Paul got out of bed and paced. Sleep clearly wasn't something he was going to find any time soon. That cold, rainy night was still with him, more real to him than the rainy tropical night outside his window. He opened the front door, and walked out onto the veranda, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. He welcomed the rain. It felt a little better than the constant humidity, but the moisture was always there, whether it fell from the heavens or hung in the air.

If only that fateful night had been nearly as warm as it was at this moment, things might have moved faster. They might have found Peter and Carolyn before...

Paul shuddered. The frightening sights of the past assailed him, spinning out like a movie through his mind's eye. He was no longer in Central America. He was back on that cold ridge again, trying to find Peter. He sighed and pushed away the images, looking around him for some form of distraction, but found none.

Nights like these were the hardest for him to bear. Most times, he was busy with different tasks, but there were times like this when he wrestled with the events of his past, and they often left him exhausted and discouraged.

He went inside, and headed to his suitcase. He didn't know exactly what he was after until he knelt down and opened it up. The letters from Annie and the kids that Rykker had forwarded to him. A moment later, he had the precious letters in hand and headed back to the bed.

It was risky, both for himself and the others, to actually carry documents from his loved ones, but they had been routed through several countries and passed through enough hands that he was sure the trail had grown cold long before the letters ever reached him.

Propping himself up with his back against the wall, he sat with his knees up and pulled the first letter from the pouch. It was hard limiting himself to only one letter from Annie and each of the kids, but on nights like this, he would pour over them for hours, as if they were his lifeline to reality and maybe they were.

Annie's letter was written using her computer and printed in Braille. It had touched her deeply when he had learned to read Braille, but he told her it was just another way to feel closer to her. Her personality came through the imprinted text as clearly as those from the kids.

But reading her words was almost too painful for him to bear at times, simply because they reflected her love so perfectly. He brushed his fingers across the letter, wishing it was the features of her pretty face instead. He didn't linger over it long. It just hurt too damned much.

He read Carolyn's next, smiling broadly as she told him of the baby and Todd. God, he wanted to be near them right then. But that was impossible. Dropping Carolyn's letter back into the bag, he pulled out the next one.

It was Kelly's. She spoke of college, her part-time job, and being in love. Again, another smile graced his lips, the smile of a doting father.

After a bit, he put it back, and pulled out Peter's. He held it for a moment, glancing back at the flash bag. Security devices like this ensured his anonymity and meant he could maintain the tenuous link with his family, but he hated the need for such things. However, he still needed to protect them at all costs, so that was how it had to be.

He hefted Peter's letter again. It seemed heavier with his thoughts centering on the young man all evening long, especially with news of yet another injury. Or, maybe, it was like Annie's letter, just too painful to dwell on.

"Oh, Peter," he whispered as he stared at his son's unique scrawl, "Your family wouldn't age nearly as fast, if you'd only think before you acted."

He shook his head, inwardly chiding himself for his comment. Acting without thinking, moving in that intuitive manner Peter often displayed, had saved Peter's life and the lives of others numerous times. Who was he to question that? After all, it was Peter's selfless act that had saved Carolyn so long ago.

Paul shivered as he thought of that night again. It had been full of troubling images, but finding Peter after coming across Carolyn that night had proved to be one of the most disturbing he'd ever known.

oOoOoOoOo

Paul was puffing from exertion by the time he reached the cave. His head pounded in time with the rapid beat of his heart, but he didn't care. Peter was close and soon they'd have both kids home safe and sound.

He knelt at the mouth of the small cave and called Peter's name. He was greeted with the hollow echo of his own voice. He swung his flashlight around the cave while keeping a firm grip on his weapon, just in case there were any rampaging bears still lurking in the area.

"Peter?" Paul called again, but the cave was definitely empty.

He stood, whirling his flashlight around the area, ignoring the wave of dizziness that followed his rapid movements. Instead, he called again, this time in desperation. "Peter!"

There was no sound, except for the renewed rainfall. It had stopped for a while, but now it was back in full force. Paul shouted Peter's name louder, frustrated that there was no sign of the boy.

