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Chapter Ten
"No, Gordy, not both of you," Peter murmured in his semiconscious state, his expression tense and tortured. "Don't go..."
Paul bit his lip as he knelt beside Peter. He brushed his fingers along Peter's brow, hoping to ease some of the tension there, but Peter was oblivious. Paul had a good idea of what Peter was dreaming about. He'd seen it happen too often over the years, the recreation of what happened at the Seville Mall so long ago.
He leaned forward and put a hand to Peter's shoulder. "It's okay, son."
Peter still struggled in his sleep, talking to Gordy in the moments after the explosion. Peter's hand snaked out as if trying to catch Gordy, but the motion flared his injuries and he curled up to one side, groaning through clenched teeth.
Paul glanced up at Caine. The Shaolin priest was checking a nasty gash on JD's upper arm. As he wrapped a makeshift bandage around it, Phoebe stood beside them. JD hissed when Caine tied the bandage and Phoebe put a hand to his back in comfort.
"Caine," Paul said as he gestured with his head for the Shaolin priest to follow him.
Paul came to a stop between the living room and dining room. "Peter's getting more agitated by the second. Isn't there something we can do to help him?"
Caine's eyebrows knitted together in thought, his gaze darting toward his son. "Peter is reliving the worst moments in his life."
"Yes, I know. He's dreaming about-"
Peter cried out just then. "No, Max, don't!"
Peter's eyes squeezed shut and a tear slid down his cheek.
"He's had these dreams before, but they've never been this vivid or prolonged. Why can't we get him to come around," Paul asked, pulling his eyes away from Peter and back to Caine.
"Something is blocking me from connecting with him. This barrier keeps Peter from us and us from Peter. Peter's suffering cannot be allowed to continue. I know what we must do, but I do not yet know how to do it."
"What is that?" Paul asked.
"We must stop the tormentor."
Paul frowned. "Stop the poltergeist? Is he the reason why you can't reach Peter?"
"Yes."
"He's behind the intensity of Peter's dreams right now?"
Caine nodded.
"And how do you propose to stop him when you couldn't stop him from attacking Peter in the first place?"
"I must make contact with the poltergeist."
Paul frowned in confusion. "Haven't you already been in contact with him?"
"To a certain extent." Caine shrugged. "When he attacks next, I must have his undivided attention."
"What if he attacks you again? You got off easy last time compared to Peter. What good will it do to have both of you down?"
Caine's gaze intensified. "I must try. If the poltergeist makes another physical attack on Peter, he may not survive. As it is, the emotional strain on Peter is weakening his physical stamina. In his current condition, that strain could threaten his life."
Paul rubbed a hand across his face. Kwai Chang sighed. "The poltergeist enjoys our helplessness. He will continue until he tires of the game."
"You mean he's just toying with us until he gets bored? There's got to be a way to put that damned ghost out of action. While you concentrate on the poltergeist, I'm going to grab JD and Phoebe, and see if we can find a way out of this place."
"Phoebe may be of service."
"How's that?"
"She is sensitive to the spirit world, though she tries not to see her gift."
"Phoebe's got a connection with these ghosts? Are you talking about her being able to know the first ghost was Gordy and when she screamed right before Ray went flying?"
Caine nodded. "Both Peter and Phoebe are more attuned to our spiritual visitors than any of us. Perhaps we can use that to our advantage."
Caine returned to Peter's side without another word. Paul stood in place for a long moment before going back to Phoebe and JD. He tried to digest Caine's advice, but it gave him heartburn, so instead he got moving. The three of them had work to do.
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A terrible sense of urgency drove Peter to keep moving. They had to stop Max and fast. Peter held his bleeding arm tightly as he passed through the swinging doors of the water treatment plant, looking for some sign of Max and the school teacher, Mrs. Crane.
His companion through the corridors was Blythe, one of Mrs. Crane's teenaged students and fellow hostage. She kept him on his feet as they hurried along. He sagged against a wall, taking Blythe with him. As much as he tried to ignore it, he was still reeling from the shock of Max slamming a door against his wound and blood loss.
"Peter, you have to stop and rest. Aren't you afraid of bleeding to death?" Blythe asked as she helped him back to a standing position.
Peter glanced down at the blood seeping through the fingers of his hand. "This? This isn't bad. Come on, we have to keep up with Max and your teacher."
She hedged for a moment before sighing deeply. "I still think this is a bad idea, but you're the adult here..."
"Now you're talking," he whispered as he brushed the back of his hand across his forehead.
Blythe was right about one thing. Running around in his condition was stupid, but he had a sick feeling Max was up to something they'd all regret. And it was that suspicion that kept him moving. He stumbled, nearly going to his knees, but Blythe caught him.
