Partners

by Tracy

Peter gets a new partner - they'll have to iron out their differences before blood is shed.

Stalking over to his father's table, Peter yanked out a chair and dropped into it. Caine looked over at his son, his face unreadable. "Hey, Pop. Sorry to keep you waiting," the young man grumbled. Jerking the menu open, he ran a hand through his tousled hair.

"It has been a busy week for you?" his father asked with the slight lifting of an eyebrow.

"Busy isn't the word for it, Pop." He threw the menu down in frustration. "I can't believe what kind of a week it's been."

"Is it a case that is troubling you?" Caine asked, trying to be helpful.

"No. It's my new... partner." He spit out the last word.

"Detective Shaw? You said she was highly decorated, and, how did you put it? The Best?" Surprise registered on his father's face.

"Yeah. Well. Professionally speaking, she probably is. But personally she's a pain in the... She's driving me insane." He sighed in resignation as the waiter came to the table and took their orders. The sun was already going down, casting a rosy glow on the quieting streets of Chinatown, visible from the outdoor cafe. Peter took a giant gulp of his beer as soon as it arrived and looked across the table.

"What seems to be the conflict?"

"The conflict is... she's stubborn, she's got no sense of humor, she's just about the coldest person I've ever met. She bites my head off if I even try to have a conversation with her. Her first words to me were, ?Nice to meet you, what the hell are you looking at?? I seriously don't think she's even human. And, she hates me," he added as an afterthought.

"I see. So, you will be requesting another partner?"

Peter sat in silence for the longest time, stewing and fuming. "No."

"But, you just said..."

"I know what I just said. She?s socially intolerable, but she's the most intuitive detective I've ever worked with. She came in and cleared up three cases that have been sitting on my desk for weeks. I've been to the pistol range with her twice for practice, and she has the deadest aim on the force. I think she pictures my face on the target. And, you should see her do an interrogation. She's brutal. She had one guy, I swear, scared within an inch of his life, and she never even touched him. This other guy we were trying to question out on the street yesterday bolted - and this was a big guy - before I knew it she was flying after him. She brought him down so fast, and so hard, the guy never knew what hit him. You should have seen her moves, Pop. I'd be some kind of an idiot to change partners. Seems as though she's studied the martial arts, too. But, she won't say where or when, because that would be too close to a personal conversation... something she seems to have no skill for, or inclination to try."

"You are saying she is that good?" His father's interest piqued.

"She's that good,? he confirmed. From what I saw of her taking down that perp in Chinatown yesterday, I think she might be able to kick my butt anytime she wanted to." Peter took another long gulp of beer. "And, from a couple of the looks she's shot me over the past couple of weeks, she's just barely restraining herself from doing it."

"So the feelings are mutual between the two of you," Caine summarized for his son.

"I'd say she doesn't like me any better than I like her. But, you know the worst part if it?" he asked, leaning forward with a look of indignation on his face. "She looks at me like she doesn't trust me! She has never once turned her back on me even for a second. She's weird, Pop."

"I see... So why is it, do you think, that she has not requested another partner, if she dislikes you?"

"I have no idea. Maybe she enjoys torturing me, like a cat with a mouse. Or perhaps she's already alienated everyone else on the force. All I know is that I've got the weekend ahead of me, and that means a two day respite from the Dragon Queen."

Caine visibly restrained himself from chuckling at his son's choice of words. "Do you know where she was assigned before coming to the 101st?"

"Sure. She was uptown at the 82nd. She transferred on a voluntary basis. So, it's not like she's pissed for being caught in the shuffle or anything. And it's not just me. Okay, it's primarily me," he conceded, "but she's not making friends with anyone too quick. Okay, Kermit seems to like her, in his own cold, cautious way. I've seen her coming out of his office a couple of times, almost smiling, but... it's not just me she's got an attitude about. She never cracks a joke, never laughs at anybody else's. She doesn't make small talk, shares absolutely nothing about herself; where she's from... stuff like that. Never joins us for a beer at Delancy's after hours, and we've invited her. She walks around looking over her shoulder like she expects one of us to stab her in the back. She's sarcastic. She's suspicious of everyone, she's just unpleasant."

"May I make a suggestion?"

Peter groaned in hopeless frustration. "Oh, Pop. If you're going to tell me to try making nice and being friends, save it. I tried. I've knocked myself out trying to be friends with her, and it's no use. She gives me 'The Look', and walks away."

?I was about to suggest that you find out why she is the way she is. Investigate. Have you considered talking to her old partner? Ask for his or her insight?"

Peter sat thinking for a long moment. "Hey, that's not a bad idea. Maybe he can give me some pointers on how to handle her. Good thinking. Pop. I'll look him up first thing in the morning."

*********

Saturday morning Peter started making his phone calls and discreet inquiries about his new partner. By the time he got to the 82nd precinct and located Nicole Shaw's last partner, it was afternoon and the other detective was about to have lunch at his desk. Promising to only take a few minutes of his time, Peter pulled up a chair.

Detective Ray Domotor allowed a small smile to tease the corner of his mouth when he found out what kind of information Peter was looking for. "Well, I was expecting at least a phone call from you sooner or later. Actually, I had expected to hear from you long before this."

Peter cast him a wary glance. "You did..."

"Yep. So, you're Nick's new partner. How are you two getting along?" he asked with a gleam in his eyes.

"I think you know how we're getting along, or I wouldn't be here. Look, as one cop to another... what have I gotten myself in for?"

The older man sobered slightly, and put down his carton of Chinese take-out. "Frankly?"

"Please." Peter braced himself for the worst.

"You've gotten yourself in for a partnership with one of the finest detectives ever to crack a case. A partner you'll be grateful for the first time the shit hits the fan. A partner who will never, ever repeat anything you've told her in confidence, will never go over your head, or behind your back. Someone who will lay down her life for you at any time. That's what you've gotten yourself in for."

Peter sighed in frustration. "Oh, sure, but is she ever going to stop shooting ice picks at me with her eyes?"

Domotor just laughed. Peter couldn't see this good-natured officer being partnered with the Ice Princess for three years. "I do miss her," Ray said, apparently sincere.

"You do?" Peter was incredulous. He was beginning to wonder if they were really talking about the same woman.

"Sure do. She was a pisser.? The detective leaned towards Peter, and lowered his voice sympathetically. ?Look, I know she's not easy at first. I thought the two of us were going to have it out in an alley somewhere when we were first partnered. You just have to understand where she's come from, what she's been through and done. I can't get into it with you, I'm sorry, but it's personal to her and she'd most likely come down here, guns blazing if she found out I spilled her life story to anyone. There are reasons for the way she is. That's all I can tell you. She's got a trust issue, among others. Once she gets to know you, feels you out, gets to know what to expect from you, she'll crack. Trust me. Just don?t fall for her lines of BS about never having played poker."

Peter was unsure of his proclamation. "Just let me ask you this. She's obviously studied the martial arts. How good is she, really?"

"Well, I suppose that's not classified. She's real good. Studied her whole life. I wouldn't want to mix it up with her, that's for sure."

"Yeah, I've only seen her at it once. My father is a Shaolin Priest, and I've seen quite a few artists at work, but she was really something."

The surprise registered on the man?s face. "Your old man's Shaolin?"

"Yeah. I grew up in a Temple when I was a kid."

"So, you're Shaolin too?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Ray shook his head, whistling softly. "You?ve got your hands full. Just give her a little time. You won?t be sorry."

**********

Jordan arrived at the precinct extra early Monday morning, the keys to Peter's apartment clutched in her hand. She had hoped to arrive early enough to slip them into his desk drawer unnoticed, and get to work. He'd given her a set of keys months earlier, and recently it had become painfully obvious it was time to return them. He'd stood her up too many times. He'd taken her for granted, and the closer she'd tried to get to him, the further away he'd pulled. It was not a phase he was going through, there were no conflicts she could see interfering with the progression of their relationship, he was simply not willing to take the next step.

However, her best laid plans for the morning were destroyed as she spotted his new partner occupying the desk facing his. *May as well just get this over with,* she sighed to herself, and stepped into the detectives' room. "Good morning," she greeted the woman pounding away at the keyboard in front of her.

Nicole Shaw looked up slowly, her fingers coming to rest on the keys. She said nothing, waiting for Jordan to continue.

Jordan stared for a moment at her ex-lover's newest partner. She could feel the woman's steely gray eyes picking her apart. She woodenly held the keys out to Nicole. "Could you just give these to Peter when he gets in?" she asked with an uncertain smile, hoping for a hint of camaraderie from another female. News of their breakup had spread quickly. However, instead of replying, Nicole began searching her desktop, turning over papers and file folders. "Loose something?" Jordan ventured, feeling more awkward as she caught Mary Margaret walking in.

"Yeah," Nicole finally answered, brushing her thick, almost black hair out of her eyes. "I seem to have misplaced the sign on my desk that says 'Peter Caine's Personal Secretary'."

Jordan opened her mouth around a biting reply when she caught Mary Margaret, out of the corner of her eye, shaking her head vigorously, and stopped.

Nicole snatched the keys out of her hand and tossed them in her desk in a single, fluid motion. "Oh, fine. I'll give him the keys. God, are we still in high school? Is there anything else I can do for you?" The sarcasm dripped from her voice.

"No. Thanks so much." Jordan muttered, leaving quickly.

*********

Monday came all too quickly, and Peter found himself taking a deep breath and composing himself before walking into the squad room. He'd spotted Nicole's classic Mustang convertible in the parking lot, and knew she was already there, probably hard at work. *Doesn't she ever go home? Doesn't her species sleep?* he wondered to himself.

Sure enough, he spotted her at the desk across from his, files out, fingers flying across the keyboard of her PC. She looked up briefly, her gray eyes making contact for a moment with his hazel ones, and she nodded in acknowledgment of his existence. Peter forced a smile and nodded back to her.

"Good morning. Have a nice weekend?" he asked lightly as he approached.

"Swell, thanks." She looked up for only a moment. Only long enough to for him to see the dark circles, carefully concealed with makeup, under those eyes.

How was it, he puzzled, that someone so beautiful, could be so cold. And she was beautiful, he had to admit to himself. Stunning, actually. Her eyes were large and the color of the morning fog in the mountains. Her teeth were sparkling, yet not so perfect as to be capped, her cheekbones high and lips sensuous, and a figure to stop traffic. But, mean as a serpent. Whoever had constructed this clever android, he'd concluded, had forgotten to program in a personality.

His talk with Ray Domotor had given him limited hope, but looking at that unforgiving face, feeling like she was picking him apart with her eyes every time she looked at him, was unnerving at best.

Still, he smiled at her and sat down. She dug into her desk and tossed his keys over to him without looking up again. "Where'd you get these?" Peter asked, recognizing his keys, and feeling almost nervous that she'd had them in her possession.

"Miss Clairol 101 dropped them off," came her cold reply.

He managed to stifle the snort of laughter, but just barely. ?Oh. Thanks." Peter felt slightly relieved that he hadn't been there earlier. Relieved he hadn't had to deal with taking the keys from Jordan himself. He pocketed the keys and looked back across the desk. "Everything all right?" The young Shaolin cop opened himself up to his partner, and felt a profound tiredness about her. "You look like you haven't been sleeping too well." It was the first time he'd opened to her essence, and the first time he'd felt that perhaps she was human after all. For one brief moment anyway.

"Don't worry, I'm awake enough to cover your ass out there today, if needed." She looked at him over her CRT, as though daring him to continue the conversation. Or daring him to continue to breathe.

"I'm sure you will," he continued, undaunted. "I was just expressing friendly concern, that's all."

She continued to glare at him, but something deep in her shifted as he refused to look away. "Well, there's nothing you can do to help, unless you know a... never mind." She looked away abruptly.

"Know a what?" he pursued, against his better judgment.

"I said, never mind. God! What's with you today, anyway?" she snapped.

Hoping to show her that perhaps they had more than this job in common he told her, "Look, if you're having trouble sleeping, I know an apothecary in Chinatown who might be able to help you." Peter knew his father and Lo Si had given him something when he was losing sleep over nightmares. He saw her eyes narrow in suspicion, then blink. A brief vulnerability showed for the very first time.

"Where did you learn about apothecaries?" she asked without much of an edge to her voice.

"I learned about them from a Shaolin priest in Chinatown," he added casually, giving her the address his father's apothecary, without giving her a name, or indicating a relationship.

"For real. There's a genuine Shaolin Priest in this neighborhood?" she asked, not willing to disclose anything personal to him yet.

"Sure. Actually, he's a Shambhala Master as well. There are two of them on the same block. I'm sure he could give you something, if you wanted." He looked back at his desk, busying himself with completing forms on the collar they'd made Friday afternoon, and effectively leaving the ball in her court.

"And what do you know about Shaolin Priests?"

Peter was amazed. This was the most he'd heard her say at once since they met. And, it wasn't even about police business. "I was raised in a Temple until I was about 13," he replied.

"Oh." She sat quietly for a few moments, as though considering a reply, then thought better of it, before her fingers started banging away at the keyboard again. "Thanks," she said very, very quietly.

Peter's moment of triumph was interrupted by Captain Karen Simm's voice coming from directly behind him, "You two have a call. Shots fired in that warehouse on Front Street you staked out last week."

**********

The warehouse was quiet. Too quiet. Almost as quiet as the car ride over. Peter could hear only the sounds of the harbor outside, and what were probably rats inside somewhere. The two entered the darkened building soundlessly. The only light to guide them was what managed to filter through the grimy windows high above. As their eyes adjusted to the dim environment, the form of a body lying prone in the center of the room came into focus.

"Guess we know this really is a hot spot," he whispered to his partner, starting to relax just a little.

They had gotten a tip the week before that the warehouse had been in use for large drug deals going down in the city. So, they'd spent two days staking the place out, for nothing. Not even a rat had entered or exited the complex in the 48 hours they'd been there. Not that Peter had considered the time a complete waste. They'd staked out in shifts, so they'd been spared the pleasure of one another's company for two days. And now, they had a body.

The two detectives approached cautiously, each feeling vulnerable walking out into the open area. Whoever was lying there was, without a doubt, dead. The man lay face down in a pool of his own blood. Nicole drew her sidearm, covering Peter as he bent to turn the body over. Peter's eyes were glued to the face below him in recognition. Sure enough, it was him. Quirk. The psycho, who had held the 101st hostage Christmas Eve.

"Quirk," Nicole blurted out in surprise. "This was no drug deal gone bad... whoever took him out had to be a pro."

Peter's head snapped up in surprise. "You know him?" The young detective was suddenly very nervous. *How does she know Quirk? She wasn't anywhere near the 101st last Christmas.*

Nicole stared back at him, unrelenting. "Special Crimes unit back in New York," she offered curtly as an explanation.

"Yeah, well, he got what he..." Peter stopped as Nicole's hand shot up, silencing him. She tapped her ear, and he listened. A sound in the deep recesses of the warehouse came to him. A slow, stealthy sound.

Nicole moved away from his side, silently, gun drawn and cocked. Peter began moving in the other direction, the two of them communicating effectively without words. She moved to the left of the entrance, he to the right. She saw him moving away into the shadows with the silent grace of a predatory cat.

Then she felt it. That familiar tingle at the back of her neck. A strange foreshadowing of things to come. And, she knew.

The quiet was shattered as Nicole screamed, "PETER GET DOWN!" Barely were the words out of her mouth when she flew at him, knocking him to the ground, firing her gun up at an angle, simultaneously.

The gunman fell to the floor from his perch on the catwalk above. The high-powered rifle he'd had trained at Peter's head seconds ago clattered to the concrete floor beside him. Nicole scrambled off Peter, her gun still trained on the unmoving man. "You okay?" She laid a hand on her partner's shoulder for an instant.

"Yeah. Terrific, thanks." He rose, brushed himself off, and picked up the gun, which had flown from his hand, as he'd hit the floor. "I'll call the paramedics." He reached for his cell phone as Nicole moved to the prone form, for once allowing Peter to cover her. "That was a hell of a shot. How did you know he was up there?"

