Six months earlier
Crouched amongst the shadows of the long-abandoned apartment building, Detective Kathleen Blakett was anxiously waiting. Her partner, Detective Stephen Foxship was also crouched only a few feet behind her. When she looked back, she could just make out his form in the dim light.
On the other side of the room, beneath the crumbling hole in the ceiling, three men were talking. All were dark-haired and wore dark suits and sunglasses.
One man stood out among the rest. Not only was he taller, but his very being seemed to vibrate with power. He held a large briefcase in his hands as though it weighed nothing.
This was Charles Tatem, the reason behind Kathleen and Stephen's unscheduled stop.
Tatem was the highest paid hit man in New York, a large feat in itself. He was known as the Prince of the Underworld.
Kathleen moved closer, her holster unsnapped and gun always ready for action.
The smaller of the two men spoke as she stopped behind a few damaged crates. His voice was high with nervousness.
"Do you have the money?"
Tatem nodded and raised the briefcase. The two men stepped forward eagerly, practically drooling in anticipation. Tatem kept a firm hold on it.
"Do you have what I want?"
One of the men nodded and reached inside his jacket.
What Kathleen saw took her breath away.
In the man's hand was a small dagger. Its handle was carved out of jade and emeralds surrounded the hilt. Jewels and blade glistened when it was turned in the meager lighting.
She turned to get Stephen's impression when hard, cold steel pressed sharply into her cheekbone.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" A voice whispered mere breaths from her ear. She jerked away and turned to see her partner smiling evilly at her. His gun was pointed directly at her chest.
Her eyes narrowed at his betrayal, and she took a menacing step towards him.
Strong arms yanked her back.
"Take her weapons," He snapped, his eyes darker than night as Tatem moved to her. He handled her roughly as he searched for hidden weapons. He found another gun and grabbed the one that still hung in her hands.
Without a sound, Stephen knelt before her and ran his hand provocatively down her inner thigh to her ankle where he swiftly removed the knife hidden beneath her jeans.
Her lip curled into a snarl and she fought against her restrainers. Stephen smirked and slowly ran the blade of her knife softly across her cheeks and lips.
"What? No comment from Miss Big Shot herself?" Stephen frowned as she remained silent and nodded at Tatem who took her from the two men and dragged her towards the darkened end of the room. Stephen than turned to them, hurling the knife across the dark room.
"The dagger."
The man with the weapon responded quickly, handing it to him without a moment's hesitation.
Stephen cradled it in his right hand, eyes gleeful with anticipation.
"It's magnificent." He breathed in awe.
Then, slowly, without looking up he raised his gun and fired four shots, two into each man's chest. They were dead before they hit the ground.
"No!" Kathleen screamed, yanking against the man who held her. "Damn you!"
Stephen looked up and took a few steps towards her, lips curled in an evil smile.
"I'm already damned." He lightly brushed his fingers across her cheek. She jerked her head away, teeth bared.
He grabbed her chin back, squeezing it tightly between his fingers.
"Your 'holier than thou' attitude is wearing thin, Kathleen."
She glared at him, topaz eyes blazing. "Why don't you crawl back into the sewer where you belong."
Stephen chuckled; a dark, arrogant sound that sent shivers down her spine. Then, moving slowly, he gripped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers, tongue probing. She bit down as hard as she could, not stopping until she felt the metallic taste of his blood in her mouth.
Stephen gave a strangled cry and backhanded her across the face. Kathleen reeled from the blow and would have fallen had it not been for Tatem's strong grip on her arms.
He glared at her with undisguised hate. She could feel his contempt for her roll off him in hot waves and could smell it rising, sour and vile from his pores.
"You never respected me, you dumb bitch."
He suddenly let out a ferocious growl and smashed his fist into her face. Blood flowed into her mouth and dripped down her chin. He waved the dagger at her.
"I've had it with you. Belittling me. Looking down your nose at me."
Oh my God.
Bile rose up as every cruel and smart-mouthed thing she'd ever said scrolled through her memory.
Oh, God. I'm dead.
Kathleen forced the thought away, refusing to think the worst, and tried to think of a way out. Stephen continued to rant at her about respect.
The blood warming on her tongue gave her an idea.
She slowly shifted her weight to the heels of her feet and bent her knees slightly. Stephen moved closer, dagger still pointed at her.
"I will make you pay, Kathleen."
"The Hell you will, you miserable piece of shit." She gathered the mixture of blood and saliva and spit the concoction into his eyes.
He let out a yell, reaching for his face. Seeing her opening, she used Tatem's grip on her to her advantage. She threw her legs into the air, kicking the dagger out of Stephen's hand. He scurried after it, screaming curses at her.
Her sudden weight caused Tatem to lose his grip on her, and she fell hard onto the concrete floor. She rolled away from him, jumping to her feet. Tatem leapt after her as she bolted towards an open doorway. She dived in just as bullets pelted the walls and floor behind her.
Her weapons gone, she thought only of survival as she backed up against the wall. She stayed deep in the shadows, waiting.
"This could have been easy, Kathleen. No pain. Just a simple gunfight gone awry. A heroic cop killed in the line of duty. The way every cop dreams of going." His voice was tinted with barely contained anger as he moved closer to her hiding spot. His back was to her and she pounced on it, driving him to the floor.
As they wrestled, she could hear the familiar sound of police sirens. Her saviors had arrived.
In the split second that her mind took to process this, Stephen sliced the dagger through her stomach. Her body jolted in shock as it ripped through muscle and skin. She opened her mouth to cry out but no sound came out. She doubled over; clutching her stomach in agony as blood weaved its way through her fingertips.
Then slowly, like a dream, she fell, landing hard on her side. She gasped for air as she sluggishly rolled onto her back. She couldn't feel the icy cold of the concrete beneath her; only the warm stickiness of her own blood as it pooled around her.
Detective Peter Caine swiveled in his chair, the piles of paperwork on his desk blatantly ignored as he tossed wadded up pieces of paper at the already overflowing wastebasket near his desk.
Suddenly, he stilled, head cocked to one side. The mood in the station had changed.
It was darker, somehow; tense.
He was up and in Captain Paul Blaisdell's office before Blaisdell even had a chance to call him.
In the corner, leaning against the wall, arms crossed lazily across her chest, was the source of the abrupt mood change. He eyed her suspiciously before looking at his foster father. "What's going on?"
Looking slightly taken back at Peter's sudden appearance, but not surprised, he leaned back in his chair.
"Peter, this is Detective Kathleen Blakett from the 88th Precinct in New York." Peter turned his head and got his first real look at her.
She was about five-four and small boned. Light brown hair lay softly against the curve of her neck. Round, cat-like golden eyes scrutinized him as he did the same of her. Peter could tell that despite her slight build, this particular woman packed a mean punch. He shifted his gaze back to Captain Blaisdell and recognized the look in his eyes.
"Oh no you don't." He started to back out of the office but stopped when he was glared at sternly. Peter stared angrily at Kathleen. She smiled at him, though it didn't reach her eyes. Peter softened somewhat, recognizing that look as well. He'd had it himself many times.
Weariness. Mistrust. It all ran together eventually.
Kathleen noticed the change in him, and her smile faded into a suspicious line.
Blaisdell noted the exchange and decided it was time for him to exit. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted."
They both watched him leave; neither wanting to be the first to break the silence. Peter jammed strong, callused hands into his jean pockets. "So, uh... how are you liking your first day here?" He asked the first thing that came to him, and then criticized himself for saying something lame.
Kathleen's whole demeanor changed. Her brow narrowed and her body became tense.
"I don't need your crap, all right? I got enough of my own without your bullshit adding to the load."
Peter's temper flared up, just barely under his control. "All I did was ask a question."
"Well, don't. I've had enough questions to last me a lifetime."
"Why? What happened?" Kathleen looked at him wearily.
"Let's just say my ex-partner was more of a dickless loser than any of the other creeps out there."
Peter suppressed a chuckle, liking her blunt manner. "What'd he do?" Kathleen shot him a look; Peter shrugged his shoulders innocently.
"Turned greedy. Then vindictive. He set up a pay-off and made sure I'd be there. When I refused to die peacefully, he used his prize, a jeweled dagger to silence me." She lifted her shirt slightly to reveal a flat stomach with a pink scar that ran from her belly button up to beneath her shirt.
Peter winced inwardly, knowing from personal experience what it felt like to be knifed. "What happened to him?"
Kathleen's face contorted in anger. "He got away. Now they ship me from place to place, hoping he won't find me." She laughed bitterly. "Fat chance."
He didn't know what to say as he watched the hatred and fear at war in her eyes. Finally, he said the only thing he could.
"I'm sorry, Kat."
"What are you sorry for? You didn't do anything." She lifted her gaze back up, no sign of her earlier emotion. "Now, Petie. I'm starved. Know any good places to eat?"
"Actually, I'm supposed to meet my father for lunch. Your welcome to come..." She waved him away.
"I don't want to intrude." Peter went to object but Kathleen cut him off. "It was nice meeting you." She held out her hand. "Partner." Peter took it, but couldn't stop the worry that formed inside him.
No matter what she said, something was definitely not right with this woman.
Peter and Kat sat in his car in front of his father's apartment. Tempers were flaring and stubbornness was at its peak.
"You've been dodging it for days," Peter was saying, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other on the back of Kat's chair. "Why don't you want to meet my father?"
"I don't see the point. I'll probably be leaving in a couple of weeks, maybe even days, and the less people I come into contact with, the easier it would be for me to go." She was lying. Peter knew it, but for the life of him, couldn't figure out why.
"Just meeting him won't hurt you." She turned her head to look out the window, her jaw set. Peter sighed in exasperation and wrenched open his door. "Fine. Stay here. I'm going to go see my dad." He pulled himself out of the car and slammed the door shut. Turning his back, he headed inside.
Kat watched him, knowing he meant to leave her there. Finally, she sighed and got out of the car. It was going to be a long day.
"Kat, I'd like you to meet my father, Caine. He's a Shoalin priest."
"I am delighted to meet you... Kat?" Kathleen rolled her eyes as she took his hand.
"Call me Kathleen. Petie here," she said, patting Peter mockingly on the chest, "calls me that because of my cat-like eyes."
"Really? I thought it was because of your sassy attitude," Peter cracked back at her. Caine watched her, his curiosity hidden behind solemn eyes.
"I sense great pain behind your words," he said, seeming to look directly into her soul. Peter saw the fear flicker in her eyes before it disappeared as quickly as it came. She shrugged as if to brush it away.
"Just a headache. It'll go away."
"May I help?" Once more there was that fear before it again fell beneath the topaz color. She searched for the hidden meaning behind the words but found none. She shrugged.
"Sure. Why not?"
"Close your eyes." Kathleen eyed him warily. He held out his palms to show her he meant peace. "I mean you no harm, only relief." Reluctantly she closed her eyes and tried to calm her frayed nerves. You're acting crazy. She chided herself. He's a priest. What could he possibly do to you?
"Now, breathe deeply and evenly. Clear your mind." She felt his callused, yet kind hands cup her face as he spoke. He gently massaged her temples with his thumbs while his fingers kneaded the back of her head. She slowly found herself relaxing under the work of his fingers.
A baseball bat came swinging out of the darkness.
Kathleen flinched as she found herself losing to a memory she had fought to hide her entire life.
Jonathon Blakett was reading the newspaper when his daughter came home.
"You're late." He spoke angrily, without looking up. Kathleen hung her head.
"I'm sorry, sir." She didn't look him in the eye, afraid of making him angrier. He placed the newspaper next to him and stood, looming over her.
"Sorry? You haul your sorry ass in at two in the morning, four hours past you're curfew, and all you have to say is 'sorry'?" Kathleen cringed, huddling against the wall.
"I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I swear!"
"You damn well better believe it won't happen again," he roared at her. "Don't expect to see sunlight for a long time!" She practically flew down the hall. She quickly shut the door and immediately felt safer as she heard the reassuring click of the lock. A small noise startled her and she swung around.