"For a skinny guy, you're awfully heavy," she said with a grunt.
Peter didn't answer her. All he could see was the crazy gleam in Max's eyes. The man's endless stream of impersonations had slowed to a trickle the longer the hostage situation continued. To Peter, it was an ominous sign of serious trouble to come. Peter had promised to take Max to his secret place. He'd done the best he could given their situation. He only hoped his father had understood his hidden message and was bringing plenty of backup with him.
"Max, stop!" Peter called from the upper level after finding Max fleeing with Colleen Crane down below.
"It is not in our stars that we are underlings, but in ourselves," Max recited from Julius Caesar. He put down his Uzi as he finished speaking and stepped onto the platform, taking hold of the lift controls.
Peter rushed down the stairs, cursing as he came around the corner. Max's platform was already several feet in the air. With a sick feeling, he knew what Max was up to. He was going to kill himself. Perhaps Max didn't plan for things to go down this way, but he was going to take everyone in the building with him at the same time. Sure enough, Max lifted his hand holding the nitro up for everyone to see.
"This is real," Max shouted to the upper level of the complex now filled with members of Stiles' SWAT team.
"Max, don't do it!" Peter shouted back, hating the despair in his voice.
"We never did find that secret place of yours, Peter."
Peter shook his head, trying to reach Max with his expression where words had failed. Stiles and his men came to a stop, but Peter was barely aware of them. He stared at Max, praying for some bit of insight that could save them all, but nothing came fast enough.
Max said, "I guess this is goodbye, pilgrims!"
Stiles took a rifle from one of his men and aimed it at Max. Peter tried to stop the inevitable by shouting, "Don't shoot!"
In the next instant, Stiles fired his weapon and everything slowed down as seconds passed like hours. The bullet struck Max, and the nitro slipped from his fingers. Peter threw himself over Colleen and Blythe, but it was a pointless gesture. Nothing would save them now. Max began to tumble down from the elevated platform. The spectators reacted, but there wasn't enough time to get away from certain disaster.
Then a miracle happened. Somehow, Caine had slipped in while Peter wasn't looking. He caught the nitro before it hit the ground. The moments following the catch were filled with awed silence and disbelief. Caine held the dangerous liquid up to eye level and examined it more closely.
Peter pulled away from the two women and nearly stumbled as he clutched his arm. He sighed with relief and nodded in admiration. "Nice catch," he said softly.
Caine shrugged in his classic way.
"I knew you would find me," he said with a nod.
The scene shifted and Peter was surrounded by darkness. A strange voice whispered inside Peter's head. "Max is dead because of you."
Peter spun around. That had never happened in the original incident. "What?" he asked in confusion.
"He's dead because of you and your arrogance. You might as well have pulled that trigger yourself."
Peter continued to search for the source of the taunting voice without success.
"Max will never forgive you for tricking him, for taking him to a place where he'd die."
"No, that's not true. Well, Max did die, but-"
"You killed him, just as you killed Gordy and maimed Marty. It's your fault. You have said it yourself several times this evening."
Peter froze in place. Was this Marty taunting him in such a cruel way? Or perhaps it was Max himself? Whoever it was, that ghost had followed him into his memories and his nightmares. How could he fight someone he couldn't even see, someone who knew his deepest, darkest regrets, and played with them like they were a child's toy.
A cold chill began to climb up Peter's spine as he realized he couldn't mount a defense when he really didn't believe the defense himself. The voice had been right in its accusations. How could a man argue with such exacting honesty? He shuddered as a part of his soul died with that acknowledgment. There was no denying the point, he was guilty of those damning accusations. He was guilty of that and so much more.
Peter groaned when the darkness was transformed.
He recognized the grocery store instantly. He'd been there with Skalany. They were trying to get the drop on Stella and the Green Hornet, a dangerous pair of thieves hitting the businesses in the area with deadly results, always escaping moments ahead of the police.
It was another one of Peter's low points playing out like a movie without his permission, playing to Peter and Peter alone. No, there was one other presence. The one with the taunting voice.
Shots fired in his direction by Stella and the Green Hornet, narrowly avoiding him.
"Stay down!" he shouted at an elderly couple trapped between him and one of the perps.
He thought the couple was out of the way when he came up again, aiming for Stella or the Green Hornet. He fired, but instead of one of the thieves, he hit the woman he'd warned to stay down. She'd gotten to her feet in those fleeting moments while he was down. The bullet spun her around, and she hit the ground. Her husband screamed with fear and shock.
The pair of thieves escaped moments later while Peter and Mary Margaret saw to the injured woman. Her husband shouted at Peter, "You're one of the police? The police shot my wife? What were you thinking?"