He couldn't have misunderstood Carolyn's instructions. The cave was right where she had said it would be. He knelt down again, sweeping the cave with the beam of light. Nothing. Peter was gone.

"Dammit," he cursed under his breath as he stood, and then paused, biting his lip.

Which direction would Peter have headed? There hadn't been any sign of him on the way he'd just come, so that only left the upward trail. Paul stepped forward when the beam of light revealed a mass on the ground.

It was too small to be Peter, but Paul rushed to investigate nonetheless. Only to stop short when he recognized Scooby's mangled body. Paul had to look away. The sight hurt him, both because Scooby had died protecting his children and because he'd held a great affection for the dog.

He knelt beside Scooby's body, and patted his shoulder. "You did well, Scooby. Your sacrifice will be long remembered, old friend."

Paul closed his eyes for a moment, and then he heard a sound. It was a voice. A very weak voice, but a human voice nonetheless. Peter. It had to be Peter.

Paul was on his feet and moving forward before he realized it.

"Peter!" he shouted, trying to get the boy's attention.

He paused when he realized Peter's voice would stop and start without reason, as if he was carrying on a conversation with someone. He called out to Peter several more times as he ran toward the distant voice, but the calls went unanswered. If Peter wasn't shouting at him, then who was he shouting at?

Paul rounded the corner as his questions multiplied, but everything stopped the moment he saw Peter was lying at the edge of a precipice, with his eyes closed as if asleep. His lips were moving, murmuring indecipherable words. Paul decided Peter must have been calling for help in one of his nightmares, once again locked in that painful past of his.

Paul's grip on his flashlight tightened when he realized Peter couldn't be aware of what was going on around him, or his fear of heights would have kept him from far from the ledge where he now lay.

Paul tried to slow his breathing, but all he could manage was panicked gasps for air. He only had one chance to save Peter. Any mistakes and Peter would tumble over the edge. He paused, listening to Peter's ramblings and he hoped to use it to help navigate a clear path to saving his son.

"They're dead. They're all dead..." Peter sobbed with grief, opening his eyes occasionally as he spoke.

Paul maneuvered himself as close to the boy as he could without startling him. When he was about six feet from Peter, he stopped, hoping Peter would see him and recognize him as a friend.

Peter caught the movement as planned. Paul forced a smile, despite his concern for Peter's condition. Even in the dim lighting, Paul could see the boy was holding one arm close to his chest, and he was bleeding from several spots, especially from a head wound.

Swallowing hard, Paul whispered, "It's me, Peter. I'm here to take you home."

Peter squinted and then shook his head. His head dropped back to the ground and began to cry. "They're dead. They're all dead."

Paul managed to gain another few feet, sliding along the rock wall behind him as unobtrusively as possible. "Who's dead, son?" he asked softly.

"Everyone I've ever cared about is dead." Peter shuddered with the depth of his grief. "Maybe, I'm the kiss of death. Maybe, I am death. Or maybe I should just die," he whispered as he stared down at the dark abyss below him.

Paul's heart nearly stopped with those whispered words. "No, Peter! I – I can't let you die. We can't let you die. We all love you too much to let that happen."

When Peter turned towards him, the bewildered look on the boy's bloodied face compelled Paul to continue and he took another step closer. "You've got a new home with a new family who loves you. You are very important to us, son. We won't let you die, not without a fight."

Peter's chin quivered as he finally recognized Paul. "Scooby's dead because of me," he whispered.

Paul's eyes filled with tears, sharing his son's heartache. "Yes, son, I know he's dead, but it's not your fault. He gave his life so that you and Carolyn could live. Because he loved you as much as I love you, and the rest of your family loves you, too. I'm here to take you home."

Peter shook his head and dropped his gaze as he murmured, "No, you won't love me, not when you find out that Carolyn's dead, too. Oh, God, I'm so sorry."

Paul took another step towards him. "No, son, Carolyn is just down the trail with Kermit. Scooby saved you both. It's time to come in from the cold. It's time to go home."

"Home?" Peter whispered, like it was a new word to him.

