. Take your pick."

"I think it's sleep deprivation," she said, shaking her head, a smile on her face. "Are you really coming to dinner?"

"Yup."

"Good. We seem to have such different hours lately. I've missed seeing you."

Paul stood watching his family, one arm around his wife. "Let's see if Carolyn and Todd and the baby can make it too," he said in his wife's ear. "I think I'd like to celebrate."

"Would you like to join us too, Lo Si?" Annie asked, promising herself to get the full story out of Paul in the near future.

The Ancient hesitated, looking at Peter. The young man smiled over at him. "Mom's spaghetti is the best," he said, "and if we're having a family dinner, we can't have it without you."

"In that case, I would be delighted," Lo Si said, bending over Annie's hand.

Peter hugged his sister again and took a deep breath. Life was good.

The End