Revenge of the Dragon

by Cheyenne852

Tan's daughter returns. This story has been previously published in 'That was Zen, This is Tao #2".

REVENGE OF THE DRAGON

By Cheyenne

Swirling mists and clinging darkness surrounded the traditional alter. A framed picture, surrounded by flowers, dominated the center of the table as bowls of fruit stood on either side in silent tribute and sticks of incense sent small streams of fragrant smoke drifting upward.

She stood, cloaked all in black before the small alter, a cape the color of midnight softly billowing around her as if touched by a gentle breeze.

A coldness filled the room as she vowed once again to the demons of hate she served, feeding again the evil that had become her soul. Like the night that surrounded her, the need for revenge invaded her being until only the blood of her father's enemy could satisfy it.

That enemy was still alive. *Kwai Chang Caine still lives*.

The thought burned into her soul with the strength of a white hot poker, blotting out any trace of solace she may have found in Caine's offered sympathy.

Her plan had not gone well at all. When she had left the club that night with the young man, she had not known of Caine's son. She had fully intended to simply use the young man as yet another in a string of enticements to force Caine into fighting her. Instead, he had used the assistance of his son to distract her.

Thus she had failed. That time. This time, time itself would prove her benefactor. She had restructured her plan and now awaited the perfect moment to strike.

Yes. This time Caine's son could prove very useful to her. She would still have her revenge. This she promised to the memory of her dead father.

*Soon, Father. Very Soon.*

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

*Sunrise. How few of those I get to see these days...*

Peter Caine sipped at his morning coffee, enjoying the start of another in a long string of beautiful Indian summer days. A faint twinge of regret passed his handsome face as he recalled the sunrises that had been a part of his everyday life as a child. A shiver crept up his spine at the memory of the cold winter mornings when there had been no chance to crawl back under the covers of his bed to the warmth within. *God, I dreaded the temple in winter.* The summers, though, had more than made up for those cold, frosty mornings. He had awakened each spring and summer morning looking forward to the sunrises and what little time he would be able to spend with his father before obligations and duties of the temple separated them for the day. *I was such a jealous little jerk.* He shook his head in wonder. *Despite all his reassurances, I always felt he had more time for the other students and temple management than he had for me.*

That was a long time ago, another lifetime. Peter attempted to push the thought aside with a shake of his dark head. The memories surfaced anyway. The last sunrise he'd shared with his father at the temple came to mind, bringing feelings of guilt. His adolescent rebellion had kicked in full force that day....

"Peter?" his father had greeted him with a hint of reproach in his voice.

He cringed at his father's tone, knowing Caine had heard about his latest escapade.

"Y..Yes, father."

Caine stood before him, his arms crossed, waiting for an explanation from his son. Peter nervously shifted from one foot to the other. His father had always been able to read him like a book.

"My son, I have been informed that you refused to do a demonstration for the class this morning."

Peter hung his head in embarrassment.

"Yes father. I did."

"Why?" he asked. "Did you not feel capable of accomplishing the task?"

Peter looked up, a flash of defiance and anguish in his brown eyes.

"No. I could not," he declared.

"But you did not try, Peter."

"N...No father. I didn't," he said, feeling he had once again disappointed his father.

"Why not?" he asked.

"I.... I couldn't do it perfectly, father," he had stammered, remembering the teasing from the other boys and the expectations of the masters because he was 'Caine's son'.

His father had surprised him by reaching out and pulling him close in an embrace.

An unconscious smile crossed Peter's face. *I expected big time punishment for that little rebellious incident, not pop's understanding,* he thought. *That hug from him meant more to me than all the taunts from the other boys.*

That sunrise had been a beacon in the night to Peter for years after the destruction of the temple. It had been months before he had been able to recall the incident but once he had, he'd held onto it with desperation. *I'm glad we had that sunrise, father.*

With a touch of regret, Peter thought of how seldom he was able to see the sunrise these days. His job as a police officer seemed to take him mostly to the streets in the dead of night. Lately, the sun had been up for hours before he rose.

His current search for a man named Sing had taken him every day this week to the streets of Chinatown. He had thought he might run into his father or perhaps, just drop by his apartment to see how he was doing. Unfortunately, Peter's schedule had not allowed time and he had not seen his father or the Ancient for days.

A moment of sadness, mixed with anger came over him as he remembered, once again it seemed he and his father were growing further apart since the business with the Chinese Emperor had ended. Peter wondered if his father would have come back had it not been for the Shadow Assassins return or would he have stayed had it not been for Tan's daughter showing up. Anger began to take hold, but he once again shook it off. He still felt betrayed by Caine's six month absence, and the thought that his father could pick up and leave at any time stirred a fear in him he was still unable to confront. Until he had the time to deal with it, it was better left in the dark recesses of his heart.

The thought of Tan's daughter reminded Peter of another unresolved problem. It ate at him to know she was guilty of murder and yet, he was unable to prove it. It had been two months since she had walked out of the courtroom a free woman and it still left a bitter taste in his mouth every time he thought of it.

For two weeks after the trial, Peter had been on suspension while Internal Affairs had done their own investigation into her accusations. It had been rough, but IA had not been able to come up with any evidence to substantiate her charges of assault.

Although the jury had believed her story; the DA., the Department and, especially, Blaisdell had known Peter told the truth.

Peter knew Blaisdell had been a major factor in Internal Affair's investigation. Peter's reputation in the department wasn't exactly 'by the book'. On more than one occasion, Paul had run him over the coals for his daredevil approach to a situation. The fact that it had paid off each time had not cooled Blaisdell's temper.

Peter also knew that Paul's worry stemmed from more than the normal concern of a Captain for one of his officers. After all, Paul was his foster father and Paul's wife, Annie, was the only mother Peter had ever known. Through the years on the department, Peter had bent over backwards to not take advantage of that fact, but he suspected Blaisdell could attribute more than one gray hair to his actions.

He was a good police officer and when the opportunity arose for him to work directly under Blaisdell they had both talked it through, long and hard, before Peter had accepted the position. Paul would give no special favors and Peter would accept none.

Things had worked out well for them so far. Paul remained his constant reminder to curb some of the more 'exuberant' traits he possessed, while Peter not only received more challenges, which he thrived on, but also had received invaluable training from Blaisdell. And the two also shared something that neither had ever questioned--a deep belief in the law and an equally deep respect and love for each other.

Peter thought of Paul and the common speculation around the station that he had been involved in more than just 'police work' over the years. Some said he had been involved as an advisor to General Norman Schwartzkoff during the Persian Gulf crisis, others said that he had worked for every organization from the Secret Service and the CIA, to a technical advisor on Clint Eastwood's latest movie. Peter had heard all the stories and had been questioned about them himself. He personally didn't know for certain what Paul did on his little excursions but he would not have been surprised if all of the suspicions were correct. Once when he was younger, he had asked Paul about his sudden disappearances. Paul had sensed the distress in his new son and quickly reassured him that his comings and going were of vital importance but no matter how important they were, he would always be back.

At the time, it was exactly what a frightened fifteen year old boy needed to hear.

Peter often wondered what he would have done if something had happened to Paul on one of his trips and he had not returned. Not only would Annie and the girls have been left alone but the circumstances that had lead Peter back to his father might never had been put into place.

Peter shuddered at that thought. During the past year, he had finally begun to find a measure of peace within himself. When Ping Hai had taken him to the sight of Caine's grave, Peter had made a vow to avenge his father. During the following years, with Ping Hai, in the orphanage and finally with Paul and Annie, Peter had been unable to fulfill that pledge. That knowledge had gnawed at him throughout their separation. Sometimes, he wondered if it wasn't the reason he took more chances than he should. Bringing down Tan was a prime example. Even before he had realized Tan was Master Dao, he had gone into the investigation with little regard for his own well-being.

*Pretty ironic that because of Tan, I lost my father and found him again......*

During the course of an undercover operation in Chinatown, there had been talk of a mysterious stranger coming to the aid of the people on the streets. At a fire, set by Tan's henchman, the selfsame man had walked out of the burning brownstone, carrying the old man known as the Ancient. Like a specter from the past, something about the way he moved stirred a memory in the back of Peter's mind. As he watched both men collapse to the pavement, the stranger's sleeve had pulled halfway up his arm to reveal a tattoo on the inside of his forearm, a dragon. Peter knew without looking what would be on the other arm. In his grandfathers day they had been scars. In more modern times they were tattoos, yet the meaning was still the same. They represented a lifetime of practice and devotion that was almost unmatched in today's world. The man was a Shaolin Priest. Here, in Chinatown. The knowledge hit Peter like a block of ice as old memories sprang from the dust. Hope suddenly built in him that perhaps this priest might remember his father and could tell him something about him. It had been a long time since Peter had felt such a strong urge to know something about his father. He remembered as a boy how curious he had always been about him and his life, but as the years had past and with the destruction of the temple his desire had faded. What memories he had of his past life with his father he treasured but the destruction of the temple and his father's death remained as separate buried memories.

As the paramedics had crowded around the two fallen men, Peter had returned to the background. He was undercover, trying to gain access to Tan and his organization. Blowing his cover over a need to remember his father could prove deadly for him. Besides, he knew he would be able to find the priest later.

'Later' had brought it's own surprises. When Peter had been able to steal away from Tan's people and had located the mysterious stranger he had received an incredible shock. While he stood beside the bed where the priest lay sleeping, Peter had taken his first close look at him. A myriad of emotions had erupted in him - caution, disbelief, anger, denial, hope and a thousand others. Finally, incredible joy had filled Peter's heart.

Even though he now had an unshaven head, he was looking into the face of the father he had believed dead for fifteen years...

The initial reunion had been short and Peter had not been able to ask all the questions that had flooded his mind. Even now, more than a year after finding his father, he still didn't have all of his questions answered. Hestill didn't know where his father had been during their separation.

Their reunion, although happy, had hit a few snags. His father's passive non-aggression seemed to constantly come up against Peter's sometimes violent police work. More than once Peter had felt his father seemed disappointed that his response to a situation required a gun.

His father had tried to reassure him that although he believed "there was always another way", he was not disappointed in him. Peter tried to convince himself but the nagging worry was ever present.

Peter was still very much deep in thought when the ringing of his telephone brought him back to the present.

"Hello?" he said, picking up the phone.

There was no answer for a moment, then a static clogged, faint voice came on the line.

"If you want to find Sing, get to the ally on 52nd behind the Golden Dragon restaurant. He is there now."

Click!

The caller was gone before Peter had a chance to question them. He wasn't even sure if it had been a man or a woman.

Ed Sing was wanted for questioning in connection with a shooting in Chinatown and Peter had been a cop long enough to know better than to disregard an anonymous tip on a suspect. He also knew better than to take any chances with Sing. He downed the last of his coffee and double checked his weapon before leaving his apartment. He would call the station from his car to let them know he had a line on Sing and where he would be.

Maybe they would be lucky and be able to wrap this up pretty quick.

**********

The Dragon's daughter had salvaged the first battle.

Playing her part to the fullest, she had been able to convince the jury that she, and not Peter, had been the victim. Kwai Chang Caine did not begrudge her the victory, only the problems it had created for his son. He had been wrong to let Peter become involved and that error had come very close to costing his son his life.

In his journey back through time, Caine had learned he already possessed the knowledge he needed to attain victory over the forces of darkness that claimed Tan's daughter. That knowledge had almost come too late to save Peter's life, but fate had instead smiled on him and he had arrived in time.

There were few times when Caine questioned the cycles through which life flowed. He had searched for understanding when his wife had been taken from him and his small son many years ago. He had never told Peter of his doubts. Later when the temple had been destroyed he had again questioned the cycles that, this time, had taken his son from him. His faith had waned and he had spent fifteen years searching for the essence that had been his son's spirit. He admitted now that he had blamed himself for not being able to protect Peter from danger and at the same time, he blessed the forces that had drawn him to this city. His search for the Chinese Emperor had led him, not only to the redemption of his family honor, but back to a son he had long thought dead.

Caine remembered the fire in the brownstone and carrying the Ancient out of the flames, then nothing until he awoke in the hospital. He remembered coming awake as though drawn by some unseen power and looking up at the dark eyed young man who stood before him. There was something familiar about him, but Caine could not recall where they might have met before. Then, as Peter spoke and Caine realized what he was saying, his heart opened and he hugged his son for the first time in fifteen long, exhausting years. The joy that filled his soul was limitless. His life was once again complete.

Caine felt that joy threatened now. Tan's daughter believed her father had been murdered in cold blood by Caine. Although her first attempt at revenge had failed, it had provided her with the valuable knowledge of the existence of a vital weakness in Caine. Peter. He knew she would use that knowledge to her advantage.

She had been silent for a prolonged time now, an animal stalking its prey, waiting for the appropriate opportunity to strike. It would be soon. He could feel it.

For the past several days, Caine had been having an increasingly disturbing feeling. The morning had brought him a constant uneasiness that only continued to grow stronger. Something was about to happen, something evil and ominous. Caine knew what it meant. She was stirring and would make her move very soon. He could feel something else in connection with her bid for vengeance. He had to warn Peter.

Caine left his rooftop flat to search for his son. His first stop was Peter's apartment. When he arrived, he could sense that Peter had not been gone long and also that the menace was now stalking his son. He quickly left and made his way to the police station.

**********

Caine had become very familiar with the layout of the station since his reunion with Peter. He had made a point of becoming familiar with the things that were a major part of his son's life. He had never been outspoken about it, but he had missed his son much more than he realized.