Her sister Rachel was curled on her bed, reading one of her diaries, a look of shock on her face. It faded into a sly smile.
Kathleen's last ounce of patience snapped and she lunged at her, wanting to slap that smirk off her face. Rachel's smile faded as she saw her sister coming at her, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream that shook the walls. Kathleen ignored her as she yanked the diary out of her hands. She never heard the door open, or saw the bat that came swinging at her head.
Kat's vision swam as she lost herself to the memory. The ache in her head faded into the background as she gave in to the peacefulness of the darkness.
Caine felt the change in her seconds before she went limp. He held her as she fell, gently laying her on the floor. Peter was at her side in an instant. He tore off his jacket and placed it under her head. He looked up at his father; worry clouding his usually bright eyes.
"What happened?"
"A memory from her past was too much for her soul to remember."
"A memory did this?" Peter shifted his gaze back to Kat, his face reflecting his concern for her. "Will she be okay?" His father nodded.
"Yes, but we must wait."
"Wait? Wait for what?" Caine placed a comforting hand on Kat's cheek.
"For the memory to let go."
Kat awoke slowly, her head pounding as she struggled through the dark haze of her mind. She forced her eyes open as her other senses gradually began to work again. She reached up to brush the hair out of her eyes as they began to refocus and felt a slight pressure on one of her hands. She turned her head to see Peter leaning against the cot, his hand tightly clenched in hers. He was sound asleep.
Startled by the closeness of it, she gingerly pulled her hand out of his and stood up slowly. She glanced around to gather her bearings and realized she was in the back of Canine's apartment. She took a step forward and spotted her purse on a nearby chair. She snatched it up and quietly made her way out.
Unbeknownst to her, Caine sat in the blackness, hidden from view. He watched her leave, but did not follow for her path was not his to follow, but his sons.
Kathleen closed the door to her apartment. She leaned against the door as she locked it, finally allowing herself to breathe easier. She closed her eyes, sighing deeply.
She had just gotten her life back in order. Each memory of her childhood had been locked away, never to be touched again.
Caine had undone it all. The wall she had taken years to build; he had torn down in a matter of moments. She couldn't understand it.
And Peter.
Kat groaned. Peter. She still hadn't sorted her thoughts out about him. He was a great cop and she did trust him; to a point.
Sighing loudly, she pushed away from the door. Now was not the time to worry about it. Later; after a long, hot shower and a good nights sleep. Then she will. Not now, though. Later. Much later.
Something was jutting into his spine. Peter shifted in his sleep and felt himself falling. The next thing he knew, he was slamming his shoulder into the floor. Hard. He jerked awake and found himself staring at the floor.
"Kat." He swung around. The cot was empty. His mind exploded into a million possibilities, each one more horrifying than the last.
"Kathleen?"
"She is not here." Peter swung around, instinctively reaching for his gun.
"Jesus, Pop. How many times do I have to tell you not to do that." He slipped his gun back in its holster.
"I am sorry." Peter sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his already tousled brown hair.
"No. It's okay. I'm just a little... on edge right now."
"Why, my son?" Peter waved the question away.
"Nothing. It's nothing." He grabbed his jacket off the floor. "Do you know where she went?" Caine gave him a half shrug.
"I believe she went home."
"Home," he said, a harried look on his face as he shrugged into his jacket. "Great."
"What is wrong, my son?" There was silence for a moment.
"I don't know where she lives." he said exasperated. "Hell, I don't even know if she has a car." He reached into his pocket for his car keys as he headed towards the door. He stopped and turned back. "She won't trust me." Caine tilted his head slightly.
"She has led a hard life."
"But I don't know that!" He rubbed his eyes, trying to organize his thoughts. "You're partner is supposed to be the one person you trust the most." He looked into his father's eyes to hunt for some kind of answer. Caine just smiled at his son and gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.
"Give her time, my son. She will learn to trust again. Do you not remember your inability to trust?"
Peter sheepishly scratched the skin behind his ear as he slowly nodded his head. "Yeah." He sighed again.
"Remember, my son. Patience is a virtue." His smile broadened as he good- naturedly slapped the side of his face. Peter was left nursing his cheek.
Kat stepped out of the shower feeling relaxed and refreshed. Her mind seemed at ease as she changed into a sleek, soft, polyester nightgown. Before slipping underneath the silk comforter of her bed, she put on some soft Celtic music and shut off the lights. The lulling tune soon had her fast asleep.
101st Precinct
Peter sat at his desk in the center of the precinct. It was 11:23PM. He'd been searching for his partner's address for the past hour to no avail. He was hungry, tired, and frustrated as hell.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake. A hand came down gently on his shoulder, making him jump. He spun around to the troubled face of his foster father.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." Peter waved the apology away, stifling a yawn. Blaisdell watched him silently. "You're exhausted, Peter. Go home and get some sleep."
"No. I can't. I have to find it."
"Find what, Peter?" The only answer he got was silence. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Peter." His voice held the same tone it did when Peter was younger. It demanded an answer. Peter reluctantly gave in.
"Kat's address." Peter couldn't look him in the eye so he missed the mild shock in the captain's eyes. "I could have sworn it was on my computer but, as usual with her, it has conveniently disappeared." Blaisdell didn't answer but gestured for Peter to follow. Peter obeyed and followed him into his office. He leaned tiredly against the wall as Blaisdell shut the door and lowered the blinds. He was silent as he sat back against his desk and folded his arms across his chest.
"Are you having problems with Detective Blakett?" Peter jammed his hands into his pockets, stumbling for an answer.
"It's just... I mean, she doesn't.... She won't trust me," he said finally, sighing heavily. Blaisdell's lip twitched as he tried not to smile.
"I seem to remember the story of another young cop unwilling to trust. What is it he used to say? Even Mother Theresa has an angle?" His grin faded as he saw the conflicting emotions in his foster son's eyes. He wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulder to try and comfort him. "Look, Peter, She has to learn to trust again, just like you had to. That's why you're the best one for the job." Peter rubbed the back of his neck, more out of habit than anything else.
"Yeah; that's what my father said."
Blaisdell nodded his head slightly and reached back for a file that was on his desk. He handed it to Peter. "This contains Kathleen's home address," he paused before continuing. "It also contains personal facts on her family history."
"Family history?" Peter flipped through it. He brought his head up slowly as distress poured over him. "Her father beat her with a baseball bat?" Blaisdell nodded and finished the paragraph for him.
"Her mother was an alcoholic and her sister wasn't around enough to care." Peter's eyes were slowly filling with hate as he continued reading.
"Too bad her bastard parents are dead, or I'd kill them myself." He went back to the file but soon looked up again. "No information on her sister's whereabouts?" Blaisdell shook his head.
"She disappeared a few years ago. No one knows what has become of her." Peter shook his head angrily as he shut the file.
"I make it a rule not to hit women but in her case, well, she better pray she never comes into contact with me." He stalked towards the door but Blaisdell stopped him. He turned to him, his eyes ablaze.
"Be careful, okay?" Peter glanced back and smiled wryly.
"Hey, aren't I always?"
Riing!
Kat moaned and turned over. "Go away."
The phone rang again and Kat groaned, regretting the fact that she hadn't disconnected the phone before she went to bed.
She rolled over as it rang again, fumbling halfheartedly for the phone. She brought it to her ear.
"If this is you, Peter, I will personally see to it that you never have children."
"Charming as usual, I see."
Kat's voice stuck in her throat at the sound of her ex-partner's voice and the ominous sound of his laughter followed her long after she hung up the phone.
Peter pulled his car to a stop in front of Kathleen's apartment building. From inside the car, he studied the darkened building as he screwed up the courage to go in.
Finally, he took a deep breath and reached for the door handle.
"Ready or not, here I come."
All Kat could see was darkness. It filled her whole mind; blocking out everything.
"Peter?" she called her out, sensing someone with her. She swung around, seeing only a large, darker than night shadow.
"Who are you?" Kathleen demanded. The shadow didn't answer but moved slowly towards her, his hands reaching for her. She took a step back and collided with something solid. Gasping, she swung around to stare into the coal black eyes of Stephen Foxship. His eyes gleamed with hate.
"Hello, Kathleen. Remember me?" His condescending laughter trapped her, making her powerless to move.
"Peter?" she called out, her voice barely above a whisper. Stephen reached for her.
"Peter!"
Kathleen Blakett's Apartment #409
"Well, this is it." Peter paused for breath and glanced at his watch. He groaned. It was twelve-thirty in the morning. "Better late than never." He raised his hand to knock when an ear-piercing scream chilled him to the bone.
"Peter!"
"Kathleen?" he called out. She screamed again, this one reaching the darkest depths of his soul.
"Kat!" He slammed his shoulder into the door, failing to open it. He stepped back and landed a powerful front kick into the door, sending it flying open. She was still screaming as he rushed in, following the sound.
He found her asleep in her bedroom, her body covered in sweat. His expression softened somewhat as he went to her, his whole being wanting to comfort her. He placed a caring hand on her forehead, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. Her eyes flew open and she shrieked again before recognition came. Her whole body went limp as she sank into his arms, sobbing.
"Peter." He held her close, placing soothing butterfly kisses on her forehead as his hands helped ease away the tension in her shoulders and back.
"It's okay. I'm here."
Reality sank in at these words and she pulled away, suddenly angry and frightened at the same time.
"How the hell did you find me?" she demanded suspiciously, her eyes accusing.
"Captain Blaisdell showed me you file," he said after a while, deciding the truth was the wisest way to go.
"You read my file?" she asked angrily, her voice echoing the betrayal she felt. "How could you?" Anger flashed in Peter's eyes.
"You disappeared from my father's place without a word. What else was I supposed to do?" The last words were almost in a shout as he tried not to lose his temper. She was taken back for only a moment before she launched another attack.
"You'd think that you'd be smart enough to realize that I don't want you to know!"
"Why shouldn't I know? I'm only your partner, damn it!" He stood up and stalked to the window, his back to her.
"That doesn't mean anything!" Peter swung around, his face inches from hers and his eyes carrying every emotion he had ever had for her. The swiftness of it caused her to shrink back, automatically trying to protect herself.
"But it does! Partners are supposed to help one another. Support one another. Trust one another." He paused, letting his anger slowly fading away to disappointment. He watched the conflicting emotions fly across her face but she didn't speak. He closed his eyes and sighed before getting back up. "But you don't seem to care." He headed to the door, but paused a few steps away.
"I'm not him, Kathleen. If you would only give me a chance, you'd know that." He was halfway down the hall before she stopped him.
"Peter." He stopped in his tracks at the different tone in her voice. He turned slowly, his eyes questioning her. She moved slowly towards him, her eyes never leaving his.
"Don't go."
She reached out her hand.
He hesitated only for a moment before wrapping a strong arm around her, pulling Kat hard against him. His other hand cupped her neck as his mouth came down on hers. Her lips willingly parted at his gentle prying. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his lips harder onto hers as tongues entwined, locked in a sensuous battle.
When it finally ended, it left them both breathing heavily, their heads reeling and their bodies weak. Kat leaned against him, pressing her head against his chest. She could hear the pounding of his heartbeat, beating in time with her own. Peter just held her close, enjoying the softness of her hair against his skin. The closeness of it all sent his emotions into oblivion.
"Wow." Kathleen blushed slightly.
"What?"
"It's just that that's probably one of the most honest things you've done since I met you." Her smile faded as it dawned on her, and she tried to pull away, but this time he wouldn't let her. He gently tilted her chin up. It took all his strength not to fall into the deep, golden depths. "Kat?" he asked softly. Her eyes displayed the fear she had shown before, but this time she didn't try to hide it. "Tell me about your life." She tore her eyes away and laid her head back against him. She closed her eyes, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.
What has happened to you? She asked herself. You never cry. She clutched Peter's shirt, pulling herself closer. But in the last two days you've been a basket case! What the Hell's wrong with you? She sighed deeply and pulled away, wrapping her arms protectively around herself.