Paul was nearly to him and moved carefully, not wanting to break the spell. "Yes, home. Your home. With your own room. Your own bike. Home."

Peter's eyes filled with tears again.

"I have no home," Peter answered, his voice barely audible above the howling wind that came up suddenly. The storm was gaining strength again. All the more reason to grab Peter and make a run for safety.

Paul cursed the weather silently before turning his full attention on Peter. "Sure you do, Peter. Annie and Kelly are worried sick about you. Come on, it's time to go, son."

Peter shook his head, and started mumbling gibberish again.

He jumped when he saw Paul was about to touch him, and then gasped with awed recognition. "F-Father?" he whispered. "Father, how are you here? I saw you die. You and all the others..."

Paul froze in place. Peter's eyes had the glazed haze of injury and exhaustion. One false move could send him falling down into the canyon below.

"Peter," he said softly. "Peter, I've come for you."

"No, I'm not falling for your tricks," Peter whispered with words of bitter anger, clearly seeing Paul as someone else.

Paul was stymied. He didn't know what he should do next. Should he just grab Peter and pull him to safety? Or would a sudden move be all it took to send him over the edge?

"It's no trick, Peter," Paul said, wiping at the rain on his face.

Paul could see the boy shaking violently from the cold. He wished he had grabbed Kermit's backpack. Peter needed the aids Kermit had with him for providing physical warmth, and he needed them fast.

"I know you from my teachings at the temple," Peter said, waving a shaking finger in his direction. "Old Ping Hai warned me about you. He called you a demon in disguise, something trying to steal me away. A dragon in hiding... A tiger lying in wait..."

Peter made no sense. And that was all the more reason for Paul to grab him. But before Paul could act, Peter shook his head slightly, blinking several times as he came out of his trance and finally saw Paul as Paul again. Peter sighed and reached out a shaky hand toward him. "Paul? I want to go home."

Paul smiled and wrapped the boy in his arms before Peter could change his mind again.

"Oh, Peter," he whispered, blinking back tears of relief.

Peter gasped as his injuries flared with the movement. Paul adjusted his hold, but still kept the boy close to him.

"It's – it's too damned cold out here," Peter whispered.

Paul laughed and kissed Peter on the top of his head. Still kneeling, he pulled his sweater over his head and held it out for Peter to slip into. "It sure is."

Paul bit his lip when he saw the raised bruises on Peter's exposed skin and the careful way Peter maneuvered one arm into the sweater sleeve. "Is it broken?" he asked, stopping Peter to examine the limb more closely.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

"What happened?"

Peter sighed, snuggling into the sweater for as much warmth as he could get before he answered. "I woke up and Carolyn was beside me. She said I was sleepwalking. I didn't remember any of it. We were going back to the cabin when a bear saw us. We must have done something to make it mad 'cause it was coming at us at a full run. Scooby took off to defend us," Peter swallowed, pausing to press himself closer before he continued.

"Okay, son, it's time to go. I know this is going to be hard on you. Just lean on me as much as possible. We'll be home before you know it."

Paul stopped and took off his boots and socks. He put the warm socks on Peter's feet, but not the boots. They were much too big for him. Paul slipped his bare feet into the boots.

Peter only nodded, gritting his teeth together as he allowed Paul to help get him to his feet. A quiet moan escaped from the boy's lips as Peter sank against Paul's hip once he was standing. Paul tightened his hold. He empathized with Peter, well aware of how much pain Peter had to be in for the moan to slip out.

All Paul could do was support as much of his weight as he could while guiding him down the mountain path. He hoped it would be enough. Peter surprised him by continuing with his explanation, though his voice cracked with pain and exhaustion.

"By the time we got to him, Scooby and the bear were really going at it." He paused to swallow, and then bit his lip as his footing slipped. Paul had a good hold on Peter's shoulder, but the jarring movement caused another groan before Peter could stop it.

When Paul slowed to a stop, Peter stubbornly shook his head and kept moving forward. He raised his gaze to meet Paul's and Paul saw the pain radiating from the boy's eyes. "I don't wanna stop. I just wanna be home."