Recent events had made it more difficult for him to keep in regular touch with his son, but with the help of Lo Si he had been able to at least keep track of him.

As always, the police station was bustling with activity. Caine halted just inside the door of the squad room and let his eyes travel over the inhabitants in search of Peter.

**********

An uneasy feeling had brought Paul Blaisdell into the office early that day. He felt something was up but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He had expected to find Peter already at his desk, completing his paperwork from the previous day's activity. Paul allowed himself a small smile at this regular occurrence. Many times, Peter had told him the worst thing about being a cop was the mountains of paperwork that went along with it. Peter was constantly putting what paperwork he could off until a later time.

This morning, however, Peter wasn't there. It nagged at the back of Paul's mind, but he let it slide. Peter had probably gotten a line on Ed Sing and was checking it out. He would check with dispatch as soon as he finished his daily log and had gotten a cup of coffee, to see if his foster son had reported in.

*********

Caine had not been able to locate Peter. After a few moments, he stopped one of the other detectives, a bouncy red-haired officer, he had been introduced to on one of his previous visits.

"I am looking for Peter Caine." he said quietly.

The female officer recognized him as and also scanned the room.

"Haven't seen him this morning. I don't think he's come in yet." she said.

"May in speak to Captain Blaisdell?" he asked politely.

"Sure. Just a moment." She said, going to knock on Blaisdell's office.

Caine could not hear her words but he saw Paul Blaisdell look up and rise quickly when he saw who was asking for him. Caine bowed in greeting to Blaisdell as the captain came to meet him beside Peter's desk.

For all their differences, Paul and Caine had learned a deep respect for the other. Both understood and accepted that the separation of father and son had been beyond their control and that the son they shared was often torn between loyalties. Paul realized, had it not been for the destruction of the temple, he might never have had Peter in his life. Caine now knew why his search for what had been his son's soul never came to fruition. Peter still lived.

Caine bowed slightly in greeting to Blaisdell.

"Master Caine," he said in acknowledgment. "What can I do for you?"

"I am looking for Peter." Caine told him with the slightest hint of urgency in his voice.

The nagging feeling of uneasiness that had been with Paul all morning suddenly multiplied. "He hasn't come in yet. Is something wrong?" he asked.

A look crossed Caine's face as if to deny anything was amiss. Paul felt a stab of irritation at the priest's brief hesitation. If something was wrong with Peter, Paul had the right to know.

Paul calmed his temper as Caine took a deep breath and continued. "Tan's daughter has returned," he said. "I believe she is stalking Peter."

Concern gripped Blaisdell at his words. That would explain the uneasy feelings he had been getting all morning. Paul took Caine by the arm and guided him to his office.

"Have you tried his apartment?" he asked, reaching for his phone.

"Yes." Caine told him. "He.. is.. not.. there."

As Paul began to dial the number to dispatch, Frank Strenlich, stepped through the door unannounced, hesitating when he saw Caine.

"What is it, Frank?" Blaisdell asked, an icy knot forming in his stomach.

Strenlich eyes flicked toward Caine, the unspoken announcement already being suspicioned.

Strenlich still hesitated.

"Well?" Paul said, concern making his voice sharper than he intended.

Strenlich's dread was clearly written on his face.

"We just got a call on a disturbance in the alley on 52nd. An anonymous caller said someone was being attacked." he sighed. "Peter had just gone out at that same address."

Paul exchanged a stunned look with Caine. Even though both had been expecting something of this nature, it still sent chills through them.

"Is anyone there yet?" Paul asked in a tight voice as he hung up his phone.

Strenlich shook his head.

"A black and white was just arriving. I knew you'd want to be told as soon as possible." he said, backing out the door.

"Thanks, Frank." Paul said as he started out around the desk. He stopped in front of Caine. "Master Caine, would you like to ride with me?"

Caine nodded his gratitude and followed him from the office.

*********

Silence was the overriding factor en route to the scene. Paul didn't want to think the worst but knowing the hazards involved in police work and how 'accident prone' Peter was didn't ease his mind.

When they neared the address given them by Strenlich, Blaisdell cut the emergency lights and siren on his car. Pulling the vehicle to a stop, he got out and surveyed the area. For approximately a block in any direction, people were milling about, some pointing and whispering, other simply watching in silence. Two uniformed officers were keeping onlookers back. Paul's stomach lurched when he spotted Peter's car parked at the corner. Almost desperately, his eyes searched among the crowd of people and officers for his son. He felt Caine lay a calming hand on his arm and looked in the direction he pointed.

A disheveled Peter stood beside a uniformed officer, talking. Paul exchanged relieved looks with Caine, breathed a silent sigh of relief, flashed his badge and led the priest through the police barricade. *Whatever has happened, at least Peter is still mobile*, he told himself as he was finally able to get Peter's attention.

Paul saw Peter glance up and step forward to meet them as they approached. He silently gave thanks as Caine produced a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, handed it to his son and indicated a cut on his left temple.

"Thanks, Pop." he said, absently accepting the offer and rubbing at his forehead.

Paul smiled, inwardly. Under normal circumstances, Caine would have corrected Peter on use of the slang term he knew his father disapproved of, but for the moment, the priest let is pass unchallenged.

Paul placed a hand on Peter's shoulder forcing him around to face them, silently taking stock of his son's visible injuries. Small cuts and scrapes to his face, some bruises beginning to show on his arm and the left sleeve of his shirt torn and shredded, not too bad considering what he had been imagining. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Peter nodded. "Yeah. I think so," he paused and tenderly touched his ribs. "I hurt some," he winced, "but I'm okay."

Paul shook his head, knowing that would have been the answer he received, regardless of the truth. Failure to acknowledge his pain was, to Paul, one of the most irritating traits Peter possessed. With a look to Caine, who nodded in understanding, Paul turned his attention to the surrounding scene. "What happened?' he asked.

Peter shook his head as he stepped into the alley away from the crowd, a mistake on his part he decided, as a slight dizziness slipped up on him. "I'm not sure," he said stopping to face his fathers. "I got a call this morning, saying that Sing was here. When I arrived, nothing," he threw his hands up in frustration then continued. "I started down the alley to look around, then boom, three guys in black appeared out of nowhere and started pounding on me."

A lightheadedness came over him as he spoke. Refusing to give into it, he turned away from his father and Blaisdell, fighting the blurred vision. *I don't need this now.* Within moments, relief flooded him as it cleared.

"You were lucky the black and white was nearby," he heard Paul saying, then frowned.

"I don't know, Paul," Blaisdell cocked an eyebrow at him in question. "There was something...weird about this." he continued as both older men faced him.

"Weird, how?" Blaisdell asked him.

Peter paused, searching for the words to express the uneasy feeling he had. Finally, he shook his head, again feeling frustration.

"Other than doing their best to ruin my shirt and leave me with a few bumps, they weren't working very hard at taking me down," he saw the looks of doubt in the older men's eyes and felt angry. "I've been in a few fights before. They.. they weren't trying." he said for lack of a better description.

Peter was not prepared when Paul reached out and touched the still bleeding cut on his forehead.

"Really?" Paul asked with a small laugh.

A flash of irritation hit Peter along with that pesky lightheadedness, making him snap. "It just didn't....." his voice trailed off as he stopped, catching Paul's upraised eyebrows. "It just didn't feel like they were trying to do any serious damage." he finished lamely, realizing how he must have sounded.

Peter shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and turned his head away from them, feeling like a rookie. *Why do I feel like a child when both of my fathers are together?* He asked himself.

Paul considered Peter's, while he took another look at his appearance. There was no denying the kid was tough and he knew he wasn't given to complaints about physical ailments, but at the same time, Paul knew he was holding something back. Whether his injuries were more painful than he was letting on or he was having one of Caine's 'feelings', something was disturbing Peter. Paul sighed, knowing they would have to wait until Peter was ready to tell them. He'd dealt with Peter's stubborn streak before. He seldom tolerated being 'fussed over' as Annie called it or being pushed. They'd just have to wait him out.

"Well, they had something in mind," Paul said finally, running a hand through graying hair. "Apparently, they were waiting for you so there has to be a motive."

Softly, from behind Blaisdell, Caine spoke.

"The.. 'motive'.. is revenge."

"What?" Peter asked as he and Paul turned to face the priest. During the entire exchange between Peter and Paul, Caine had remained silent, observing everything, saying nothing.

"You said they... wore black?" he asked, placing a hand on Peter's shoulder.

"Yes. Even black ski masks," Peter said, his speech slowing as a new thought occurred to him. "What are you two doing here together?" he asked, realizing for the first time they had arrived at the same time.

He saw Paul exchanged a guilty look with Caine.

"You're father came to the station looking for you, Peter." he explained. "He was there when we got the call."

A mixture of happiness and suspicion crossed Peter's face briefly. His father always had a purpose when he sought him out.

"Why were you looking for me?" he asked as another, stronger dizzy spell began to overtake him.

"I.. was.. concerned for you," Caine told him.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Peter asked, the strain of concentrating beginning to tell in his voice. He put a hand to his forehead and rubbed at his face to cover his distress.

"Tan's daughter.... has returned."

Peter froze as the news penetrated the fog entering his brain. He looked to Paul for confirmation.

"I haven't seen her," Blaisdell told him. "But, I trust your father's intuition," he paused, "He thinks she's after you this time."

Peter looked from one man to the other. "Why me?" he blurted. "You're the one she thinks murdered her father," he told Caine.

Caine lifted one shoulder in quiet resignation. "She.. will use you..to force me to fight," he told his son.

Peter opened his mouth to protest his father's train of thought, then stopped as he remembered the young men she had already murdered, trying to force him into a confrontation.

Peter thought for a few moments before he turned to his father and Paul.

"So, you think this was her work?" he asked, hands spread apart to indicate the surrounding area.

Caine shrugged one shoulder, still reluctant to bring full blame on the woman. Peter turned to Blaisdell waiting for an answer.

"It's possible," he said, then paused for one more look around the alley. "We'll know more when forensics is through."

After a moment to absorb this knowledge, Peter nodded his head in agreement and turned toward his car. Without warning, his legs buckled under him and no amount of covering prevented him from stumbling into his father. Caine reached out and caught him in a steadying hand as Paul witnessed the incident.

"Peter!" he cried with concern and authority.

"I'm okay." Peter said, trying to reassure his foster father from a colorless face that told a different story.

"Sure you are," Paul said, disbelief plainly filling his voice. He motioned one of the uniformed officers over. "I want you to go to the hospital. Now."

Peter opened his mouth to protest but Paul stopped him with an upraised finger pointed in his face. It was a gesture familiar to Peter.

"Either you go quietly with an officer or I summon an ambulance. Take your choice."

Peter recognized the fire in Paul's eyes and the low, no nonsense voice he had used on a number of occasions in years past.

Paul was amazed at the unspoken arguments and the emotions that played across Peter's face. It just wasn't in the kid's nature to accept defeat. He refused to give up. Paul could see it coming, the "let's talk about this" argument. He braced himself mentally, prepared to argue with his son despite his warning.

"He will go."

The soft spoken words from Caine surprised both, Peter and Paul.

"I will.... go with him." the priest stated simply.

Paul smiled at the dumbfounded look on Peter's face, then nodded in satisfaction and gratitude to Caine.

"Good. That's settled," Blaisdell smiled as he turned to the officer who had witnessed the family scene. "Glencross." Paul said simply, indicating the area hospital. The officer nodded, trying his best to suppress a grin.

Paul turned back to the crime scene and left a still speechless Peter in the hands of his father. It took all of his willpower not to laugh at the expression on his son's face. It was one of the few times he had ever seen Peter Caine at a loss for words.

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

Peter watched Paul turn his back to them and walk away. He couldn't understand how things had gotten so far out of his control. He usually was able to 'convince' Paul to see things his way, even if he had to enhance the visual imagery a bit. He decided either he was losing his touch or he did indeed need to be checked by a doctor. He heaved a sigh and followed his father's guiding hand resignedly to the open door of the police cruiser. Embarrassment colored Peter's face when they reached the car. The officer, Jerry Lambert, held the door open and bowed, exaggerating his role as chauffeur. Peter cursed silently as a thought stuck in his mind. *Damn. This will be all over the station by noon.*

"One word about this, Jerry," he threatened, knowing before hand it was useless, "and I'll get you."

Lambert smiled at the empty threat. He and Peter had been friends too long for him to take it seriously. He closed the door, climbed into the front seat and resisted the urge to use the lights and siren on their departure.

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

Several hours later, Paul Blaisdell was still going over the paperwork from the incident. If what Caine said was true, they had to stop Tan's daughter before she could do Peter harm. Thoughts of her past treachery brought a fear to him.

A commotion of raised voices brought Paul's attention to the squad room. He looked up to see Peter making his way through the crowed room to a hail of 'welcome backs' from the other detectives. Paul didn't miss the slightly cringed looked in his direction, realizing Peter had been hoping to sneak back to his desk unnoticed. Paul started to laugh as the scene brought back memories of the times Peter had tried to quietly sneak to his room after missing curfew in high school, but the bandage on his son's forehead stopped any laughter he felt. Caine appeared in the doorway behind Peter as the Captain motioned them into his office. With a resigned sigh, Peter continued into the office, determined to convince Paul he was fine.

"Well?" Paul asked, closing the door and returning to his desk.

Peter drew in breath, preparing an explanation, until Paul held up his hand effectively cutting him off.