"I can't tell you." She didn't look him in the eye, afraid of his reaction.
"Yes, you can." Peter insisted, his hand reaching for her. "I'll always be here for you. You can trust me on that." She shook her head.
"No, no. I've kept everything locked up for so long; I don't know if I can face that pain again." Peter moved to her, cradling her face in his hands.
"I won't let anything happen to you. I promise you." The fear remained, and he sighed, pulling her into his arms. He caressed her neck and kissed her hair as his mind rapidly tried to find a solution.
"Kathleen?" She looked up at him; her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Would you allow my father to help you?"
"Your father?" she asked, her voice displaying her confusion. Then realization dawned on her. "Can he...?"
"I've seen my father do some pretty great things that I can't even begin to understand. I'm sure he could help you, too." She didn't answer at first, as her mind was ablaze with thought. She sighed, realizing that she was tired of hiding.
"All right, I'll go," she answered forlornly. Peter's eyes lit up, and he went to speak, but she stopped him "It has to be now. Tomorrow may be to late." She pulled away from his touch. "Just let me change."
Kwai Chang Caine's Apartment
"My son," Caine said, surprised to see him so early in the morning. He moved aside to let him in and noticed Kathleen behind Peter, apparently hesitant to follow Peter in. He offered his hand and she smiled awkwardly, but took his hand and allowed herself to be gently pulled into the room. After he had shut the door, he turned to them. "What has brought you to me at this hour?" Peter glanced at Kat and when she didn't speak up, he did.
"Can you help her?" Peter asked after recounting Kat's story to him. Caine turned from Peter and appeared to study her through narrowed eyes. She stood silently, not wanting to break the silence.
In a few moments, Caine turned to Peter and nodded, then he looked back at Kat. "But you must understand, Kathleen. It will be a long and painful journey. I will take you back to your childhood, and you will relive memories that have brought you much suffering." He studied her face as he spoke. "Do you wish to take that journey?" She was quiet for a few moments. Then she straightened and nodded, a determined set to her jaw. Caine nodded slightly.
"Follow me." Caine led the way to an adjourning room and allowed Kat in first. He raised a hand to stop Peter from following.
"But Pop," he argued, his eyes never leaving Kathleen. His father shook his head.
"This journey she must take alone. You must not interfere." Kathleen's eyes locked with his, reassuring him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, stepping back as his father shut the door, leaving him alone. His mind drifted back to another time...
Shoalin Temple
Young Peter Caine stood quietly outside a temple door, his eyes downcast. He appeared to be deep in thought. He was not. He was listening to his father speak to an outsider, a man not from the temple. His father did not know he was there.
Caine was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the outsider who was also sitting cross-legged. Their eyes were closed.
Peter was not allowed in there. It was against the rules to speak to an outsider, but Peter's curiosity had gotten the best of him. The only sound he heard was the muffled voice of his father. He took a step closer, hoping to hear better. A strong hand clamped on his shoulder making him jump. He swung around. Master Ping Hi stood before him.
"What are you doing here, Peter?" Peter inclined his head apologetic.
"I am sorry, Master, but I was curious. What is my father doing?" Ping Hi led Peter away from the closed door. Peter slowed his gait to match his Master's. "Please, Master. Tell me what my father is doing to that outsider."
"He is doing nothing to the outsider." Peter's brow furrowed, confused.
"Then what...?" Ping Hi raised a hand to silence him.
"Peter, your father is helping him embrace his past, so he may continue on with the future."
"The future? What does the past have to do with the future?" His father's voice answered from behind him.
"Our past is what determines our future." His father waved to the man who was hanging near the door.
Calmness seemed to surround him. "If one can not accept his past; the good with the bad, his future will hold no meaning for him." Peter took all this in quietly, his mind working rapidly to form the question that lay at the tip of his tongue.
"Father, how do you accept the bad of the past?"
"One day, my son, you will know, but now," Caine smiled and gestured forward. "Shall we eat?"
A scream tore through the memory, shocking him back to reality. He recognized Kat's voice and threw himself at the door, trying to force it open. He tried again. And again. The door wouldn't budge.
His mind echoed with her screams as he collapsed against it and slid down, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, head tucked in his arms. He slowly fell into a restless sleep, his dreams full of death and darkness.
Creek.
Peter awoke suddenly; gun in hand almost immediately. He slowly stood up, keeping low as he listened. There were no more sounds from behind the closed door.
Creek.
Peter swung around, his gun cocked and ready. In front of him stood the silhouette of a tall man, his face half hidden from view. The shadows contorted his face, giving him a menacing air. Peter narrowed his eyes, keeping the gun leveled at his chest.
"Detective Peter Caine." Peter eyed him suspiciously, all senses on alert.
"Would that make you... let me guess, my worst nightmare?" Peter quipped sarcastically. The man smiled, but his dark eyes gave away the danger lurking behind it.
"Very much so, Detective Caine. In fact, I'd say your nightmare," he paused as a hand snaked out from behind Peter, pinning his arms down and covering his nose and mouth with a cloth. The cloth reeked of chloroform and he struggled against the coming blackness to no relief. His body went limp. The dark man stepped into the light, revealing the sharpness of his black eyes. "Begins now."
"Kathleen?"
Kat didn't answer, her mind and body so relaxed, she didn't want to move. She felt lightheaded with the serenity that had washed over her as her journey through her past had ended. It was a feeling she had never felt before and didn't want to lose. At least, not yet.
"Kathleen... you must awaken. My son is in trouble."
Kathleen's eyes snapped open and she found herself back in Caine's apartment, sitting cross-legged before him. His eyes rebelled against his calm exterior, revealing the fear he felt for his son.
"What's wrong? Is he hurt?" Kat jumped up off the floor, searching for her coat, which held her gun.
"I believe he is. We must go to him." Kat, finally spotting her coat, grabbed it before turning back to Caine.
"Do you know where he is?" she asked as she checked her gun for bullets before holstering it and slipping into her coat. Caine shrugged. "Then how can we find him?"
Caine took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"I must meditate; become apart of his chi." Kate nodded.
"I'm going down to the precinct." She stepped away from him and opened the door. Peter's gun, badge, shirt, coat, socks, and shoes were carefully folded and placed in a pile just to the right of the door. She knelt down, not touching them in case of fingerprints. She doubted that there were, but she never knew. She sighed and closed her eyes, trading in the torrent of feelings that flooded forward for the strict professionalism she knew so well.
She turned back to Caine to say something but he was focused on what he was doing. She watched as he re-lit candles that had been placed carefully around the soft mat she had just vacated. She smiled grimly, and knelt down to pick up Peter's things with a nearby, unused piece of cloth. Without looking back, she left.
Kermit Griffin's Office
101st Precinct
The only sound in the room was the clicking of keys as Kathleen searched Kermit's computer for information on her ex-partner. She swore as she kept running into roadblocks.
"I see you made yourself right at home."
Her head snapped up and she swung around in his chair, her hand reaching for her gun.
"God damn it, Kermit. Don't do that!" A muscle twitched by the side of his mouth as he tried not to laugh. He maneuvered further into the room, closing the door firmly behind him before sitting down.
"Sorry," he said in a voice that clearly stated he wasn't. He pushed up his green sunglasses and leaned back, the picture of relaxation.
She bit back a smart remark and turned back to the computer.
"Now that you're here, you can get this," she was going to say 'piece-of- crap' but thought better of insulting his 'precious' computer. "To give me some answers."
"What kind of answers?" he asked. She narrowed her golden eyes at him, cursing the damn sunglasses for hiding his eyes.
"All you need to know is the name Stephen Foxship."
Kermit though for a moment before answering.
"Foxship, huh? Nice guy; nasty temper." He leaned forward, hands clasped casually in front of him on the desk. "Why, pray tell, do you need information on him?"
"I don't have to tell you that." Kermit raised his eyebrows so you could just make them out over the top of his sunglasses.
"I don't have to help you."
"Damn it, Kermit!" She said again, losing her already frail patience. "Don't play this game with me."
"What game? I just want to know what I'm getting into." He saw her hesitation but didn't say anything as he put the pieces together in his mind. "Does this involve Peter?" She looked up at him startled, and he smiled. "Well, why didn't you say so?" Wordlessly, she moved out of his way as he eased himself up and into his chair.
She leaned over his shoulder as he fingers flashed over the keyboard. Within moments he had a detailed dossier of Foxship. They both read through it, and she reached for the screen to point something out. A quick hand gripped her wrist. She pulled her hand away, glaring at him. He just grinned back at her.
"Don't touch the screen." She rolled her eyes.
"You see how this only has information for the last ten years?" She watched his reflective nod in the computer screen. "Can you..."
"Already done." His grin widened as he, within minutes, had all the information he needed, except:
"Level 4 clearance required?"
"Don't worry about that," Kermit said, before clicking a few buttons that printed the information they had. He handed it over and grinned at her. "Take care of yourself, okay?" Rather reluctantly, she found herself smiling back at him.
"Don't worry about that."
1412 Brighton St.
Abandoned Kmart
Shadows cloaked the room, obscuring the prone figure heaped in the middle of a dusty floor. The figure moaned and shifted, bringing his face into the light of the dozen candles surrounding him. Peter moaned again, cracking his eyes open to a blurry mixture of shadows and light. Blinking away the blurriness, he was still left with shadows that hid everything.
Swearing, he tried to massage his aching temples, only to find his hands tied tightly behind his back. Upon further inspection, he found that his feet were tied, too and connected to his hands by a short rope.
"And not only that," he muttered indignantly to the shadows, "but I'm half- naked on a cold, hard floor covered in God knows what!"
"Oh, I am so sorry for your discomfort, Detective Caine." Peter's head snapped up at the sound of the familiar voice from one of the darker shadows. "But to tell you the truth, I really don't care."
Another shadow appeared behind the first and moved to Peter. Peter's hazel eyes focused on the man's face, committing it to memory. The man gave him a crooked smile before slamming his foot into Peter's ribs. Peter grunted slightly as the air went out of him and the pain vibrated through his body. The man frowned when he didn't get the response he wanted. He attacked again, this time his foot connected with Peter's face. Peter gritted his teeth against it, forcing down a cry of pain as he spat blood from a split lip and a broken nose. The man growled at Peter's silence and lifted his foot again.
The voice stopped him and the man fell back into the shadows. Peter tried to focus on the larger shadow.
"I'm proud of you, Detective Caine. Usually it takes only one of Tatem's kicks to have them screaming in agony." The dark voice seemed to be agitated at his unwillingness to play his game. He heard a muttered curse and the room darkened slightly as the larger shadow shoved over one of the tables full of candles. Peter gasped as hot wax splattered on bare skin.
He strained to hear the conversation between the two men as struggled to get closer but the rope dug into his skin, rubbing it raw. He was forced to stop when Tatem moved over beside him again, a needle glittering in his hands.
"What Tatem has in his hands, Detective Caine, is a large amount of morphine. In small doses it'll ease pain, but in larger doses, it can, and will eventually kill you." His words were emphasized by the sharp prick in Peter's skin. He involuntarily flinched.
Peter felt the drug take immediately and he felt a sharp pain rip through his abdomen. He could no longer control his voice.
Caine sat in the middle of a soft brown mat. Dozens of candles surrounded him. His legs were crossed, and his features were void of emotion. His eyes were closed.
Heat.
Caine's back stiffened.
Pain.
His jaw tightened against it as images flashed through him.
Kat's eyes flashing with anger.
With pain.
With hope.
A shadowed man.
Stephen Foxship's House
9389 E. Harrison Dr.
Kathleen crept silently through the dark house, all senses on full alert as she searched for something, anything that could lead her to Peter. Each empty room left her more frustrated than the last.
"Enjoying yourself?"