"This asshole had worse taste in aftershave than you do," she lied. "Hey, next time I yell, 'Get down', just get down. I don't just go around screaming, 'Get down' for the fun of it."

The cutting tone of her voice made him wince. "Listen, why did you bother saving my life just now, if you hate me so much?" he asked, his irritation rising. He'd had about enough. He'd tried to be friends, he'd tried understanding, he had tried ignoring, finally, he'd just run out of patience.

"I never said I hated you. I just implied that you should put your male ego aside once in a while. When I tell you to get down, just do it without stopping to consider that the order came from someone you haven't, for cryin' out loud, bonded with. I do know what I'm doing."

"But I didn't..." Peter began to protest.

"All right. Fine." She cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand. "Next time I'll just let you have a look around for yourself while some guy blows your head off. Is that better? Happy?"

Peter felt his blood pressure rising, and fought for calm. He was exasperated beyond belief. He realized however, he would lose a screaming match with her. "I'm sorry if it appeared that way. I really do appreciate that you saved my butt." As the words left his mouth, the reality began to sink in on him. The man on the floor had been poised to shoot him. Not going for the leg, as his partner had shot the would-be assassin, but most likely going for a mortal wound. His hands shook for an instant. She'd been aware of the shooter through some heightened sense, when he, himself, had been oblivious. She'd gotten him out of the way before taking the guy down. Had she not been there, he would be dead. "Really. Thanks." He held his hand out.

"No problem," she answered non-committally, shaking his hand for a second before going out to flag down the ambulance whose sirens could be heard approaching. "By the way, I doubt the paramedics are going to do him much good. The fall killed him."

She did not sound sorry.

**********

The mood at the 101st was one of astonishment at the news of Quirk's death. No one was more astonished than Kermit, who had missed the "Christmas Party". In Kermit's book there were two types of mercenaries; the ones who did what they had to do, and the ones who did whatever someone paid them enough to do. He and Blaisdell were the former, Quirk, the latter. But, he'd been good at his job.

One of the best, in fact. Though he'd known of Quirk for quite some time, he'd only gotten a look at him once. He blended in with a crowd when he wanted to. The fact that there was someone in the city who could locate and take down a man like Quirk... it disturbed Kermit.

Kelly, on the other hand, was taking the news quite well. The drinks were on her at Delancy's that night.

"You planning on joining the celebration tonight?" Kermit asked Karen Simms as he leaned against the doorjamb of her office. It was his favorite spot. From there he could see both into her office, and hold a conversation, while still maintaining his view of the squad room as a whole, and most importantly, the door. *If old habits die hard, then old mercenaries do too,* he thought to himself. He relinquished his view of the door for a moment to focus a little more intently on the woman to whom he was speaking.

Karen sat at her desk, her chair pushed back, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "Is that an invitation?" She smiled and attempted to bring some levity to her own mixed feelings about the announcement of a man's demise. That the world was a better place without Quirk in it, there was no doubt. She would never, ever forget that Christmas Eve. The terror and frustration of being held captive in her own precinct, Kelly being wounded, while the life of an innocent child hung in the balance. And, the incredible gift she'd been given that night as well. The gift of a daughter.

When no one had claimed the little girl, she'd fought with everything in her to gain custody. And, she'd won. Now, it seemed as though some sort of chapter had ended with Quirk's death. She glanced up at the doorway and realized her mind had been drifting. And, that the man who stood staring at her from behind green glasses was drifting with her. He had not been there that night, and she was more than a little angry with him for that for a while. Angry in an irrational sort of way... but he knew everything she was going through. "Delancy's after work it is."

"Good." He smiled, easing himself away from her door, and back to his office. Things at the 101st had been anything but boring for the last few weeks, and his instincts told him they were just starting to get interesting. Peter and Nicole were due back any time, and he wanted a first hand account of just what had gone down. From each of them. Separately.

Griffin booted up his computer, and grinned. Peter and Nicole were truly a match made in Hell. While part of him found it amusing, another part knew if she didn't cut Peter some slack, and soon, things were going to cease to be funny.

*********

Peter checked his watch for what seemed the hundredth time. Almost 45 minutes, and Kermit's door was still closed. Had Nicole murdered his friend, silently, in cold blood? When they had returned from the warehouse after three hours of going inch by inch over the crime scene, Kermit had pulled him into his office. Peter understood Kermit's curiosity about the case, after all, he and Quirk had been in the same business, but Peter could only tell him what he knew, which wasn't much, and Kermit wasn't exactly forthcoming with any new insight. And, it certainly hadn't taken 45 minutes. *What are they talking about?* Peter tore his eyes from the closed door and turned back to the mountains of paperwork on his desk.

***********

Kermit perched on the edge of his desk, looking down at the woman who sat in the chair in front of him. A woman he?d met long ago, in another world. A world that never let its inhabitants go completely. "Look, Nicole, I understand your reservations, but you know more about this than you're saying."

She looked back up at him with defensive challenge in her eyes. "Kermit, I'm in the dark like everyone else. I have no idea who could have taken down Quirk. All I can tell you is that it was someone better than him. The blood spray pattern indicated he wasn't shot at close range, but the bullet went straight through the heart. He wasn't shot somewhere else and deposited there, there was too much blood pooled. And, it's dark in there. Your pal, Lasher's men couldn't have made that kind of shot."

"It was somebody in the Trade, then. That's what you're saying," Kermit pushed.

?Something like that." Her voice was low, obviously uncomfortable with the discussion.

"Okay. I'll take your word on it. Any ideas?" Kermit could spot a lie a million light years away, but he wanted to see where this was going to go.

"Kermit..." she began, leaving 'uncomfortable' and heading towards 'agitated'.

"Nicole," he interrupted her, something few people had the nerve to do. "You know that I know..."

"No, Kermit, you don't know. All right? I don't want to talk about this. I don't have any ideas." She stood abruptly, arms crossed in front of her as she refused to look away from his stare.

Kermit let out a long breath. This wasn't easy. Over the past weeks they'd come to what he recognized as an unspoken understanding, and now he was breaching it. "You know you can trust me. You've trusted me before."

"Come on Griffin, that was another lifetime ago, and that was business."

"And this isn't? This is personal? Is that what you're telling me?" he prompted.

"Why is it that every time...? God! I'm just tired of getting bitten on the ass," she exclaimed in frustration.

"You'll think about it tonight? Talk to me in the morning?" he asked gently. "Let me know if you come up with anything?"

She stood silently for a long moment, then sighed in resignation. "Yeah. Okay. I'll let you know." She turned to leave.

Kermit knew he was pushing his luck as he placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. "One more thing..."

"You'll want to move that hand," she warned, not yet looking back.

"Sorry." He moved his hand. Quickly. "About Peter. You gotta cut the guy some slack. He's not the enemy."

"Maybe he's not," she conceded. "But you have no idea the enemy really is." Her voice sounded just a little sad as she opened the door and walked back out into the squad room.

********

Tuesday morning Peter parked his Stealth in the lot at the precinct and braced himself for another day. He met Jody in the parking lot, and walked up to the detective's room with her, managing to cadge half her blueberry muffin on the way up. He was more and more appreciative of the people he'd worked with for so long.

"Morning,? Nicole mumbled to him as he passed her on the way to the coffee.

His sneakers made a screeching whine on the tile floor as he halted in his tracks. She'd said 'Morning' to him! Not 'Good morning'... but it was a word, spoken first, without much enthusiasm to be sure, but without malice either. He opened his mouth quickly to reply, "Good morning!", but it was too late. She was clear on the other side of the room already. Running a hand through his hair, he muttered a low curse and continued towards his one true friend at the moment; Mr. Coffee.

"Good, Peter, you're here. Can I see you, and your better half in my office for a minute?" Kermit hung out his door to ask.

"Can I get a cup of coffee?" Peter pleaded.

Nicole was seated in Kermit's office by the time Peter fixed his coffee and pulled another chair in.

"What's up?" she asked, eyeing Kermit with vague suspicion, or perhaps vague threat.

"I did a little checking last night..."

"Sleep on your keyboard again?" Peter interrupted and bought himself an indulgent glare from behind the glasses.

"I did a little checking last night..." Kermit began again, stopping to check with Peter for any more smart remarks before continuing, "... and found a few interesting bits of information on our friend Quirk."

Nicole remained silent, but her faced had visibly relaxed as she realized that Kermit seemed to want to give information, not ask for it.

"So, give," Peter prodded.

"I got to thinking, who could have whacked a pro like that? Who do we know that can move in the shadows? Who have you and your father been running into a lot lately? I mean, we got the shooter, but who was he?" Kermit let the sentence hang.

"So, who was he?" Peter had no patience for suspense games

"I thought you would have known, Pete. Maybe you need a vacation." He watched Nicole shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

"Maybe I need to pour my coffee into your hard drive."

"My, my... Testy this morning, aren't we? Sing Wah mean anything to either of you?"

"Why would the Sing Wah want to off a mercenary, Kermit?" Peter's voice held a bit of disbelief, but the wheels were turning. He looked to see his partner's expression. The blood had completely drained from her face.

"Sources tell me they'd had some business dealing for years, and he was double-dealing," Kermit continued, also noting the change in Nicole's expression.

"Excuse me, I have to go." Nicole rose from her chair, pushed passed Kermit and headed quickly out the door. She grabbed her jacket and disappeared down the stairs.

"What just happened here?" Peter looked from Kermit to the door, knowing he was the only one completely in the dark, and hating every moment of it. Kermit simply shook his head. "What? If you know something, I wish to Hell you'd let me in on it!"

"Would if I could," he muttered. "Would if I could."

**********

The invitation to his father's Friday night had been unexpected. In fact, it had more the tone of a summons than an invitation. Peter hurried to the rooftop apartment just after 9:00 that night, anxious to see what his father had been so secretive about for the last two weeks. He'd barely seen or heard from the elder Caine. Every time Peter had stopped by to talk to him, he?d been diverted by Lo Si, telling him that his father was with a student, in meditation or training, and could not be disturbed.

"Hey, Pop!" he called from the front door. "I'm here!"

"In here, Peter." His father's reply came from the meditation room in back. Peter took a breath and headed towards the sound of his voice. He stepped through the door to face his father sitting on the floor in the middle of the room, and, to his profound, speechless surprise, his partner, Nicole Shaw.

She turned from the window, where she perched on the ledge and her eyes met his. For the first time without daggers in hers. An aura of uncertain vulnerability surrounded her as she stood in a not quite defensive posture, her arms crossed in front of her. She had the look of someone who had just had a long and very hard workout. Her hair was in a state of disarray, which she made no move to correct. She simply stood by the window, waiting for him to say or do something. Anything.

Peter looked from her to his father and back again several times before anyone said anything.

It was his father who finally broke the awkward silence. "I believe the two of you know one another." He looked at both of them and rose to pour three cups of tea. One he kept for himself, the other two he handed to Nicole, to whom he stood closest. In doing so, he forced her to cross the room to Peter with the offering.

She walked across the floor, Peter for the first time noticing the grace in her movements, unmistakably born of a lifetime of practice in the arts. She looked younger in the sage gray silks, her hair hanging loose, her makeup barely there. Younger, and undeniably shy. He took the cup from her hand.

"Hi, Peter." Her voice was soft. He hardly recognized it without the edge he'd come to know so well over the last month.

"Hi. Thanks." Peter looked from her to his father again. "So, this is the student you've been hiding out with all week?" and back to her, "And this is why you were so anxious to get out of work on time?" She nodded. "Gee, and I was beginning to take it personally."

This last actually won a smile from Nicole. How he'd wondered what a smile would look like on her face. It was transforming. She looked like a completely different person. He would have been completely enchanted had there not been hard feelings between them already to spoil the moment.

"Yeah. Your father's been working with me on a few things. He's been a big help." She smiled openly at Caine, and he at her. She stepped closer to Peter and attempted to look him in the eye, but could not quite find the nerve.

He loved it. The woman who had been vocally castrating him and everyone around her for weeks could not get up the nerve to look him in the eye.

"Peter. I owe you an apology. A big one. Huge. I don't know if you can find it in your heart to forgive my behavior towards you this past month, but I am sorry. I've been horrible to you, and there is no excuse for that. If you want to put in a request for a new partner, I would completely understand. But, I hope that you won't. You're a good cop. A trustworthy partner, and, well, a nice guy. I'd like to work with you, and to make up for the way I've treated you. If you can accept my apology."

Peter stared at her in stunned amazement. She wasn't kidding. There was no trace of sarcasm in her voice. The apology came from her heart. "Apology accepted, Nicole. I've wanted to work with you from the minute I heard about you. Maybe we could just start over." His forgiveness surprised her. It surprised him, too. He found it impossible to keep the shock from his voice.

Peter turned to his father with the question in his eyes as well as in his voice, "What's...? Okay... anybody want to let me in on what's going on?" He tried to keep his voice level and soft, considering the contrite expression on his partner's face. Quite frankly he wanted to know if his father had performed some sort of exorcism.

Nicole looked at Caine, her expression fading to one of wariness, bordering on panic, not unlike that of a dog that had been kicked more than once. "I didn't know you were brought up Shaolin until you mentioned growing up in a temple. I didn't even know Caine was your father until just two days ago. I know that's no excuse for the way I've treated you, but... you see... I was..." She looked to Caine, the silent plea in her eyes.

He nodded at her, and she turned back to stare out the window onto the rain-slicked streets below.

"Nicole Shaw was orphaned as an infant and adopted by Sing Wah parents. Illegally, of course. She was raised in their way, their tradition."

?Oh, no..." Peter sighed, looking as though a light had suddenly come on in his head.

"Shaw is neither her birth name nor her adopted name." Caine continued. "She ran away from their people when she was a teenager. Later, she became the only thing for which she had any training. A mercenary."

Another light came on over Peter's head. "So you knew Kermit," he prompted.

"Not really." She spoke without facing him. "We only met once before. In a... camp. I'm sorry, I just really don't like talking about it. But, yes, we were acquainted. It wasn't very long after that when I quit the trade. Nothing made sense. I was just... angry. I was in it for all the wrong reasons."

"For the money? Like Quirk?" Peter ventured. He understood, as well as a person could, Paul and Kermit's involvement in what they referred to as the mercenary business. He tried to take his father's advice, when he could, about walking in someone else's boots.

"No," she almost laughed. "Not like Quirk. Not for the money. Money I've got."

Peter was getting more confused. His impatient nature screamed at him to get the answers, just get the answers! His Shaolin trained side wanting to hear the story, which led to the answers.

"Why do you think they adopted me? 'Cause they had so much love in their hearts to give? No, I had something that's more important to the Sing Wah than anything. My birth parents were loaded. My adopted parents knew that. They had control of the money and the companies and stocks until I was twenty-one. For all I know they had a hand in my parents' deaths. A lot of the things I heard as a kid, and later found out on my own don't exactly add up. The only thing I really have of my parents is that old Mustang I drive. It belonged to my father," she ended on a sad note.

Caine sensed her distress and picked up the story for her, allowing her the time to center once again. "After leaving the path she was on, she sought out the sworn enemy of her parents' kind, when she was able. A Shaolin Priest. He began teaching her the ways of truth and light. She has changed her name several times and gone underground more than once. At first they sought to bring her back into the sect. Now they seek to destroy her. Her upbringing has not been easy for her emotionally, and the scars may take a long time to heal. As we know, the Sing Wah are like the shadows, reflections of the darkness they carry within. It is not unknown for them to plant their people close to her when they find her. They have already tried it several months ago."

Peter looked at her back, her posture rigid and unyielding as she listened to the story of her past. A story she did not have the strength to face him and tell herself. Peter no longer wondered why she had never before turned her back on him, or anyone. Or, why she had requested a transfer from her last station. Why she had been more civil to Kermit than anyone else at the station was evident. Kermit was a known factor. No threat. But, she'd heard of and seen Peter's proclivity in the arts. He was someone to watch. Peter's heart went out to her at that moment, understanding for the first time. "So, you knew Quirk from your mercenary days," he surmised.