"Not you," he said with a straight face. "I want to hear it from your father." Paul saw a smile touch Caine's face as Peter closed his mouth in annoyance. Blaisdell knew his son too well. "I wouldn't get a straight answer out of you anyway," he continued, only half joking.

Peter leaned bodily against the file cabinet, his arms propped on top, not facing his fathers while they discussed his physical well-being. He would have felt more anger at the exclusion, except for the fact that leaning on the cabinets was giving him a chance to cover another dizzy spell. He closed his eyes to shut out the tilted room.

"The doctors... wanted him... to stay overnight for observation," Peter heard Caine tell the captain.

Paul rubbed at his face with both hands.

"And Peter refused," he said knowingly.

"Yes. They took x-rays and did .... blood work?" he said, half in question, searching for the correct words.

"Did they find anything?" Paul asked the priest as Peter finally turned toward them. No matter how he felt, he had a definite dislike of being discussed as if he were not in the room, even from the two people he loved most in the world. He'd about reached his low impatience threshold.

"He has bruised his ribs but does not have... a concussion. However, they did not have all of the test results back," Caine said carefully.

"There!" Peter spoke up, annoyance tingeing his voice. "Satisfied?" he nearly shouted at Blaisdell.

Paul and Caine both raised eyebrows at the outburst and exchanged worried glances. Peter cursed his temper, immediately regretted his reaction and apologized.

"I'm sorry," he told both men, trying desperately to come up with an excuse for his irritation. "It's just that the thought of that woman back here......" he didn't finish the thought. *Damn. Why am I yelling at them?*

Paul watched him struggle to contain his impatience, deciding it would be useless to try arguing him into returning to the hospital. *We'll just have to watch him for now.* He thought, covering his look of concern by handing a file to Peter.

"Here's the report from this morning," he told him, "Anything to add?"

After reading for a few moments, Peter shook his head. "That's it," he said handing the file back to Blaisdell. "Now what?"

Paul looked the file over again before speaking, this time to Caine.

"There's no doubt in your mind this was Tan's daughter?" It came out more of a statement than a question.

Caine shrugged one shoulder.

"She was not a part of the attack this morning... but it was by her command."

Paul didn't like where his thoughts were taking him and he knew how Peter was going to react.

"Will she try again?"

"Yes." Caine said softly. "She will continue until I agree to fight her."

Paul kept his eyes on the file in front of him, bracing himself for the coming fight. His years of experience as a police officer told him the logical thing to do, at the same time, his years of experience with Peter told him what to expect. There was no choice. He steeled himself then turned to face the agitated young man.

Peter looked quickly from his father to Paul. He had a sinking feeling as he caught a glimpse of where his foster father was headed. Now, he saw it clearly. He should have known from the moment he had first learned it was Xia, it would eventually lead to this. The frustrations that had been building since morning suddenly multiplied in his weary brain. He'd be damned if he was going to wait around in 'protective custody' while someone else did the investigative work on this case. *I'm not a child that needs protection, no matter what they think.*

"Peter..."

"NO!"

He shouted at Paul much louder than he had intended. The disapproving look of challenged authority from his captain curbed his anger. He took a moment to force himself into a calmer voice and temper.

"Paul," he said softer, his hand grasping at air as much for emphasis as to fight the nagging dizziness that continued to plague him, "I won't go into hiding. I can't," he stated, crossing to Paul's desk and leaning slightly toward him. He sent a quick glance toward his father for support in this argument. "If I do, she might go back to killing strangers off the street again," he paused and closed his eyes in torment, "I couldn't live with that."

Paul looked over his son's hunched body to see Caine's reaction to this. The priest gazed back at him through a placid face. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. Paul cursed silently. Peter was right. No matter how much he wanted to protect his son, he knew Peter's concerns were valid. The woman had killed innocents before and was not above doing so again. Whether he liked it not, he had to let Peter act as bait to draw her out.

After careful consideration and a lot of soul searching, Paul reluctantly agreed.

"Okay. You win, but watch yourself at all times," he said, adding, "AND, I'm assigning a plainclothes officer to you."

Peter's protest was aborted by his father's soft voice.

"That will not be necessary." he said as the other two men turned to him. "I will stay with Peter."

After a glance at Paul that told him this was to his satisfaction, Caine shot Peter a "do not argue with me" look, efficiently putting an end to the young detective's objections.

"Will that be sufficient?" Caine asked aloud of Blaisdell.

It was most definitely to his satisfaction. If anyone would be able to keep Peter in line and out of danger it was his father. Paul nodded his consent with a slight smile at the look on Peter's face.

*It's a victory, of sorts.* Peter hadn't gotten his way entirely, but at least he wasn't confined incognito. He pushed himself off Paul's desk and headed for the door, grateful the dizziness had passed for the present.

"Where are you going?" He heard Paul ask.

Peter turned to him with a look that made Paul cringe. He'd seen that look before and knew without asking what it meant. Peter was going into a dangerous situation, something he thrived on.

"I can't very well lure her into the open if I stay in here." he said spreading his hands to indicate the station. "We'll check out her address."

Paul held up a restraining hand.

"We already did. She's not there. And...." he continued, seeing the next suggestion cross Peter's face. "we already have it staked out."

For a brief second, Peter seemed to lose his train of thought.

"If she's not there, then she must already be looking for me."

"Probably." Paul agreed.

"Then I'd better get on the streets. Maybe check out Chinatown. Ask a few questions." Peter backed out of the office, continuing to rattle. "Who knows, maybe someone's seen her."

In the years Paul had known Peter, he'd never known the young man to be able to remain still or quiet for very long. Inactivity was a punishment to Peter. It always had been. The thought crossed Paul's mind that his son seemed to be in an even bigger hurry to be out and away from the station than usual. It worried him but he consoled himself with the knowledge that Caine would be with him. He watched as father and son left. Peter couldn't have been in better hands.

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

A few steps ahead of his father, Peter halted outside the station to take a deep breath. A suffocating feeling had began in Paul's office and he knew he had to make a hasty retreat before someone caught on. *I'll have to be careful around my father.* he thought.

The lightheaded feeling that had plagued him inside the police station seemed to be disappearing now that he was in the open. *All I need is a little fresh air and time. This will pass. After we find Tan's daughter, I can stop and rest.* He hadn't realized how hot it was in the building until he'd gotten outside. *The air conditioning must be off*, he told himself. He continued to his car, once more taking a deep breath as he removed his jacket. It was starting to heat up out here as well.

"Any suggestions?" he asked his father as they came to a halt at the car.

Caine stopped to survey his son. Peter was not well. He had known when they left the hospital something was not right. But what should he do? Since his latest return from six months of wandering, the relationship between father and son had been tenuous at best. Peter seemed unable to accept his father's explanation for his absence or his return. Many things remained unsaid between them, which was one of the walls Peter was so good at putting up between himself and those who loved him. Caine told himself it was his son's inability to trust. Too many losses over too few years had left the young man reluctant to share his feelings or fears. Caine placed one hand on Peter's arm then reached with the other to touch his forehead in the same manner he had when Peter was a child.

"My son.." he asked softly. "Are you quite.. certain you feel.. okay?"

Peter tried to pull away from the unwanted questioning but found a firmer grip on his arm than he'd expected. A memory returned, as they so often did these days, of a time before the destruction of the temple when Peter had been hurt in a game the boys had been playing on forbidden ground....

The rocks above the falls had always been a temptation to the boys of the temple. Although the falls themselves were not particularly high, only 20 feet or so, the rocks above were slippery with moss.

Despite repeated warnings from the adults, the boys always managed to find their way back to the forbidden play site.

"Do Not go there without one of the adults." The warning had been simple but constantly unheeded.

True to their habit, Peter and his friend, Dennis, had gone to the falls after their afternoon classes. The day had been particularly hot and the cool inviting falls proved too much to resist. They had spent the afternoon exploring the shallow waters for treasures only nine year old boys could find among the rocks.

Preparing to return to the temple for evening meal, Peter had taken a misstep resulting in his falling among the rocks. Hard. Dennis had hurried to his assistance, his face pale with concern. Peter had waved him away saying he was fine until his first steps had brought forth a flash of pain from his ribs. He didn't think he had broken anything but upon inspection he saw the first hints of a bruise appearing. He remembered the warnings his father had issued only the week before regarding the falls. Mentally kicking himself for his disobedience, he had sworn Dennis to secrecy and they had returned to the temple. Peter had tried to hide his injury from his father, but in Caine's typically mysterious way, he had let Peter know before an hour was past, he knew of the injury...

The memory, for the flash of a moment, made Peter uncomfortable. So many times during his father's miraculous return, he had been drawn back to a time before the destruction of the Temple. Each time he came away with stronger memories of a child who had wanted nothing more than to please his father and to be like him.

Returning to the present, Peter brushed his father's hand away.

"Y..Yes." he stammered, silently cursing himself. Every time he felt cornered, he stuttered or stammered. It was no wonder Paul didn't let him go undercover any more than he did. Peter knew he didn't lie well. His adolescent years with the Blaisdell's had proved that. He knew his foster father could tell by looking at his face but he had always wondered how his blind mother had known when he was trying to cover the truth, until he realized, all she had to do was listen to his speech. "I'm fine, Dad," he finally said, throwing his jacket into the back seat before climbing into the Stealth.

Peter refused to look at Caine as he climbed into the car beside him. He couldn't. One look and he was certain his father would know he wasn't feeling well.

Caine let the irritation in Peter's voice and actions pass unchallenged. His heart ached each time he caught a glimpse of the turmoil that remained a part of his son's soul.

Caine watched his son for a few seconds, feeling once again the regrets of their lost years together. A phrase he had heard from Peter many times came rushing back to him. *It wasn't fair.* Not to either of them. He sighed softly as he fought down the unexpected feelings and turned away from his son. Until Peter was ready to speak of his inner fears or his physical well-being, no amount of pushing would get him to talk. A regrettable trait, either inherited from himself or learned from Paul Blaisdell. It did not matter, Peter had more than his share of stubbornness.

"Perhaps we should begin with Lo Si." he said finally.

Peter briefly looked toward his father. He started to ask why, but decided that as long as he was acting as bait, the Ancient's was a good a place to start as any. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled away from the curb.

A short drive brought them to the heart of Chinatown and the brick building where the Ancient lived. From the street, the old building was deceptive. Behind brick and mortar, Peter knew there was a small garden. "Lo Si's garden" his father had called it. It was a place of peace and tranquility that Peter had been allowed to share and enjoy many times during the past year. To be in that garden was to forget the bustling streets that lay beyond the walls. Almost as if time stood still in the small green area.

Following his father up the worn steps to the Ancient's apartment, he cursed once again the dizziness that kept returning. Peter paused at the door before following his father in. *Funny, I don't remember this many steps.*

Lo Si's apartment was a reflection of the old apothecary. Both presented the appearance of age, while at the same time giving off an aura of boundless knowledge and wisdom. Shelves filled with jars of herbs and mixtures, lined the walls and tables. It was a fitting dwelling for the old man.

Caine and Lo Si bowed slightly, greeting each other with mutual respect, as Peter nervously began to prowl the room.

"My friend," the old man said in heavily accented English, "You have come in search of Tan's daughter." It was a statement, not a question.

Caine was not surprised by the old man's foreknowledge, but surprise flashed across Peter's face. "Yes." he said respectfully, bowing again. "She has returned."

Lo Si's eyes followed Peter's rambling. "This.. I know." he said. "She is... after Peter."

Peter had been trying to listen to the two men as he stopped and absently watched the small fish aquarium near the window. It was becoming more and more difficult to breath in the stuffy room. *Why does Lo Si keep it so hot in here?*

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

Despite the hectic activity and noise of the squad room, Paul Blaisdell kept his office door open. The attack on Peter this morning was only one among a never-ending string of incidents that kept the station in business. However, to Paul, and he knew to the other officers, it ranked as a number one priority. Not just because it had happened to his son but because it had been an unprovoked attack on a police officer. That was something no cop would tolerate.

A shiver went up Paul's spine. If Tan's daughter was back and after Peter, they had to find her fast. The woman had already proven she wasn't above killing to get what she wanted, and if Peter thought it would protect his father, Paul knew he'd try giving Caine the slip and go after her alone. *I did it to protect my dad.* That's the excuse Peter would give. Paul could hear it now. That incredible need to protect those he loved would eventually be the undoing of his son. He put everyone else's safety and needs ahead of his own. *Why did I let him become a cop?* How many times had he asked himself that question.

"You want to do what?!"

The question caught Paul totally off guard and his loud response only made an already nervous Peter lower his head even further. Paul watched the dark head, waiting for an answer. He'd known his foster son seemed nervous all evening long and half expected to be approached with another note, requesting he visit the high school. This bombshell came straight out of the blue. As Paul watched, Peter continued to shuffle his feet in nervous agitation. Finally, the youngster gathered his courage and lifted his head to face his foster father.

"You heard me, Paul. I want to go to the police academy."

Paul stared in opened-mouthed silence, emotions warring with parental responsibility. How could Peter think Paul could justify letting his son go into police work? The dangers and emotional turmoil that accompanied a cop's life often had damaging effects on the most stable of people. For someone who had already been through the emotional upheaval Peter had seen in his life, Paul felt it could only be devastating. Peter wasn't known for going into anything half way. At the same time, Paul couldn't contain the pride he felt at his son following in his footsteps. It was a hard decision to consent but Paul knew it was inevitable. Once Peter made up his mind, nothing short of divine intervention could sway him...