Kathleen swung towards the voice, gun ready. Though the room was dark, the faintest light from the window allowed her to make out the bold features of Kermit's face. Sighing in exasperation, she re-holstered her gun and shot him a look.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Keeping an eye on you," he replied, moving past her to flip on the light. The room flooded with light, throwing shadows over white walls. She blinked quickly to help her eyes focus before surveying her surroundings.
A disorganized desk sat against one wall, with a computer and a printer sitting in the middle of it. Other than that, the room was bare.
Slipping on a pair of latex gloves, Kathleen leaned over the desk and began to rifle through the millions of papers while Kermit put his gloves on and set to work on the computer.
After a few moments she found a bunch of receipts hidden under stacks of coupons. Kat's eyebrows furrowed as she read them.
"Candles... candles, candles," She threw them down on the desk and let the air whoosh out of her. "Why the hell does he need so many candles?"
"Probably the same reason he has floor plans for the old Kmart building on Brighton Street."
She stood behind him and stared at the screen, her mind skimming through the possibilities. Finally, she smiled slyly and looked down at Kermit. "Want to check it out?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Peter's head pounded with every beat of his heart. His skin felt as though it was burning right off his body. He moaned in agony as he struggled to open heavy eyelids. The more he tried, the worse his head felt.
He finally managed to open them a little. Clouded blueness mixed with the hazy colors of photographs. He turned his head slightly to look over his surrounding and his body exploded in pain and convulsions that swept through him.
A blurry face appeared before him. Then a voice made it way through his pain clouded mind.
"Soon." There was a tiny prick in his skin. Then the blurriness cleared and cold black eyes smiled down at him before darkness covered him in another blanket of heat and pain.
1412 Brighton St.
Abandoned Kmart
"Shit!"
Kat cursed loudly in frustration at the near empty building. She turned to Kermit as amber eyes darkened with anger. "That bastard set me up!"
"Did you really thing it would be this easy?" Kermit asked her, his eyebrows once again rose over those damned sunglasses of his.
"Of course not! But I thought there'd be at least something to help us find him!" Tears stung her eyes and she turned away quickly to hide them, pretending to survey the building. Kermit wasn't fooled. He sighed and, cursing the soft spot he had for her, placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed in comfortingly.
"Look. I'll call in and have a team go over this building with a fine toothcomb. You, on the other hand," he said and turned her to look at him. "Will go home and rest. Just give me a few minutes to place that call, and I'll drive you home."
"But Kermit..."
"No buts. As Peter's friend, I find it my personal duty to make sure you don't run yourself into exhaustion." Kat smiled weakly at him and shook her head. When Kermit got an idea in his head, there was just no arguing with him.
Blurry photographs.
Explosion.
Cold black eyes.
Heat.
Pain.
Kathleen Blakett's Apartment #409
Kermit followed Kathleen up the stairs to her apartment, wanting to make sure she got there safely. They stopped in front of her door;
"It wasn't necessary to walk me all the way up here." Kermit shrugged and smiled at her.
"Promise me you'll try to get some sleep," he said and waited for her answer before turning to go.
"Kermit." He looked over his shoulder at her. "Thanks." He nodded his hand and left. She smiled faintly as she took her keys from her purse and unlocked the door.
She froze a few steps in. Something didn't feel right. She slipped her gun from its holster. Without turning on the lights, she made her way slowly through the room.
A heart-stopping scream froze the blood in her body. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"It couldn't be." She hurried towards the bedroom.
A hand shot out and pulled her into the shadows, another hand covering her mouth to stifle the scream in her throat.
She swung around to see Caine, his hands now at his sides. She let out the breath she was holding.
"Don't do that!" she whispered.
"I am sorry." They both turned to look at the closed bedroom door. "Is there another way into your bedroom?"
"Through the bathroom. I'll distract," she turned back to Caine who had disappeared. "I hope you know what you're doing." She sighed. "Hell, I don't even know what I'm doing." Shaking her head, she reached for the doorknob.
Peter fought through the hazy turmoil that was his mind.
Distorted voices faded in an out, and he focused on them, forcing the pain back until it was a distant throbbing.
"Come on, boss. Let me join in the action."
"As I told you before; Kathleen's mine. You understand?"
"Of course. But what about the vegetable over there?"
"Detective Caine has outlived his use."
There was a small pause. Peter strained his ears, trying to catch every word.
"As have you."
Kathleen's hand froze on the doorknob. The sound of gunshots rang through her apartment, and her heart skipped several beats.
Without thinking, she slammed her shoulder into the door. She ignored the sharp pain that vibrated through her body as she stumbled into the room. Expecting gunshots to pummel her exposed body, she dived quickly behind her bed.
There were none. Bringing in ragged breaths, she forced herself to relax.
"So glad you could finally join us, Kathleen."
The sound of his voice made her blood boil. Anger coursed through her. She looked down at the gun in her hand and smiled. Slowly, she placed it back in its holster.
Keeping the smile in place, she raised herself and looked into the eyes of her enemy.
"Hello, Stephen."
Peter struggled violently against the pain to open his eyes. He wanted to know if the voice he heard was real and not the wild imaginings of drug induced sleep.
Eyes refused to open so he moved his attention to his limbs.
She startled at the sharp movement from below her and quickly took a step away.
Peter's sweat soaked body glistened as he lay tangled in her sheets, arms and legs tied securely to the bedposts. His chest was bare, and she could see the dark blue and purple bruises forming on his ribs and face. Sheets and skin were spattered with blood.
He moved again and Kat had to force herself to stay upright. She shifted her gaze back up, eyes blazing.
Stephen was grinning broadly, pleased with her reaction and obviously proud of his handiwork.
"Do you like it? I had him especially prepared just for you."
Kathleen's fists clenched and unclenched at her sides, fighting the urge to kill him.
"Speechless?" He took a step towards her, stepping over the limp form of Charles Tatem. "I find that hard to believe."
He moved closer, his hand reaching out to touch her cheek. She shoved him violently away, and he laughed.
"Way to go, Kathleen. That's the spirit." He tilted his head slightly. "Or is it, Kat?"
Kathleen looked at him, startled.
"Wondering how I knew?" he asked as he glanced down at Peter who was breathing heavily. "Let's just say your friend here isn't a quiet sleeper." He reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a large syringe. He dangled it in front of her. "Of course, it helps to have a little encouragement."
Kathleen's teeth clenched, and she swallowed, trying to rid herself of the lump forming in her throat. "What is that?"
"This? This is morphine. A wonderful drug, really." He saw the look of horror spread across her face as she stared down at Peter.
"You bastard."
Stephen's smile faded into a snarl. "It's not even close to what you've put me through."
Kathleen smirked. "What I did to you? A few insults are nothing compared to what you've done." She moved closer, anger rising with each step. "I may have been rude and sarcastic, but it's a pitiful excuse to commit murder."
Stephen's temper snapped, and with it the dagger, held inches from her throat. Fear flashed deep within her, and she had to battle to keep from instinctively touching her scar.
"I see you remember." Evil blossoming in his eyes, he pressed down slightly. Pain tore through her body, and she bit down a cry of agony. Seeing the fear in her eyes, he pulled back and raised the syringe again.
"I am going to like killing him almost as much as I'll enjoy killing you." He reached down, syringe ready.
"No!" She screamed just as a hand reached out from the shadows and bent Stephen's wrist, breaking it and causing him to drop the medical instrument. He cried out as, a few seconds later, he was half-conscious and on his back. Kathleen grabbed her gun and aimed it below Stephen's belt. Her hands shook in anger.
"Go on. Move. I dare you." She spoke through clenched teeth, tears streaming down her cheeks. She risked a glance at Caine, who was untying Peter's bonds and putting some sort of leaf in his mouth. "Will he be alright?"
"Yes." Caine's quiet reassurance was enough to relax her nerves.
"Good." She slammed her foot into Stephen's side, forcing him onto his stomach. She dug her knee into the swell of his back and handcuffed his wrists tightly behind him. Then she took out her extra pair and handcuffed his ankles. She grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked his head back.
"Don't go anywhere." Kat shoved his face into the carpet as she let him go.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the dagger, dropped during the struggle only a few feet away. She pulled on a latex glove and picked it up, letting it lie gently in the palm of her hand. Then she sighed and dropped it on her dresser.
"Kat." She turned at the sound of Peter's voice, though it was barely above a whisper. She smiled tearfully.
"Peter." She ripped off the glove, letting it fall to the ground before rushing to him and burying her face in his neck. He stroked her hair, whispering soft words of comfort as she let go of long held tears.
Caine smiled faintly at the sight, and ran a protective hand over Peter's hair. Peter looked up at him, tears forming in his hazel eyes.
"Thanks, Pop."
Caine chuckled softly and shook his head. "Don't call me Pop."
Kathleen sat in the center of her near empty apartment, taping up the last of the boxes. Sitting up, she reached out her arms and stretched, working out the kinks in her lower back.
She looked up as someone knocked on her door. "Come in."
Peter stuck his head in, grinning boyishly. "Hi, honey. I'm home."
"About time! I'm starving." She shoved the box aside, making room for him to sit next to her. Then she looked him up and down. "Where is it?"
Peter winked mischievously. "Oh no. Where can it be." He then pretended to search the apartment, keeping his hands out of her line of sight. She laughed as he made faces, whistling for their food.
"Peter..."
Quicker than Texas lighting, he was next to her, holding up his surprise. "Ta da!"
In his hands was a tiny white kitten. It was covered with black and gray stripes and had a little brown nose.
Kathleen looked at the cat in shock and then up at Peter. "Where'd you..? I thought you were... Why?" Peter grinned wickedly, ignoring all but the last question.
"It's a bribe." He handed her the kitten. "A cat for my Kat."
Kathleen cuddled the kitten to her face. The kitten looked at her with his big blue-green eyes and proceeded to lick her nose. "A bribe for what?"
"So you'll stay." He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her forward.
He tenderly kissed her mouth before trailing his lips lightly across her jaw line. When he paused to nibble on the soft skin of her earlobe, blowing hot air into her ear, she had to fight to keep from going cross-eyes at the sensations that swarmed through her.
With his free hand, he ran it provocatively up her thigh to the hem of her shirt. He snuck his hand underneath, feeling her muscles contract beneath her skin as he traced his fingers up the scar.
"Peter..." Her voice was barely audible. "Peter."
He didn't lift his head from his position at the tender spot where shoulder and neck meet. "I'm busy."
Kathleen chuckled and tried to push him away. He wouldn't have it.
"I'll bite you," he threatened, his breath tickling her skin. She laughed and shoved him gently away.
"And I'd enjoy it."
Peter sighed and sat back, arms wrapped loosely around his knees. "I must be losing my touch."
"Your touch?"
Peter nodded. "If I did that to any other woman... she'd stay."
Kathleen's heart went out to him, and she reached out, holding his cheek in her hand. "I have to go. There are too many memories; too many images that I need to get away from."
Her thoughts went back to that night; the fear she had felt when she saw Peter tangled in her sheets and hot with pain. She couldn't bring herself to sleep in that bed; the image too vivid for her to bear it.
The kitten mewed from its place in her lap, bringing them both back to the present. Kathleen picked the kitten up, whispering softly to him.
"What are you going to call him?" Peter asked, watching her.
She looked up at him; the kitten tucked safely back in her lap.
"Petie."
Peter laughed and scratched behind the kitten's ear. There were a few moments of silence before he spoke again. "Where will you go?"
Kathleen shrugged. "Probably California. I have some family down in San Diego."
Peter looked at her in amazement. "You'll go to them after all they did to you?"
"It was my parents who were the problem, Peter." She smiled, tears building inside her. "Besides, I've talked to my grandparents and they've agreed to take me in."
Uncomfortable with her sudden show of emotion, she stood up, kitten in hand. Peter followed, and pulled her into his arms. "Kathleen." Tears unwillingly escaped, and slid down her cheeks. He pulled back slightly, cradling her face in his hands. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For saving my life."
Kathleen shook her head; golden eyes shining.
"No. Thank you... for saving mine."