"Actually, from before that. He was 'associated' with Sing Wah. They had business dealings. Evidently they either found no further use for him, or the rumors were right and he double crossed them."

"We have felt something in our meditations these last two weeks. She has had disturbing dreams for many months. There is a confrontation coming. We must be prepared." His father's voice was solemn, but filled with strength, not fear. Quietly he slipped out of the room to confer with the Ancient.

Nicole remained still at the window, staring out into the past, into the future... Peter approached her softly, knowing she could see his reflection in the glass. He could see her eyes, wary, but without anger. "I'm sorry," he began. The inadequacy of his words hit him as soon as they were out of his mouth.

"You, of all people, have got nothing to be sorry about." She turned to face him, and he smiled at her. "I'm surprised you're still talking to me at all." She returned his smile hesitantly, still unsure of his acceptance. "You're sure about wanting to keep me as a partner? I mean, no hard feelings if you don't. I'd hardly be able to hold it against you." She poised for rejection.

"Are you kidding? Turn down the chance at being the first team of Shaolin cops? Not a chance. What can I do to help you?"

She paused as though weighing the sincerity of his words. "I don't know. The dreams have been... vague, but really disturbing to the whole... fabric of things. Whatever it is will concern all of us. The day we found Quirk in the warehouse...it was strangely familiar. I think it has something to do with the dreams. But I just don't know what to expect."

"How long have you had them?" he asked as he moved closer.

For once she allowed him to enter her personal space, making no move away from him. "A long time," she confessed wearily. "Years. The dreams come and go, and they're always a little different. I never wake up with any specific knowledge from them though. I'm not sure what's coming, or when."

"I know about the Sing Wah. All too well, I'm afraid. There's just no way to tell when they're among us until they make a real move, is there?"

"Not really. But the family I that adopted me... they're... we're marked." She turned from him, unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt and slid the back down a few inches to her shoulder blade. "Just as the Shaolin wear the brands, they all bear these tattoos from early adolescence." On her back was the sillouhette of a dragon flying against a fire red sun.

Peter came closer and put his finger gently on the permanent reminder she wore of where she came from. He traced it softly as though trying to remove it and heal her with his touch. She pulled away after a moment, frightened by the inadvertent intimacy of the touch. Refastening her shirt, she turned to face him again. "I trust you won't underestimate them."

"Never," he vowed from his heart. "Where do we go from here?"

"The worst. We play the waiting game." Her shoulders sagged and he could see the exhaustion etched on her face. "I'm glad not to be in it alone." The confession did not come out easily. He saw and appreciated the effort it took for her to let down her guard.

"Whatever happens, my father and I will be there. We'll watch your back, and you'll watch ours. That's the way it works around here."

"Thank you, Peter. For everything. Most of all, thank you for still wanting to be my partner."

"Actually, I'd like to be your friend too, if that's all right with you."

A genuine smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "That would be all right with me."

Caine entered the room on cat's feet and took a moment to absorb the energy between his son and his new student - the new connection he sensed. He began to smile. "I am pleased that you seem to have worked out your differences and are willing to work together," he observed.

"Me too. I just hate breaking in new partners." Peter grinned, then looked down at his watch, "It's getting late, I should get home. It's been a rough week."

"You're telling me? Do you know what it was like trying to keep up with your father after a day of trying to keep up with you?"

"Keep up with me? You were leaving me to eat your dust most of the week! I'm exhausted!"

"Talk about exhausted - I haven't a whole night through in a month. The nightmares were coming about once a week, now it's almost every night. I dread going to sleep."

Peter could see the weariness in her eyes, hear it in her voice. "I've been there. I know," he sympathized. It explained the dark circles under her eyes growing bigger every morning.

"Good thing my neighbors are a hard of hearing old couple, or they'd be calling the police every night thinking I was being murdered with all the screaming." She forced a smile.

"If it would help not to be alone, you're welcome to crash on my couch any time you need to," Peter offered casually.

"You're really something, you know that? Since I got here I've done nothing but make your life miserable - on purpose yet - and now you're offering me your couch."

"It's a lumpy couch, and I snore really, really loud. Seriously," he told her, taking a pen out of his pocket and scribbling on the back of an envelope. "Here's my address and phone number. Call me any time. Day or night, or just come by if there's ever anything I can do. If you need to talk, or if you just want some company."

"I'm sure your girlfriend will love it if I start calling you up in the middle of the night because I'm having bad dreams!" she laughed.

"Yeah, well, she'd mind if she was still talking to me. Which, she isn't. She gave my keys back, remember? So, I wouldn't worry about her too much."

"Yeah, listen, I'm sorry about that. It's one of the hazards of being a cop I guess. Weird hours..."

"Weird friends..."

"And who wants to get involved with someone who's likely to come home from work in a bag some night?"

"You know that drill."

"You don't see a ring on my finger, do you? Well, I guess I should go. Caine, once again, thank you for everything you've done for me. I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you." She stepped forward and embraced the Shaolin Priest warmly before heading to the door. "I'll see you Monday, Peter."

"I'll look forward to it. For a change." Peter stayed behind for a few minutes to talk to his father. "Why didn't you tell me she was coming to see you?"

"You did not ask." Caine's remark was greeted by a scowl from his son. "Peter, she had to overcome some things first. She needed to purge some poisonous things from her mind, from her chi before she could speak to you as she did tonight. It was not my place to tell you her story before she was ready."

"I'm not looking forward to the confrontation you both see coming, but I am looking forward to working with her now. It's a bad feeling when your partner, who your life may one day depend on, hates your guts."

His father's reaction was immediate and strong. "She never hated you, Peter. She did not trust you. I do not think you can blame her, knowing what you know now. She feels very badly about her ill treatment of you. In fact, she likes you a great deal. The two of you have much in common."

"Pop, once again, I don't know what I would have done without you."

**********

Monday morning Peter strode into the squad room, feeling lighter in spirit than he'd felt coming to work in a long time. He was actually greeted with a smile from his partner, who, true to form, was already at her desk, working hard to get paperwork cleared up before the day began. A habit Peter thought he might do well to pick up. "Morning." He smiled back at her.

"Morning, Peter. You had a good weekend?"

"Not bad, not bad. Caught up on some sleep. You?" he asked with a meaningful glance.

"Caught up on some reading." She cast an unchallenging look back at him.

Peter nodded in understanding. "Sorry. You ready for another day at the grind?"

"Ready for anything you are."

Peter allowed his smile to become a wide grin. "Did I hear a hint of competitiveness there, partner?"

"Who? Me? Nah!"

"Morning, guys. Guess what?" Jody rushed over. "I just got off the phone with Detective Grant down at the 15th, and guess what? They picked up that guy you got the warrant for last week!"

"Hammond?" Nicole jumped out of her chair.

"That's the one!" Jody answered happily, knowing how badly Peter had wanted this collar.

Hammond was high in the ranks of a drug cartel, which had moved into Chinatown. The team of Caine and Shaw had at last worked their way up the chain, and after getting one of his top people to roll on him, a warrant had been issued. "They're transporting him in about an hour!"

"Yes!" Peter cheered.

"No!" Nicole yelled, silencing the whole squad room.

"What's the problem? I thought you'd be thrilled! We busted our asses on this guy!" Peter exclaimed impatiently. ?We spent the last three weeks working everyone from the dealers on the street corner, up!?

"Yeah, we did! We busted our asses, and if those idiots at the 15th blow it for us on some technicality, or worse yet, lose him, I'm gonna have to kill somebody!" She grabbed the phone, angrily stabbing out the number at the 15th.

"Put Detective Grant on," she demanded. Peter whistled softly and took a seat to watch. "This is Detective Shaw down at the 101st. Yeah, it's about Hammond. I want you to dig the wax out of your ears out and listen. You are not to bring him over here. I don't want some dope losing him or 'violating his rights' before we get our hands on him. You are to sit him down in a cell by himself until my partner and I get there. I don't want anyone talking to him, I don't even want anyone looking at him. We'll be there in twenty minutes." She slammed down the phone and stood glaring at it for a moment while the rest of the precinct stared. "Okay, partner. Let's get down there before one of those boobs screws this up for us." She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door, Peter in tow.

"Hey..." He caught up with her in the parking garage as she grabbed the keys for one of the precinct cars with a cage. "You know something? That was the first time you called me 'partner'," he said with an enormous grin.

"And?" She stared blankly at him.

"I liked it." His grin grew wider.

Her stare grew more blank. "You better not turn out to be one of those huggy people, Peter, because I really hate huggy people. People hug me and I have to fix it so they can't do it again for six months."

"I wasn't gonna hug you," Peter insisted, getting into the passenger side.

*********

Karen Simms looked up from her desk as the cup of coffee appeared under her nose, and smiled.

"Good morning." Kermit perched on the edge of her desk, his own mug in hand. "You're here early."

"I have a meeting with the Commissioner in two hours, and these reports are nowhere near done." She was clearly annoyed at having to push so much paper. Karen Simms was not the corporate image, preferring to work with people, not paper. "And, this just found its way onto my desk." She waved a folder at the detective.

"What's this?" Kermit asked, taking the file from her hand. "Ah. Another new addition to our happy family," he intoned.

"Fresh from the academy."

Kermit frowned. "A little old to be fresh out of the academy, don't you think?"

"Perhaps he found his 'calling' a little later in life than most." She raised an eyebrow meaningfully at him. "Some people do pursue other careers before becoming police officers. Didn't you know that?"

"It's been a while since we had a 'greenie' around." Kermit's eyes wandered out the door and back.

"I was thinking I might partner him with Jody for a while. Then if Peter and Nicole don't start getting along better, I'll switch it around." She lowered her voice, sounding disappointed.

"Give them a little more time."

"Something I should know?"

"Call it a... hunch. I'll let you get back to pushing those papers around on your desk now," he teased mercilessly.

"Thank you so much." She returned his smile. "Detective?" she began.

"Captain?" He turned back to face her.

"If you think you could bear to be parted with your computer for a few hours..." She stopped, smiled and shook her head. "Never mind."

"What?"

"It's silly." She waved her hand dismissively and started shuffling papers around on her desk.

"What?"

Karen sighed in resignation. She'd put herself out there on that limb already.

"It's just that Todd was supposed to come home this weekend, but had to cancel at the last minute. Now I'm stuck with this enormous roast in the ice-box...."

"I'd love to," he said softly, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth, leaving before she could revoke what had been an invitation in the making.

********

The 15th Precinct was located in one of the more 'up-scale' parts of town. It was a quiet part of town where the crime was mostly of the white-collar variety, aside from the occasional call to a domestic dispute. While it was only a fifteen-minute drive from the 101st, it was a completely different world.

During the drive over, Peter debated whether or not to try making conversation. He still felt as though he was standing on thin ice with her. Though he now at least knew that most of her hostility was not directed at him personally, he realized he was still going to get caught in the blast of it anyway. Nicole drove with a surprising calmness, uncharacteristic of someone with so little patience for much else in life.

"Your father's something else," she finally said. It was her first attempt at small talk with him, and Peter appreciated the effort.

"He's something else, all right," Peter confirmed with a laugh. "You spent some time working with him this weekend?"

"Couple hours. I'm going over there tonight. He thinks it's important for me not only to learn the new, but to unlearn the old."

"He's right." Peter spoke from experience. There had been a lot of things from his time at the orphanage that he'd needed to unlearn. "I was just thinking, we have kind of a weekly poker game tomorrow night, no big deal, just nickel and dime stuff, and we're having it at my place. I thought maybe you'd want to sit in. You play?" He looked for her reaction, keeping her old partner's warning in mind.

"Poker?" Her voice remained even, but her eyes were definitely lit. Peter suppressed a smile. "I've played a couple of times. I'm not very good though."

"Well, neither are we. Interested?"

She seemed to consider the invitation for a moment. "Yeah, sure. But listen, Peter... I'd really appreciate it if what I told you Friday night went no further." She made the request in a perfectly reasonable tone, when she could have just as easily threatened to break his arms. It was clearly something of an effort.

"Sure." Peter agreed as they pulled into the precinct lot. "How do you want to play him?" he asked, climbing from the sedan.

"I don't know. Let's feel him out before we talk about it, okay?" Her steel gray eyes were shining like a predator on the hunt. As they walked through the open front door to the precinct, a tall, sharply dressed man in his mid thirties, whom Nicole tried to veer away from as soon as she spotted him, approached them.

"Nicky, Nicky! Hi!" he called.

Peter spotted the instant her guard flashed back up. "Goddamnit, Tom, what!? Can?t you take a hint?!" she snapped.

"Nicky, I didn't expect to run into you down here!" He turned to Peter. "Peter Caine, isn't it?" He stuck out a hand, which Peter shook briefly.

"I'm sorry, have we met?"

"Only in court - Tom Flemming," the man announced as though the name meant something to the world.

"Lawyer?" Peter ventured.

Tom smiled and nodded before turning his attention back to Nicole, whose path he was completely blocking. "Can we talk?"

"No." She laughed harshly. "And, I'm busy. You know, busting my ass bringing in the criminals who pay your salary?"

"Nicky, please. You won't return my calls. You won't see me. You never let me explain. I have to talk to you."

"The only thing you have to do is get out of my way, Tom. I'm armed, I'm in a police station, and you're a lawyer... who's gonna stop me?" She started to unbuckle her holster.

Tom's face went pale as he quickly stepped back and to the side, holding his briefcase up in front of him, allowing her to get around him.

"God, is there a sign on me that says 'Please, piss me off today'?" she scowled, as Peter made the arrangements with the desk sergeant for the release of one Mark Hammond.

**********

Nicole and Peter drove back to the 101st in complete silence, as they had agreed on the way up to collect their prisoner. Nicole insisted it was a very effective way of rattling a suspect. Once in the car, she rolled up her window and lit up a cigarette. Peter opened his window just enough to let himself breathe, and by doing so, let in enough of a breeze to blow all the smoke directly into the back seat. When Hammond began coughing and protesting, Nicole simply glared at him in the rear view mirror, and lit up another. Not that she was a smoker - she just kept a pack in her purse for just such an occasion.

Once Mark Hammond was safely ensconced back in a cell at the 101st, Nicole let Peter interrogate him alone. He emerged after almost an hour with a disgusted look on his face. "He's insisting on his lawyer being present before he answers any more questions. And the questions he's answered so far...? Bogus. He's playing the martyr."

"My turn!" She smiled cheerfully. And her enthusiasm was contagious.

"My, aren't we anxious? I think I'll just sit back and let you handle him. There's nothing like watching a true artist at work."

Nicole bowed dramatically to him with an enormous grin on her face. "Thank you, thank you. You want coffee?" she offered. Heading towards the pot with her mug in hand, she snagged another Styrofoam cup from the table.

"Great, thanks," Peter accepted, thinking to himself what a pleasure it was going to be working along side someone who didn't appear to want to rip his throat out. What a team they could make, Shaolin partners. It was as she was pouring the coffee that he first really looked at her without apprehension or dread, and noticed how incredibly attractive she was. He supposed it wasn't a good thing for one partner to be thinking about another, he just couldn't stop the thought once it started. He'd known she was beautiful before, but the look of good humor and camaraderie on her face only enhanced that beauty.

She returned with the cups, handing him one. "Anyway, I was thinking that after we grille the big guy, we should go check out that warehouse on Front Street again this afternoon. I can't help thinking there's something there we missed. I think it bears taking a closer look. Don't you?"

"Definitely," he accepted her change of subject. "The club he owns too. Maybe shake down his accountant on the way over?"

"Shake-em-down!" It was her war cry. "I love this job! Feel like hitting the range after hours? I have some time to kill before I head over to your father's," she asked companionably, seeming to enjoy the new rapport. Domotor had been dead on right.

"You don't feel you're a good enough shot as it is?" he ribbed her.

"Actually, I was thinking of giving you some lessons," she shot back, in good humor for a change.

"So kind of you to give the department's sharpshooter lesson! Yeah. Sounds like a plan."

