You Can Find Anything..... 4/?

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As Peter approached the entrance to the warehouse he drew his gun from its holster and held it loosely in his right hand, muzzle pointed at the tarmac. Despite the anxious 'hurry the hell up' behavior of the panda, the cop in Peter simply didn't trust what he still considered to be a creation of his over-worked, over-stressed, over-inventive mind. Within moments of the weapon making its appearance, however, the panda stopped, faced Peter in a clearly aggressive stance that effectively blocked the warehouse door, and began to growl softly.

"What? What'd I do now? The gun? Is that it? Look, you don't know who or what's in there anymore than I do. There could be something *real* in there waiting to jump my ass. So far all you are is a pain in it. I'm not givin' up my only protection."

The growl deepened slightly, accompanied by a determined movement back in Peter's direction. "Is that a threat? Okay, okay. It goes back in the holster, but if I get shot, I swear...."

The panda's vocalizations ramped up another level and it began to slowly scrape one paw back and forth along the asphalt. The distinct squeak and scream of long sharp claws on a hard surface caused Peter to pale rapidly. "Whoa... now that's a threat if I ever heard one. Damn. Fine, I'll put the whole rig in the car. Will that make you happy?"

The basso profundo rumble abruptly ceased. The apparition bobbed its head, as if this suggestion met with its approval, but added a whine to reaffirm the need for haste. It took only a few minutes for Peter to secure the gun, lock up the car again and return, but by then anger was beginning to replace confusion and the young man welcomed it.

{Anything's better than wondering if they make straight jackets and padded rooms in pretty colors. White gets so boring...}

A few steps from the warehouse once again, Peter addressed the anxious panda. "I don't know what your big hurry is! You don't exist! Where could you possibly have to be in such a big damn rush? Huh? Got an early appointment with the Easter bunny? Is Santa Claus waitin' on your approval for this year's batch of teddy bears?"

Before turning back to continue their journey, the panda produced a clearly derisive chuffing sound that Peter loosely translated as "You think you're funny, but you're actually annoying."

{Yeah, well I'd rather be annoying than imaginary!} he retorted in his head, but kept following anyway. As he stepped over the threshold, he was so caught up in concerns for his safety and his sanity, not in that exact order, that he failed to register how dark the building actually was. The ambient light from the windows gave him a false sense of security and he had tripped over the steel pipe at his feet before he could even think about making use of the penlight in his jacket pocket. As he fell to the floor, throwing out his hands to brace himself, he had time to bring two words to mind.

{Stupid panda...}

Then pain slammed into his left knee as it contacted the cement just ahead of his right. A moment later sudden agony knifed through his skull, a flash of white light obscured his vision and he dropped suddenly into a deep well of true darkness.

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"Caine? What is it? I heard you cry out. Is everything alright?" Naomi asked sleepily as she stood in the door to her host's chamber. Kwai-Chang sat stiffly on his pallet, working on slowing his breathing.

"I... I am not sure. For a moment I thought Peter was in pain... in danger. It was but a brief touch.... perhaps only a nightmare."

"That's possible. You've been so worried about him. It would be natural to have that kind of dream."

"True, but my dreams are not always what they appear."

"Oh. I see. Do you know where he was working tonight? If you want to try and find him, I'd be glad to come along for company and moral support..."

"No. The offer is... appreciated, but he never tells me where he performs his... stake outs." Caine told her, pronouncing the unfamiliar word carefully. "He is, I think, wise not to do so."

"You're saying he knows you'd be at every site, watching over him until you were sure he'd gotten home safely?"

"Precisely."

"Would you like to talk for a little while? Just to take your mind off the... dream."

"Thank you... but no. It has already faded. I will be able to sleep."

As she turned away again, Caine called her back.

"Naomi."

"Hmm?"

"It has been a... long time since anyone has watched over me. It is strange.... but pleasant. Thank you for that also."

"You're welcome. Anytime you need me... just call." Naomi assured him and turned to go back to her own bed.

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Some time later, consciousness returned grudgingly to Peter. As he was sprawled on his face, sight was the last sense to restore itself. Touch was the first, announcing its revival with a brief, sharp pain in the nape of his neck. Unthinking, he instinctively reached back and slapped at the spot.

{Mosquitoes? In a warehouse in the middle of the city.... can't be. I musta done somethin' nasty when I fell... If I can feel pain, I'm probably okay. God, please don't let me be really hurt... let my legs work...}

After another few moments of recovery and re-orientation, Peter began to tune back in to the sounds in the world around him. He quickly realized it was not the world he expected to find. Insects buzzed close and thick around his head, what could only be heavily leafed trees rustled somewhere above him and, finally entering its contribution, his nose brought him the distinct scents of pine needles, moss and soil.