Crouched amongst the shadows of the long-abandoned apartment building, Detective Kathleen Blakett was anxiously waiting. Her partner, Detective Stephen Foxship was also crouched only a few feet behind her. When she looked back, she could just make out his form in the dim light.
On the other side of the room, beneath the crumbling hole in the ceiling, three men were talking. All were dark-haired and wore dark suits and sunglasses.
One man stood out among the rest. Not only was he taller, but his very being seemed to vibrate with power. He held a large briefcase in his hands as though it weighed nothing.
This was Charles Tatem, the reason behind Kathleen and Stephen's unscheduled stop.
Tatem was the highest paid hit man in New York, a large feat in itself. He was known as the Prince of the Underworld.
Kathleen moved closer, her holster unsnapped and gun always ready for action.
The smaller of the two men spoke as she stopped behind a few damaged crates. His voice was high with nervousness.
"Do you have the money?"
Tatem nodded and raised the briefcase. The two men stepped forward eagerly, practically drooling in anticipation. Tatem kept a firm hold on it.
"Do you have what I want?"
One of the men nodded and reached inside his jacket.
What Kathleen saw took her breath away.
In the man's hand was a small dagger. Its handle was carved out of jade and emeralds surrounded the hilt. Jewels and blade glistened when it was turned in the meager lighting.
She turned to get Stephen's impression when hard, cold steel pressed sharply into her cheekbone.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" A voice whispered mere breaths from her ear. She jerked away and turned to see her partner smiling evilly at her. His gun was pointed directly at her chest.
Her eyes narrowed at his betrayal, and she took a menacing step towards him.
Strong arms yanked her back.
"Take her weapons," He snapped, his eyes darker than night as Tatem moved to her. He handled her roughly as he searched for hidden weapons. He found another gun and grabbed the one that still hung in her hands.
Without a sound, Stephen knelt before her and ran his hand provocatively down her inner thigh to her ankle where he swiftly removed the knife hidden beneath her jeans.
Her lip curled into a snarl and she fought against her restrainers. Stephen smirked and slowly ran the blade of her knife softly across her cheeks and lips.
"What? No comment from Miss Big Shot herself?" Stephen frowned as she remained silent and nodded at Tatem who took her from the two men and dragged her towards the darkened end of the room. Stephen than turned to them, hurling the knife across the dark room.
"The dagger."
The man with the weapon responded quickly, handing it to him without a moment's hesitation.
Stephen cradled it in his right hand, eyes gleeful with anticipation.
"It's magnificent." He breathed in awe.
Then, slowly, without looking up he raised his gun and fired four shots, two into each man's chest. They were dead before they hit the ground.
"No!" Kathleen screamed, yanking against the man who held her. "Damn you!"
Stephen looked up and took a few steps towards her, lips curled in an evil smile.
"I'm already damned." He lightly brushed his fingers across her cheek. She jerked her head away, teeth bared.
He grabbed her chin back, squeezing it tightly between his fingers.
"Your 'holier than thou' attitude is wearing thin, Kathleen."
She glared at him, topaz eyes blazing. "Why don't you crawl back into the sewer where you belong."
Stephen chuckled; a dark, arrogant sound that sent shivers down her spine. Then, moving slowly, he gripped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers, tongue probing. She bit down as hard as she could, not stopping until she felt the metallic taste of his blood in her mouth.
Stephen gave a strangled cry and backhanded her across the face. Kathleen reeled from the blow and would have fallen had it not been for Tatem's strong grip on her arms.
He glared at her with undisguised hate. She could feel his contempt for her roll off him in hot waves and could smell it rising, sour and vile from his pores.
"You never respected me, you dumb bitch."
He suddenly let out a ferocious growl and smashed his fist into her face. Blood flowed into her mouth and dripped down her chin. He waved the dagger at her.
"I've had it with you. Belittling me. Looking down your nose at me."
Oh my God.
Bile rose up as every cruel and smart-mouthed thing she'd ever said scrolled through her memory.
Oh, God. I'm dead.
Kathleen forced the thought away, refusing to think the worst, and tried to think of a way out. Stephen continued to rant at her about respect.
The blood warming on her tongue gave her an idea.
She slowly shifted her weight to the heels of her feet and bent her knees slightly. Stephen moved closer, dagger still pointed at her.
"I will make you pay, Kathleen."
"The Hell you will, you miserable piece of shit." She gathered the mixture of blood and saliva and spit the concoction into his eyes.
He let out a yell, reaching for his face. Seeing her opening, she used Tatem's grip on her to her advantage. She threw her legs into the air, kicking the dagger out of Stephen's hand. He scurried after it, screaming curses at her.
Her sudden weight caused Tatem to lose his grip on her, and she fell hard onto the concrete floor. She rolled away from him, jumping to her feet. Tatem leapt after her as she bolted towards an open doorway. She dived in just as bullets pelted the walls and floor behind her.
Her weapons gone, she thought only of survival as she backed up against the wall. She stayed deep in the shadows, waiting.
"This could have been easy, Kathleen. No pain. Just a simple gunfight gone awry. A heroic cop killed in the line of duty. The way every cop dreams of going." His voice was tinted with barely contained anger as he moved closer to her hiding spot. His back was to her and she pounced on it, driving him to the floor.
As they wrestled, she could hear the familiar sound of police sirens. Her saviors had arrived.
In the split second that her mind took to process this, Stephen sliced the dagger through her stomach. Her body jolted in shock as it ripped through muscle and skin. She opened her mouth to cry out but no sound came out. She doubled over; clutching her stomach in agony as blood weaved its way through her fingertips.
Then slowly, like a dream, she fell, landing hard on her side. She gasped for air as she sluggishly rolled onto her back. She couldn't feel the icy cold of the concrete beneath her; only the warm stickiness of her own blood as it pooled around her.
Detective Peter Caine swiveled in his chair, the piles of paperwork on his desk blatantly ignored as he tossed wadded up pieces of paper at the already overflowing wastebasket near his desk.
Suddenly, he stilled, head cocked to one side. The mood in the station had changed.
It was darker, somehow; tense.
He was up and in Captain Paul Blaisdell's office before Blaisdell even had a chance to call him.
In the corner, leaning against the wall, arms crossed lazily across her chest, was the source of the abrupt mood change. He eyed her suspiciously before looking at his foster father. "What's going on?"
Looking slightly taken back at Peter's sudden appearance, but not surprised, he leaned back in his chair.
"Peter, this is Detective Kathleen Blakett from the 88th Precinct in New York." Peter turned his head and got his first real look at her.
She was about five-four and small boned. Light brown hair lay softly against the curve of her neck. Round, cat-like golden eyes scrutinized him as he did the same of her. Peter could tell that despite her slight build, this particular woman packed a mean punch. He shifted his gaze back to Captain Blaisdell and recognized the look in his eyes.
"Oh no you don't." He started to back out of the office but stopped when he was glared at sternly. Peter stared angrily at Kathleen. She smiled at him, though it didn't reach her eyes. Peter softened somewhat, recognizing that look as well. He'd had it himself many times.
Weariness. Mistrust. It all ran together eventually.
Kathleen noticed the change in him, and her smile faded into a suspicious line.
Blaisdell noted the exchange and decided it was time for him to exit. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted."
They both watched him leave; neither wanting to be the first to break the silence. Peter jammed strong, callused hands into his jean pockets. "So, uh... how are you liking your first day here?" He asked the first thing that came to him, and then criticized himself for saying something lame.
Kathleen's whole demeanor changed. Her brow narrowed and her body became tense.
"I don't need your crap, all right? I got enough of my own without your bullshit adding to the load."
Peter's temper flared up, just barely under his control. "All I did was ask a question."
"Well, don't. I've had enough questions to last me a lifetime."
"Why? What happened?" Kathleen looked at him wearily.
"Let's just say my ex-partner was more of a dickless loser than any of the other creeps out there."
Peter suppressed a chuckle, liking her blunt manner. "What'd he do?" Kathleen shot him a look; Peter shrugged his shoulders innocently.
"Turned greedy. Then vindictive. He set up a pay-off and made sure I'd be there. When I refused to die peacefully, he used his prize, a jeweled dagger to silence me." She lifted her shirt slightly to reveal a flat stomach with a pink scar that ran from her belly button up to beneath her shirt.
Peter winced inwardly, knowing from personal experience what it felt like to be knifed. "What happened to him?"
Kathleen's face contorted in anger. "He got away. Now they ship me from place to place, hoping he won't find me." She laughed bitterly. "Fat chance."
He didn't know what to say as he watched the hatred and fear at war in her eyes. Finally, he said the only thing he could.
"I'm sorry, Kat."
"What are you sorry for? You didn't do anything." She lifted her gaze back up, no sign of her earlier emotion. "Now, Petie. I'm starved. Know any good places to eat?"
"Actually, I'm supposed to meet my father for lunch. Your welcome to come..." She waved him away.
"I don't want to intrude." Peter went to object but Kathleen cut him off. "It was nice meeting you." She held out her hand. "Partner." Peter took it, but couldn't stop the worry that formed inside him.
No matter what she said, something was definitely not right with this woman.
Peter and Kat sat in his car in front of his father's apartment. Tempers were flaring and stubbornness was at its peak.
"You've been dodging it for days," Peter was saying, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other on the back of Kat's chair. "Why don't you want to meet my father?"
"I don't see the point. I'll probably be leaving in a couple of weeks, maybe even days, and the less people I come into contact with, the easier it would be for me to go." She was lying. Peter knew it, but for the life of him, couldn't figure out why.
"Just meeting him won't hurt you." She turned her head to look out the window, her jaw set. Peter sighed in exasperation and wrenched open his door. "Fine. Stay here. I'm going to go see my dad." He pulled himself out of the car and slammed the door shut. Turning his back, he headed inside.
Kat watched him, knowing he meant to leave her there. Finally, she sighed and got out of the car. It was going to be a long day.
"Kat, I'd like you to meet my father, Caine. He's a Shoalin priest."
"I am delighted to meet you... Kat?" Kathleen rolled her eyes as she took his hand.
"Call me Kathleen. Petie here," she said, patting Peter mockingly on the chest, "calls me that because of my cat-like eyes."
"Really? I thought it was because of your sassy attitude," Peter cracked back at her. Caine watched her, his curiosity hidden behind solemn eyes.
"I sense great pain behind your words," he said, seeming to look directly into her soul. Peter saw the fear flicker in her eyes before it disappeared as quickly as it came. She shrugged as if to brush it away.
"Just a headache. It'll go away."
"May I help?" Once more there was that fear before it again fell beneath the topaz color. She searched for the hidden meaning behind the words but found none. She shrugged.
"Sure. Why not?"
"Close your eyes." Kathleen eyed him warily. He held out his palms to show her he meant peace. "I mean you no harm, only relief." Reluctantly she closed her eyes and tried to calm her frayed nerves. You're acting crazy. She chided herself. He's a priest. What could he possibly do to you?
"Now, breathe deeply and evenly. Clear your mind." She felt his callused, yet kind hands cup her face as he spoke. He gently massaged her temples with his thumbs while his fingers kneaded the back of her head. She slowly found herself relaxing under the work of his fingers.
A baseball bat came swinging out of the darkness.
Kathleen flinched as she found herself losing to a memory she had fought to hide her entire life.
Jonathon Blakett was reading the newspaper when his daughter came home.
"You're late." He spoke angrily, without looking up. Kathleen hung her head.
"I'm sorry, sir." She didn't look him in the eye, afraid of making him angrier. He placed the newspaper next to him and stood, looming over her.
"Sorry? You haul your sorry ass in at two in the morning, four hours past you're curfew, and all you have to say is 'sorry'?" Kathleen cringed, huddling against the wall.
"I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I swear!"
"You damn well better believe it won't happen again," he roared at her. "Don't expect to see sunlight for a long time!" She practically flew down the hall. She quickly shut the door and immediately felt safer as she heard the reassuring click of the lock. A small noise startled her and she swung around.