"Good. Now, back to our friend Hammond. Say... where did I put those cigarettes?"

"You're rotten."

"I know."

**********

"I - ah - brought wine." Kermit stood on Karen's doorstep, holding out the offering as though paying a toll to cross the threshold into the home he'd never entered before. Karen smiled and stepped back, to allow him passage.

"You didn't have to bring anything. Come in, please." Kermit took in his surroundings, absorbing everything. Her home was tastefully decorated, everything seemingly in its' place. Pictures of Todd on the mantle chronicled his life from infant to toddler to teen to cadet. A photo of mother and son together at a Parents Day event at the academy was the center-point. The two of them had come so far. Kermit was barely aware of Karen's presence behind him until she handed him a glass of wine.

"Thanks." He turned to look at her. She had changed since leaving the precinct, choosing something more casual, softer than her sometimes severely cut business suits she wore during the day. "Where's the tike?' Kermit grinned, suddenly remembering the small bag he had in his hand.

"Asleep." Karen smiled. The 'tike' in question always brought a joy to her heart she hadn't thought she would ever feel again.

Kermit looked almost disappointed, "That's too bad. I - ah - brought this." he held the bag out to Karen. Karen opened the bag and laughed, pulling out the plush stuffed green frog.

"Kermit! She's going to love this!" The two of them stood staring at each other for a long moment, both of them aware of all the forces at work. Of all the complexities of the relationship they shared. A relationship that had been evolving for a long time, drawing them down a path towards... something they both wanted, yet had been denying themselves for such a long time. "Well," Karen broke the moment, stepping backward, "I hope you're hungry."

Dinner turned out to be more of a feast than a meal. By the time Kermit helped Karen put the dishes into the washer and the leftovers into the fridge, he was so stuffed he thought he'd never eat again. "Why don't you make yourself a drink? I'll just check on the baby," Karen suggested, heading for the stairs. Kermit moved back into the living room, and selected a good bottle of brandy from the liquor cabinet, pouring one for himself, and one for his hostess.

He made himself more at home than he had thought he would, and by the time she returned he had a blazing fire lit in the hearth. "This is nice," Karen commented, sitting close to him on the sofa, taking her glass from his hand.

"Why haven't we ever done this before?" Kermit asked softly, his hand coming up to play with a few long tendrils of hair that had come loose from the braid she wore. Karen was spared from having to form an answer when Kermit's pager went off, insistently beeping for his attention. "No..." he groaned, reaching for the alphanumeric unit. He read the brief two-line message. "I have to go." He rose.

She knew from experience that there would be no detailed explanation. She also knew she might not see him again for days. She should be used to it by now. She stood and walked with him to the door, vaguely disappointed to have the evening end so soon, but she told herself, it wasn't really unexpected. What she didn't expect was the way he took her into his arms and kissed her. "I couldn't leave without doing that." He grinned uncertainly.

"I'm glad you didn't." She returned the smile and then the kiss before letting him walk away into the night.

*********

Nicole showed up at Peter's apartment, armed with beer and pretzels about ten minutes after the rest of the crew arrived for the game Tuesday night. They were all, with the exception of Kermit, shocked to see her. They looked askance of Peter, but when he greeted her with a cheerful smile, they assumed the prior hostility was so much hot water under the bridge, and let the issue drop. She seemed a little unsure of herself, of whether or not she was welcome, but ten minutes later, with Peter and Kermit's help, she had all of them falling out of their chairs laughing with her tales from the 82nd.

"You guys finally made nice?" Kermit asked Peter, following him into the kitchen to get more beer from the fridge.

"Yeah. Who would have thought?" he remarked off handedly.

"Good. I knew the two of you would get along. She's terrific once you get past wondering if she's going to kill you. Now I know how people look at me."

"How well do you know her?" Peter asked, wondering.

"Well enough. She told me the whole story this afternoon." He shook his head.

"I know." Peter lowered his voice. "She and my father think something's going down. They don't know when."

"So she said. Count me in." He smiled. Kermit was always ready for an adventure, still a gun for hire at heart.

"I didn't expect to see you here tonight. Where were you all day?"

"Something I had to take care of," Kermit answered vaguely. He'd wanted to call Karen tonight, seen her again rather than play poker, but thought better of it at the last moment. Things had been going so well last night, he didn't want to push his luck.

The game broke up around 11:00, early, being a weeknight, and Jody and Nicole were the last to leave. Nicole had come out the clear winner of the evening, leaving Peter with the suspicion she had thrown at least a couple of hands just to keep the game going.

"Why is it the women that always wind up sticking around to clean up after these things?" Jody ventured tiredly, wiping the table down as Nicole finished washing out the last of the ashtrays and glasses.

"I don't know. Maybe because we know if we didn't, it would still be here next week, and we'd have to look at it again." She turned a devilish eye to Peter, standing in the kitchen door with his best innocent look on his face.

"I only have these games at my place so someone will clean it, you know."

Nicole glanced over at Jody, noting the way her eyes lingered on Peter, smiling when he smiled, looking very happy to be cleaning his apartment. "Now that I have dishpan hands, I'm not gonna be able to shoot the bad guys tomorrow."

"I think you could have four fingers amputated and still outgun anyone I know," he admitted. "You planning on shooting anyone in particular tomorrow?"

"No definite plans. I just like to be ready, in case the urge strikes me. Hey, you know there's something funky in your fridge."

Peter looked at her in mock indignation. "There is not."

Taking him by the arm, she dragged him into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator door, fanning the air in his direction. "Can I offer you a couple of kitchen tips? Anything that makes you gag is spoiled. When something starts pecking its way out of the shell, the egg is probably past its prime," she said, pointing at elderly containers. "Milk is spoiled when it starts to look like yogurt. Yogurt is spoiled when it starts to look like cottage cheese. Cottage cheese is spoiled when it starts to look like regular cheese."

"Oh, stop!" Peter laughed. "I'm not that bad!"

Nicole shook her head, removing a single container from the fridge and holding it out for inspection. "An expiration date is not a marketing ploy to encourage you to throw away perfectly good food so that you'll spend more on groceries. And I have news for you - putting empty containers back into the refrigerator is an old trick, but it only works if you live with someone or have a maid."

Jody poked her head into the kitchen, holding her jacket in hand. "Well, Nicole and I should probably go now, let you get some rest. There's still a good chunk of the week left to go."

"Wait, she hasn't gone through my cabinet yet," he joked. "Thanks for staying and cleaning up. Really."

"Anytime, Peter, you know that." Jody smiled, moving down the stairs, with her friends in tow. "You guys are coming to the show this weekend? Right? Opening night and all?" Jody had auditioned for a local theatre group's production of Evita and had landed the title role. She'd been rehearsing her lines and songs around the precinct for weeks.

"You bet." Peter kissed her on the cheek. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, you know that. I can't wait to hear you sing."

"See you tomorrow." Nicole bid Jody goodnight, making it clear that she intended to stay for a while longer. Nicole shut the door behind her, and turned to Peter, crossing her arms. "She's got it bad for you, my friend. You two got something going on?"

"Who? Jody? We work together," he insisted, none too convincingly.

"No. You and Kermit work together, and he doesn't look at you like that. I mean, you aren't under any obligation to share this with me. I've certainly been tightlipped with you about my personal life, so forget I asked," she asserted, picking up her jacket.

"There's nothing there to share!" he laughed. "There is nothing at all going on with me and Jody. We work together. We're friends. That's all."

"Except that she's got more than that on her mind when it comes to you."

"Oh, all right. So she's got a little crush on me, or something. It happens when you work closely with someone sometimes. No big deal."

"And you're not interested."

"No. But, she knows that. I don't know what else to say."

"I've been in her shoes. I just hope she doesn't get hurt, that's all," Nicole commented.

"You? You had a crush?" Peter asked, unsuccessfully suppressing the snicker.

Nicole scowled. "Oh, bite me."

"Thanks for the invite, but I value my life and my manhood," he laughed. "Look, I don't think I've done anything to lead her on, if that's what you mean. I don't want to see her get hurt either. And if I got involved with her, that's what would happen."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't have a real good track record when it comes to relationships, that's what I mean."

"Neither have I. I think I'm pretty much resigned to growing old alone," she sighed.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I behave towards the general population pretty much the way I behaved towards you the first few weeks."

Peter cringed. "Ouch."

"When you never know who you can trust, it's pretty hard to form a relationship."

"You can trust me. You do know that, don't you?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah. I do know that."

In that brief moment, she won Peter's heart. He realized then that he was probably one of the only people in the world she really trusted, aside from his father. Her tough front was just that, a front she put up to protect herself from the world. And, she was letting him get a rare glimpse of what lay behind it.

He had the urge to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right, but he held back, knowing it would break the moment, and possibly change the way she looked at him. Not to mention the bodily injury he would be risking.

"Oh, no. You're getting that 'I'm gonna hug you' look on your face..." She eyed him warily.

"Probably do. But I like my arms where they are." He laughed, and the moment was broken.

"Well, busy day tomorrow. Guess I should let you get some sleep," she said hesitantly, picking up her jacket and heading towards the door. "Thanks again for inviting me tonight. I know it'll be a while before I really get accepted as one of the crowd, and I appreciate you trying to help."

"I invited you because I wanted you here. Now that we're getting to know each other, I kind of like having you around," he confessed, taking a moment to study her face. "You're still not sleeping, are you?"

"Not really," she admitted.

"You're welcome to stay here tonight. Crash on the couch? I don't bite, and I make a mean breakfast," he offered sincerely.

She actually seemed to consider the offer for a moment, as she briefly pictured herself sleeping there, just a room away from someone who understood and supported her. Then it faded. "That's okay, I'd have to kill you if I was actually getting a good night's sleep, and you started snoring. But, I appreciate the offer." She laid a hand on his forearm, looking as though she wanted to say something more, but then just smiled. "Goodnight, Peter."

*********

The week sped by. Thursday, Nicole and Peter once again ran each other into the ground. An intuition which had sprung upon her while driving into work that morning had her dragging him all over town, tracking down leads, one after another.

By the time 7:00 rolled around, they had spent a generous total of fifteen minutes at the precinct, and Peter was running on empty. *If she operates at this speed on only a few hours sleep, what must she be like fully charged?* he wondered dismally. "You ready to call it a day yet? Or were you planning to solve every crime in this city this week?" he asked tiredly. "There's still a whole day left in the week to get in under the deadline."

She looked at him in surprise, then checked her watch. "Oh, Peter. I'm sorry. Did you have plans tonight or something?"

"No. No plans. I'm just a little beat is all. You take a lot out of a person," he laughed. "Seriously, take it easy. You're going to burn yourself out, and you're going to take me with you. If you don't want to go home, that's okay too. You want to drop in at Delancy's? Rent a movie and go to my place? Hey, I know, we can crash my father's place," he suggested, sensing that she just didn't want to admit the day was over, and face a night of bad dreams.

"Nope. I have to go shopping tonight."

"No food in the house? I'll go with you. My cupboards are pretty bare too. Bachelor living, you know?"

"Worse than grocery shopping. Dress shopping." She smiled ruefully.

"Dress shopping? I'll take a pass on that one. I'll bite though, why do you have to go dress shopping?"

"I don't have anything to wear to Jody's opening night tomorrow, for one."

"You're going?" Peter asked, surprised. He and Nicole had finally begun to form a tentative friendship, but she hadn't mentioned wanting to go to this show.

"Sure. We work together, right? She's a friend of yours, and she's, you know...'safe'." Not a cop on the take was what she really meant, and Peter heard it loud and clear.

"Terrific. I'm sure she'll be glad for all the support she can get. She's not showing it, but she's nervous."

"I don't know why she should be. I've heard her singing around the station, she's got a wonderful voice."

"Yeah. She does," Peter agreed with a smile, remembering how shocked he was the first time he'd heard her sing. They had been undercover together; he playing the part of a French Canadian hockey player, she playing his girlfriend. A singer. Until then Peter hadn't known about that talent of hers. It had made him stop and think about what else he might not know about the people whom he considered his closest friends.

"And, the Policeman's Ball is next month, you know? I'll need something to wear to that too. I figure, do it tonight, get it out of the way."

"Oh, yeah. Hah. I forgot about that. So, you're going?"

"Of course. Aren't you?" she asked, apprehensively.

"Sure, I'm going. It just slipped my mind is all. Who are you going with? That lawyer, what's-his-name? Tom?" he teased.

"Let me guess... somewhere at sometime in your life someone told you that you were funny, right? No. Not Tom. Me, myself and I. You got a date?"

"No. Well, when the invitations first went out I was going with Jordan. But, that's history."

"Oh, yeah, that bottle blonde bimbo from vice?" she laughed.

"Oh, very nice. Well. I told you I don't have a real good track record. You wanna go with me?" he asked after what seemed like a moment of hesitation.

"We're all sitting at the same table, aren't we?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Then what's the point? First of all, it's a whole month away. That's thirty whole opportunities for you to get an actual date. I can't imagine Peter Caine, the Handsome-but-Dull-Witted Prince of the Huggy People, being alone for very long. Besides, we live on opposite ends of town. I'll just see you there." She pulled up beside his car in the precinct parking lot. "I really appreciate what you're trying to do. Keeping me busy, keeping my mind off the long night ahead, but I'll be fine. You just go home and get some rest yourself, because I've got a big day planned for us tomorrow!" she promised with an evil grin as he climbed out of the car.

"I'm looking forward to it."

*********

Jody's opening night went off without a hitch. The whole gang from the 101st showed up to show their support. Skalany showed up on Caine's arm, having succeeded in getting him to dress 'appropriately' for a night out at the theatre.

Blake, who normally didn't join in the extracurricular activities of the group, aside from the occasional drink at Delancy's, was there with a charming but shy woman he introduced as Elena. He knew he was in for an interrogation on Monday morning.

Karen showed up with Kermit. Kermit escorted her to their seats with the rest of the detectives. Nicole and Peter snuck in just before the curtain went up, slipping into their seats.

"Didn't think you were going to make it," Blake whispered to Peter.

"I was detained out in the lobby. My partner here was just about to duke it out with the ticket-taker for looking funny at her. Apparently you can dress her up but you can't take her anywhere." He knew he was risking bodily injury by making the remark, and was surprised when he only received a mild punch in the arm. He looked over at her again. She was tired. He could almost feel her exhaustion.

Her make-up did nothing to conceal the dark circles under her eyes he'd seen growing all week. "You sure you're okay?" he whispered.

"Fine." Her tone was irritable, but he was certainly used to that by now.

"Sorry. I'm having those dreams again. I guess I'm just a little grouchier than usual."

"It's okay." He laid his hand gently on her arm.

"You're touching me..."

"Sorry."

The pit orchestra finished their warm-up, the house lights blinked twice, dimmed, and the curtain went up.

*********

Peter staggered to the door, glancing at his watch. It was nearly 2:00 A.M. He was too tired to even give much thought as to who could possibly be at his door at that hour on a Saturday night. He stopped long enough to press one bloodshot eye to the peephole before opening the door for his bedraggled partner.

"Hey...did I wake you?" she offered in way of an apology as she entered. She was soaking wet.

He realized it was raining out, *But how far away did she park to get that drenched?* he wondered. "You all right?" he asked, closing the door and following her into the living room. "You're soaked... Nick? What happened?" Thoughts were running wild through his mind; *Had someone died, had she been involved in an accident, had she been attacked?*

She looked sheepishly at him, shifting from foot to foot, as though trying to decide if it was a good idea to be there at all, and what to do now that she was. "I can't... sleep, Peter. The dreams... they come as soon as I fall asleep, and... I can't sleep... I'm sorry about waking you up, but I just didn't know what else to do... and you said... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... I just couldn't be alone for another minute." She looked like a woman on the edge, as though about to burst into tears.

"Hey... no, it's okay... no work tomorrow, don't worry about it. I understand, I've been where you are now. I wouldn't have offered, if I didn't mean it," he assured her. Taking her face in his hands, he forced her to look him in the eyes. "What have you been doing, wandering around half the night in the rain?"