Peter stood, his mouth gaping open. He ran a hand through his hair. The man repeated himself, but more emphatically this time, "What were you thinking!"
Peter opened his mouth and closed it again before he was finally able to say, "What was I thinking?"
The dark taunting voice returned. "Yes, what were you thinking, Peter? Another life was forever changed by your bungling and you were solely to blame. When will you stop forcing others to suffer with your presence?"
Peter reacted, shouting back before he had time to think of what he was saying. "No, she jumped up out of nowhere! I was cleared by IAD for that shooting!"
"So that makes it okay? Were you also able to clear the woman's pain and resulting trauma? No, she will be forever scarred by this incident."
Tears filled Peter's eyes. "It's not my fault. Things happen in the heat of the moment. I warned them. I told them-"
"Excuses. Just empty excuses."
Peter gasped as he tried to convince the accusing voice of his innocence once more. There was no valid defense to be found for his crimes. After all, he was responsible for all of it.
"It's my fault. It's all my fault," he said, hugging his arms around his chest.
The grocery store scene faded from sight and the darkness enveloped him again. It slowly lightened to reveal Peter and the Ancient watching as his father fought with Tan. All eyes were on the flashing swords as the two men moved in a deadly dance. Peter looked around. The mock rendition of the Shaolin temple where he'd grown up was very realistic. A moment later, Tan was dead, stabbed by his own blade.
The voice began speaking again. "And what feeble excuses do you have for playing a part in the death of Tan? If not for you, Tan would still be alive."
"Tan? You've got to be kidding! Who's going to miss that bastard? I'm not sorry he's dead and I never will be!"
"You have no remorse that your father killed his old friend, the man you once knew at the temple as Master Tao? Perhaps, it was something you wanted to do yourself? Admit it."
"He destroyed my life and my father's life. Priests and helpless children died when they attacked the temple. If anyone deserved to die, it was him!"
"So you're admitting you wanted him dead. What else are you willing to admit to?"
The temple disappeared and Peter was standing on a street curb beside his Stealth, talking to central dispatch. "Yeah, thirty three. Officer needs assistance in the, uh, alleyway at the south end of Magnolia."
Everett Cooper tapped on his arm. "Peter."
Peter waved him off, holding up one finger. "Just a minute."
The dispatcher was talking and Peter could hear Everett fidgeting behind him. "Yeah, Caine."
The dispatcher asked him to hold for a moment, but then he heard Kira call his name from the alley and nothing else mattered. He dropped the car phone into the driver's seat and rushed into the alley, already pulling his gun. There was something in Kira's voice that scared him.
His gaze darted around the alley as he spun around, looking for Kira. He knelt beside her when he found her lying on the ground, running his hand through her hair as if that would dispel all the signs of death his eyes took in. He touched her skin and still refused to believe.
A shadow loomed behind him, and he stood, spinning around as he fired in that direction. The shadow vanished into the darkness of the alley, leaving him alone with Kira's body. He dropped his gun and knelt, putting both hands to Kira's rapidly chilling face. He lifted her head as he whispered, "No..."
She didn't move, but then she couldn't, she was dead.
"No," he repeated more emphatically.
No amount of denial could change the fact she was gone. He bent down caressing her face once more as he kissed her forehead and began to cry. He couldn't stop himself from touching her, as if that would somehow bring her back from death.
His tears fell harder as he remembered that mere moments before he had kissed her and flirted with her. He'd been looking forward to more intimate moments after they'd gotten rid of Cooper, but none of that mattered anymore. Kira was dead. God, she was dead.
"No!" he howled, his anguish and grief overwhelming him. He hugged Kira's lifeless body to his chest. Her head lolled back, and her blonde tresses fell to hang down in golden ripples.
The voice seemed especially cruel when he said, "This is another death that you couldn't prevent. Aren't you supposed to do your job and protect others? All you seem to do is watch them die."
Peter released his hold on Kira, gently lowering her to the ground. He backed away from her as he stood, pulling at his hair with both hands. He turned and stumbled away from the accusing voice, but it followed him. "Do you deny it?"
"She-Kira, she was murdered. There was nothing I could-"
"That line is wearing thin. Accept your responsibility and stop running away from it."
Peter shook his head. He couldn't be responsible for so much grief. He just couldn't.
"No," he whispered over and over, sinking to his knees, sobbing.
"Yes," came the voice.
Peter looked up through tear-filled eyes, but still couldn't see his accuser. Peter knew he had to go somewhere...to a place where he could think without stinging accusations, a place where he could gather his strength and allow his thoughts to work together to fight that taunting voice.
He sighed when a realization hit him. The voice wasn't taunting him any longer. It was speaking the truth, he just hadn't been ready to hear it until then.
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