Paul shook his head. Concern and fear for Peter's safety brought up memories of the lost, lonely child he had first met at the orphanage. Peter had been a blessing and a trial from the very beginning...

Paul was giving lectures on police work at the request of the orphanage administrator. One dark-eyed boy in particular who hung back from the rest, stonily watching from the fringes of the group, caught his attention. The boy had asked intelligent questions during the talk, while something in the kid's eyes held Paul captive.

Afterwards, Paul had sought out the administrator and requested information on the quiet youth. The file he had been provided on one 'Peter Caine' hadn't told him much beyond the basics. Caucasian, Male, 13 years old, Mother: Deceased, Father: Deceased, Additional Family: Unknown, Guardian: Ping Hai, Deceased. There had been no mention of a temple, a Chinese heritage or the destruction of a way of life that left a scared boy alone and totally without trust. The routine medical profile indicated only that Peter had suffered recent severe trauma to his leg, had apparently recovered and showed no signs of permanent disability. The psychological profile had intrigued Paul. It was brief at best, offering the barest glimpse into the mind of the mysterious boy. Although repeated attempts to question Peter had gained the counselors a stonewalled silence, the half page of written text had described him as 'sullen, angry and bitter". The boy had refused to provide any information about himself or his life prior to being sent to the orphanage...

Paul smiled as he recalled the footnote that had been attached to the page. It had evidently been written by a different counselor. The brief note had described Peter as having a strong sense of responsibility toward the younger boys. It told of how Peter had come to the defense of one child who was being teased and bullied by some of the older kids. Typical Peter, Paul would learn later. The note went on to suggest that, despite the hardened exterior he presented to the authorities, Peter was a caring, giving individual, in great need of a more stable environment than the orphanage offered. He had sensed that the moment he'd laid eyes on Peter. Paul smiled to himself, then frowned. It wasn't until he and Annie had coaxed Peter into visits with their family that the bitterness had eased, his true nature had emerged, and he began to talk of his past life. They had been shocked when he had finally told them of the destruction of the temple and the murders of his father and the others.

That had been the beginning of rebuilding Peter's life.

Paul and Annie had worked hard to provide him with a feeling of security and a place to belong. Paul's heart still ached when he recalled the many times through the years he or Annie had held Peter when the nightmares became too much for him and he would wake, crying out into the dark. He could still hear the anguish in his son's voice.

Gradually, the fearful dreams had lessened and trust had won out. Peter settled into as normal a life as possible for him. He had a mother, sisters and a fa.....No... two fathers. Even before Kwai Chang Caine's return Peter had two fathers. One living and one he believed dead.

There was no denying Peter had been a handful, even now. As the years had passed, he continued to display a lack of regard for his own safety. More than once, Paul had called Peter on the carpet for his actions, threatening to take him off the streets if he didn't show a little more caution. He smiled to himself as he remembered the properly chastised look Peter had given him on one such occasion. The kid had ducked his head and looked up at his father with sad, remorseful eyes and told him how sorry he was for making Paul worry so much. He had promised to be careful and left the office. Two hours later, Paul was picking him up, once again from the emergency room, a confrontation with a suspect in a robbery case leaving him with bruised ribs. Paul had resigned himself to the fact that Peter would always be Peter...

Paul shook himself out of his reverie as a uniformed officer stepped into his office.

"Call for you, Captain. Line 2." he said.

Paul acknowledged him, reaching for the phone. It had to be Peter with a report on his progress. "Blaisdell." he said into the receiver. Paul felt an icy knot form in his stomach as he heard, instead of his son, Dr. Henry Bouchard, the chief of Staff at Glencross Hospital. *Don't jump to conclusions,* he cautioned himself. "Henry?" he asked, hesitantly, "What's wrong?"

Under other circumstances, his greeting would have been humorous, but the day's events left no doubt in his mind this call was in regard to Peter.

"Where is he, Paul?" Bouchard asked without preamble. Dr. Bouchard had dealt with the police department and Peter in particular, multiple times over the years. He didn't have time for niceties.

Blaisdell removed his glasses, rubbing his hand over a tired face. "He's with his father. What is it?"

"Where? Where are they?" The doctor's voice carried a sharp edge.

"In Chinatown." Fear mixed with anger filled his voice. "Why, Henry? What's happened?" The brief pause made Paul's heart race.

"The rest of Peter's tests just came back. They show traces of a poison in his system," the doctor said finally.

It took a moment for Paul to grasp the meaning of the words. *Xia had struck.* "What kind of poison?" he asked, his fear growing.

"We're not sure. It looks to be an exotic or maybe a mixture. I can't say without more tests." he paused. "Preliminary tests indicate it's fast acting and deadly. I need him back here. Now."

Paul rose from the desk, formulating instructions to his people, while his mind raced with additional questions. "Okay. I'll get hold of him and get him there." He hesitated. "How much time do we have?" he asked.

"Not much. He shouldn't have been allowed to leave the hospital. Unless I'm mistaken, he's probably already started to show signs of distress."

Paul recalled the earlier scene in his office; Peter's hurry to be away from scrutiny and his own feeling at the time that something didn't seem right. He swore under his breath. *Next time, I listen to my instincts and sit on him if I have to.* "I'll find him." he said and hung up the phone.

Paul stood and took a deep breath to calm himself. He wouldn't do Peter any good if he didn't remain in control of his own emotions. Picking up his jacket, he headed for Frank Strenlich's office.

"Has Peter checked in?" he asked from the doorway, only half pausing.

Strenlich looked up from the file on his desk. Seeing the lines of Blaisdell's face etched deeper, he knew something was wrong.

"Yeah. He went out at 321 First Street about half an hour ago. What's up?" Strenlich had no hesitation in questioning Paul. He was Peter's superior as well as his friend. Paul took a moment to run the address through his mind. Definitely Chinatown. Then it came to him. The Ancient's.

"Okay. Notify dispatch to tell him, if he calls in, to stay put. I'm on my way."

Frank made a grab for his arm to halt him, missing. "Paul?" he asked, a note of urgency in his voice.

Blaisdell hesitated long enough to answer. "Tan's daughter has made her move. She's poisoned Peter." He turned and was gone.

Strenlich turned on his heels to do as Paul had asked. Despite wanting to kill him at times, Frank did like Peter and there was no denying the kid was an excellent police office, not to mention the son of his best friend.

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

Peter heard the voices of his father and the Ancient as he sat his nearly empty cup of tea on the table beside him. The herbal brew had done little to quiet his growing agitation. The heat of the room was becoming more stifling and brought him to his feet to continue his restless roaming. He paused by the open window, closing his eyes and letting the cooling breeze wash over him, being careful not to look down. Taking a deep breath, he tried to center his thoughts and control his breathing. *Not yet. Please. I have to find her first.* He repeated the words over and over in his mind, hoping to drown out the growing roar in his head.

Caine watched his son with fearful eyes. He had yet to question Peter further about his health. He recalled past incidents when his voiced concerns had been met with hostility. Peter did not like to display a weakness to anyone. When he hurt, he wanted to be alone. It had always been this way. A quick glance to the Ancient was met by worry he knew must be mirrored in his own eyes. The concern he saw on the face of his friend brought a brief smile. Lo Si was an exceptional man. His deeper knowledge and greater experience in Shaolin teaching had provided Caine with the rare gift of a true friend.

Lo Si still treasured the day Kwai Chang Caine had walked into Chinatown. Not only had he and his son broken Tan's control over the residents of the district, but Caine had also saved Lo Si's life when the brownstone had been burned. As a result, the two men had become very close.

Lo Si watched as Peter prowled the room, picking up objects before setting them back in their place. The moment Caine and his son had entered, he had felt a disturbance around them, a displacement in harmony. It did not take much to recognize the problem was with Peter. Lo Si sought answers from Caine with a raised eyebrow. A slight shake of the priest's head confirmed he did not have an answer for his friend. Yet. They continued their conversation but kept their eyes on the restless young man.

Time lapsed into a constant struggle for breath and a dull roar in Peter's ears. He opened his eyes, looking around to orient himself and swore softly. He was still standing by the window and his fear of heights kicked in, adding dizziness and nausea to his overloaded senses. He quickly stepped away from the opening and made a concentrated effort to hear the words of his father and the Ancient. Lo Si didn't know where the Dragon's daughter could be found, but Peter knew, few things went on in Chinatown that remained a secret to the old man for long. *She's out there. I know it. I've got to find her.* His determination helped focus some of the irritation he'd been feeling since the morning attack. They hadn't expected to find any answers with the Ancient. It had simply been a place to start, to give Xia an opportunity to strike. *Being 'bait' isn't easy.* He shook his head once more to clear his thoughts. This wasn't gong to work. It was too hot in here to think straight. It was too close. Fear gripped him unexpectedly. She could get at him easily in here. He had to get away. He had to get out. An unusual bout of claustrophobia took hold of his reason as he fled the room.

The two older men had not missed the growing agitation in Peter. Caine saw the sudden panic come to this son's eyes and rose in a fluid motion to hurry after him. Whatever was wrong with his son was not going to wait until he was ready to talk.

"Peter!" he called as he reached the doorway.

Peter, hearing his name, hesitated and turned back to this father. "Father... I..." his voice trailed off as he continued down the stairs.

Caine heard the Ancient's soft footsteps behind him as he caught up to Peter at the bottom of the stairway.

"Peter. Please. Wait." he begged, reaching out to him.

His father's words of concern penetrated the fog in his brain, beginning to bring back a measure of sanity and reality. Peter stopped just outside the doorway leading to the street, panting. The feelings that had plagued him inside the Ancient's apartment clung to him as he hesitated. The sound of squealing tires on the street caused Peter's heart leap into his throat, certain Xia had found him.. He made a stab for the gun at his waist, whirling to face the expected enemy.

Relief flooded his body as he recognized Paul Blaisdell's car through the haze that clouded his eyes, until the world tilted once again and his legs crumpled beneath him.

Caine reached out and caught his son as he started to fall, his quick reflexes barely saving Peter from further injury. He lowered him gently to the ground as Blaisdell sprang from the car, concern evident in every facial line.

"Peter?" the Captain asked anxiously, smoothing back damp hair from a pale face. "Can you hear me son?" His fingers searched for a pulse at his neck to reassure himself they were not too late.

Caine looked at his son's other father with questioning eyes, even his normal calm beginning to show signs of cracking. "Do you... know what is wrong.. with him?" the priest asked.

Paul nodded, unable to look up. He had found the pulse weak and thready, but still evident.

Peter, already showing signs of recovering, was struggling to sit up, pushing impatiently at the hands holding him. "I'm okay." he said, irritably.

Paul had no time or patience for his son's stubborn independence now. "NO, you're not," he said through clenched teeth as both men help Peter to stand. "I know it, your father knows it and if you'll stop being so damned stubborn, you'll admit it."

"Alright!" Peter spat, a flash of residual anger making him shake off the hands reaching out to assist him. He stumbled again and finally accepted the offered help with a sigh of resignation. "Now what?" he asked tiredly.

"Now, we get you back to the hospital." Blaisdell said, looking to Caine for support.

"No. Paul...." Peter protested, starting to pull out of their grasp.

Blaisdell strengthened his grip on the young man, stopping him with a stern voice. "Peter, listen to me," he said desperately, his voice tinged with fear. "You've been poisoned."

Caine looked at him quickly, seeing the fear evident in Blaisdell's eyes as the other man nodded silent confirmation to him.

"I just got off the phone with the doctor at Glenncross." Paul now had Peter's full attention. "Your test came back showing signs of a poison in your system. They want you back there. Now."

Peter looked from Blaisdell to his father, his eyes searching theirs.

"But, how?" he asked uncertainly.

Paul shook his head in frustration. "I don't know."

Caine, however, closed his eyes and took a breath. He knew 'how'. "Roll.. your sleeve... up." he instructed Peter, motioning with his free hand.

A look of curiosity crossed Peter's face but he complied with his father's instructions. Caine took his arm as Blaisdell stepped closer. "There." he said flatly, indicating a small welt on the inside of Peter's arm.

"A needle mark." Paul recognized it instantly.

"But..," Peter stammered, a stricken look coming over him as he searched the faces of his fathers. His eyes lost focus as he recalled the attack and memory set in. "When the three of them were holding me down... I couldn't see what they were doing."

Caine nodded and placed his hand on his son's arm, sensing Peter needed the comfort of a loving touch.

"How ever they did it," Blaisdell stated, both older men physically guiding Peter toward the parked car. "we have to get you to the hospital."

Peter stopped short, trying to pull out of their hands, when he realized what they were doing. "What about Tan's daughter?" he asked in desperation as another dizzy spell began.

They continued to guide the weakening younger man.

"We will find her." Caine assured him. "You.. must do... as Captain Blaisdell says... and go to the hospital."

All protest in Peter evaporated as the dizziness and shortness of breath increased. He let himself be assisted to the car, a fact that Paul and Caine both found unsettling. For Peter to give in, even when he knew it was best, was not normal.

Lo Si followed them to the car as they settled Peter into the back seat.

"May.. I go with you?" he asked politely. Caine turned questioning eyes to Blaisdell, silently asking his permission.

"Yes. Of Course." Paul nodded. Both men knew the elderly Chinese thought of Peter as a grandson and that he would do anything for him. Paul did not forget the fact that not only were both, Lo Si and Caine apothecaries but their knowledge of Chinese customs could possibly be of use to the doctors treating Peter.