"Well...yeah."

He laughed softly, and released her. "Aren't you stubborn? I'm glad you decided to come in before you drowned. Well, I can't leave you there dripping, let me get you something dry to wear." He disappeared into his room, and reappeared a few minutes later, with a tee shirt and sweat pants, which he tossed to her as he pointed to the bathroom. "Go on. Maybe a warm shower would take the chill off. Clean towels are on the shelf."

Nicole whispered a thanks to him as she passed to shower and change.

By the time she'd warmed up, dried off and dressed, Peter had brewed a pot of his father's tea and brought a blanket and pillow out to the couch. She sank down onto the couch by his side, looking better, but bone tired, and undeniably adorable in his too-big shirt and sweats. He handed her a hot cup of herbal tea and sat patiently, waiting for her to talk.

When half the tea was gone, she leaned back into the pillow and pulled the blanket up protectively. "I feel like a total jerk, like a big baby. I walked around for two hours before I got up enough nerve to knock on your door. I must have gone by your building a dozen times."

"That's silly. We're partners. And, I thought we were friends. We count on each other. I'm honored you trusted me enough to come."

"Thanks. I just knew it would be worth feeling totally stupid to feel... safe. I feel safe here, Peter. I think I may be able to get a little sleep now." She snuggled in with the pillow and closed her eyes.

"You want me to leave the light on?"

"No, that's okay. Your image of me is blown enough already. Goodnight, partner." She smiled a little saying it, and meaning it. "Don't you dare tell anyone about this," she threatened half-heartedly.

Peter sighed and rose from the couch, an amused smile tugged at his lips. "Goodnight. Just let me know if you need anything."

As he climbed wearily back into his own bed, he thought of how far they'd come in the past eight weeks. From two people who could hardly stand the sight of each other, to true partners, and friends. She no longer declined invitations from him, which didn't include being in a group of people. She came to the last weekly poker game, and had dropped by Delancy's once or twice after work to join him, Jody and Kermit for a beer. He had run into her at his father's place and shared a cup of tea with them both. She'd very quickly become an important part of his life. Her level of trust in him had grown, and she joked easily with him now. He'd been surprised at the sharpness of her humor. Though she still threatened him with bodily injury at least once a day, but he no longer felt as if he was in any real danger.

But, showing up at his apartment in the middle of the night, upset and vulnerable, had to have been a tough call for her. It showed a level of trust he hadn't thought existed between them. Her old partner had been right about her being the best partner he'd ever had. He trusted her implicitly. He smiled a little as he closed his eyes, and once more sought sleep.

His sleep was disturbed an hour later by the sound of strangled sobs and unintelligible words from the living room. Grabbing his gun from the nightstand, he rushed out of his bedroom. His eyes frantically sought the source of the sounds, and found his partner on the couch, thrashing about in the grip of a nightmare. He'd completely forgotten she was there.

Tossing his gun on the chair, he sat down next to her and took hold of her shoulders, shaking her gently. "Nicole! Nick! Wake up..."

Her bloodshot gray eyes shot open with a stifled scream on her lips as she shook herself out of her dream. Her eyes focused on his face, tears beginning to well up. "Peter?" Her voice was shaky and uncertain.

"You were having a nightmare. You're in my apartment. Safe... remember?" he prodded gently.

Nicole took him by surprise by throwing her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. "Oh, God, Peter...you're all right..."

"I'm fine..." he assured her, now knowing he was NOT all right in her dreams. "Just a dream..." He stroked her hair softly and kept his voice to a reassuring whisper. "I'm fine, you're fine... everything's okay." He rocked her gently as she only marginally let her hold on him loosen. "Want me to turn on a light? Get you a drink? What can I do for you?"

"Hold me. Please. Just for... a minute..." she pleaded, and he complied. His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer to him until her crying had stopped and she pulled back, slightly embarrassed. "It was bad, Peter. You were there, and there were gunshots, and it was dark... they... hurt you. I was too late to stop them. I ran to see if you were okay, and that's when you woke me."

He handed her a tissue from the box on the coffee table, and she wiped her eyes. "It was just a dream," he told her.

"For now it was. But not for long."

"Okay. Maybe. But the future hasn't been written yet. We'll be ready. Whoever is behind this will be up against me, Kermit, and my father, not to mention the terror of the 101st."

"No. No. You've got to stay away from me. You're gonna get hurt because of me. I just know it's because of me somehow. You have to..." she stammered, grabbing the front of his tee-shirt.

"Shhh...come on...." He drew her back into his arms. "I'm not going anywhere. We're partners, and that's a twenty-four hour a day job," he whispered reassuringly as his hand gently rubbed her back.

"But..." she began to protest again.

"No 'but's. Would you leave me out in the cold?"

"No."

?And I'm not leaving you, either. So, just stop the nonsense." He gave her a moment to shake the feeling a little more, then reached for the remote control and clicked on the TV. He found a network which ran old sitcoms all night, and left it there. "Now, you need some sleep. No more bad dreams tonight. I'm going to stay right here, risking life and limb by holding you, and I will keep all the bad stuff away. I promise. I'll be right here, so just put your head down and close your eyes," he instructed like a parent, guiding her head down to his shoulder as he reclined on the couch, surprised at how easily she complied.

"Some harder than nails cop," she groaned miserably. "I feel like a complete jerk."

"You're not a jerk. At least, not for this you're not," he teased, easing his arms around her, feeling her warmth next to him as he held her. "You're going through Hell right now because of the Sing Wah. They've put me in your shoes a number of times, so I know what you're feeling. Now, shut up and go to sleep."

Her arms wrapped around him as she got into a comfortable position for sleep. From how rapidly slumber took her again, Peter could tell she'd really been through the wringer. It was amazing to him that she'd spent every night for weeks like this, and was still able to function. It was also amazing to him how comfortable and familiar it felt to have her there, in his arms. The sound of her deep, rhythmic breathing lulled him to sleep.

********

The remainder of the night passed uneventfully. Just passed 9:00 A.M., Peter finally woke. His arm, however, was still asleep. He carefully pulled it out from under Nicole, but it woke her anyway. "Sorry..." he mumbled groggily, heading straight for the kitchen, and the coffeepot, attempting to straighten his hair from the chaos of sleep.

Nicole rubbed her eyes and tried to orient herself. She was in Peter's apartment. The thought was unnerving, and she felt distinctly self-conscious. "Well, you got your revenge for me treating you like shit for so long. This couch is worse than lumpy."

"Yeah, well, the revenge would have been sweeter if I hadn't wound up sleeping on it myself. And I happened to be one of those lumps." He grinned at her from the top stair to the kitchen.

"Look, I'm sorry about that. I feel like a total idiot in the clear light of day. I don't know how I'm going to face you at work on Monday."

"Why, because we slept together?" he teased her with a wicked smile.

"Peter! We did not sleep together!" The color rose on her face.

"We did!" he insisted happily. "You were sleeping, I was sleeping, we were together - we were sleeping together! Wasn't it good for you, Honey?"

"Oh, God! Will you stop!?" she wailed.

"Come on, I'm just trying to tell you it's no big deal," he called from the kitchen, reappearing a moment later with two full cups of coffee. "Nothing to be embarrassed about. If you could have seen me last year, you'd believe me when I say I've been where you are now. I wouldn't turn you away or think any less of you if you showed up here tonight with a suitcase and moved in until this is all over. That's what friends are for. and I won't breathe a word of this to anyone, you have my word. Now, stop being silly and tell me about last night." He sat back down on the couch close to her, pulling the blanket back over his legs.

"About the dream?"

"You up to it?" he asked over his coffee mug.

"No. But, if you want to wait until I'm up to talking about it, we may be in an old folks' home. It was dark, but, there was moonlight coming from... somewhere. There were a lot of people... and a voice. A man's voice. I know his voice from, I don't know, somewhere. And, there were gunshots. Lots of them. Glass shattering. Screams. And, colors... white, and black... and blood... and that's when you woke me." She shuddered visibly at the memory. "That's all. After I went back to sleep, there weren't any dreams."

"Maybe they were afraid to come because I was here. Did you think about that?"

"Or, maybe I was just too exhausted to have any." She sipped her coffee, thinking how nice it was to have gotten a few hours of real rest. "It's amazing how a few hours sleep could be such a wonderful thing."

"I told you, I've been there." Peter half reclined on the sofa, getting comfortable, and told her the stories of the shadow assassins, and the black widow sect.

By the time he was finished, she was staring in stark amazement. "Shit. I guess you do know what I'm going through. I thought you meant it figuratively. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to go through all that. My life is a lot like yours, really. Strange. Too strange for a lot of people to understand. You and I have so much more to our every day lives than most people can cope with. Our lives are too 'out there'. Not many people can understand living in the 'gray zone'."

"I never thought of it that way. I guess you're right though. It's not the easiest way to live, but... I don't know that I'd want to live in the 'regular world'. It is, however, difficult to explain shadow assassins, traveling to Shambhala..." he laughed.

"I think we should go see your father today," she suggested.

He nodded in agreement. "Listen, whatever it is that's coming, we'll get through it. Together," he assured her, slipping his arm around her.

"You're touching me."

"God, you're fickle."

**********

When the sun came up on Monday morning without Nicole reappearing at his apartment, Peter knew whatever the Ancient had prescribed for her had worked. He'd given her an herbal potion he assured her would allow a dreamless sleep. He only had warned that it should not be taken for more than a few nights at a time, for the mind and body both needed the release of dream.

The 101st received its new addition that morning. All the desks were once again filled. Matt Chase was a tall, sandy haired young man who looked like he spent most of his off-hours in the gym. He had sparkling blue eyes and was the picture of California good looks and health. He'd moved to Sloanville just a short time ago.

Captain Simms introduced him to her team of detectives, and let him get settled in at his desk. He would be taking calls with Jody, and she couldn't have been more tickled by the assignment. Mary Margaret cast her teasing glances all morning as she showed him around the station, and took him out for a tour of their territory.

"That's a babe." She grinned, perching herself on Peter's desk, looking to Nicole for agreement.

"Mmm." Nicole shrugged non-committally.

"He was checking you out! What do you mean, 'Mmm'?" she insisted.

"What do you mean he was checking me out?" Nicole asked suspiciously.

"You know, giving you the 'eye'!"

Nicole looked quickly to Peter who nodded. "He looked interested to me," he confirmed.

"Terrific," she grumbled. "We gotta get going, Peter. Hammond's bail hearing starts in a half hour." She grabbed her jacket and started for the door.

"Right behind you."

*********

An ugly scene in the courtroom downtown was narrowly averted by the quick thinking of Peter Caine, who bodily dragged his partner out of the room with a hand clamped firmly over her mouth. When the judge granted Mark Hammond bail, she'd gone ballistic.

Peter got her outside just in time to save her from being held in contempt of court, or worse. They stood by her car across the street from the courthouse for a few minutes as she collected herself, angrily kicking at a public trashcan and letting fly with a string of obscenities. "They just let him out! Just like that!"

?It's only bail, Nicole. He's still going to stand trial," Peter tried to reassure her.

"Oh, sure. Trial. Obviously he's got at least one judge in his pocket!" Peter flinched as she yelled this towards the courthouse.

Her gray eyes blazed as they watched her former lover, who had just defended the known criminal, walking across the street towards them. "Nice display, Nicky," he laughed softly. "Very passionate. That's what I always liked about you."

"Why don't you just crawl back under your rock, you dickless snake?" she snapped.

"You know it's not personal, Nicky. It's my job. It's what I get paid for. I can't help that I'm good at what I do."

Nicole stepped away from the car and gave Tom a few parting words Peter couldn't hear. The lawyer's face went crimson, and he turned and walked quickly away.

"Just wanted to give him something to think about as he tries to close his eyes and sleep tonight," she offered as an explanation to her partner.

"Let's get out of here," he firmly suggested as he noticed Hammond starting out of the building.

"Wait." She held up a hand, staring intently. "You see that?" She pointed to a limo, which had pulled up. Several men got out of the back, and were making room for Hammond.

"What about it?"

"I know them." Her voice was quiet. Almost shaken. Peter turned to her. Her body language spoke of flight, not desired confrontation as was her norm.

"Let me guess." It was starting to come together in his head. "Sing Wah."

"Let's go." She spoke urgently, suddenly eager to be gone from the scene.

**********

"So..." Mary Margaret grinned wickedly at Jody over a drink at Delancy's that night. "How was your day with Mr. Pin-up?"

"Very funny." Jody sneered, taking another sip of her drink. "He grilled me all day about everyone at the precinct, especially Nicole. It was weird. I mean, I've broken in my share of new partners before, but this guy was Mr. Curiosity. All day long, who was this and who was that."

?He probably just wants to get his bearings. You know, whose toes not to step on and all."

"I don't know. There's something about him that...I don't know, never mind. Forget I said anything." Jody waved her hand dismissively and changed the subject. "I saw Kermit leaving earlier than usual again tonight." She smiled conspiratorially.

"Well, you can't say it hasn't been coming, right?"

"Yeah. I just hope they know what they're doing. They both deserve something good, I just hope it doesn't cause problems for them at work if things don't turn out they way they want."

"Me, too," she agreed, checking her watch. "I gotta go."

"Meeting Caine?"

"Yeah, we're going to see that new exhibit over at the museum."

"Think he'll come to the ball, Saturday?" Jody asked, amused to no end that one day Skalany might very well become Peter's stepmother.

"I'm working on it!" she laughed.

**********

Matt Chase arrived at the warehouse five minutes early. He desperately did not want to be late for his meeting. Still, he did not arrive before the boss.

Mark Hammond stepped out of the shadows. "Officer Chase. On time. I like that." His chubby face appeared benign and cheerful, but his eyes were cold and hard. "What information do you bring me?"

"Everything looks good, sir."

"Excellent. Then, I may tell the others that it is a go?" He sought confirmation from his inside link. "Everyone whose presence is required will be in attendance?"

"It's all in place."

"Very good. You will continue to update me. And, you will be there as well?"

"Of course. Just as we discussed. Ten o'clock everyone should be there. The charges will be in place, your people on the premises, the doors secured. Bye-bye complications. In just a week you'll be as good as a free man, Sir."

Mark Hammond placed a large white envelope in the young man's hand and watched him walk away.

**********

Darkness swirled against the ceiling of the bedroom as Peter stared upwards. The glowing numerals of the clock quietly marked the passing of Friday into Saturday.

The day had been busy, and the workout with his father after clocking out had been exhausting. Still, sleep eluded the young detective. Eyes wide open and unfocused, Peter lay on his back beneath the comforter.

In the solitude, Kermit's words returned to him again. *Nicole? Oh, yeah - she took off a few minutes ago. Hot date tonight.*

"Hot date?" Peter mused quietly. "Hot date? Who the hell is she with? Must be a brave guy. He'll probably need emergency dental work by the end of the night. If he doesn't already."

Rolling onto his side, he grabbed the pillow from the other side of the bed and held it to his chest, his cheek resting atop it. "Sleep," he murmured, as though to summon unconsciousness.

Images played behind his closed eyelids... *Nicole and an unidentified man. Alone. Together. In bed.* Peter's eyes shot open, again. "Nah. She hates people touching her."

*Don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against her, but she doesn't have relationships, she has urges.* Kermit's words returned to him.

"Urges," Peter repeated with weary resignation. "So, she probably didn't have a date-date. She probably had an urge-date. So, why did she tell Kermit and not me? I'm her partner. I'd tell her about my dates. If I had any lately." His eyes returned to the clock on the nightstand once more. "If it was just an urge thing, then she's probably home by now. Probably alone. Probably awake."

Peter sat up in his bed.

And lay back down

"What the hell is my problem?" he groaned. "Sleep. Go to sleep, Pete."