Her sister Rachel was curled on her bed, reading one of her diaries, a look of shock on her face. It faded into a sly smile.
Kathleen's last ounce of patience snapped and she lunged at her, wanting to slap that smirk off her face. Rachel's smile faded as she saw her sister coming at her, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream that shook the walls. Kathleen ignored her as she yanked the diary out of her hands. She never heard the door open, or saw the bat that came swinging at her head.
Kat's vision swam as she lost herself to the memory. The ache in her head faded into the background as she gave in to the peacefulness of the darkness.
Caine felt the change in her seconds before she went limp. He held her as she fell, gently laying her on the floor. Peter was at her side in an instant. He tore off his jacket and placed it under her head. He looked up at his father; worry clouding his usually bright eyes.
"What happened?"
"A memory from her past was too much for her soul to remember."
"A memory did this?" Peter shifted his gaze back to Kat, his face reflecting his concern for her. "Will she be okay?" His father nodded.
"Yes, but we must wait."
"Wait? Wait for what?" Caine placed a comforting hand on Kat's cheek.
"For the memory to let go."
Kat awoke slowly, her head pounding as she struggled through the dark haze of her mind. She forced her eyes open as her other senses gradually began to work again. She reached up to brush the hair out of her eyes as they began to refocus and felt a slight pressure on one of her hands. She turned her head to see Peter leaning against the cot, his hand tightly clenched in hers. He was sound asleep.
Startled by the closeness of it, she gingerly pulled her hand out of his and stood up slowly. She glanced around to gather her bearings and realized she was in the back of Canine's apartment. She took a step forward and spotted her purse on a nearby chair. She snatched it up and quietly made her way out.
Unbeknownst to her, Caine sat in the blackness, hidden from view. He watched her leave, but did not follow for her path was not his to follow, but his sons.
Kathleen closed the door to her apartment. She leaned against the door as she locked it, finally allowing herself to breathe easier. She closed her eyes, sighing deeply.
She had just gotten her life back in order. Each memory of her childhood had been locked away, never to be touched again.
Caine had undone it all. The wall she had taken years to build; he had torn down in a matter of moments. She couldn't understand it.
And Peter.
Kat groaned. Peter. She still hadn't sorted her thoughts out about him. He was a great cop and she did trust him; to a point.
Sighing loudly, she pushed away from the door. Now was not the time to worry about it. Later; after a long, hot shower and a good nights sleep. Then she will. Not now, though. Later. Much later.
Something was jutting into his spine. Peter shifted in his sleep and felt himself falling. The next thing he knew, he was slamming his shoulder into the floor. Hard. He jerked awake and found himself staring at the floor.
"Kat." He swung around. The cot was empty. His mind exploded into a million possibilities, each one more horrifying than the last.
"Kathleen?"
"She is not here." Peter swung around, instinctively reaching for his gun.
"Jesus, Pop. How many times do I have to tell you not to do that." He slipped his gun back in its holster.
"I am sorry." Peter sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his already tousled brown hair.
"No. It's okay. I'm just a little... on edge right now."
"Why, my son?" Peter waved the question away.
"Nothing. It's nothing." He grabbed his jacket off the floor. "Do you know where she went?" Caine gave him a half shrug.
"I believe she went home."
"Home," he said, a harried look on his face as he shrugged into his jacket. "Great."
"What is wrong, my son?" There was silence for a moment.
"I don't know where she lives." he said exasperated. "Hell, I don't even know if she has a car." He reached into his pocket for his car keys as he headed towards the door. He stopped and turned back. "She won't trust me." Caine tilted his head slightly.
"She has led a hard life."
"But I don't know that!" He rubbed his eyes, trying to organize his thoughts. "You're partner is supposed to be the one person you trust the most." He looked into his father's eyes to hunt for some kind of answer. Caine just smiled at his son and gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze.
"Give her time, my son. She will learn to trust again. Do you not remember your inability to trust?"
Peter sheepishly scratched the skin behind his ear as he slowly nodded his head. "Yeah." He sighed again.
"Remember, my son. Patience is a virtue." His smile broadened as he good- naturedly slapped the side of his face. Peter was left nursing his cheek.
Kat stepped out of the shower feeling relaxed and refreshed. Her mind seemed at ease as she changed into a sleek, soft, polyester nightgown. Before slipping underneath the silk comforter of her bed, she put on some soft Celtic music and shut off the lights. The lulling tune soon had her fast asleep.
101st Precinct
Peter sat at his desk in the center of the precinct. It was 11:23PM. He'd been searching for his partner's address for the past hour to no avail. He was hungry, tired, and frustrated as hell.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake. A hand came down gently on his shoulder, making him jump. He spun around to the troubled face of his foster father.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you." Peter waved the apology away, stifling a yawn. Blaisdell watched him silently. "You're exhausted, Peter. Go home and get some sleep."
"No. I can't. I have to find it."
"Find what, Peter?" The only answer he got was silence. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Peter." His voice held the same tone it did when Peter was younger. It demanded an answer. Peter reluctantly gave in.
"Kat's address." Peter couldn't look him in the eye so he missed the mild shock in the captain's eyes. "I could have sworn it was on my computer but, as usual with her, it has conveniently disappeared." Blaisdell didn't answer but gestured for Peter to follow. Peter obeyed and followed him into his office. He leaned tiredly against the wall as Blaisdell shut the door and lowered the blinds. He was silent as he sat back against his desk and folded his arms across his chest.
"Are you having problems with Detective Blakett?" Peter jammed his hands into his pockets, stumbling for an answer.
"It's just... I mean, she doesn't.... She won't trust me," he said finally, sighing heavily. Blaisdell's lip twitched as he tried not to smile.
"I seem to remember the story of another young cop unwilling to trust. What is it he used to say? Even Mother Theresa has an angle?" His grin faded as he saw the conflicting emotions in his foster son's eyes. He wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulder to try and comfort him. "Look, Peter, She has to learn to trust again, just like you had to. That's why you're the best one for the job." Peter rubbed the back of his neck, more out of habit than anything else.
"Yeah; that's what my father said."
Blaisdell nodded his head slightly and reached back for a file that was on his desk. He handed it to Peter. "This contains Kathleen's home address," he paused before continuing. "It also contains personal facts on her family history."
"Family history?" Peter flipped through it. He brought his head up slowly as distress poured over him. "Her father beat her with a baseball bat?" Blaisdell nodded and finished the paragraph for him.
"Her mother was an alcoholic and her sister wasn't around enough to care." Peter's eyes were slowly filling with hate as he continued reading.
"Too bad her bastard parents are dead, or I'd kill them myself." He went back to the file but soon looked up again. "No information on her sister's whereabouts?" Blaisdell shook his head.
"She disappeared a few years ago. No one knows what has become of her." Peter shook his head angrily as he shut the file.
"I make it a rule not to hit women but in her case, well, she better pray she never comes into contact with me." He stalked towards the door but Blaisdell stopped him. He turned to him, his eyes ablaze.
"Be careful, okay?" Peter glanced back and smiled wryly.
"Hey, aren't I always?"
Riing!
Kat moaned and turned over. "Go away."
The phone rang again and Kat groaned, regretting the fact that she hadn't disconnected the phone before she went to bed.
She rolled over as it rang again, fumbling halfheartedly for the phone. She brought it to her ear.
"If this is you, Peter, I will personally see to it that you never have children."
"Charming as usual, I see."
Kat's voice stuck in her throat at the sound of her ex-partner's voice and the ominous sound of his laughter followed her long after she hung up the phone.
Peter pulled his car to a stop in front of Kathleen's apartment building. From inside the car, he studied the darkened building as he screwed up the courage to go in.
Finally, he took a deep breath and reached for the door handle.
"Ready or not, here I come."
All Kat could see was darkness. It filled her whole mind; blocking out everything.
"Peter?" she called her out, sensing someone with her. She swung around, seeing only a large, darker than night shadow.
"Who are you?" Kathleen demanded. The shadow didn't answer but moved slowly towards her, his hands reaching for her. She took a step back and collided with something solid. Gasping, she swung around to stare into the coal black eyes of Stephen Foxship. His eyes gleamed with hate.
"Hello, Kathleen. Remember me?" His condescending laughter trapped her, making her powerless to move.
"Peter?" she called out, her voice barely above a whisper. Stephen reached for her.
"Peter!"
Kathleen Blakett's Apartment #409
"Well, this is it." Peter paused for breath and glanced at his watch. He groaned. It was twelve-thirty in the morning. "Better late than never." He raised his hand to knock when an ear-piercing scream chilled him to the bone.
"Peter!"
"Kathleen?" he called out. She screamed again, this one reaching the darkest depths of his soul.
"Kat!" He slammed his shoulder into the door, failing to open it. He stepped back and landed a powerful front kick into the door, sending it flying open. She was still screaming as he rushed in, following the sound.
He found her asleep in her bedroom, her body covered in sweat. His expression softened somewhat as he went to her, his whole being wanting to comfort her. He placed a caring hand on her forehead, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. Her eyes flew open and she shrieked again before recognition came. Her whole body went limp as she sank into his arms, sobbing.
"Peter." He held her close, placing soothing butterfly kisses on her forehead as his hands helped ease away the tension in her shoulders and back.
"It's okay. I'm here."
Reality sank in at these words and she pulled away, suddenly angry and frightened at the same time.
"How the hell did you find me?" she demanded suspiciously, her eyes accusing.
"Captain Blaisdell showed me you file," he said after a while, deciding the truth was the wisest way to go.
"You read my file?" she asked angrily, her voice echoing the betrayal she felt. "How could you?" Anger flashed in Peter's eyes.
"You disappeared from my father's place without a word. What else was I supposed to do?" The last words were almost in a shout as he tried not to lose his temper. She was taken back for only a moment before she launched another attack.
"You'd think that you'd be smart enough to realize that I don't want you to know!"
"Why shouldn't I know? I'm only your partner, damn it!" He stood up and stalked to the window, his back to her.
"That doesn't mean anything!" Peter swung around, his face inches from hers and his eyes carrying every emotion he had ever had for her. The swiftness of it caused her to shrink back, automatically trying to protect herself.
"But it does! Partners are supposed to help one another. Support one another. Trust one another." He paused, letting his anger slowly fading away to disappointment. He watched the conflicting emotions fly across her face but she didn't speak. He closed his eyes and sighed before getting back up. "But you don't seem to care." He headed to the door, but paused a few steps away.
"I'm not him, Kathleen. If you would only give me a chance, you'd know that." He was halfway down the hall before she stopped him.
"Peter." He stopped in his tracks at the different tone in her voice. He turned slowly, his eyes questioning her. She moved slowly towards him, her eyes never leaving his.
"Don't go."
She reached out her hand.
He hesitated only for a moment before wrapping a strong arm around her, pulling Kat hard against him. His other hand cupped her neck as his mouth came down on hers. Her lips willingly parted at his gentle prying. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his lips harder onto hers as tongues entwined, locked in a sensuous battle.
When it finally ended, it left them both breathing heavily, their heads reeling and their bodies weak. Kat leaned against him, pressing her head against his chest. She could hear the pounding of his heartbeat, beating in time with her own. Peter just held her close, enjoying the softness of her hair against his skin. The closeness of it all sent his emotions into oblivion.
"Wow." Kathleen blushed slightly.
"What?"
"It's just that that's probably one of the most honest things you've done since I met you." Her smile faded as it dawned on her, and she tried to pull away, but this time he wouldn't let her. He gently tilted her chin up. It took all his strength not to fall into the deep, golden depths. "Kat?" he asked softly. Her eyes displayed the fear she had shown before, but this time she didn't try to hide it. "Tell me about your life." She tore her eyes away and laid her head back against him. She closed her eyes, fighting the tears that threatened to fall.
What has happened to you? She asked herself. You never cry. She clutched Peter's shirt, pulling herself closer. But in the last two days you've been a basket case! What the Hell's wrong with you? She sighed deeply and pulled away, wrapping her arms protectively around herself.