Caine seated himself in the back of the car along with his son. Peter had begun to sag against the seat as his strength ebbed. Caine put his arm around his son's shoulders and pulled him closer. Barely waiting until Lo Si had fastened his seat belt, Paul put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.

Late evening traffic slowed their progress. A little more than halfway to the hospital, an all too familiar suffocating feeling began in Peter's chest. He sat upright abruptly, trying to get a breath. Paul caught the sudden movement in the rearview mirror from where he'd been trying to watch his son and the traffic at the same time. When he saw the color drain from Peter's face, he reached for the emergency light, placing it on top of the car. He vaguely heard the honks of irritated motorists as he cut out of the line of traffic and increased his speed.

By the time they reached the hospital, Peter's breath was coming in ragged gasps. Caine murmured soft words of calm to him but Peter seemed to have lost all interest in his surroundings. His face had turned deathly white, glistening with the sheen of perspiration as he fought for each breath.

Paul had radio ahead to the hospital and, true to his word, Dr. Bouchard was waiting for them.

Peter made an effort to get out of the car without aid. Struggling against his fading strength, his legs finally gave way beneath him as his fathers hands caught him. Peter felt himself being lifted and forced to lie back, two sets of hands gently pushing at the center of his chest. Panic and a fear of falling made him grab for support. He caught Paul's arm.

"Shhh... It's okay, son." Paul said soothingly, letting him cling to his arm. Using his fee hand, he gently brushed Peter's sweat-damped hair from his face. "We're here." he said looking quickly to Caine. "We're both here." Peter followed Paul's glance to his father's face, then sighed and closed his eyes. Speech had become impossible, breathing taking all of his concentrated efforts.

When they had reached the doors of the treatment room, they were halted by the doctor. "Paul. Mr. Caine. I'm afraid you'll have to wait out here." Dr. Bouchard told them, stopping the gurney only briefly.

From far away Peter heard the words and knew he didn't want to be alone, but after a quick look at the worried faces of Paul and his father, his panic gave way to guilt. Still holding to Paul's hand he blindly searched and found Caine's. He had to reassure them he would be alright, but he couldn't get enough air in his lungs to speak. A flash of words came to him. *The eyes may be used to communicate much more than spoken words.* Was that from the Tao, Confucisous or Winnie the Pooh? He didn't remember and for the moment it didn't matter. Peter locked his eyes first on his father, then on Paul. He desperately wanted both to know how much he loved them. A wash of relief passed over him as he felt their hands clasp his in silent acknowledgment. The room began to swim again, the voices fading beyond his hearing as he closed his eyes and recalled once again how fortunate he was to have been raised by both men.

Paul watched the door to the treatment room close, shutting he and Caine off from Peter. He closed his eyes in anguish and silently followed the other men to the assigned waiting room. Surely he'd wake up soon to find this had all been a bad dream. The last look he had of his son's face reminded him that the circumstances surrounding their lives had been hardest on Peter. He had been torn from his father with the mistaken belief that he had died, then recovering from the shock of lose and his own injuries, he had then had to deal with the death of Ping Hi, his only remaining tie to his former life. Until the Blaisdell's had brought him to live with them, Peter had sheltered himself inside lonely, bitter walls. Making him a part of their family had been the first step in tearing down those walls. But they had never been completely gone. Not really. Any time Peter came up against a situation where he hurt or felt threatened, Paul saw the walls reformed instantly. Sometimes he despaired of Peter ever feeling complete trust in anyone again. The sounds of the ER faded into the background as Paul remembered again, the day Peter had announced he wanted to be a police officer. Paul hadn't realized until that moment that pride and fear sometimes came in the same package. He was proud beyond measure that his son wanted to follow in his footsteps, while his heart ached with the knowledge of the danger involved in police work. Then when Peter had found his father, they had all been given a new set of feeling to deal with. Loss, anger, sadness, joy, and above all else, confusion. During his years with the Blaisdell's, Paul had not known of the unfulfilled pledge of revenge Peter had made at the grave side of his beloved father. He had always known something continued to eat away at the troubled boy and as hard as they had tried to make him a complete part of their family there had always been a small part of himself that Peter had kept away from everyone and everything. He wouldn't discuss it and he couldn't share it. It was his own 'secret place' within himself. Paul had seen it many times when the boy had first come to them. Without warning, something would trigger a distant look, then his face would set to stone and Peter would emotionally shut down on them. It would always take time and reassurance, mostly from Annie, to erase the haunted, lonely fear from the dark eyes. It wasn't until Caine had returned that Paul had learned of the vow. He had hoped, with the return of his father, Peter would at last be able to put the trauma of his past life behind him, but such had not been the case. There was still something about the night of the destruction of the temple that he couldn't come to terms with. Even now with his father, Paul sometimes saw that same look return.

The waiting room began to fill rapidly as evening approached. Darkness seemed to signal a time for increased business at the hospital. Amid the activity, Blaisdell, Caine and Lo Si waited silently, each lost in his own thoughts. After what seemed like hours, Dr. Bouchard returned to them, carrying a medical chart. Caine stepped forward, followed closely by the other two men.

"Well?" Paul asked, searching the doctor's face for a sign.

Dr. Bouchard lowered the chart, holding it with both hands in front of him. He didn't need to read from it to tell these men what they wanted to know. He exhaled sharply.

"He's definitely been poisoned," he said, then paused, letting the information sink in. "The lab is still trying to determine what type but....." he hesitated "...it doesn't look good."

Paul stared opened-mouthed at him, the doctor's words hitting like a ton of bricks. He'd been expecting the doctors to administer an antidote as soon as they arrived at the hospital. He had accepted the fact that it would be a close call for Peter, but it had never crossed his mind they wouldn't have the antidote on hand.

"What?... I..I don't understand. Why?" the nervous energy that was so much a part of Peter, was evident in his foster father now.

Caine took the news with forced calm. He closed his eyes, searching for the strength he knew his son would need.

"Paul..." Bouchard began, sounding helpless. "We don't know what was used." he said steadily. "We can treat the symptoms but until we can break down the components of the poison we don't have an antidote to give him."

Blaisdell visibly forced his growing panic aside. "But you can keep him alive until you do. Right?" he asked, a note of pleading in his voice. His eyes flashed to Caine for some type of support. The priest had his eyes closed, locked away from the outside world.

Dr. Bouchard sadly shook his head. They were searching for assurances he couldn't give. "I don't know," he told them simply. Paul's shoulders dropped. "I'm sorry. Peter's in serious condition. We've got him stabilized now but...." he hesitated. "...he's going downhill fast. His heart has already stopped once."

Paul felt the strength leave his legs and he stumbled against Caine. The priest reached out, trying to steady him. *God!. No. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.*

"Stopped?" Paul's voice was tight, strained. "Henry....."

Dr. Bouchard moved to lay a comforting hand on Paul's shoulder.

"I'm sorry." he said again and cursed his inadequate vocabulary. Words were never enough to comfort parents, even foster parents. "We're monitoring him closely, and the lab is working on samples of his blood."

Kwai Chang Caine heard the doctors words and felt Paul Blaisdell's anxiety. He also felt his son's life force 'chi' slowly slipping away. Tan's daughter had accomplished her task before any of them had realized. He needed to see Peter, to examine him. "May we see.. our son?" he asked quietly, working very hard to keep his voice from trembling.

Dr. Bouchard hesitated, looking at all three men. He knew he should allow only one visitor but he was aware of the circumstances surrounding Peter Caine and his fathers and he couldn't denied one of them the opportunity to be with his son. The very real possibility existed that it would be a final visit.

He nodded. "This way. We've moved him to ICU." He turned and lead them to the elevators.

On the second floor of the hospital, the noise of the emergency room was replaced by an oppressive silence, broken only by the soft beeping of heart monitors and other hospital equipment. Dr. Bouchard directed them to the intensive care unit. Peter lay propped against pillows, his head and shoulders slightly elevated and his face, much too pale, looking lost among the white hospital sheets. Heart monitors, IV's, blood pressure cup, oximeter, all stood nearby extending tentacle-like arms that seemed to trap him.

Caine and Paul stopped as they entered the room, the same thought occurring to both men as one. The scene before them was a frightfully familiar one. It hadn't been poison the last time, but a gunshot blast from a junkie looking for a fix. Peter had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Too many times, too many chances. It was looking like the odds were finally catching up this time.

Caine and Blaisdell slowly approached the bed where their son lay. Careful of the IV drip in his arm, Caine reached for his hand, lying slack against the sheets. Gently he squeezed Peter's hand as he spoke.

"My son?" he said barely above a whisper. "Peter. Can you hear us?"

They saw movement behind his closed eyelids. Paul added his voice, just as soft.

"Peter? It's your fathers, son. Can you hear us?"

Very slowly and with a great deal of effort, his eyes fluttered open....

From out of the darkness, he heard a voice call to him, then a second. He knew both. It was his father and Paul. He heard the desperation and concern in their voices and felt again, the guilt of causing them to worry. The darkness surrounding him began to lighten as he fought his way towards them. Pain awakened. His chest, his head, every joint in his body seemed to take pleasure in causing him pain. Vague memories returned. Lifting him, turning him, removing his clothes, attaching wires and tubes, the sting of needles, hands, hands and more hands. Not the gentle, loving touch he was used to from his family or the passionate caresses of a lover, but cold impersonal hands. Unfamiliar voices, not speaking to him. Talking above him. He wanted to cry out, to ask what they were doing, to leave him alone. It had become too much. He just wanted to be left alone. His anger and anxiety had drained what little strength he'd had in reserve. A cool inviting blacknesshad descended. More hands, more voices, this time urgent and demanding. Then nothing. Until the soft voices of his father and Paul.

Peter opened his eyes slowly, confusion marring his tired face. Paul and Caine stepped closer to the bed, allowing him to focus on them. Finally recognition came to him and he tried to speak. He fought for words, but none came. His breathing became short gasps as he attempted to communicate with them.

Caine reached a hand to smooth the lines from his son's face. "Peter," he said, emotion choking him. "It is alright. Do not be afraid." He smiled gently and looked across at Paul. "We are here."

Paul swallowed hard, controlling his own raging fears. "We're here, son." he finally said, smiling also.

Peter looked to both men, trying to return the feeling of reassurance they had given him. He felt both of them lay warm hands over his own. He smiled faintly and closed his eyes as exhaustion set in.

"You rest now, son. We won't be far."

They were rewarded with the briefest of nods before he sighed and drifted away once more.

They released his hand reluctantly, turning to leave as the nurse returned to check his vital signs. Outside the door, just beyond Peter's range of hearing they waited for Dr. Bouchard to rejoin them.

Caine looked back at his son lying unnaturally still in the sterile room. He felt the weight of helplessness press in on him. His son was ill, perhaps dying, because of him. *No! This is not my doing* He told himself vehemently. *This is the continued evil of Tan. Extending from the grave to surround and threaten all he has touched. Even his own daughter.* Peter had already suffered too much in his life at the hands of Tan. Caine would not let this continue. *I will put an end to it.*

It took a great deal of effort on Paul's part to remain calm. He had seen Peter through a lot since their first meeting and especially since his becoming a police officer. With a tremendous effort he kept his voice steady when he turned to face the doctor. "What can we do, Henry?" he asked.

Dr. Bouchard looked into the eyes of the three men surrounding him, as telephone softly came to life in the background.

"The best thing to do is find whoever injected him with the poison and find out what they used."

"We.. will find... her," Caine told him with a note of determination.

"How long do we have?" Paul asked, rubbing a hand to the back of his neck.

Dr. Bouchard looked to Peter's motionless form.

"From the degree of onset. Not long. Maybe 12 hours."

Paul and Caine exchanged looks as the doctor went back to Peter's room.

"Mr. Caine?" a nurse spoke from behind them. "You have a phone call, sir," she said, indicating the nurses station. "You can take it here."

Caine raised an eyebrow, sent Paul a questioning look and proceeded to the phone. Paul and Lo Si followed, as curious as Caine, given the timing of the call and the fact that Caine very seldom used the instruments of technology.

"This.. is Caine," he said into the foreign device.

"How is your son, priest?" the words were spoken low and with venom.

Color drained from Caine's face, replaced by seldom seen anger. Paul stepped closer, knowing it had to be her. *How the hell did she know we were here?* he wondered.

"Xia," Caine said flatly.

"I'm glad to see you remember me," she said, restraint evident in her voice.

"How could I forget... the woman who has.. twice...tried to kill my son," he countered.

She laughed without humor-cold, menacing. "Wrong priest! I 'tried' once. I will succeed this time."

She was baiting him and Caine knew it. "The doctors will find a cure," he said with a certainty he did not feel.

"Oh. I have no doubt they will. But ask yourself, Shaolin. Will it be in time?"

He felt a cold creep into his blood.

"You see, the poison is not a complicated matter. What should be of concern to you is the length of time it will take to find the cure," her confidence was maddening. "Your son has less than twelve hours to live."

A cold fear crept into Caine's being. "It is not.. my son.. you wish to harm. Your quarrel.. is with me," he told her.

She was silent for a moment. "True," she spoke with a finality in her voice. "Are you ready to sacrifice yourself for your son?"

Caine closed his eyes in regret before answering, his decision already made. "I.. will do.. what is necessary," he said.

"Then you know where I will be."

