I am one of the many who never made made peace with the way KFTLC ended. So, with this story, I'm starting my personal post-Requiem series.

- I'm introducing some new characters

- I'll try to give answers to many questions the series' creators left for us to interpret

- I decided to keep Paul alive... for a while at least. I find it curious to explore his relationship with his foster-son after Peter takes the brands and quits the Force


PROLOGUE

2 years after 'Requiem', February '99

The sunny winter morning promised a nice day. Lively crowd was crossing the cleaned streets around 101st. Broderick looked at his watch, 9:20 and the captain had not checked in yet. With no lieutenant on board either it was his task to keep the place up and running. 'Story of my life,' he thought. Skalany came over and handed him a coffee.

'Bad time for Strenlich to take a holiday, isn't it?'

He did not like the ironic tone of her voice. 'I'll be fine. Besides, Strenlich will come along to welcome his temp, and the Commissioner came down specially to help me out.' He forced a smile, took a sip, then turned and looked over his shoulder.

Commissioner Simms had been keeping her former office since 8:30, nervously checking on the papers the captain had left unfinished, checking the clock, too, every 5 minutes.

'She's been waiting for him all eternity,' remarked the sergeant pitifully.

'You'd think they communicate a bit more,' added Skalany.

'…Aha…'

Broderick's absent minded answer made Mary-Margret turn. She followed the direction of his gaze and a silent 'Wow' welcomed a most unusual sight. It was the captain, holding his coat in one hand, engaged in a lively conversation with a tall, young woman. As he walked in, he gallantly stepped aside, wide smile on his face, and made way for the lady.

'Welcome to 101st precinct, lieutenant Jahn!'

X

4 months after 'Requiem', May '97

'OK, this is the last box.'

Peter sighed quietly as he placed the last of many boxes by the front door.

'There's my set of keys,' he said and left by the lamp two keys hanging on a cowboy hat key chain. 'Be careful who you give them to.' The attempt to brighten up the mood came rather left handed.

Jordan was sitting at the edge of the table, staring at his car parked outside. She could barely hold her composure. This was her decision, her choice… no, their choice, but her decision. Then why did she feel like she would break down any moment now? She did not have the heart to look at Peter while he was packing his stuff. Finally she turned around as she heard the sound of metal placed on polished wood.

Peter put hand on her shoulder and she leaned head towards it, trying to remember every second from this last touch of the world's most tender hand on her cheek.

'You wanted it, remember?'

'Yes.' Their eyes met. 'I still don't understand...'

'Jordy… '

'Why, Peter? Why did it have to end like this?'

'You couldn't take it any longer.'

'I thought we were…'

'So did I.'

She looked at him again. He caressed her and said:

'The paths we've taken are not even in the same direction.' He looked at a stack of papers on the table as he said that.

She glanced at them, too. 'For most of the time I thought we'd attend that interview together.'

'I gave up a lieutenancy, Jordy, I wouldn't have gone for the FBI either.'

'That's not what I meant.'

He smiled and took her head in his hands.

'Jordan, you deserve a man… a partner, who will remember your birthdays, who won't stand you up, and who won't storm out in the middle of the night to help a troubled teen out of yet another mess. You deserve someone who will put you in first place.'

'What about you?' She feared that there was hardly a woman in the world that would voluntarily put up with what her now ex-boyfriend just described, and that was only the cherry on the cake. 'You deserve someone, too.'

'I deserve what I've asked for.'

He kissed her on the forehead and took his jacket.

'Good luck at the interview! I hope the Bureau is braced for the storm Jordan.'

They both smiled. At the door Peter turned one last time.

'Hey, blondie…' She looked at him annoyed; Peter knew very well how much she hated being called that. 'No regrets, ha?'

'No regrets.'

The door shut. Peter Caine headed one last time to the elevator of the building he had lived in for the past 6 years. What he left behind was a quiet half-empty flat, with a devastated young woman crying her heart out by the round table in the living room.

XXX