"I can't tell you." She didn't look him in the eye, afraid of his reaction.
"Yes, you can." Peter insisted, his hand reaching for her. "I'll always be here for you. You can trust me on that." She shook her head.
"No, no. I've kept everything locked up for so long; I don't know if I can face that pain again." Peter moved to her, cradling her face in his hands.
"I won't let anything happen to you. I promise you." The fear remained, and he sighed, pulling her into his arms. He caressed her neck and kissed her hair as his mind rapidly tried to find a solution.
"Kathleen?" She looked up at him; her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Would you allow my father to help you?"
"Your father?" she asked, her voice displaying her confusion. Then realization dawned on her. "Can he...?"
"I've seen my father do some pretty great things that I can't even begin to understand. I'm sure he could help you, too." She didn't answer at first, as her mind was ablaze with thought. She sighed, realizing that she was tired of hiding.
"All right, I'll go," she answered forlornly. Peter's eyes lit up, and he went to speak, but she stopped him "It has to be now. Tomorrow may be to late." She pulled away from his touch. "Just let me change."
Kwai Chang Caine's Apartment
"My son," Caine said, surprised to see him so early in the morning. He moved aside to let him in and noticed Kathleen behind Peter, apparently hesitant to follow Peter in. He offered his hand and she smiled awkwardly, but took his hand and allowed herself to be gently pulled into the room. After he had shut the door, he turned to them. "What has brought you to me at this hour?" Peter glanced at Kat and when she didn't speak up, he did.
"Can you help her?" Peter asked after recounting Kat's story to him. Caine turned from Peter and appeared to study her through narrowed eyes. She stood silently, not wanting to break the silence.
In a few moments, Caine turned to Peter and nodded, then he looked back at Kat. "But you must understand, Kathleen. It will be a long and painful journey. I will take you back to your childhood, and you will relive memories that have brought you much suffering." He studied her face as he spoke. "Do you wish to take that journey?" She was quiet for a few moments. Then she straightened and nodded, a determined set to her jaw. Caine nodded slightly.
"Follow me." Caine led the way to an adjourning room and allowed Kat in first. He raised a hand to stop Peter from following.
"But Pop," he argued, his eyes never leaving Kathleen. His father shook his head.
"This journey she must take alone. You must not interfere." Kathleen's eyes locked with his, reassuring him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, stepping back as his father shut the door, leaving him alone. His mind drifted back to another time...
Shoalin Temple
Young Peter Caine stood quietly outside a temple door, his eyes downcast. He appeared to be deep in thought. He was not. He was listening to his father speak to an outsider, a man not from the temple. His father did not know he was there.
Caine was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the outsider who was also sitting cross-legged. Their eyes were closed.
Peter was not allowed in there. It was against the rules to speak to an outsider, but Peter's curiosity had gotten the best of him. The only sound he heard was the muffled voice of his father. He took a step closer, hoping to hear better. A strong hand clamped on his shoulder making him jump. He swung around. Master Ping Hi stood before him.
"What are you doing here, Peter?" Peter inclined his head apologetic.
"I am sorry, Master, but I was curious. What is my father doing?" Ping Hi led Peter away from the closed door. Peter slowed his gait to match his Master's. "Please, Master. Tell me what my father is doing to that outsider."
"He is doing nothing to the outsider." Peter's brow furrowed, confused.
"Then what...?" Ping Hi raised a hand to silence him.
"Peter, your father is helping him embrace his past, so he may continue on with the future."
"The future? What does the past have to do with the future?" His father's voice answered from behind him.
"Our past is what determines our future." His father waved to the man who was hanging near the door.
Calmness seemed to surround him. "If one can not accept his past; the good with the bad, his future will hold no meaning for him." Peter took all this in quietly, his mind working rapidly to form the question that lay at the tip of his tongue.
"Father, how do you accept the bad of the past?"
"One day, my son, you will know, but now," Caine smiled and gestured forward. "Shall we eat?"
A scream tore through the memory, shocking him back to reality. He recognized Kat's voice and threw himself at the door, trying to force it open. He tried again. And again. The door wouldn't budge.
His mind echoed with her screams as he collapsed against it and slid down, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees, head tucked in his arms. He slowly fell into a restless sleep, his dreams full of death and darkness.
Creek.
Peter awoke suddenly; gun in hand almost immediately. He slowly stood up, keeping low as he listened. There were no more sounds from behind the closed door.
Creek.
Peter swung around, his gun cocked and ready. In front of him stood the silhouette of a tall man, his face half hidden from view. The shadows contorted his face, giving him a menacing air. Peter narrowed his eyes, keeping the gun leveled at his chest.
"Detective Peter Caine." Peter eyed him suspiciously, all senses on alert.
"Would that make you... let me guess, my worst nightmare?" Peter quipped sarcastically. The man smiled, but his dark eyes gave away the danger lurking behind it.
"Very much so, Detective Caine. In fact, I'd say your nightmare," he paused as a hand snaked out from behind Peter, pinning his arms down and covering his nose and mouth with a cloth. The cloth reeked of chloroform and he struggled against the coming blackness to no relief. His body went limp. The dark man stepped into the light, revealing the sharpness of his black eyes. "Begins now."
"Kathleen?"
Kat didn't answer, her mind and body so relaxed, she didn't want to move. She felt lightheaded with the serenity that had washed over her as her journey through her past had ended. It was a feeling she had never felt before and didn't want to lose. At least, not yet.
"Kathleen... you must awaken. My son is in trouble."
Kathleen's eyes snapped open and she found herself back in Caine's apartment, sitting cross-legged before him. His eyes rebelled against his calm exterior, revealing the fear he felt for his son.
"What's wrong? Is he hurt?" Kat jumped up off the floor, searching for her coat, which held her gun.
"I believe he is. We must go to him." Kat, finally spotting her coat, grabbed it before turning back to Caine.
"Do you know where he is?" she asked as she checked her gun for bullets before holstering it and slipping into her coat. Caine shrugged. "Then how can we find him?"
Caine took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"I must meditate; become apart of his chi." Kate nodded.
"I'm going down to the precinct." She stepped away from him and opened the door. Peter's gun, badge, shirt, coat, socks, and shoes were carefully folded and placed in a pile just to the right of the door. She knelt down, not touching them in case of fingerprints. She doubted that there were, but she never knew. She sighed and closed her eyes, trading in the torrent of feelings that flooded forward for the strict professionalism she knew so well.
She turned back to Caine to say something but he was focused on what he was doing. She watched as he re-lit candles that had been placed carefully around the soft mat she had just vacated. She smiled grimly, and knelt down to pick up Peter's things with a nearby, unused piece of cloth. Without looking back, she left.
Kermit Griffin's Office
101st Precinct
The only sound in the room was the clicking of keys as Kathleen searched Kermit's computer for information on her ex-partner. She swore as she kept running into roadblocks.
"I see you made yourself right at home."
Her head snapped up and she swung around in his chair, her hand reaching for her gun.
"God damn it, Kermit. Don't do that!" A muscle twitched by the side of his mouth as he tried not to laugh. He maneuvered further into the room, closing the door firmly behind him before sitting down.
"Sorry," he said in a voice that clearly stated he wasn't. He pushed up his green sunglasses and leaned back, the picture of relaxation.
She bit back a smart remark and turned back to the computer.
"Now that you're here, you can get this," she was going to say 'piece-of- crap' but thought better of insulting his 'precious' computer. "To give me some answers."
"What kind of answers?" he asked. She narrowed her golden eyes at him, cursing the damn sunglasses for hiding his eyes.
"All you need to know is the name Stephen Foxship."
Kermit though for a moment before answering.
"Foxship, huh? Nice guy; nasty temper." He leaned forward, hands clasped casually in front of him on the desk. "Why, pray tell, do you need information on him?"
"I don't have to tell you that." Kermit raised his eyebrows so you could just make them out over the top of his sunglasses.
"I don't have to help you."
"Damn it, Kermit!" She said again, losing her already frail patience. "Don't play this game with me."
"What game? I just want to know what I'm getting into." He saw her hesitation but didn't say anything as he put the pieces together in his mind. "Does this involve Peter?" She looked up at him startled, and he smiled. "Well, why didn't you say so?" Wordlessly, she moved out of his way as he eased himself up and into his chair.
She leaned over his shoulder as he fingers flashed over the keyboard. Within moments he had a detailed dossier of Foxship. They both read through it, and she reached for the screen to point something out. A quick hand gripped her wrist. She pulled her hand away, glaring at him. He just grinned back at her.
"Don't touch the screen." She rolled her eyes.
"You see how this only has information for the last ten years?" She watched his reflective nod in the computer screen. "Can you..."
"Already done." His grin widened as he, within minutes, had all the information he needed, except:
"Level 4 clearance required?"
"Don't worry about that," Kermit said, before clicking a few buttons that printed the information they had. He handed it over and grinned at her. "Take care of yourself, okay?" Rather reluctantly, she found herself smiling back at him.
"Don't worry about that."
1412 Brighton St.
Abandoned Kmart
Shadows cloaked the room, obscuring the prone figure heaped in the middle of a dusty floor. The figure moaned and shifted, bringing his face into the light of the dozen candles surrounding him. Peter moaned again, cracking his eyes open to a blurry mixture of shadows and light. Blinking away the blurriness, he was still left with shadows that hid everything.
Swearing, he tried to massage his aching temples, only to find his hands tied tightly behind his back. Upon further inspection, he found that his feet were tied, too and connected to his hands by a short rope.
"And not only that," he muttered indignantly to the shadows, "but I'm half- naked on a cold, hard floor covered in God knows what!"
"Oh, I am so sorry for your discomfort, Detective Caine." Peter's head snapped up at the sound of the familiar voice from one of the darker shadows. "But to tell you the truth, I really don't care."
Another shadow appeared behind the first and moved to Peter. Peter's hazel eyes focused on the man's face, committing it to memory. The man gave him a crooked smile before slamming his foot into Peter's ribs. Peter grunted slightly as the air went out of him and the pain vibrated through his body. The man frowned when he didn't get the response he wanted. He attacked again, this time his foot connected with Peter's face. Peter gritted his teeth against it, forcing down a cry of pain as he spat blood from a split lip and a broken nose. The man growled at Peter's silence and lifted his foot again.
The voice stopped him and the man fell back into the shadows. Peter tried to focus on the larger shadow.
"I'm proud of you, Detective Caine. Usually it takes only one of Tatem's kicks to have them screaming in agony." The dark voice seemed to be agitated at his unwillingness to play his game. He heard a muttered curse and the room darkened slightly as the larger shadow shoved over one of the tables full of candles. Peter gasped as hot wax splattered on bare skin.
He strained to hear the conversation between the two men as struggled to get closer but the rope dug into his skin, rubbing it raw. He was forced to stop when Tatem moved over beside him again, a needle glittering in his hands.
"What Tatem has in his hands, Detective Caine, is a large amount of morphine. In small doses it'll ease pain, but in larger doses, it can, and will eventually kill you." His words were emphasized by the sharp prick in Peter's skin. He involuntarily flinched.
Peter felt the drug take immediately and he felt a sharp pain rip through his abdomen. He could no longer control his voice.
Caine sat in the middle of a soft brown mat. Dozens of candles surrounded him. His legs were crossed, and his features were void of emotion. His eyes were closed.
Heat.
Caine's back stiffened.
Pain.
His jaw tightened against it as images flashed through him.
Kat's eyes flashing with anger.
With pain.
With hope.
A shadowed man.
Stephen Foxship's House
9389 E. Harrison Dr.
Kathleen crept silently through the dark house, all senses on full alert as she searched for something, anything that could lead her to Peter. Each empty room left her more frustrated than the last.
"Enjoying yourself?"