**********

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Nicole's eyes shot open. "...what the fuck...??" she mumbled sleepily as she roused herself from the comfort of her bed.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The startled detective heard the pounding on the door once again, and pulled on her robe. Snatching her revolver from the table beside the bed, she made her way through the darkened apartment.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"The door didn't come equipped with a peephole, so I may have to make my own! Who is it?!" Nicole demanded angrily.

"Just me. Peter," came the reply from the other side of the door.

Shaking her head in disbelief, she unlocked and opened the door for her partner. "Peter? What's wrong?" she asked, standing back to allow him entry.

Peter slipped into the apartment and headed for the living room. "Nothing. Do you greet all your guests that way?" His eyes quickly scanned the unfamiliar room as he turned on a light beside the couch.

Nicole didn't move from her spot at the door. "Yeah, right. All my many visitors. Wanna tell me to what I owe the honor of this visit?"

"I just... I had this idea, about the case we got this morning. I had this idea, and I knew I wasn't gonna be able to sleep, it wasn't gonna leave me alone."

She stared at him from the doorway before closing and re-locking the door. Running a hand through her long, sleep-chaotic hair, she nodded. "Okay."

Peter Caine stared back at her for a moment. "Oh! Hey, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Interrupting anything?" she asked curiously. "No... just sleep."

The relief on Peter's face was visible for only a moment as he settled on the couch. "Oh. Good, because I just remembered some comment Kermit made about you having a hot date tonight. I completely forgot about it until just now."

The confusion showed for a second before Nicole smiled slightly. "Oh. Right. My hot date."

"Yeah. Your hot date. What happened?"

Nicole began to laugh softly. "I was kidding, Peter. Kidding. I guess Griffin still hasn't acquainted himself with the concept of humor. It's not like I want the whole world to know how pathetic my social life is."

Her partner joined her in the laughter. "If it makes you feel any better, I was sitting home alone tonight, too."

"Noooooo..." she uttered in dramatic disbelief. "You? Peter Caine? King of the Studs?"

"I thought I was the Handsome Prince of the Huggy People."

"The Handsome-But-Dull-Witted Prince. Yeah. That too." The last vestiges of sleep beginning to leave her, she started towards the kitchen. "Gonna put on a pot of coffee. You want?"

"You bet." Peter shrugged his jacket off, placing it over the arm of the couch, and took a long moment to survey the apartment. He'd called in a favor and gotten her unlisted address from Blake, who ran her plates through the computer. *Penthouse,* he silently repeated to himself. *Nice.* The place was decorated modestly, with only a few personal touches here and there. The mantle above the fireplace held no momentos, no framed photos of family or friends.

"How did you get by the doorman?" Nicole called out from the kitchen.

The cop laughed. "I must have learned a thing or two from my father after all this time."

"Oh, great," she drawled. "So, now you can get by my doorman anytime you want. Doesn't that just make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside?"

Peter looked up as she came to stand in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. Leaning tiredly against the doorjamb, her short white robe showed long shapely legs up to the middle of her thighs. Peter self-consciously pulled a throw pillow into his lap. "Coffee smells good," he stammered.

"Should be done in a minute. Help yourself. Got some munchies in there too, if you're hungry. Which, you usually are."

"Yeah, I could handle some food." He heard his voice answer, and had to force his eyes away from her.

"Go handle it then." She moved slowly away from the door and through the living room. As she headed towards the hall, she passed close to the couch. "Gonna throw on some sweats. Go pour yourself a cup of caffeine."

Peter waited until his partner disappeared down the hall and into her bedroom before removing the pillow from his lap. *Get a grip, Peter,* he counseled himself. *What are you even doing over here in the middle of the night?* Though his head was telling him he should make his apologies for the intrusion and leave, his feet were heading him towards the kitchen, and the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. Although he'd never set foot inside her home before, Peter went unerringly to the correct cabinet for the coffee mugs, and pulled two out.

"Okay, so what's on your mind?" Nicole asked as he reappeared, cups in hand. She'd settled in on the large, comfortable sectional. A pair of loose, black sweatpants, and a cropped tee shirt had replaced the robe.

Peter approached, purposely averting his eyes from her bare midriff, and placed the mugs on the coffee table before dropping down onto the couch with her. "Well. Okay. Here's the thing - I was thinking about the boyfriend. I know you said you liked him for this, but I don't know if I can buy into that."

Nicole sat silently for a long moment, took a sip of her coffee, then simply nodded.

"That's it?" Peter asked in surprise. "No questioning of my sanity? No declarations about my mental status? Yesterday you were ready to hang this guy by his privates from the highest flagpole."

The female detective shook her head. "No. You have good instincts where people are concerned. If you don't get a feeling about this boyfriend, then maybe we should look at someone else. I was ready to hang him for the way he was looking at me. I mean, fine, his girlfriend is dead and he's a free man, but you'd think he'd at least wait until her cold, dead body was removed from the room before he started ogling other women."

"Not all of us can be handsome princes."

"You keep leaving out that dull-witted part."

"I trust you to add it on. Anyway, I know Becker's alibi sounds a little flakey, but..."

"...but why would anyone make up something as lame as having a fight with his girlfriend and going for a long walk?" she finished for her partner.

"Exactly. The guy was covered in her blood when we got there, but he was the one who called 911. I suppose that if I came in and found my girlfriend a bloody mess, I'd get some blood on me too, trying to see if she was still alive. But, if he didn't do it, then someone else with access to the apartment did. Becker said the door was locked when he came back. So, who else had a key?"

"The owner of the building? The Super? The doorman? A friend, a neighbor? Another boyfriend?" Her speculations shot out as the caffeine hit her system. "If the door was locked, then someone came in, stabbed her in her bed before she could get out so much as a scream, then left and locked the door behind him. They left the TV, the VCR, the stereo, her wallet, everything."

"They didn't leave any fingerprints, no murder weapon, no blood trail to the door."

"Shit."

"No, no shit either. Looks like we've got a mystery on our hands, Daphne."

"Okay, Shaggy. Am I to assume we're authorized for some overtime tomorrow?"

Peter choked on his mouthful of coffee. "Shaggy? Shaggy? No, see if you're Daphne, then I'm Freddie. If I was Shaggy, that would make you Velma. Or, Scooby."

"Oh, thanks! So, I'd be either the dork or the dog?" Nicole laughed in indignation.

Peter pointed one accusatory finger at his partner in amusement. "You watch cartoons. I'll bet you spend your Saturday mornings in bed, watching the Cartoon Network."

Gray eyes widened in silent laughter. "I do not. I don't even have a TV in my bedroom."

"No?" Peter challenged.

"No, I don't," she insisted. "That sounds far more like the way you would spend your free time. Pop-Tarts and cartoons."

"My secret is out."

"It was hardly a secret. You've slept with enough women at work that the word was out a long time ago."

"Ouch."

Nicole rose from the couch and headed towards the kitchen again, grabbing her partner's empty coffee mug on her way. "You do get around, Caine," she called back to him.

For the first time, the thought brought no sense of accomplishment, no sense of manly pride. The remark had not been made with malicious intent, nor meant to degrade, but it inspired a pang of guilt anyway. "Yeah, I guess I do," he answered.

"Hey, whatever floats your boat," she continued from the kitchen. Plates rattled and tin foil crinkled in the background. "I'm the last one in the world to pass judgment on anyone else's track record."

Peter leaned back into the soft cushions of the sofa and let out a long breath. There was something about Nicole's apartment, something warm and comforting to him. Something which felt like coming home. There was something natural and familiar about sitting there, in the middle of the night, with her in the kitchen, scrounging up a midnight snack. His mind wandered as he heard the microwave start up. Down the hall, he pictured two bathrooms, and two bedrooms. The first door to the left was a full bath, the door on the right was a small guestroom. At the end of the hall was the master bedroom, with a massive four-poster bed, and a full bath.

"You haven't had much luck with the opposite sex?" he teased as she re-emerged, carrying plates of reheated eggrolls and Chinese dumplings.

"I have enough luck when I need it," she answered. Sinking back down onto the couch she pushed the food in front of him and curled up a safe distance from Peter. "I just don't like people all that much, and most of them return the sentiment in kind. And, frankly, I don't see how people do it."

"Do what?" Peter asked around a mouthful of eggroll.

"Voluntarily look at the same face every day. Have another person living with them - sharing bathrooms and morning breath and looking at someone else's socks and underwear on the floor."

Nearly choking on his snack, Peter burst out laughing. "You're quite the romantic, you know that?"

Nicole scowled. "Oh, bite me."

"I'd love to," he responded, "but I value my life and my manhood. You know, I'd like to point out that you voluntarily look at my face every day."

She shrugged. "You took some getting used to, but you're not really so obnoxious."

"Neither are you."

Gray eyes landed appraisingly on his face for a long moment before moving back to the plate of food on the table. "Thanks."

********

Empty cartons of leftover Chinese take-out littered the coffee table. The clock on the mantle struck 4:00 A.M. and Peter began to yawn at last as he stretched. ?So, tomorrow morning we go back down to the scene and take another look?? he asked sleepily.

His weary partner stifled a companion yawn as she nodded. "Uh-huh. And we should take another canvass of the neighbors. But, we can't spot the clues if we can't keep our eyes open."

Exhaustion was quickly overtaking the detective as he yawned again. His eyes drooped to half-mast and he felt more relaxed than he had in ages. *Bed,* he thought with a feeling of satisfaction. *Big bed, warm companion.* Half asleep already, Peter stood and held out a hand to the woman on the sofa, a fond smile on his face. "Let's go to bed…"

"I'm going, I'm going," she answered. She took his offered hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet before she let it go. "The guest room is all made up. It's not the Ritz, but it beats that lumpy-ass couch of yours any night."

Peter's eyes snapped fully open again, the vision he'd had in his head fading away. "Right. Thanks." After turning out the lamp by the couch, he followed Nicole down the hall.

"Your room," she said, pushing open the door to the guest room. "If you get up first there are clean towels on the shelf in the bathroom."

Peter stood in the hall for a moment as he watched his partner disappear into the master bedroom and close the door. Unaccountably feeling banished to the guest room, he walked into the darkened room and closed the door behind him. Stripping down to his briefs, he crawled into the double bed. His eyes wandered about the room while he could still keep them open. He blinked to try to clear his vision after a moment, and the two cribs he thought he'd seen on the other side of the room disappeared.

******

Nicole groaned as she slipped under the covers again. She'd been exhausted five hours earlier, the first time she'd gone to sleep. Her partner's middle of the night appearance at her door had taken her by surprise. She couldn't recall ever mentioning where she lived. Peter Caine. To say that he was something else would have been an understatement. He'd been acting a little more strangely than normal the last few days. If there was anything such thing as normal for Peter.

Shifting restlessly in her large bed, the thought occurred to her that she'd always had a guest room, but never a guest. Having kept people at arms length her whole life she hadn't formed too many friendships, and certainly none close enough to warrant an overnight visit. Peter had slowly insinuated himself into her life, and now into her home.

Stuffing her revolver beneath her pillow, Nicole settled in for sleep.

*****

With a jaw-popping yawn, Peter stretched his waking body in the unfamiliar bed. His eyes opened to see the hazy sunlight filtering through the windows and illuminating the room he slowly identified as his partner's guest room. A twinge of embarrassment briefly struck him as he recalled showing up in the middle of the night, with no good excuse. The brainstorming they'd done in the small hours of the night may have been productive, but it was certainly not anything that couldn't have waited until morning.

The room he could now see in the daylight was small, and impersonal. The bed was comfortable in the way that a brand new bed was, and he had no doubt that he was its first occupant, no matter how long the bed had been in the room. The room itself was clean and functional - a double bed, a small desk with a computer, and a less than comfortable looking chair. His eyes wandered over the off-white walls. *Even hotel rooms have some kind of pictures,* he mused as he threw back the covers.

A soft 'thump' brought his gaze down to the floor as he sat up. A new toothbrush, still in its plastic case had landed on the floor. The towel it had been sitting on still lay on the bed atop the blankets. Neither item had been there when he'd gone to sleep. A wry smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he stood and retrieved the items and his clothing. Peter slipped his jeans on and opened the door, padding barefoot down the hall to the bathroom.

"Sleep well?"

Nicole's voice brought him up short. With a sheepish grin, Peter nodded, turning to face her as she came down the hall from the living room. "You're up early."

"It's almost 10:00," she informed him. Fresh from the shower, her long dark hair hung down her back, dampening the t-shirt she wore. "Grab a shower and I'll throw on some breakfast. Then we can hit the streets."

Peter nodded, pushing open the bathroom door. He wasn't sure if he'd imagined her eyes lingering on him. "Thanks for the towel and the toothbrush," he chuckled. "I didn't even hear you come in."

Nicole nodded. "You were pretty out of it. You know, you're not quite so repulsive when you're asleep," she commented, turning and heading back down the hall.

"Bite me!" he called back with a loud laugh.

********

Peter jumped out of the Stealth, and yelled to catch his partner's attention as she stood picking through the apples outside the grocer, apparently attempting to find the perfect specimen. "Nicole, your snack is gonna have to wait!"

"Damnit, I?m hungry!" she complained.

"You just had breakfast! I'll feed you later," he insisted as he took hold of her arm and dragged her away. "I just heard a call on the radio that the silent alarm at the convenience store around the block just went off."

Nicole shifted gears and kept pace with her partner as he jogged around the corner, each checking their weapons quickly. "So, we're the only cops in the city now? Is that what you're telling me?"

"No, but we're the only ones on the block. This is a tough neighborhood, the store keepers don't just hit those alarms for shoplifters. Uniforms are responding, but it'll take them a few minutes to get here, and the sight of a black-and-white makes some folks nervous."

The detectives resigned themselves to the fact that their investigation had been derailed as they rounded the next corner, the convenience store coming into sight. From where they stood they could see a tall, male figure, standing inside the store with his back against the entrance door. "What are we going to do, just stroll in there?"

Peter halted in his tracks, surveying their options for a moment. Over the noise of the city streets he heard his partners stomach growl, and an idea formed in his head. Quickly shedding his light jacket, he pulled his sweater off over his head, then replaced the jacket over his t-shirt.

"You're going to throw your sweater at them?" Nicole prompted curiously.

"Give me your gun," he prompted as he balled up his sweater.

She shot him an odd look, but didn't hesitate to hand over her weapon. "This had better be good."

Peter placed the revolver inside the balled up sweater, then reached out, swiftly yanking Nicole's shirt from her pants, and stuffed his sweater inside hers. "Congratulations. I've just impregnated you."

"Yeah, well I hope it was good for you, anyway."

He stopped for an instant to grin at the sight of her, mumbling and grumbling something under her breath as she headed towards the convenience store entrance. Zipping his jacket halfway to conceal his weapon, he followed her to the door.

"Great. Wool," Nicole grumbled under her breath as she felt her skin beginning to itch already.

"I can't believe you're hungry again," Peter declared in a loud voice as he shoved against the door, pushing the man out of the way. Trained eyes quickly assessed the situation as they entered.

The surprised man Peter had just knocked out of the way recovered quickly, shoving the detectives into the store, slamming the door behind him again.

"I told you to lock the damn door, not block it, you idiot!" another voice bellowed.

The owner of the voice appeared from behind the counter with a paper sack. One hand kept a .45 trained on the six customers and two clerks he'd herded into the dairy section. The other hand dipped into the register drawer for the small handful of bills he stuffed into the bag. "Welcome to the party," he said with a sharp laugh.

Peter's arms went securely around Nicole. "Take anything you want, just don't hurt us," he pleaded.

The first man moved away from the door after locking it securely and putting up the 'Closed' sign. "Watches, jewelry, wallets," he chanted merrily as he grabbed another sack from the counter and approached the frightened customers.

Peter watched as one man collected up the possessions of the clerks, and the other customers, backhanding a crying woman across the face when she hesitated to give him her wedding band. He felt Nicole nearly surge from his embrace in anger, and quickly restrained her, though he was certain he would suffer the consequences later.

"Okay, sweethearts," the man chuckled as he approached them last.

Peter removed his watch and dropped it into the bag.

"Wallet, too," the man reminded him impatiently.