Very slowly, taking care in case something had happened to his neck, Peter raised his head an inch or two off the ground. When everything continued to function, he cautiously pushed up to his knees, causing pain to flash both up and down his legs. Crying out, he immediately rolled into a sitting position, belatedly remembering the impact his knees had taken when he'd tripped.

"Okay..." he addressed the sky wearily. "so I know they work. I asked for that one, but that's the last practical joke between you an' me tonight, okay?"

Finally opening his eyes, Peter stared in growing horror at the forest that surrounded him. Wan daylight, formed as the sun inched over the horizon, filtered through the canopy, barely warming his shivering body. "Or maybe not.... I can't be here. I knocked myself out cold... an' I'm in a coma.... I'm dreaming... this *cannot* be happening!" he shouted, frightening a trio of birds out of a nearby tree. A moment later, a leaf, broken off by their rapid passage, drifted down to land on Peter's thigh. As he reached out to touch it, he discovered the remains of a mosquito on his palm; the same palm with which he had slapped the back of his neck. "No.... no way.... I'm not here, this isn't real.... I'm not here, this isn't real...."

Just then, another mosquito decided to make a meal out of Peter. The slight sting caused him to react as if he'd been kicked or punched instead of merely bitten. Panting with terror, swiping frantically at the bug, he crab crawled backwards until he came up against a tree trunk. Alone and confused, he drew his body into a ball and closed his eyes again, unwilling and unable to face that he seemed to be reliving of one of his worst childhood memories.

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^^^^^ Swiftly, she traveled over and sometimes through the deep snow, moving with a strange, but also familiar ground-eating gait. Chaser or chased, she did not know. She only knew that she was searching for something lost, something she had been struggling all her life to find. Now, at last, it was within her grasp. She could feel it, sense it...

Shaking her head, she violently tossed back the fine silver hair near her eyes that obscured her vision. She had to be able to see, able to realize in an instant when her goal was at hand. Abruptly, her heartbeat sped up and she skidded to a halt, trembling in fear. The powerful, measured rhythm that had been drawing her on had stumbled, just for a moment. The one she sought was in jeopardy! No, wait.... not yet. Soon.

Pushing aside her fatigue and her own pain, she resumed her search, doubling her speed. Time pressed heavily on her as she flew over the terrain, her hooves digging out great divots of the snow beneath her and sending them high into the air. The presence she sought had begun to slip away. He seemed determined to reject his very soul and only she could prevent it. If she could find him in time.... ^^^^^

This time it was Caine who raced to Naomi's side in response to her sounds of distress.

"No... have to find... can't stop... can't.... have to..."

"Naomi..."

The older woman woke suddenly, bolting up and panting for breath. Gradually, she sank back, supporting herself on one elbow. "Are you alright?"

"Yes... I... I think so. Dear Lord...." she said, swiping a shaky hand over her face. For a moment she stared in confusion at the appendage as if something weren't quite right about it, but Caine spoke up again and she shelved the odd sensation.

"It seems I am not the only one with... unusual dreams."

"Too right. I haven't had that dream in... almost ten years. Well, not that dream, really...."

"Tell me."

"All my life, I've had dreams about a silver mustang. It's tall, beautiful, fast as the wind, and... I don't know how.... but I've always known that it's supposed to be me. The dream is different every time, but... the same, you know? A sense of restlessness, running but not in the right direction, wondering if I'll ever find my way.... I always thought they were just my subconscious reflecting my dissatisfaction with my life back at me. The dreams never frightened me before..."

"And this time?"

"I'm petrified. This dream.... the path is finally right, but something was saying I took too long finding it. What.. whoever I'm searching for is starting to fade away. He's losing himself and if I can't get to him...."

"Why do you say he?"

"I don't know. I've never felt so close to...."

Naomi's thought process ground to a halt as pieces began to fall into place. "You haven't heard from Peter, have you." she said, her tone making it a statement instead of a question.

"I do not believe so. I would have heard the phone if... I will go and look at the machine while you... compose yourself."

"Excellent idea. Thank you for returning the concern."

Caine bowed deeply and hurried for the office. He returned a minute or two later, his expression grim. "Something has happened. Peter needs help."

"That is my feeling also. I must go to his work.... to the police station...."

"Of course. Give me a minute to dress."

"You need not...."

"To paraphrase Tina Turner, what's need got to do with it?"

"I'm sorry. I do not understand..."

"Don't worry about it. All I was trying to say is that there's no question of my leaving you to face this alone. I'm not going along out of obligation. I'm going because I want to help."

"You also feel as if you will be needed.... do you not?"

Naomi gazed up from her pallet with a slight look of consternation, wondering how he could have known what she herself was not certain enough to voice.

"Okay, now *you're* starting to scare me, too. Go on. Wait for me out front. I'll be dressed in just a minute."

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TBC.......