The phone line went dead. Caine turned to Blaisdell, the look of regret stronger on his face.

"How the hell did she know we were here?" Paul demanded aloud.

Caine shook his head. "I do not know," he said, his voice sounding lost in thought.

"What did she say?" Paul's police training took command.

"She is waiting," he said and turned to Lo Si.

Paul's concern for Peter and desperation made him grab at Caine's coat sleeve in anger. "Waiting!? Waiting where?" he demanded then paused. Realization of what he was doing stopped him. He took a deep breath to calm himself, much as he had seen Caine do when dealing with Peter. "I'm sorry, Caine," he said releasing the other man and turning to watch Peter in the next room as tears formed in his eyes. He brushed at them self-consciously.

Caine gently turned to the man who was a second father to his son and placed a hand on his arm. He understood Blaisdell's frustration.

"Paul," he began as Blaisdell slowly turned back to face him. "I know... where she is. I... also know what she wants," he squeezed the captain's arm in reassurance. "We.. will get.. the antidote."

Paul nodded his gratitude as Caine turned to Lo Si.

"My friend. Will you.. stay with Peter?" he asked.

Lo Si gave him a small bow, his hands tucked into the wide sleeves of his tunic.

"I will.. not leave his side," he vowed.

Caine returned the bow as Blaisdell stepped back to the nurses station and picked up the phone. He made a quick call, arranging for police protection for Peter and the old man. If the Dragon's daughter could find them inside the hospital, he would not take a chance on her getting to Peter again. When he was done, he followed the priest out of the ICU.

It was completely dark by the time they left the hospital, the heat of the day giving way to an autumn chill.

"Caine," Paul said as they got into the car. "You said you know where she is?"

"Yes. She is waiting," he had a distant look in his eyes again. A look that worried Paul. "Do... you recall.. the building.. where Tan died?" he asked slowly.

Paul nodded. "Yes. Over on 82nd."

"That.. is where.. she waits."

The priests tone of voice worried him, a nagging thought had been plaguing him since the beginning of this ordeal. He couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Caine," he said feeling awkward, "I know this woman wants to kill you. And I've seen what lengths she will go to in order to accomplish that," he paused, searching for the proper words. Finally, "If it comes down to her life or Peter's, will you be able to make that decision?"

Caine thought hard for a moment. "I too, know.. what she.. is capable of," he heaved a deep sigh. "My refusal.. to fight her.. has already.. cost the lives of at least.. two men." With a deadly finality he continued. "I will not... allow her to take Peter as well."

Blaisdell saw the sorrow etched deep into the man's face. He understood the priest's qualms, but felt reassured he would not let his beliefs prevent him from doing what had to be done. He nodded in satisfaction as they left.

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

A short drive through the city brought them to the abandoned building Caine had spoken of. They parked the car and approached the high rise with caution. Paul could feel unseen eyes on them, an instinct left over from his government covert days. Wind blowing around the upper levels of the building only added to the apprehension. The streets had begun to empty as people sought shelter for the night. Unobstructedly, he checked his gun as they surveyed the surrounding area. He wasn't going to be caught off guard. Paul followed as Caine left the car and walked to the front entrance of the building. He couldn't say what he had expected to find, possibly that they would enter by some small out of the way door, but Caine appeared to have no doubts the main door would be open and waiting for them.

He was correct. To Paul's surprise the door gave easily to the Shaolin's touch. He tightened the grip on his gun, following Caine through the entrance.

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

Caine felt her presence. He had no doubt she was here or that she was watching. He had seen Blaisdell check his weapon as a security measure and felt an uncommon sense of relief. The police captain's actions were very reminiscent of Peter. *I will not fail you, my son.* he vowed before continuing.

The lobby of the building was as deserted and cold as the outside. Without the usual corporate decorations of nameless painting and greenery, the place was even more bleak and uninviting. Caine proceeded across the room without hesitation to the stairway doors just beyond a set of inoperative elevators. Paul continually watched all directions for any signs of a surprise attack, his body tense. He heard Caine cautiously open the heavy door and quickened his step to catch up to the priest. Slowly, they proceeded downward with ever-increasing caution.

Caine continued down the stairs. He knew where she would be waiting and he did not believe she would strike before they reached the chosen place. However, he did not want to take any chances. If he was not successful in obtaining the antidote for Peter, he could very well lose his son again, this time, for good. Caine placed his hand on the door and slowly turned the handle, gently easing it open. For a moment, he considered taking the path he and Peter had taken en route to the fateful meeting with Tan, but the way had been slow and time was something Peter did not have at the moment. His eyes searched for the nearly hidden doorway they had discovered upon leaving after Tan's death. He led the way down stairs, around corners and through hallways, never hesitating or losing his way. Within minutes, he and Paul emerged from the final door. Caine paused before a wall, halting Blaisdell and reached to touched a hidden button. He sent a silent apology to Paul for the start his action caused.

Slowly, the door rose to reveal the waiting arena. Despite his efforts, the sight of the interior brought a rush of painful memories to Caine. It had not quite been a year since he had last seen this place, and the similarity between it and the destroyed temple where he and Peter had originally been separated, still left him with an uneasy feeling. He cautioned himself to keep his mind on the job at hand. His son needed him. With a look to Blaisdell, he stepped forward.

Paul followed Caine through the doorway, stopping just behind him. He felt a shiver run through the priest where his hand rested on Caine's back. Paul knew what lay beyond. He had come here after the death of Tan with the investigation team. During that time, the place had been crawling with cops. To see it now, dark and deserted, made it even more oppressive and frightening. Peter had told him it was an exact replica of a portion of the Shaolin Temple where he had been raised. At the time Peter told about it, Paul had witnessed how hard the memory had been on his son. The years since the destruction of the temple had been emotionally devastating for the young man. Paul constantly marveled at how well Peter handled it, but in the same thought, he would be reminded of the terrifying nightmares the kid had suffered and knew those memories would be a part of Peter forever.

Paul's attention was brought back to the business at hand as Caine stepped to the edge of a set of stairs leading down. For a moment, the two men stood silently, their eyes searching into the dark reaches of the room. Paul noticed the faint darker traces of dried blood staining the lower steps. He knew it to be Tan's blood, spilled when he had attempted to complete his destruction of Caine and the Shaolin Temple.

Caine's call into the darkness startled Paul. The priest's voice remained soft, yet somehow carried to every corner of the room. "We are here," he called. "Show yourself."

Paul's eyes searched the shadows for any sign of the woman they sought.

Without warning or sound, she appeared in the center of the floor at the bottom of the steps, a dark vision of revenge brought to life. She did not resemble the woman Paul had seen in the courtroom two months before. At the time, she had presented the image of a modern businesswoman taken advantage of by a young rogue cop, able to convince the court that Peter had been the aggressor. As the two men stared down at her now, they saw a very different woman. Her long blond hair, now loose, seemed to float around her shoulders along with the bilious black cape she wore. She remained motionless, her eyes locked onto Caine's face. The cape moved with an unfelt breeze as a smile of satisfaction tugged at her lips. She felt confident her victory was at hand and her soul cry out for joy.

"I told you, you would fight me," she said in a cold, satisfied voice.

Caine spread his hands before him, palms outward, in a plea for peace. "I.. have not.. come to fight," he said.

Her smile vanished in a flash of anger.

"I have come... to ask you to give me the antidote... for my son," he continued.

"You know the price," she said, icily. "The only way you will gain possession is to pay for my father's death," She paused to draw in a deep breath. "You will fight me, Shaolin."

Caine sighed. He heard Blaisdell shift nervously behind him. "What.. purpose would it.. serve?" he asked calmly. "Your father,.. by his own actions, chose the means of his death. This.. will not ease your sorrow," he finished.

For a moment, she hesitated, struggling against the brief doubt Caine brought to the surface. Despite her best efforts to push the thought away, her mind kept returning to facts she had been presented. Her logical mind told her that part of what Caine said was true but her love for her father and years of his brainwashing ran too deep. Her convictions left no room for reason. Her heart took control and hardened itself against her logical mind and against Caine. *My father is dead. Killed by the man who stands before me. Perhaps,* she thought, *it would be justice, if the priest remained alive, yet lost his son.* It would be very easy to smash the vile of antidote she carried deep in her pocket and let his son die....but, no. That would not grant her the satisfaction she sought. Part of her revenge was for Caine to know that his son would live with the knowledge he had been helpless to save his father, just as she had been. Evil claimed her being and only the death of Kwai Chang Caine would satisfy her lust for blood.

"What I seek has nothing to do with sorrow," she said viciously, her anger growing again. "You murdered my father and you were the cause of his banishment from the temple fifteen year ago. You will pay."

Caine fought for control to remained outwardly calm as he continued his attempts to reason with her. "Your father... was not.. murdered," he told her. "He was a traitor.. who died.. as the result of his own treachery," Xia, opening her mouth to voice a denial of the accusation, was silenced as he continued. "The same treachery.. that resulted.. in his banishment from the temple."

All doubts fled as her anger raged, making her voice tremble with restrained emotion. "Was it his treachery that stabbed him in the back?" she demanded.

Caine sadly shook his head. "He was a traitor... to the vows he had pledged his life," Caine paused briefly to calm himself. His mind recalled the events at the temple. "He murdered.. several of the priests and children, among them, I thought, my own son."

"THAT IS A LIE!" she shouted, her anger exploding. "My father was betrayed and murdered by you."

"I did not... murder.. your father," he told her, his calm voice only infuriating her more.

"I saw the injury he received," she continued to shout, an almost childlike quality in her voice. "He was stabbed in the back."

Caine lowered his eyes, remembering the confrontation with Tan and realizing how it must have appeared to her. He took a deep breath and prepared himself. Peter's life depended on Blaisdell and him. He had to find a way to convince her.

As if reading his thoughts, she continued in a more controlled voice. "You took my father from me," she said. "It is only right, I take your son from you."

Caine felt a twinge of panic and heard Blaisdell move restlessly behind him. He prayed the police captain would continue to show the same control he had exhibited since their first meeting.

Xia saw the stricken look cross Caine's face. A smile of satisfaction crossed her lips. From within the folds of the cape, she produced the vile of colorless liquid and held it before Caine-a temptation. "This is what you seek," she told him, tilting her head to look sideways at it.

Caine's eyes focused on the life giving substance. Once again, he heard Blaisdell move nervously, the small sound amplified and echoing throughout the cavernous room. *Please,* he mentally cautioned, *be patient my friend.*

She continued. "The only way you will gain possession, is to fight me."

Caine shrugged his shoulders. "I have... fought.. you once.. and been.. the victor." Xia flinched in recollection and anger. She remembered the embarrassment and humiliation from their first confrontation. Quickly, she regained her composure. "Yes. You were stronger than I had expected." she said coldly, "And you will not have your son to interfere this time." Her eyes flicked toward Blaisdell. "Yet, I see, you brought, as your son would say, 'backup' to help you." she said in a mocking tone.

Paul took a step forward to stand beside Caine. He would answer for himself. "I'm here, because your twisted sense of revenge has included Peter," he told her in a strong voice.

Her eyes narrowed in irritation at him. "And why does that concern you?"

Paul glared at her with a look that had many times put Peter in his place. "Peter, is my foster son and, like his father, if you hurt him, you hurt me as well."

Caine let his eyes leave Xia for a brief moment, nodding his agreement with Blaisdell. She saw the exchange, wondering briefly if she had once again underestimated her prey.

"A lucky young man, to have so many people concerned for him." she held the antidote up, staring into its depths. "But.., perhaps... not lucky enough," she continued coldly. "I have no doubts the doctors attending your son will eventually duplicate the poison," she hesitated. "But, the question is, will it be soon enough the help him?"

Carefully keeping out of Caine's reach, she released the vile to let it fall, only to catch it before it reached the floor. "Oops..." she said, grinning at the gasp and stricken look on Blaisdell's face and, continuing to toy with the small bottle.

Caine remained calm and let her play her game. He knew, as well as she, the vile was the only bargaining power she possessed. With great sadness in his voice, Caine fixed his eyes on her. "If.. I agree to this fight, will you release.. the antidote to my friend, that he may leave with it now?" he asked her.

Caine heard Blaisdell move quickly behind him. "No....!" he began as Caine stopped him with an upheld hand for silence.

Blaisdell chafed at the action but held his tongue.

Xia narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "You would stay and fight me?" she asked.

Caine shrugged. "To save my son, yes. If I give my word, I will have.. no choice. I am.. Shaolin," he said with shrug of one shoulder.

"Caine." Paul whispered, urgently from behind. "I can't let you do this. What would I tell Peter if something happened to you?" he asked, emphatically.

Caine turned to him with sad eyes. "If you do not get the antidote to him in time, it will not matter." he said.

Paul was stunned, torn between the necessity to get the antidote to Peter, his responsibility as a police officer and his desire the help Caine. After several minutes of soul searching, he admitted to himself the wisdom of what the Shaolin priest had said. With a resigned lowering of his shoulders and a silent determination to return as soon as possible, he nodded. "You're right," he said, sighing. "Peter is our first responsibility. I'll make sure the antidote gets to him in time." he paused as a thought crossed his mind and lowered his voice. "Look, I know this probably isn't the time or place for this, but I've got to say it. I.. ah.. I just wanted you to know how sorry I am that your son was taken away from you but I have never regretted giving him a home or watching him grow into the person he is today. He's a fine man and I know his father is a fine man as well."