Paul nodded warily, unsure how hard he should let the boy push himself, but then decided getting him back to the house quickly was the best thing possible.

Peter started speaking again. Paul noticed the effort was wearing on the teen. Each time he spoke, Peter sounded weaker. 'Damn, he's a stubborn kid,' Paul thought proudly. 'Reminds me of myself at that age.'

"Scooby had already taken a hit from the bear, and it was moving in for the kill. I picked up a branch and hit the bear with it."

Peter stopped speaking, and Paul thought that he was drifting into unconsciousness because he was practically carrying Peter by then. When he glanced down, he saw that Peter was crying again. "It's okay, son. You don't have to tell me everything right now."

Peter shook his head and rubbed at his injured arm. "Carolyn really loved that dog... and now he's dead because of me."

Paul leaned down and brushed his lips against Peter's temple. "We will find her a brand new puppy. It won't take Scooby's place, but it will help ease the loss."

Peter raised his head with effort. "Carolyn's with Kermit?" he asked, still questioning the information Paul had told him earlier.

Paul smiled and shifted the hold his fingers had on the lightweight flashlight while still supporting most of Peter's weight. "Yes. She's cold and wet, but basically okay. Why did you think she was dead?"

Fear danced across Peter's expression, leaving a trail across Paul's heart. "Because she wasn't there when I woke up. I – I thought the bear had gotten her somehow. I went – I went looking for her, and I couldn't find her."

Paul squeezed the boy in his arms as tightly as he could without hurting him. "She's fine. You can see for yourself in a couple of minutes."

Peter brushed at his eyes with his good hand, and then stiffened in pain. Paul watched him with concern for a moment until he was sure Peter was sufficiently recovered to begin again. Paul chose a slower pace to lessen the pain he caused Peter as they moved along. "How bad is it, Peter?"

Peter shook his head. "It's okay."

Paul knew the boy was lying, but he didn't challenge him, choosing instead to brush his lips across the top of Peter's hair. The gesture caused Peter to close his eyes in gratitude, but then he had to struggle to open them again. Paul suspected that sleep wasn't far off, but with his head injury, he couldn't let the boy fall sleep. Walking helped to keep Peter alert, but the boy was so weak, Paul wound up supporting most of Peter's weight.

Paul started a series of questions he hoped would help to keep Peter awake and focused.

"I take it the bear didn't appreciate being hit with a tree branch?"

Peter smiled, and looked up with a twinkle in his eyes. "No, he didn't like it." Peter paused as he chuckled softly. "I really pissed him off."

Paul smiled with Peter's statement, but the smile soon disappeared. "So, what happened? Did it take a run at you, too?"

Peter nestled himself into the hollow under Paul's shoulder. "Yeah, I tried to run, but I slipped on the mud. That bear was mean and fast. I knew if I went down, it would be all over."

Paul tried not to visualize Peter's encounter with the bear, but his imagination was too quick and he shook his head to cast away the image. Meanwhile, Peter continued with his tale, but his voice was growing softer by the minute.

"One swat from the bear's paw, and I went flying into a tree trunk. It knocked the air from me, but I was awake enough to hear Carolyn screaming. When I opened my eyes, I saw the bear was going after her."

Paul's heart began to beat harder and it wasn't from supporting Peter. Maybe, it was better if Paul didn't know how close his children had been to death.

"Carolyn dropped to the ground and didn't move. It took a moment for me to see she was just playing dead. The bear sniffed at her a few times before it buried her with some leaves and turned back toward me."

"So, what did you do?"

"I played dead, too. It worked for Carolyn – I figured it might work for me, too."

Peter sighed, and Paul felt the constant trembling of the boy's body. He recognized the signs of exposure. Luckily, they weren't far from Kermit and Carolyn. If the others had responded to Kermit's flare, help should be very close.

Paul realized the boy had gone silent and shook him slightly. "Peter?"

There was no response for a long moment, and then Peter answered him, "Yeah?"

Paul let out the breath he'd been holding. "Are you ready to go home?"