*Fuck. Yeah, I'm gonna pull out my wallet with my badge on it?* he thought morosely. "I must have left it home," he offered apologetically.

"Yeah, right. Gimme your fucking wallet!" the man snapped, reaching his hand towards Peter's jacket. The sound of sirens in the distance, approaching distracted him for only a second. The expression on his face went from angry to enraged as he looked for the clerk who had pressed the alarm.

"OWOHMYGOD!!!" Nicole screamed, clutching her 'stomach'.

The man in the ski mask jumped back, startled.

"Oh, no!" Peter exclaimed in a panic. "Honey, was it a contraction?"

"Ohmygod, I think this is it!" she cried out, sinking to the floor.

Biting back on laughter he was almost unable to contain, Peter dropped to the floor with her. "Breathe, sweetheart! Like they taught us in class!" He looked up at the man in the mask, a desperate plea in his eyes. "She's having a baby."

One of the customers took a tentative step forward. "I'm a doctor."

*Just my luck. Someone here to help with the delivery of a wool sweater.* "She's fine, but we need to get her to a hospital," Peter assured him, holding up his hand.

The second man jumped over the counter to join his friend. "Everyone just shut the fuck up!" he demanded, brandishing his weapon. The sirens could be heard coming closer, making the two men more nervous by the second. "All right. We'll be going now, but we need a volunteer to come with us. You!" he said, pointing at an elderly female customer.

"OW OW OW!" Nicole screamed again to get her partner's attention.

"I know it hurts, Muffin. But, it'll be over in a minute," he assured her with a wink. His hand moved in a flash, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his gun. "Police! Hold it right there!"

Nicole's hand was in motion as well, yanking Peter's sweater out from under her shirt, and grabbing for her weapon to cover her partner.

As both men held up their hands in surrender and relinquished their weapon to Peter, Nicole shot her partner a look of pure, unadulterated annoyance, and began to scratch her stomach. "You really suck, did you know that? It had to be a wool sweater?"

The laughter erupted before he could contain it.

"Can we please get something to eat now?" Nicole pleaded as they handed over the hold-up men to the uniformed officers who had arrived at the scene.

"You have such a one track mind," Peter declared with a grin as he draped an arm around her shoulders. "Yes, we can eat now. I would do anything for the mother of my sweater."

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

By the time Friday rolled around, everyone in the precinct was relatively certain Matt Chase was going to put himself in mortal danger. Though Nicole had quite blatantly gone out of her way to avoid him since his arrival, it looked as though he was completely infatuated. It was the only reasonable explanation for all the questions he'd been asking about her. He appeared quite smitten. The whole department watched with baited breath as he approached her Friday morning.

"Good morning, Nicole," he greeted her with a smile.

Nicole nodded in response, glancing over at her partner.

"You are going to the ball tomorrow night, aren't you?" He almost nervously sought confirmation, aware that for some reason everyone in the room was eavesdropping.

"Yeah, I think everyone is." Her tone was cool.

"Well, I was just thinking that if you weren't going with someone, maybe you would go with me." It appeared to Nicole that he was anxious to see that she was definitely going to be there.

"Actually," she said, looking almost flirtatiously at Peter, "I'm going with my partner, here." She cast him a smile across the desk. Peter could do no more to conceal his grin than the rest of the department could do to conceal their surprise.

"That's right," he told Matt. "Partner is a twenty four hour a day job."

"Oh. Well. I guess I'll just, see you both there then." He smiled as he walked away.

Peter waited until the other man was out of earshot. "So, what time should I pick you up?" he asked.

"I'll just meet you there, okay? I just wanted to get him away from me." She averted her eyes to avoid seeing what looked like disappointment in Peter's gaze. Things had been changing between them over the several two weeks. They had been spending an enormous amount of time together both at and away from work.

Her mind kept returning to the night of the storm. To the feeling of warmth and acceptance she'd felt that night in his apartment. She shook her head to clear the image of Peter coming out of his kitchen, hair chaotic from sleep, with two mugs of coffee...

"You still here?" His voice shocked her back.

"Yeah. Just... oh, never mind," she stammered embarrassedly.

**********

Late Saturday afternoon Peter finally got around to rummaging through his closet in search of the tux he kept in the back for weddings and the annual occasion. He'd wisely purchased a conservative black suit, which was not in the least trendy, and therefore never went out of style. After a shower and a shave, he dressed and checked his watch. He noted that, as usual, he would be late even if he hurried. Peter hated the annual function, but went to support the officers he worked with, some of whom occasionally received awards for performance above and beyond. He himself had been honored more than once. But, it was only a few hours, and if he arrived late, all he missed was some dancing and butt kissing.

By the time he arrived, the affair was in full swing, the band was playing, the crowd mingling, dancing and drinking. The large banquet hall was filled with cops of all ranks from the division, everyone dressed to the nine's, there to honor their own. He quickly found the 101st's table, which was deserted, and headed across the floor for the bar. A drink or two usually made the evening much more tolerable.

"Hey there!" a voice called. He turned to see Jody and Mary Margaret. Jody was dressed in a black cocktail dress, her hair and makeup done perfectly. "You look great. You should wear suits more often," she complimented him.

"Yeah, that'll happen. But, you look great yourself. Everybody here already?"

"Of course. You know you're always the last," she chided him. "Planning on getting another plaque this year?"

"Actually…"

"Oh, sure. You get all the good cases. The most exciting thing I did all year was bust a couple of jay walkers," she laughed. "Want to dance?"

"Ah... maybe later. I was headed for the bar, but I'll grab you later. By the way, Skalany, I thought my father was coming."

"He is. He said something about having something to take care of first. But he promised to be here."

Peter broke away, and made his way through the crowd to the bar. "Beer," he ordered, hoping it wasn't the cheap stuff.

"Pete?"

"Kermit! Hey! I thought you weren't coming!" Peter was overjoyed to see his friend, someone to commiserate with.

"Plans changed. So, I thought I'd come see what all you award winning detectives were up to tonight. Ahhh, the beautiful people." He grinned, leaning back casually against the bar.

"Yeah, yeah. Slumming, I know. You seen my partner around here anywhere?"

"Who? The terror of the 101st? Oh, sure...she's around here somewhere. Oh, I know, I saw her dancing with TJ a few minutes ago..."

"You must be mistaken. That would involve touching," he deadpanned.

"No, I'm sure." Kermit's eyes scanned the crowd behind the dark glasses he wore indoors and out, day and night. "Yeah...there she is. Hot, huh?" He poked Peter and directed his gaze to the dance floor.

Peter's eyes hit her, moved on and in a shock of recognition, moved back. She was dancing with TJ Kincaid. She was dressed in a white silk gown, which flowed to her ankles. The front was cut just low enough to be enticing, yet not too revealing. The fabric draped beautifully on her, showing her figure off to perfection, and the back... the back wasn't even there. Her dark hair was gathered into something like a loose braid, which reached the middle of her bare back, her tattoo peaking out from behind the strap of the gown. Peter stood staring in awe, forgetting even to breathe until Kermit poked him again.

"You all right, Peter?" He laughed in amusement. "Looks like the old ice princess pretty much melted you, huh?"

"God, Kermit. She's... she's gorgeous..." Peter stammered, unable to take his eyes off her. As though sensing she was being watched, she ended her dance with TJ and scanned the room, spotting Peter almost immediately. She smiled, waved and headed their way.

"Well, I think I'll go rescue the Captain from the commissioner, he's had her captive for long enough." Kermit slipped away.

"My, don't we look unbearably presentable this evening?" Nicole poked him in the stomach with one manicured finger. "White wine, please," she spoke to the bartender who had also been watching her. As had most other males in the room.

She looked back at Peter, who still hadn't said a word. "What's the matter, Peter?" she asked, sudden concern in her eyes. She realized he was looking at her. "It's the dress, isn't it?" she asked him in a frantic whisper. "I knew I should have bought the black one, white makes me look fat, doesn't it? My butt looks huge in white, God..."

"No! No," he insisted quickly, "You look..." He stopped, searching for a suitable word.

"I look what? Come on, you're my partner, you can tell me, be honest." She steeled for rejection.

"You look like an angel," he said softly, his eyes telling her he was being honest. "You look incredible. You're the single most beautiful woman in this room."

She was clearly not expecting his response, and was taken aback. "Thanks..." she replied, embarrassed. "You look pretty great yourself, partner." Her sense of humor returned quickly. "In fact, standing here together, we look rather like the top of a wedding cake." She took her drink and stood back, surveying the gathering. "I'd say the ass kissing has begun in earnest now. That why you're late?"

"You got it." He paused, trying to avert his stare. "I didn't know you knew TJ so well."

"I don't. I mean, I don't know him any better than I know any of the other detectives we work with. Except that he's a friend of yours, and Kermit's, so I know he's... you know...safe." Meaning he wasn't a plant. She wasn't sure she'd ever stop looking over her shoulder. "Why?"

Peter fought to squash the brief and unexpected pang of jealousy he felt. "No reason. I just... saw you dancing with him, that's all."

"Well, my partner wasn't here yet," she teased, taking him by the hand, leading him towards the dance floor.

"Oh, hey, you know I don't really..." he started to object, but she already had him in the middle of the floor, with her arms around his neck. Instead of begging off and heading back to the bar, he found himself putting his arms around her waist, his hands on the unbearably soft skin of her back, pulling her a little closer than TJ had. "I'm not really good at this," he apologized.

"Nonsense, you're doing fine. Besides, you don't have to talk politics with anyone if you're out here," she assured him with a grin, moving with incredible grace. Peter inhaled the light jasmine of her perfume, so like the fragrance his mother had worn, and the clean shampoo smell of her hair as he unconsciously pulled her closer.

The band started another song, and he surprised himself by staying on the dance floor with her. They fell into the rhythm together easily, Nicole fitting comfortably into his embrace. With the ease of two people who had known each other for a lifetime, she moved even closer to him, until they were cheek to cheek. Peter kept silent, not trusting his voice.

His mind and body were sending out conflicting messages. On the one hand, the rational hand, she was his partner. She was someone he had to work with every day. Someone he couldn't even stand until just several weeks ago. Someone he did not think he could afford to feel anything but friendship for, at most.

On the other hand, his libido screamed out to him, she was an incredibly attractive woman, someone he liked, respected, was his equal, who was a challenge for once, which made her even more exciting. And there she was, in his arms, her body pressed against him, her bare skin beneath his hands. His face felt hot, he hoped his palms weren't getting sweaty. He hadn't been so nervous since the first time he danced with a girl, back in high school. Peter held her to him, until it seemed that her body had melded with his, and she did not object. For that moment, he was able to forget the dozens of people dancing around them, no doubt more than a few of them noticing the two partners looking like more than coworkers. He didn't care. He just wanted the music to keep playing, just wanted to feel the close comfort of her in his arms. The connection the two of them had made over the past few weeks was turning into something more. Something real, and exciting, and he wanted more than anything to see where it would lead.

"This is nice..." she whispered in his ear, as though sensing his thoughts.

"Mmmm," he responded, not being able to put two words together at that moment. His fingers moved in a light caress over her back and he felt her tremble slightly beneath his touch.

She pulled away unexpectedly, with a smile and walked away from him, out the open French doors to the terrace. He followed. She stood at the edge of the garden patio, and took his hand as he approached, guiding him to the relative privacy of the shadows, and kissed him.

Nicole felt her partner's passion, rising to match hers, and never thought it would be possible to feel the depth of emotion she felt for Peter. She clung to him, exploring his body with her hands as his wandered over her. His touch sent chills throughout her body and soul. She'd sensed the attraction building between them since before that night she'd shown up at his apartment and found comfort and safety in his arms on his lumpy sofa.

Surprisingly, it was Peter who pulled away first, gently disengaging, holding her arms. "What are we doing?" he asked with a breathless, uncertain smile.

"Kissing," she answered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You're touching me," he teased gently.

"You bet."

"We work together."

"You had relationships with Kelly and Jordan," she reminded him.

Peter's confession was a surprise, even to himself. "Yes, but I didn't feel this way with them..."

"And how's that?" She asked, staring curiously into his eyes.

"I want you more than anything." His hands moved over her arms, her shoulders, to the bare skin of her back. "I want to make love to you tonight, and the night after, and the night after, and the night after that... I think I could fall in love with you," he confessed quietly, pulling her into his arms again.

"Then let's get out of here."

"Can we do this without raising too many eyebrows?" he whispered conspiratorially.

"We'll have to figure out a way..." she thought aloud. "Well, we have to wait until after dinner and the presentation." She sighed with disappointment.

"You think people would notice if we left right now?"

"They'll notice if you don't show up to take your award. Then they'll look for me. We'll sneak out right after, while everyone else is heading back to the bar..."

She brought his face down to hers and kissed him deeply, the heat between them becoming a raging inferno.

"We're not going to make it through dinner if we don't stop this right now." He reluctantly pulled away and walked a few feet to the railing overlooking the grounds and took a deep breath. "You go back in now. I'll follow in a few minutes," he told her from a safe distance.

"See you soon." She grinned as she slipped back into the hall. And, came face to face with Kermit.

"Hey, Kiddo. I was wondering where you disappeared to. Outside hiding from all your admirers?"

"Yeah!" she laughed. "Something like that."

"You feeling all right? You look a little flushed."

"Oh, well, it is a little warm in here. All these people..." she stammered with a smile.

"How much longer is Peter going to stand out there? It's kind of cold outside." Kermit peered over his glasses at her as she turned redder still. "Don't worry, my lips are sealed. Besides," he put his arm around her shoulders, guiding her back towards their table where dinner was just being served, "I think it's about time." he laughed.

Peter waited five minutes out on the terrace before he started back towards the door. He was so caught up in what had just transpired, and what would transpire later, that he never heard the approach of the man in black, who with a single blow to his head, sent his world into blackness.

**********

"Caine hasn't shown up yet? It's almost 10:00." Jody commented to Mary Margaret.

"Well, you never know when there will be some sort of emergency in the spiritual stratosphere." she replied dryly. "Have you seen Matt around?"

"Yeah. He was here a minute ago. Oh, he was over there, heading towards the pay-phones." she pointed in the general direction of the phone banks.

*********

Peter Caine's first awareness was that his head was on fire. His second was that he was cold. Lying on the wet grass. And finally, that his father knelt at his side. "Peter. My son, open your eyes." Caine's gentle but insistent voice reached him, and he forced his eyes open.

"Pop. Where am I?" he groaned.

"You are outside the banquet hall. What do you remember?"

Peter struggled to sit up, aided by his father who was expertly examining the place where he had been struck. "I was...out on the terrace with Nicole. She... went back in. I... I think someone must have hit me. Knocked me out." He made a visual scan of where he was in relation to where he'd last been. "And they must have thrown me off the terrace." He pointed to the location, about fourteen feet above the ground. A sudden panic gripped his heart. "Oh, God, Pop. What's going on in there? This is IT, isn't it?" He tried to leap to his feet, his father helping to steady him.

"I do not know what has happened. I only knew that my arrival here this evening had to be delayed. There are people inside in great danger. We must help them." Caine's voice spoke of the quiet determination with which he approached all danger. "I feel the presence of our enemies most strongly."

"Sing Wah?" Peter was frightened. Not for himself, but for Nicole, and all his other friends and coworkers who were now involved as well.

His father nodded and moved off silently towards the building.

*********

"Where's Peter?" Kermit asked Nicole, joining her near the bar.

"He didn't come back in?" Nicole turned and looked across the room towards the terrace door. It was closed. "I left that door open." It was a small thing. A small thing out of place. But, something inside of her sank.

"I guess he must have come back in then." Kermit shrugged and leaned over the bar to order himself a drink. And, felt his blood turn cold. A bar towel thrown on the shelf under the bar barely concealed the butt of an automatic weapon.

"Kermit..." Nicole scanned the room, "...all the doors are closed. Why are all the doors closed?" Though her voice was calm and soft, her heart was beginning to hammer in her chest. Her internal alarms were ringing, loud and clear. This was it. This was the little remembered scene from her dream. All the people. All the colors. The music. She put her hand on Kermit's arm and squeezed, as though she could somehow convey all this to the ex-mercenary through the physical contact alone.