Caine understood Blaisdell's need to voice his feelings. Throughout their reunion, Paul had remained supportive of both Peter and Caine. Listening, when Peter felt the need to talk about his doubts and fears and encouraging both father and son to be patient and try. Caine knew, in many ways, Paul had been Peter's lifeline during his growing up, especially lately. Paul had been there when Peter had needed someone to guide him along and he'd been there during the lowest point of his son's young life. Each time it came to mind Caine shuddered to think of what Peter had gone through after the temple's destruction. He owed Blaisdell so much more than he could ever repay. He nodded, a flat hand covering his fist, forming the ancient Shaolin gesture. "Your feelings.... do you honor," he said then whispered in a lower tone. "I will be with you and Peter very soon."

Paul caught a glimpse of something in Caine's eyes. A knowledge or, perhaps, a determination that he would not be kept from his son's side.

Either way, Paul felt they were finally beginning to get the upper hand.

Blaisdell nodded his agreement as Xia stepped toward him. Keeping Caine within her field of vision, but at a distance, she handed the small vile to Blaisdell and quickly stepped back. Paul placed it safely inside his breast pocket, turned and grasped Caine's arm in a farewell gesture.

"I'll see you soon," he said softly, then turned and left.

Kwai Chang Caine silently watched until Blaisdell had exited the doors before slowly turning back to face Tan's daughter. Her eyes followed his every move as he unhurriedly stepped to the same level as she. For a brief moment, the two faced each other silently. Caine still held a small hope in his heart to dissuade her from her current path of self destruction.

Without prelude, she threw her arms up and back, theatrically removing her cloak in one swift movement to reveal closely fitted clothing. Caine took note of the fact they were the traditional trappings of an assassin.

She began to circle Caine slowly, her knees slightly bent, a predator searching for the vulnerable side of it's prey. Caine watched without adopting his own fighting stance. Her circle ended in a stand before him, her eyes searching his face for some sign of aggression. When she found none, her anger returned. "You swore you would fight me," she said accusingly.

Caine remained silent as she continued to vent her rage. "I had your word," she hissed.

"There are many ways to fight," he said.

Her eyes flashed. "Just as I suspected, Shaolin. Your word, like your promises, are just that. Words. Nothing more."

Caine raised an eyebrow at her. "If that is what you believe,... why did you allow Captain Blaisdell.. to leave with the antidote?" he asked.

A smile spread across her face, chilling Caine's heart and turning his blood to ice. "What makes you so sure I gave him the correct antidote?"

Her satisfaction with herself was cut short as Caine whirled and lashed out his leg to strike her behind the knees. She rolled with the force of the blow, quickly regained her feet and turned to face him.

Caine was shocked. He had wanted to maintain his self control, but her words of threat toward Peter had unleashed an anger he had not been aware of before. His blow had contained a strength that surprised him. Until that moment, he had not realized the depth of his frustration. He cringed inwardly, ashamed of himself for letting anger control his actions.

Despite the force of his blow, she smiled ferally as she realized she had confirmed his Achilles heel-his son. She clasped her hands before her, one open hand covering a fist, bowing.

Caine knew there would be no turning back now. He had revealed his weakness to her and he knew she would continue her pursuit to the very end. He returned the bow and gesture without letting his eyes leave her, his suspicions running high.

All formality was past.

She leaped into the air, striking out with a vicious kick aimed at his head. Had he been unprepared, the blow would have caught him under the chin and thrown him off his feet. Instead he had anticipated the move, deftly blocking and returning the kick, knocking her to the floor once again.

She rolled and sprang to her feet, whirling back to face him.

"Very good, Shaolin," she said, a smile forming on her lips. "Now we shall see if you are indeed 'the master'."

She began to circle again, this time with Caine following her. Now that they had begun, she would be merciless. He heaved a sigh and prepared to defend himself.

Their arena existed within the circle of light, Xia forcing attack after attack, Caine defending himself, still hesitant to invoke full combat. Xia kicked again at his head determined to kill him, her frustration grew as each of her blows garnered her fewer and fewer results. Caine rolled with the blows, keeping himself in restraint. He would do Peter no good if he allowed his emotions to control his actions at this point.

Xia feinted to the side and directed an open handed blow towards Caine's throat. She missed as he twisted to the opposite direction and caught her in the back with a kick that sent her flying beyond the light.

She returned, breathing heavily, angered at having been caught off guard. The sight of Caine's calm waiting mocked her, increasing her anger ten fold.

They continued to circle, exchanging blows.

Caine had managed to regain control of his emotions and felt again the sadness of knowing she would not give up her vendetta. In the darkness, his ears picked up the faint sound of a door being cautiously opened and worried briefly that she had someone in hiding to come to her assistance. His fears calmed as a presence stirred in the dark. Blaisdell watched from the shadows. Thoughts of the antidote and Peter crossed Caine's mind but he pushed them away. He knew Paul would not endanger their son unnecessarily.

A kick struck solidly against Caine's head, knocking him off balance. Xia had also heard the small sound of the opening door and used it to her advantage. She cursed herself, realizing she had, once again, underestimated the priest. She backed off, studying her next move.

Caine used her wariness to give himself time to recover. It was time to end this madness. With a renewed determination, he prepared himself.

She saw a look come to his eyes and knew the end was near. She smiled to herself, certain of the outcome. *I will win this time, Priest.* Reaching deep into her pocket, she brought forth a handful of powder, a mixture of potent herbs and flowers that produced paralysis of the breathing muscles. It was the same she had used on Caine's son during their first encounter. She held her hand before her face, palm up, taking a deep breath....

Shock and fear enveloped her as she caught a face full of the substance. Her entire existence reduced to gaining one more breath as she collapsed to the floor.

Caine had been expecting one of her 'magician's tricks'. It had been a simple matter to use the air displacement training he had shown Peter to send the powder back into her own face. He stood over her and prayed this would end her quest.

Caine heard Blaisdell approach from the darkness, stepping back as Paul bend to handcuff her. "I hope we can make the 'attempted murder' charge stick this time," he said, pulling her to her feet and starting for the exit.

"What.. of the antidote?" Caine asked.

They were met at the door by two uniformed officers.

"Unlike Peter...," he flashed a grin at Caine, "I called for backup. The antidote's on it's way to him now. Strenlich followed us. I sent it with him straight to the hospital." He looked at his watch. "I told him to report back as soon as he arrived. We should be hearing something any minute."

From the entrance of the building, they watched Xia being placed into the police cruiser. Caine felt a sadness grip his heart as the thought crossed his mind that Tan's evil had claimed another victim-his own daughter.

The radio in Blaisdell's car came alive.

"612," he said in answer to the page.

"Captain, we just got word from Chief Strenlich. They need you at the hospital as soon as possible."

Caine stepped forward as Paul's face drained of color. "Tell them we're on our way. 612 out," he said, as both men got into the car. Neither spoke as they drove away. There were no words of comfort they could say to each other. Caine felt it through a telepathic link he continually maintained with his son. Paul felt it now also. A curious 'knowing' unlike anything he had ever felt before. Peter was slipping away from them.

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

When they arrived at the crowded hospital, they were met by Strenlich, the Ancient and, to Paul's surprise, Annie, outside the door to Peter's room.

"Annie?" Blaisdell said, reaching to place an arm around his wife's trembling shoulders. Her pale face frightened him. Her voice quavered.

"Oh, Paul," she said. It was taking all the courage she had learned over a life time to keep from falling to pieces. "Master Caine?" she asked, searching for the priest, as tears flowed freely.

"I am here, Annie." he said, placing a soothing hand on her arm. She tried to smile but failed.

"What is it, honey?" Paul asked her. "What's happened?"

She pushed away from him only slightly.

"Peter..." the words came with a great difficulty, "He stopped breathing." She felt her husband stiffen beside her. "They had to put him on a respirator." Paul felt her shiver as she finished. He tightened his hold around her.

Caine closed his eyes, trying to keep his tears inside. Tan could not win. Not this time.

"The doctor said it may be..too late," she said, burying her face in Paul's chest.

Blaisdell looked over her head at Caine, desperation and hope both evident on his lined face. *No*, he thought, *this can't be.*

The sound of the door to Peter's room opening drew the attention of the people gathered around it. Dr. Bouchard exited carrying a chart, making notes at the same time.

"Henry?" Paul asked in a strained voice, half afraid of the answer he would get.

The doctor took a deep breath before he shook his head and spoke. "It's not good, I'm afraid," he told them. "He stopped breathing. We had to put him on a respirator."

"What about the antidote? Didn't it work?" Paul questioned.

"It hasn't yet, Paul," his voice trailed away. "I'm not certain it will," he said sadly.

Annie made a small sound of dismay as Caine and Paul looked up sharply. Caine's fears increased as he recalled Xia's comments about the antidote being authentic.

"I thought you said we had 12 hours?" Paul said.

Dr. Bouchard's eyes scanned each individual, ending with Blaisdell. "Paul." he said, shaking his head slightly. "I said MAYBE 12 hours." He looked at each of them in turn. He could feel their fear and knew they were reacting as parents faced with the possible loss of a child. "We're dealing with an unknown poison. There was no way to predict how Peter would react to it," he paused. "I'm sorry but we had nothing to gauge this by."

Caine, Lo Si and Strenlich stood quietly by, not daring to say anything just yet. Paul continued to hold Annie as she trembled in his arms.

"What happens now?" Paul managed.

Dr. Bouchard exhaled heavily. There was no easy way to tell them of the latest setback.

"He's in a coma," he said finally. "We've got him on the respirator and we're monitoring him constantly but... it doesn't look good. We administered the antidote, but he hasn't shown any signs of recovery yet." he paused again. "We'll just have to wait and see. He's young and he's strong. If anyone can beat it, Peter will."

Paul nodded his silent agreement as tears filled his eyes. He didn't know if he could handle loosing Peter.

"May.. we see him?" Caine asked, quietly.

Dr. Bouchard was prepared to refuse on the grounds his patient needed no disturbances, but hesitated when he saw the pain on their faces. Peter's condition was serious. He couldn't deny these parents any visits. He nodded silently, holding the door open for them. "For a few minutes. We have more tests to do."

Lo Si and Strenlich quietly disappeared, knowing the family needed to be alone with their son.

Paul held back, intending to let Caine go in alone, but gentle pressure on his elbow from the priest guided him into the room along with Annie. "Peter will need all his parents tonight," he heard Caine softly say.

Paul felt gratitude for Caine's constant understanding. He knew the separation of parent and child had been hard for both and since his return, Paul saw another who loved Peter as much has he and Annie did. "Thank you." he told Caine, guiding Annie to Peter's bedside.

The unnatural stillness of their son, pale against the white sheets, was frightening. The only sounds in the room were the respirator as it clicked and wheezed, slowly pumping much needed oxygen into Peter's lungs and the monitors, attached to his body as they beeped and blipped a rhythm, casting a hypnotic spell. Apprehensively, they approached the bed where he lay, Paul and Annie on one side, Caine on the other. As Paul looked down at Peter, his breathing being forced by a machine, he felt an unreasonable sense of gratitude that Annie couldn't actually 'see' their son in this condition. It only emphasized how easily Peter could be taken from them. Paul looked to Caine and saw for the first time the depth of hurt in the man. For fifteen years he had thought his son dead, now he was facing that possibility again. No one should have to go through that.

Caine felt an uneasy acceptance of the modern medical equipment surrounding his son. He knew Peter was currently being kept alive by them but he could not dismiss the feeling that he was not improving as much as he might had Caine been allowed to treat him with traditional Chinese herbs and medicines. He reached out mentally to touch Peter's mind. The faintness shocked and frightened him. Peter was so very far away.

For long moments, they stood in silence, each lost in their own private thoughts, until the nurse entered and told them they would have to return to the waiting room. Reluctantly, they pulled themselves away, each taking a moment to touch Peter's face, plant a kiss lightly on his forehead and whisper encouragement.

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

Sometime later, after they had been allowed to return to the room, each took up a silent vigil. Annie sat by her son's bedside quietly stroking his hand, speaking softly to him from time to time, and periodically searching his face with her hands for some sign of returning awareness. She could hear Paul's nervous pacing and allowed herself a slight smile. For two people who weren't physically related, Peter and Paul shared many of the same traits. Waiting was nearly impossible on both of them.

She listened for Caine and although she couldn't hear him, she knew he had seated himself in one corner of the room. She felt his presence, even as he sat in meditation, mentally linking himself to their son. It would never cease to amaze her how this quiet, gentle man, who seemed to take everything in stride, had produced a son who generally did not look before he leaped.

Annie remembered when Peter had just turned 16. He had attempted to tease Kelly by riding off on her bicycle. He had turned to see if she was following and had run into the stand that held their garbage cans, slicing his arm on a piece of metal protruding from it. He'd received 10 stitched for that little escapade. She also recalled how Paul was always chewing Peter out about not waiting for backup and one particular time when he'd tackled a suspect twice his size. Peter had been beaten pretty badly before help arrived and they had pulled the suspect off him. That time Peter had spent the night in the hospital for observation of a possible concussion. She shook her head. How many time had her son rushed into a situation without stopping to think of the consequences.