Kathleen swung towards the voice, gun ready. Though the room was dark, the faintest light from the window allowed her to make out the bold features of Kermit's face. Sighing in exasperation, she re-holstered her gun and shot him a look.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Keeping an eye on you," he replied, moving past her to flip on the light. The room flooded with light, throwing shadows over white walls. She blinked quickly to help her eyes focus before surveying her surroundings.
A disorganized desk sat against one wall, with a computer and a printer sitting in the middle of it. Other than that, the room was bare.
Slipping on a pair of latex gloves, Kathleen leaned over the desk and began to rifle through the millions of papers while Kermit put his gloves on and set to work on the computer.
After a few moments she found a bunch of receipts hidden under stacks of coupons. Kat's eyebrows furrowed as she read them.
"Candles... candles, candles," She threw them down on the desk and let the air whoosh out of her. "Why the hell does he need so many candles?"
"Probably the same reason he has floor plans for the old Kmart building on Brighton Street."
She stood behind him and stared at the screen, her mind skimming through the possibilities. Finally, she smiled slyly and looked down at Kermit. "Want to check it out?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Peter's head pounded with every beat of his heart. His skin felt as though it was burning right off his body. He moaned in agony as he struggled to open heavy eyelids. The more he tried, the worse his head felt.
He finally managed to open them a little. Clouded blueness mixed with the hazy colors of photographs. He turned his head slightly to look over his surrounding and his body exploded in pain and convulsions that swept through him.
A blurry face appeared before him. Then a voice made it way through his pain clouded mind.
"Soon." There was a tiny prick in his skin. Then the blurriness cleared and cold black eyes smiled down at him before darkness covered him in another blanket of heat and pain.
1412 Brighton St.
Abandoned Kmart
"Shit!"
Kat cursed loudly in frustration at the near empty building. She turned to Kermit as amber eyes darkened with anger. "That bastard set me up!"
"Did you really thing it would be this easy?" Kermit asked her, his eyebrows once again rose over those damned sunglasses of his.
"Of course not! But I thought there'd be at least something to help us find him!" Tears stung her eyes and she turned away quickly to hide them, pretending to survey the building. Kermit wasn't fooled. He sighed and, cursing the soft spot he had for her, placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed in comfortingly.
"Look. I'll call in and have a team go over this building with a fine toothcomb. You, on the other hand," he said and turned her to look at him. "Will go home and rest. Just give me a few minutes to place that call, and I'll drive you home."
"But Kermit..."
"No buts. As Peter's friend, I find it my personal duty to make sure you don't run yourself into exhaustion." Kat smiled weakly at him and shook her head. When Kermit got an idea in his head, there was just no arguing with him.
Blurry photographs.
Explosion.
Cold black eyes.
Heat.
Pain.
Kathleen Blakett's Apartment #409
Kermit followed Kathleen up the stairs to her apartment, wanting to make sure she got there safely. They stopped in front of her door;
"It wasn't necessary to walk me all the way up here." Kermit shrugged and smiled at her.
"Promise me you'll try to get some sleep," he said and waited for her answer before turning to go.
"Kermit." He looked over his shoulder at her. "Thanks." He nodded his hand and left. She smiled faintly as she took her keys from her purse and unlocked the door.
She froze a few steps in. Something didn't feel right. She slipped her gun from its holster. Without turning on the lights, she made her way slowly through the room.
A heart-stopping scream froze the blood in her body. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"It couldn't be." She hurried towards the bedroom.
A hand shot out and pulled her into the shadows, another hand covering her mouth to stifle the scream in her throat.
She swung around to see Caine, his hands now at his sides. She let out the breath she was holding.
"Don't do that!" she whispered.
"I am sorry." They both turned to look at the closed bedroom door. "Is there another way into your bedroom?"
"Through the bathroom. I'll distract," she turned back to Caine who had disappeared. "I hope you know what you're doing." She sighed. "Hell, I don't even know what I'm doing." Shaking her head, she reached for the doorknob.
Peter fought through the hazy turmoil that was his mind.
Distorted voices faded in an out, and he focused on them, forcing the pain back until it was a distant throbbing.
"Come on, boss. Let me join in the action."
"As I told you before; Kathleen's mine. You understand?"
"Of course. But what about the vegetable over there?"
"Detective Caine has outlived his use."
There was a small pause. Peter strained his ears, trying to catch every word.
"As have you."
Kathleen's hand froze on the doorknob. The sound of gunshots rang through her apartment, and her heart skipped several beats.
Without thinking, she slammed her shoulder into the door. She ignored the sharp pain that vibrated through her body as she stumbled into the room. Expecting gunshots to pummel her exposed body, she dived quickly behind her bed.
There were none. Bringing in ragged breaths, she forced herself to relax.
"So glad you could finally join us, Kathleen."
The sound of his voice made her blood boil. Anger coursed through her. She looked down at the gun in her hand and smiled. Slowly, she placed it back in its holster.
Keeping the smile in place, she raised herself and looked into the eyes of her enemy.
"Hello, Stephen."
Peter struggled violently against the pain to open his eyes. He wanted to know if the voice he heard was real and not the wild imaginings of drug induced sleep.
Eyes refused to open so he moved his attention to his limbs.
She startled at the sharp movement from below her and quickly took a step away.
Peter's sweat soaked body glistened as he lay tangled in her sheets, arms and legs tied securely to the bedposts. His chest was bare, and she could see the dark blue and purple bruises forming on his ribs and face. Sheets and skin were spattered with blood.
He moved again and Kat had to force herself to stay upright. She shifted her gaze back up, eyes blazing.
Stephen was grinning broadly, pleased with her reaction and obviously proud of his handiwork.
"Do you like it? I had him especially prepared just for you."
Kathleen's fists clenched and unclenched at her sides, fighting the urge to kill him.
"Speechless?" He took a step towards her, stepping over the limp form of Charles Tatem. "I find that hard to believe."
He moved closer, his hand reaching out to touch her cheek. She shoved him violently away, and he laughed.
"Way to go, Kathleen. That's the spirit." He tilted his head slightly. "Or is it, Kat?"
Kathleen looked at him, startled.
"Wondering how I knew?" he asked as he glanced down at Peter who was breathing heavily. "Let's just say your friend here isn't a quiet sleeper." He reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a large syringe. He dangled it in front of her. "Of course, it helps to have a little encouragement."
Kathleen's teeth clenched, and she swallowed, trying to rid herself of the lump forming in her throat. "What is that?"
"This? This is morphine. A wonderful drug, really." He saw the look of horror spread across her face as she stared down at Peter.
"You bastard."
Stephen's smile faded into a snarl. "It's not even close to what you've put me through."
Kathleen smirked. "What I did to you? A few insults are nothing compared to what you've done." She moved closer, anger rising with each step. "I may have been rude and sarcastic, but it's a pitiful excuse to commit murder."
Stephen's temper snapped, and with it the dagger, held inches from her throat. Fear flashed deep within her, and she had to battle to keep from instinctively touching her scar.
"I see you remember." Evil blossoming in his eyes, he pressed down slightly. Pain tore through her body, and she bit down a cry of agony. Seeing the fear in her eyes, he pulled back and raised the syringe again.
"I am going to like killing him almost as much as I'll enjoy killing you." He reached down, syringe ready.
"No!" She screamed just as a hand reached out from the shadows and bent Stephen's wrist, breaking it and causing him to drop the medical instrument. He cried out as, a few seconds later, he was half-conscious and on his back. Kathleen grabbed her gun and aimed it below Stephen's belt. Her hands shook in anger.
"Go on. Move. I dare you." She spoke through clenched teeth, tears streaming down her cheeks. She risked a glance at Caine, who was untying Peter's bonds and putting some sort of leaf in his mouth. "Will he be alright?"
"Yes." Caine's quiet reassurance was enough to relax her nerves.
"Good." She slammed her foot into Stephen's side, forcing him onto his stomach. She dug her knee into the swell of his back and handcuffed his wrists tightly behind him. Then she took out her extra pair and handcuffed his ankles. She grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked his head back.
"Don't go anywhere." Kat shoved his face into the carpet as she let him go.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the dagger, dropped during the struggle only a few feet away. She pulled on a latex glove and picked it up, letting it lie gently in the palm of her hand. Then she sighed and dropped it on her dresser.
"Kat." She turned at the sound of Peter's voice, though it was barely above a whisper. She smiled tearfully.
"Peter." She ripped off the glove, letting it fall to the ground before rushing to him and burying her face in his neck. He stroked her hair, whispering soft words of comfort as she let go of long held tears.
Caine smiled faintly at the sight, and ran a protective hand over Peter's hair. Peter looked up at him, tears forming in his hazel eyes.
"Thanks, Pop."
Caine chuckled softly and shook his head. "Don't call me Pop."
Kathleen sat in the center of her near empty apartment, taping up the last of the boxes. Sitting up, she reached out her arms and stretched, working out the kinks in her lower back.
She looked up as someone knocked on her door. "Come in."
Peter stuck his head in, grinning boyishly. "Hi, honey. I'm home."
"About time! I'm starving." She shoved the box aside, making room for him to sit next to her. Then she looked him up and down. "Where is it?"
Peter winked mischievously. "Oh no. Where can it be." He then pretended to search the apartment, keeping his hands out of her line of sight. She laughed as he made faces, whistling for their food.
"Peter..."
Quicker than Texas lighting, he was next to her, holding up his surprise. "Ta da!"
In his hands was a tiny white kitten. It was covered with black and gray stripes and had a little brown nose.
Kathleen looked at the cat in shock and then up at Peter. "Where'd you..? I thought you were... Why?" Peter grinned wickedly, ignoring all but the last question.
"It's a bribe." He handed her the kitten. "A cat for my Kat."
Kathleen cuddled the kitten to her face. The kitten looked at her with his big blue-green eyes and proceeded to lick her nose. "A bribe for what?"
"So you'll stay." He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her forward.
He tenderly kissed her mouth before trailing his lips lightly across her jaw line. When he paused to nibble on the soft skin of her earlobe, blowing hot air into her ear, she had to fight to keep from going cross-eyes at the sensations that swarmed through her.
With his free hand, he ran it provocatively up her thigh to the hem of her shirt. He snuck his hand underneath, feeling her muscles contract beneath her skin as he traced his fingers up the scar.
"Peter..." Her voice was barely audible. "Peter."
He didn't lift his head from his position at the tender spot where shoulder and neck meet. "I'm busy."
Kathleen chuckled and tried to push him away. He wouldn't have it.
"I'll bite you," he threatened, his breath tickling her skin. She laughed and shoved him gently away.
"And I'd enjoy it."
Peter sighed and sat back, arms wrapped loosely around his knees. "I must be losing my touch."
"Your touch?"
Peter nodded. "If I did that to any other woman... she'd stay."
Kathleen's heart went out to him, and she reached out, holding his cheek in her hand. "I have to go. There are too many memories; too many images that I need to get away from."
Her thoughts went back to that night; the fear she had felt when she saw Peter tangled in her sheets and hot with pain. She couldn't bring herself to sleep in that bed; the image too vivid for her to bear it.
The kitten mewed from its place in her lap, bringing them both back to the present. Kathleen picked the kitten up, whispering softly to him.
"What are you going to call him?" Peter asked, watching her.
She looked up at him; the kitten tucked safely back in her lap.
"Petie."
Peter laughed and scratched behind the kitten's ear. There were a few moments of silence before he spoke again. "Where will you go?"
Kathleen shrugged. "Probably California. I have some family down in San Diego."
Peter looked at her in amazement. "You'll go to them after all they did to you?"
"It was my parents who were the problem, Peter." She smiled, tears building inside her. "Besides, I've talked to my grandparents and they've agreed to take me in."
Uncomfortable with her sudden show of emotion, she stood up, kitten in hand. Peter followed, and pulled her into his arms. "Kathleen." Tears unwillingly escaped, and slid down her cheeks. He pulled back slightly, cradling her face in his hands. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For saving my life."
Kathleen shook her head; golden eyes shining.
"No. Thank you... for saving mine."