This time, Peter's answer was more delayed. "I'd like that," he replied dreamily, shifting slightly in Paul's embrace, "I'm really hungry."

"Hungry?" Paul asked in surprise, and then chuckled. "I do believe your stomach has the potential to eat us out of house and home."

He hoped for a typical teenaged smart-ass reply from Peter, but he was greeted with silence instead. Paul's alarm grew with each passing second. The boy wasn't moving. Paul tried shaking him again, but nothing roused him.

"Dammit," Paul cursed as he pulled Peter up into his arms before he increased his pace, practically dragging him along.

The night erupted in another bolt of lightning and a tremendous clap of thunder, and then the rain really poured. Paul didn't care. Let it come. He had Peter and Carolyn back with him again. After a visit to the hospital, they would both be home to drive him crazy in their own individual ways. He sighed as he decided nothing in the world sounded better.

Without warning, Peter roused from unconsciousness with a hand darting out in front of them. "Watch out!" he cried, and then grimaced from the sudden movement.

Paul stopped immediately, whispering soothing words of comfort to the boy as his heart sympathized with Peter's plight. 'He's lost in another one of those blasted nightmares,' Paul thought with a grimace. 'When will it ever end for him,' he wondered as he rocked Peter gently.

Peter was still murmuring warnings in his sleep when Paul decided to press on again. "Watch out. Watch out."

Paul had just rounded a steep curve in the trail when the air was filled with a different kind of rumbling. Paul froze in his tracks, stunned by the bear's sudden appearance, even though he had been prepared for it earlier.

As before, Peter's hand shot out in warning again, and he shouted breathlessly, "Watch out!"

Paul's gaze darted from the bear to Peter in disbelief. How could the boy possibly have known the bear was about to attack them? Paul didn't have time to analyze the coincidence because the bear was starting toward them.

Paul slowly backed around the corner, dragging Peter with him, but the bear followed them, roaring even louder complaints. Paul knew he was going to have to do something because the bear didn't act like it was going to give up easily. He braced Peter's limp body against the mountain wall beside him and reached into his holster just as the bear charged.

Paul stared at the beast as he fumbled for his gun, cursing the fact that his movements were slowed by the cold and rain. "Peter, stay behind me!"

As the bear loomed before them, Peter was unresponsive, but that was the least of Paul's worries. The wild eye glare in the bear's expression and frothing at the mouth indicated possible rabies infection.

Paul swore under his breath as he realized the bullets in his gun weren't of sufficient caliber to stop a raging bear attack. He shielded Peter as much as he could, praying that the bear would be content with one human body to rip apart, and would ignore the second unconscious form left behind him.

The bear was almost upon them when a series of shots rang out like a rolling volley of violent thunder claps. The bear fell forward, landing at Paul's feet. Its last breath fogged the toe of his boots for a moment, and then it didn't move again. Peter groaned and collapsed, falling to the ground but Paul caught him before he hit the dirt and lifted him upright again, back into his protective hold again. He had Peter securely in his arms again, just as Kermit came into sight.

Kermit had his Desert Eagle still drawn, its muzzle steaming from the numerous shots. Then he caught sight of Carolyn standing at Kermit's side, still wearing Paul's jacket. The overall effect made her look like a runaway waif. And Paul sighed as he decided she had never looked more beautiful.

Paul hugged Peter more closely to him and leaned against the rock behind him in relief. Safe, they were all finally safe. As Kermit approached, Paul gathered his thoughts. "I thought I ordered you not to come after me for any reason."

Kermit grinned. "I never did quite get the hang of following orders. Nasty habit of mine."

Carolyn broke away from Kermit's support and raced to Paul. She buried her face into his shoulder and cried, "I think both of you are crazy! That bear could have killed you!"

Then, she pulled away and glanced at Peter. "Is he okay?"

Paul looked down at his son and smiled again. "After all this, he had better be. He's bruised and battered, maybe even some broken bones, but we'll get him to the hospital and they'll have him fixed up in no time. The worst part is over."

Carolyn reached up and kissed him on the cheek. "I hope so. Let's go," she whispered.

oOoOoOoOo