She recalled when Peter had first come to them. He had been a very quiet, withdrawn boy. It hadn't taken very long for him to respond to her. She had attributed it to the fact that he had never known his mother and didn't feel his mother's memory threatened. Annie had become his mother. It had taken a lot more for him to allow Paul into his world. Peter respected him but couldn't let himself get close at first. As they had discovered more about Peter's past life, it hadn't surprised them. No child should ever have to endure what he had gone through. The trauma, emotionally and physically, he had sustained would never be totally forgotten. Eventually, they had gotten through to the distrustful boy and he had accepted Paul with an open heart. Annie was very proud that not only had Peter been able to think of Paul as a father but had also considered him his best friend, a relationship that would be enviable to most natural parents and children.

Her memories brought her to the return of Peter's natural father. When Caine had miraculously returned, Peter had been plunged into yet another emotional whirlpool. Annie had witnessed his turmoil and listened when he had come to her with his doubts and fears. She had tried to reassure him that loving his father didn't mean he loved Paul any less or vice versa. It was still an issue that caused Peter sleepless nights, even though she could see him use more caution in his judgment everyday. She hoped, with a mother's prayer, he would learn to understand his fathers were not in competition with one another. Paul and Caine certainly didn't feel the rivalry. It only seemed to exist in Peter's mind. Please God, she prayed. Let him return to us. He has to understand, for his own sake. She sighed softly. He just had to be alright. For all their sakes.

Caine sat in silent meditation, focusing his mind on his son and searching through the darkened pathways for the faint trail he sought. Peter's chi was so very weak. The poison had already done a great deal of damage. He could feel the presence of the antidote, but it was almost imperceptible. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least, he now knew the antidote was indeed real. Xia had not deceived them after all. He would have to help his son hold on until it had a chance to begin working...

*Peter? Peter? Do you hear me, my son?* He listened until he heard a distant reply.

*Father? I can't see you, father.*

Caine could hear the fear in his son's voice. He recalled the same note of fear had been evident in Peter's voice as a child when he had found 'dragons' under his bed in the dark of night.

*Stay where you are, Peter. I will come to you.*

*I'm scared, father. *

Caine felt him drawing further away.

*No! Peter, stay where you are!* he cried out, desperately.

Silence answered back.

*Peter?*

Caine turned at the sound of a soft footstep, then from much closer, the voice of his son spoke again.

*I'm here, father.*

Caine turned and saw him unexpectedly. The flash of a genuine smile greeted his son as Caine threw his arms around Peter. Caine felt a strengthening of Peter's chi as the love for his son enveloped both.

Peter's face held confusion.

*I don't understand, father. What is this place? Where are we?*

Caine stepped back and held Peter at arms length before gesturing with his hands.

*We are where we have always been, my son.*

The look of confusion on Peter's face deepened, tinged a little by annoyance.

*Father, I'm tired. I don't feel like playing your mind games right now. I have to go.* He turned to leave but was stopped by Caine's hand on his sleeve.

*Where, son. Where do you have to go?*

Peter looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes. His father knew where he had to go. Why was he asking these questions? He sighed, trying to find an answer for the obvious.

*I've....* Peter stopped, realizing he didn't have any idea. Was it growing lighter? Lines formed a frown across his forehead. *That's strange. Where was it I needed to go?* He turned to look back at the direction he had come. Nothing made sense. He had known where he was going. He'd been certain it was right. What had changed in the wink of an eye? Fear rose up in him. Nothing was certain. Nothing was right. He faced his father again, begging with his eyes for him to set things right. *I...I don't know.* He said with a fear laced voice. *I don't know what's happening.* His legs grew weak and he sank against his father. Caine caught him in strong, supportive arms.

*My son, you must come with me.*

Peter pulled away.

*Where to?* he asked.

Caine held him closer, stroking the back of his neck with a gentle touch. He felt the tension begin to drain from his son and, again, the strengthening of Peter's chi. His feelings of love were being returned as Peter began to feel secure.

*It is not time for you to leave.*

Peter had closed his eyes

*It's not?* he asked, in a voice heavy with sleep.

Caine smiled. He felt Peter's chi strengthen a third time and knew his son would now be strong enough to survive.

*No, my son. Not yet.* He turned Peter until they were walking side by side, Caine still supporting him, toward the light. *There are too many people here who need you.*

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

"Paul!? Master Caine!?" Annie's urgent call filled the room. Before her voice had faded away, Paul was at her side.

"What is it, honey?" he asked searching her face, then Peter's.

Annie's face lit with a smile. She felt Caine appear beside her. "His hand moved!"

"Are your sure?" There was no mistaking the hope in Paul's voice.

"Yes. Look!" She drew her hand back only slightly to reveal Peter's hand slowly beginning to flex.

"I'll get the doctor," Paul told them, leaving the room in a hurry.

Caine smiled, placing his hand on top of Annie's as they held onto Peter. "Speak to him, Annie," Caine told her quietly, watching his son's face. "He will be confused."

She nodded. "Peter?" She spoke softly but urgently, feeling more movement from him. Her face darkened briefly as she worried about the respirator tube in his throat, fearing he would fight it and cause himself injury. "Shh..... It's alright, honey. We're here."

Caine watched Peter's eyelids began to flutter.

"Caine? What's happening?" Annie asked, anxiously.

Caine spoke with a smile in his voice for Annie's benefit as he reached across her to gently brush dark hair from Peter's forehead. His eyes had opened, unseeing at first, but the priest watched as recognition slowly came to the drawn, pale face.

"He.. is opening his eyes," Caine said, softly. "Talk to him. He must know he is surrounded by those who love him."

Annie rose from the chair, using both hands to cup her son's face in a loving embrace. She smiled her best for him. She could feel the muscles in his face respond as he shifted his gaze and slowly focused on her. Tears filled her eyes when her hands felt him offer her a weak smile.

"We love you, son." was as much as she managed before planting a light kiss on his cheek and stepping back, allowing Caine to get closer.

Caine hesitated, looking at her with question. She nodded her head toward Peter. "Your turn."

Caine placed a guiding hand on her arm and squeezed his gratitude as he turned to concentrate on his son.

Peter opened his eyes to a world of confusion and pain. He heard his mother call his name, offering a grasp on reality. He tried to speak to her, to tell her he heard, but something was in his mouth and, with a quaking fear he realized, in his throat. He heard another voice. Who? His father. His father was here. Pop? He tried again to speak. It was useless. Whatever was in his mouth was preventing him from talking. Images swam in and out of focus before him. He blinked to clear them. He was tired, so tired.

The nurse hurried into the room ahead of Paul. He watched Annie and Caine back away from the bed at her instructions as she began checks of equipment. The door opened, admitting Dr. Bouchard in a rush.

"Folks, you'll have to wait outside," he said, making his way to Peter's bed without looking at the others.

Reluctantly, they withdrew from the room.

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

It seemed like hours before Dr. Bouchard walked out of the room to them. The smile on his face told them more than words could ever say. "Peter's breathing on his own," he said. "His vitals are stronger. His fever's down. Looks like the antidote's working." he told them with a grin.

Annie, Paul and Caine exchanged hugs of relief.

"He's still very weak, but I can see a definite improvement"

Paul stepped forward and extended his hand. "Thank you, Henry." he said.

Dr. Bouchard shook his head. "Don't thank me, Paul. If you and Mister Caine hadn't gotten the antidote in time or Peter didn't have the constitution of a horse, he wouldn't have made it." He paused to let the praise settle in on both men. "Now, if you'd like to go back in to your son, I think he'd like to see you, but don't stay too long. He's going to be weak for a while and he needs to rest."

Without further hesitation, all three parents returned.

After a final check of the IV, the nurse quietly left to allow her patient's parents closer. Peter was asleep and Caine was pleased to see the respirator and tube had been removed. He watched the rise and fall of his son's chest, relieved it did so without mechanical intervention. Peter's face was still pale, though not as much as before. Caine smiled as Annie reached out her hand and gently touched her foster son's face.

Peter stirred at the light touch, slowly opening his eyes. Blurry images melded until he focused enough to see his father, foster father and mother surrounding him. Memories returned, some real, some imagined, some half forgotten. He knew he was in the hospital. Lord knew he'd been here enough times. But why this time? Everything seemed to be operating through a thick syrup. *Come on, Caine, think.* He tried to concentrate. *Poison. Tan's daughter. That's it. She poisoned me.* He felt a stab of panic as it all came flooding back to him. His breath quickened, fear rising. Out of instinct, he tried to rise, searching the room for her. He moaned and clenched his jaw as his head exploded in pain. Three sets of hands easily pushed him back to the pillows, what little strength he had was gone.

"Peter! No!" Paul's voice cautioned. "It's alright, son," he soothed.

"Peter?" Annie's voice was soft but filled with concern.

Peter's hands twisted in the sheets covering him, his breath becoming harsh and labored as he fought to think past the pounding pain in his head and the nausea that accompanied it. For long moments, his entire world centered around that pain until he felt a soft touch on each temple and knew, without having to open his eyes, it was his father. He felt his body relaxing at the manipulation of the pressure points. Gradually, the pain subsided, his breathing becoming easier and he was able to open his eyes.

"Hi," he said hoarsely, looking up at the faces above him. He swallowed with difficulty, his voice dry, his throat raw.

Paul, standing behind Annie at an angle, handed a glass of water across to Caine. "Hi, yourself," he smiled, patting his son's hand.

Caine held the straw to Peter's lips, patiently waiting while he took a sip. "How... do you.. feel, my son?" Caine asked him.

"Like I've been run over by a truck., Peter said, tiredly. "What happened?" he asked, his voice raspy.

"You.. do not.. remember?" Caine asked with a quick, worried look to Paul.

Peter thought for a moment, his eyes beginning to droop. "N..Not really." His voice was beginning to fade as sleep overtook him. A memory floated by again. Tan's daughter. His eyes flew open. "W...What about Tan..Tan's daughter?" he managed.

Paul reached out to place a reassuring hand on Peter's shoulder. "It's alright, son. She's in custody. We've got her."

Peter's eyes closed despite his efforts. "Good." he murmured. *Xia's locked away, she didn't get Pop, my family's here with me, and they're safe. Everything's okay. Now, I can rest.* "Mom?" he needed to hear her voice.

"I'm here Peter."

"Mom, everyone's okay," he told her, sleepily, as he drifted off.

Annie kissed him gently on the cheek. "Yes, honey, everyone's fine."

EPILOGUE

A week later, Peter was seated on the sofa in Paul and Annie's family room. His recovery from the poison was nearly complete, except for the lingering weakness that crept up on him at times. Dr. Bouchard assured him, with a couple more weeks of rest, this would diminish, then he would be allowed to go back to work. The hospital had released him only that morning, on the condition he get complete rest at home. His fathers, seated across from him, were determined to make sure he did just that. Even Annie had joined in their little conspiracy. Peter had wanted to return to his apartment to convalesce but had been soundly over ruled by his parents.

Peter watched the two men seated opposite him as they continued a conversation that hadn't included him. He'd had to get the story out of Annie, but he knew he owed his life to them.

Peter marveled at the closeness shared by the two men. Until the past week, he had not realized how uncomfortable he felt being in the company of both at the same time. Now, he wondered why. It didn't make sense. He was completely at ease with Paul any time they were together, either alone or with a crowd of people and he felt more at ease with his father as he spent more time with him. When he was with both men at the same time though, an unexplained guilt came over him. He sighed inwardly. The past week had somehow erased that unease as he saw his fathers together. He realized the tension he had been feeling was of his own doing. He made a promise to himself to relax around them. They felt no competition towards one another and apparently were comfortable in each other's company. Listening to them, he began to realize just how much they had in common.

Annie appeared in the doorway. "Anyone ready to eat?" she asked, brightly.

Peter smiled. His foster mother would never cease to amaze him. Her blindness never stopped her from doing exactly what she wanted to do and she had never allowed Peter or his foster sisters to put anything over on her. Peter was already beginning to chafe at the restraints his illness was imposing on him but Annie took it all in stride. She had been the major reason he agreed to stay with the Blaisdell's after leaving the hospital. She threatened to take up residence in his apartment if he didn't remain with them. She told him she knew all too well her son would push himself beyond his limits the minute he was left alone.

Peter stood up too quickly, vertigo hitting him with an unexpected force. Paul and Caine reached him at the same time, each lending a steady hand.

"I'm okay." he said, clinging to their sleeves. "Just stood up too quick." A sheepish blush crossed his face as he remembered his argument not an hour ago to his mother that he was fine and didn't need a babysitter. Paul and Caine tried to suppress grins as they eased him back to the sofa. Annie appeared, having heard the sounds that told her what had happened.

"Unhuh." she nodded knowingly, reaching to feel of his forehead.

A touch of annoyance with his own weakened body, crossed Peter's face.

"Come on, mom. I'm fine." he said catching her hands in his.

"I know you are." she said, her touch finding a cool brow.

The trip home from the hospital had been more exhausting than Peter had thought. He settled back on the couch.

"You relax and I'll bring you something to eat in here." Peter started to argue, but in reality, he didn't feel up to sitting at a table right now. As a matter of fact, walking the stairs to his bedroom didn't hold much appeal either, but he drew the line at letting himself be assisted upstairs.

"Okay." he said, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch.

He heard the soft whispers of his parents as they went into supper. Maybe, he told himself, this inactivity wouldn't be as bad as he first thought. Maybe... He could even have a little fun with it. Take a lesson from his father about 'patience', mix in a little lesson about 'stealth' from Paul, add his own attitude, (maybe he better be a little careful on that) and stir well. Ideas worked their way into his head. Yeah, that should confuse them. He heard laughter from the dining room and smiled. This was good.

End.