Kermit already knew. He led her gaze with a barely noticeable gesture to the gun under the bar, then forced himself to tear his eyes away from the weapon before the bartender could turn around and see him. He turned to Nicole and mouthed the words to her with an uncharacteristic urgency, "Are you armed?"

She nodded her head, glad now that she'd taken the time to figure out a way of wearing a sidearm under the dress. She had strapped a snubnose .38 Smith & Wesson revolver to her leg just slightly higher than where her ankle gun would have been.

"Good thing, because I think we're about to need it." Kermit knew that although more than half the people in the room were cops, many of them were functionally unarmed because it was a formal dress occasion. He, on the other hand, thought the proper weapon made the outfit.

Nicole pulled Kermit towards the wall, away from the people around the bar and surveyed the crowd. "Over there, there, there, and there." She indicated with her eyes all the people circulating the room with trays of food and drink. "Damnit, Kermit, all of them. They're all armed. How the Hell could we have missed them?"

"Question is, what do we do about them?"

Nicole never had a chance to reply. The lights in the room flickered twice and the door nearest the stage area opened. Flanked on either side by a half dozen Sing Wah assassins, Mark Hammond made his grand entrance. On cue, the waiters all dropped their trays and pulled their weapons, firing into the ceiling, knocking out about half of the overhead lights in the process. The sound of gunfire drowned out the screams of the crowd.

**********

Peter nearly jumped out of his skin as the gunfire erupted inside the hall. He heard the screams of his friends and fellow officers as he stood in powerless safety outside. He bolted towards the side door without hesitation.

"NO, MY SON!" Caine's powerful voice boomed from behind him halting him in his tracks as though he were still ten years old.

"Pop! We gotta do something!"

"Yes. Of course we must, but we must not do the wrong thing. If we act in haste, we will further jeopardize the lives of every person inside." Caine moved soundlessly to the side door and ran his hand along the doorframe. "There is an explosive device attached to this door. If you were to have opened it you would have triggered the device." His hands hovered over the small black box, which had been unnoticeable in the shadows. It came away from the door in his hands, disabled. "We will find similar devices on all of the doors," he said with certainty. The gunfire had ceased.

*********

Mark Hammond took center stage, his entourage standing around him as the guests were herded into the middle of the room. Armed guards collected guns from the startled officers, and from the handbags by the tables.

One of the 'waiters' approached Nicole, and held out his hand for her weapon. She smiled viciously at him. "Now, where the fuck would I put a gun?"

The armed man signaled to another of his cohorts to cover her while he checked. "Put your arms in the air," he ordered.

She reluctantly complied as he began to pat her down. As he got down towards the weapon she'd concealed, she jerked her knee up into his chin, snapping his head backwards. "Quit trying to cop a feel!"

The man guarding her reacted instantly, leveling the gun at her head, and was about to fire when Hammond yelled from the podium, "STOP!" and laughed. "No, no. Too easy. Leave her for me."

The man moved on, collecting weapons, as the other struggled to his feet, holding his jaw and glaring viciously at Nicole.

"Good evening and welcome." Hammond began, speaking into the microphone. "I'm so glad you're all here." He began to laugh again. "My men and I can only stay a short time, because, you see, in a few minutes this building will cease to be here. And, so will all of you. Two of you, however, will be coming with me. I've already spotted one of you. Detective Shaw, front and center please."

He motioned to Nicole and two of his men came around to collect her, ushering her to the front of the stage. "And Detective Caine," he called, looking over the crowd. "Detective Caine," he repeated. "Where is he?" He directed this question to Matt Chase. "You said they were all here!" His voice rose in anger.

"He was here! I swear!" There was desperation in his tone.

"You and you, go find him. NOW!" He singled out two of his Sing Wah guards, who took off in search of Peter.

Karen Simms moved slowly through the crowd until she found Kermit, who took her shaking hand in his own and gave her a squeeze of reassurance. "Peter was outside," he whispered. She nodded her understanding. "Let's get to a more advantageous position," he suggested as they moved towards the front of the room, and the heaviest concentration of firepower. Kermit saw Mary Margaret and Jody out of the corner of his eye doing the same. Each moved closer to one of the armed men.

*********

Outside, Peter and Caine had managed to locate and disarm the door explosives, when they saw two men in black exit the building through the one door that hadn't been rigged. The one who had thrown Peter from the balcony guided his companion to the area under the terrace. Father and son exchanged a look of understanding. They drew their enemies? attention into the shadows.

Peter sprang from his cover, flying feet first into the chest of the first man, sending him to the ground, while Caine dispatched the second without a sound. Minutes later there were two Sing Wah assassins in their underwear tied to a tree with Peter and Caine's belts, while two Shaolin, dressed in black, headed back for the hall, faces hidden beneath black masks.

********

Hammond's 'assassins' took their places back at his side. "Well, where IS he?" he yelled.

Peter responded by sliding a finger along his neck in a slicing motion.

"You BASTARD!" Nicole screamed, launching herself onto the stage in a lethal rage. She was inches away from clobbering Peter when arms grabbed her from behind, and hauled her back.

Peter's heart went out to her. He sought her eyes with his own, and made contact. Through her tears she stared seething hatred back at him until... Her heart leaped, she knew those eyes. And, he winked at her. She fought back the look of relief, which threatened to overtake her.

"I had something special in mind for Detective Caine, but this is even better!" Hammond clapped. "I had no idea you felt so strongly for your partner! Wonderful! Take her to the car," he snapped. "We want to be far away when the fireworks start."

Caine looked about the room. Every armed man had at least one officer positioned nearby, each waiting for some opportunity. He intended to give them just that. He focused all his energy and waved a hand at the master switch on the wall, plunging the room into darkness.

Caine, Peter and Nicole took the assailants on the stage by surprise. Mary Margaret, Jody, Kermit and Karen grabbed the guns from the startled 'waiters' hands. Peter ripped his mask off and ran for the switches, the lights seeming to burst back on.

Hammond had taken cover behind the podium. Nicole spotted him as he raised his gun and aimed - at Peter.

"PETER, GET DOWN!" she screamed, replaying the scene from the warehouse over and over again in her mind, nightmare images flying back to her consciousness. She ran towards him as he turned at the sound of her voice, but it was as though her feet were mired in wet sand. She knew in that heartbeat that she would not be able to get to him in time. The dream was not to be denied.

Peter's face was frozen in her mind's eye, looking to her in surprise as he felt the hot lead piercing his flesh. His eyes never left hers as be doubled over, crumpling to the floor, his hand clutching the gunshot wound in his abdomen.

The blood covered both his hands in an instant.

"NO!" Nicole jerked her gun from its holster, turned and fired three times in raging anger. Hammond went down, hit in the kill zone three times.

Caine was at his son's side instantly, prying his hand away from the wound.

"Call an ambulance, NOW!" Nicole screamed, at no one in particular.

Peter's eyes opened and closed as he fought to hang on to consciousness. His breath came raggedly, growing more shallow as his battle to keep his eyes open was lost. Caine used one of the Sing Wah masks to apply pressure to the wound as he pulled his bag from beneath his black shirt.

Nicole sat on the floor, gently cradling Peter's head in her lap. She clasped his shaking, blood-covered hand in hers and looked desperately at Caine, the tears in her eyes beginning to flow freely. Her mind was overloaded with feelings of fear, and guilt. There should have been something she could have done to prevent this. She should never have come to the 101st. This was her fault. This man she'd come to care about so deeply was lying in a pool of blood because she'd been powerless to stop something she had set in motion.

"Lend him your strength," Caine encouraged her.

"I was only taught how to kill, Caine. I don't know anything about healing." Her fears of inadequacy bubbled to the surface.

"You know about loving my son. Lend him the strength of your love for him." His voice was reassuring despite his own anxiety.

Nicole closed her eyes and concentrated, letting her love for the injured man flow through her hands into his. The feelings coursing through her frightened her more than anything, ever in her life. The feeling of another life, clinging to this world by the fine thread of her love. She became incapable of holding anything back. Love, caring, tenderness, compassion, all the emotions she'd denied herself her whole life... had not even known she was capable of feeling were all there, flowing into Peter. She could feel his life force energy, and was amazed.

Time lost all meaning to her until she was startled back into awareness by the sound of a siren, and the movement of the hand she held. Caine was administering pressure to the wound, lending the strength of his own chi to the healing, and Peter's eyes were fluttering open. "Damnit, Peter. When I tell you to get down...get down..." she choked out.

Peter's shaking hand came up to her cheek, brushing away an errant tear. "I love you..." he mouthed silently.

She smiled with weary relief and leaned to kiss him gently on the lips. "I love you, partner," she whispered. She reluctantly relinquished her hold on him to allow the paramedics to move him onto a gurney. She climbed into the back of the ambulance, refusing to be separated from Peter, as the prisoners were escorted out of the building.

*********

"I understand it's not your policy to give out hospital scrubs to anyone who asks for them." Nicole leaned threateningly over the nurses station counter. "Do you see this dress? Do you see the blood? This blood belongs to my partner who is in surgery right now, and I'm not leaving. I need something to wear!"

Hearing her voice taking on a slightly hysterical quality, Kermit wandered over to her side and confided in the nurse who had refused her initial request. "She's shot one person already tonight, and her mood is only deteriorating."

Ten minutes later, Nicole, dressed in a pair of green hospital scrubs, joined Caine, Kermit, Karen, Skalany, Jody, Blake and Kelly, back in the waiting room.

Peter had been in surgery for the better part of an hour already. The bullet had exited his body, not hitting any major organs or arteries, and he would be fine. It was after 2:00 A.M. and everyone was exhausted. Nerves were frayed and raw. Mark Hammond had been pronounced dead on the scene. His hired guns were sitting in a cell downtown. The only person left unaccounted for was Matt Chase. The lights had gone out, and he had disappeared.

Karen sat close to Kermit on one of the sofas, her head resting on his chest, his arm draped over her shoulders. She looked close to sleep. Skalany and Jody were alternating pacing the corridors, and making trips to the coffee machine. Blake sat quietly, his eyes still wide open and shocky looking after the ordeal of the evening. Kelly, who had dated Peter for some time, and was quite used to being in a hospital waiting for word on his condition, had fallen asleep in her chair.

Nicole sat next to Caine, taking his hand. "He will recover," Caine assured her.

"I know. I just hate this waiting." She stared at the door to the OR as though willing someone to bring them news.

*********

Around 3:00, Peter was moved to a private room to recover from surgery. The detective opened his eyes, grateful for the darkness of the room. The fact that he could feel the familiar sensation of hospital sheets told him immediately where he was. That, and the groggy, thickheaded feeling from the anesthesia which was slowly wearing off. He cast his mind over the last events he could remember, to determine why it was, this time, that he was here. *The banquet. Right.* He breathed deeply and turned his head to the side. There was a hand resting in his. He knew to whom it belonged.

She was asleep, curled up into what looked like a hellishly uncomfortable position in the chair pulled close to the bed. Peter smiled and brought a hand up to brush the tangled, dark hair out of her face.

"Peter?" Her eyes shot open.

"Hi."

"Hi, yourself." She eased herself out of the chair and sat carefully on the side of the bed, taking his hands. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been shot. Oh. Right." He offered a weak smile, glad for the company.

"Hah, hah."

"Is everyone okay?"

"Couple of bumps and bruises. You were the only real casualty. Except Hammond. But we'll call that an acceptable loss."

"I wanted to spend the night with you. But, not like this," he whispered.

Nicole sat silently for a long moment, staring at his hand in hers, feeling the warmth of his living flesh. "You really scared me."

"I'm sorry..."

"You don't understand." Her voice became choked as though the words were sticking in her throat. "My whole life I never... thought that I could... feel this way. But, when I thought I lost you... it was like... like someone reached in and ripped my heart out." A small sob escaped her throat. She looked down at Peter's face. He was smiling. "What?"

"You love me." His tone was light and teasing, his grip on her hands stronger.

"You're impossible, you know that," she scowled.

"Yes. But you love me," he insisted, the teasing gone from his voice. "And, I love you. And you're not going to lose me." Peter shifted carefully in the bed, moving over to make room, and pulled back the covers. "Come here."

Nicole slid beneath the covers with him, moving gently to embrace him, careful not to disturb any of the tubes and wires, which connected him to his IV's and monitors. "Where do we go from here, Peter?"

"Anywhere we want." He closed his eyes, his energy almost gone.

"I'm not the easiest person in the world to live with, you know."

"Gee, I wouldn't have guessed."

"Bite me."

"I will when I'm up to it."

The bed was cramped and uncomfortable, but there was no place she would have rather been. None of the nurses who came to check on him before morning would have dared to ask her to leave.

**********

Nicole paced the floor of Peter's hospital room. She'd hardly slept. She hadn't eaten. She'd shed the scrubs in favor of jeans and a sweatshirt Skalany had been kind enough to provide her. Caine had been in and out many times during the course of the day, and had encouraged her to go home and rest. They had talked at some length, quietly and seriously. She'd cried on his shoulder, and he'd understood. Now, she stayed. Needing to talk to Peter. Her nerves were raw. The sun was beginning to set on another day, and she stood by the window, feeling the last of its warmth on her face.

"You're still here?" Peter's voice startled her.

"I like this place." She grinned uneasily back at him, returning to sit on the bed. She leaned over and kissed him, her lips lingering on his cheek.

Peter looked up into her eyes and saw love. And, turmoil. And, he felt his stomach knot. "What's wrong?" His voice was quiet and uncertain.

Nicole took a deep breath and Peter could see the unshed tears welling up in her eyes. She wiped angrily at them and looked away until she found her voice. "We have to... talk... Peter."

"'Bout what?" He didn't want to know. He didn't want her to continue. He wanted her to stop right there and not say another word.

"About us." Her heart was sinking in her chest, heavy as lead. "Peter, I need some time." Her voice lowered to a bare whisper. It was all she could manage with her throat constricting.

"Time for what...?" Peter felt a numbness within him rising.

"I need some time to... deal with... everything. So much as happened. I can't even begin to... to explain it to you." She tried to spill it out. She'd thought about what she'd say to him all day, and now that he was awake, looking up at her, his eyes so open and vulnerable... "I need to go away for a little while."

She blurted out. There. She'd said it.

"Away where? Why?" Peter struggled to sit up. "But last night..."

"I know... I know... Peter, I was so scared last night. And that's not all." She gained a little strength from momentum, had to before her resolve weakened.

"Peter, I'm finding things inside me I had no idea were there. And you've started a healing in me I didn't know I needed, but I do. There's so much I have to come to terms with. So much I have to figure out for myself."

Peter began to protest, his mind spinning, unable to form the words he needed to say.

"I love you, Peter. Please believe that. I love you so much, and I want to be with you. But, there's so much poison in me, I can't be good for anyone. Living half a lifetime in evil leaves its mark. I brought so much pain into the lives of every person in that hall last night... I have to... to go away for a while, Peter. To heal. To come to terms with what can't be healed, if that's the case. If I stay, like this, the only thing I'll be able to give you is pain."

"That's not true..." he protested.

"It is true." She interrupted, "Peter, you've given me the most incredible gift. You've shown me that there's more to me, that's there's more to life than I knew. There's so much I need to learn. And, to unlearn. I need to do this for myself. I need to do this for us. Peter, I'll be back. I promise."

Peter lay back down, squeezing his eyes closed, willing this to be a dream. This couldn't be possible. He didn't understand. The people he loved most in this life kept leaving him, and it was happening again. "Don't leave me. I love you..." His voice was more the voice of a scared young boy than a grown man, and it wrenched her heart.

"It's not forever, Peter. I love you, and I'll be back." She kissed him hard on the lips and he felt her rise from the bed.

He opened his eyes to see the door to his room swinging closed. He continued to stare at the door, waiting for it to open again. Though he knew it wouldn't.

END