Paul and Kermit arrived at the hospital at 8 PM. Paul had received a call from the hospital when Max Larkin had been brought into the ER. The safe house had been hit hard and the nosy neighbor next door had called in a noise disturbance complaint.

Dr. Sabourin met with them in the OR waiting room. "I'm afraid I have more questions than answers for you." She said. "If I didn't know better I would say that he'd been hit by a car. The surface bruises look like he lost a bar fight but the internal injuries tell another story. Right now, the surgeon is trying to find where the internal bleeding is coming from. If they manage to find all the bleeders then he has a good chance of survival. But until then it is touch and go. Can you tell me what happened to him?"

Paul shook his head "Not until I've spoken to him, but we have our suspicions."

"Anything you can tell me may help with his treatment." Dr. Sabourin asked.

"I don't know how. But, we suspect that they… that he rather was attacked by a gang. One with some very specialized martial arts."

"I've seen martial arts-related injuries. I've never seen any of those injuries lead to this. Yes, I know that they can be deadly but usually, it's from the same sort of injuries from any other sort of brawl. He has a ruptured spleen, One of his lungs was punctured by a broken rib. There is head trauma as well but at the moment we're not sure how severe it is. For this to be caused by a beat down, well, honestly I just don't see how it could be done."

"The people that attacked him are more than capable," Kermit said. He was angry and it was evident in his tone even if the rest of his face was inscrutable.

"They weren't Shaolin priests like Caine were they?" She asked with a frown.

"Not Shaolin, no, but if Caine is to be believed they are the mortal enemies of the Shaolin. So I will be assigning guards to Larkin's room when he comes out of surgery. Including ICU. I don't want anyone allowed in that is not on a specific list of employees. Be on the lookout for anyone with snake emblems on rings or pendants, perhaps even tattoos."

"I'll put together a list for you." Dr. Sabourin said. She trusted Caine even when spouting things that normally she would find unbelievable. If that was what he had told Paul Blaisdell then that was, in her mind, absolute truth.

"Thank you, Doctor."

Tyler Beckett watched from within a storeroom, gazing out from the door that was barely cracked open. He closed the door and called Miranda Gray's home phone. "We have a problem." He said quietly, then explained what he had seen and overheard. "What do you wish me to do?" Every step and misstep taken had to be on her orders. There could be no room for her to wriggle off the hook when the time came to … retire her.

"Come back here. This isn't something we can handle directly. It is good that you called me." Usually, she preferred her operatives to deal with whatever came up and get the job done, this time, however, it was best that he hadn't handled it on his own.

"Thank you, Nagaina. I will be there shortly."

Peter sat on the floor of their room, with a board across his lap. There were nails in the board and he was attempting to pull one out with his thumb, forefinger, and middle finger. "I don't think this can be done." He said laughing quietly.

"It can," Caine said quietly. "It will strengthen your hands."

"Beats some of the other methods I guess." He said. He'd been forced to do some of them by Miranda. Those had worked on the heel of his palm and the side of his hand. "Ironic that a martial art form based on a snake wouldn't include exercises to strengthen finger strikes." She had been determined to make him invincible in the arena. He sometimes thought that she wanted him to be Nag's host more than Nag did.

"When you have mastered that, then you learn to pull the nail from the board with your thumb, ring finger, and pinkie," Caine said, watching his son's face. Peter hid much of what he was feeling now. He had not done so before his abduction. Now he often found himself wondering what was going on behind his son's eyes.

"Did you learn to do this?" Peter asked.

"Yes."

Peter handed the board to his father. "Show me?" He asked.

Caine smiled faintly. That was at least normal. Peter had always wanted him to show him how to do things. Especially those things that appeared to be what he often called a trick. Caine pulled the first nail from the board with his thumb, forefinger, and middle finger, then pulled the second from the board with his thumb, ring finger, and pinkie. He returned them to their holes with his forefinger.

Peter laughed a little. "And how many years did it take you to learn that?"

Caine shrugged. "It does not matter. You may learn faster."

"Or slower," Peter said and shook his head as he tried to remove the first nail and found it no looser than it had been before his father had removed it.

"I doubt you will be slower. Even just the exercise of trying will strengthen your hand."

Peter nodded. "Do you think this will work? The meditation and the Kung fu?"

"You have always had a strong will, My Son. Meditation will help you focus that will. Kung Fu will help you focus your body."

Peter nodded again.

Caine moved to the floor, sitting across from his son. "You do not believe me."

Peter wanted to toss the board across the room and yell at his father to leave him the hell alone. "I don't want to talk about it."

"That does not mean you should not talk about it," Caine said.

"What do you want me to say?" Peter asked sharply.

"The truth."

"The truth? I don't even know what that would be right now. I'm not a philosopher."

" I am not asking you to give me the truth of the universe. I am asking you to tell me why you are angered when you are told you are not weak."

"Why do you keep insisting that I'm not?" Peter demanded.

"Because you are not." His father said.

"I know better."

"Why is it easier to believe what the enemy has told you than what I tell you?" Caine asked.

"It's not what she told me," Peter said. "Trust me I question everything she told me. I wouldn't have believed the sky was blue if she'd said it was."

"Then what is it?" he knew that was not precisely the truth. Part of the brainwashing they had been doing to his son was convincing him that it was his thoughts and his choices rather than things forced upon him.

Peter sighed in frustration "Because I'm afraid."

"How could you not be?" Caine asked. "Fear does not make you weak."

"Running and hiding do."

Caine shook his head. "You are not hiding. You are preparing." He said. "You cannot face your enemy if you do not know yourself."

"Knowing myself didn't help when I was taken." He said sharply, then apologized.

"Did it not? You did what they demanded because the alternative was to allow others to be harmed. Not because you were broken or weak. You were willing to sacrifice yourself for those you love. That takes strength. Not weakness."

"Sometimes I feel like myself like I might be okay, then everything spirals and I'm back in the dark and all I can see or hear is that damned snake."

"That is normal, Peter," Caine said. "You were tortured. It would be unnatural if you were not still affected by it."

"I gave in," Peter said. "I know Pop, you say that it was strength not weakness but I have a hard time believing that. "

"There is a difference between bending like a sapling in a strong wind and breaking. You bent so that you could survive."

"If you hadn't come for me, I would be possessed and doing god knows what out there."

"We did come for you, and you are free. You could have gone back to them at any time since you were rescued but you did not. He said "You were not broken because you are strong. Being affected by what was done to you does not make you weak. It makes you human."

"I'm not feeling very human at the moment," Peter said quietly.

"I know," Caine said in a gentle tone. "It is why we are here. The other priests speak of wishing you would complete your training. They would not do so if they thought you were not worthy. They speak from their understanding of who you are, not with a father's love." He knew that Peter thought that his father was merely saying those things because he loved him.

"Me… a Priest?" Peter asked. "Get real, Pop… Father." He amended.

"Would it be so terrible?"

Peter shook his head. "No. It's just… not where I see my path."

"You have found your path again?"

"I'm a cop," Peter said firmly. "You know, even as a kid, it was what I wanted. I wasn't sneaking off to watch Starsky and Hutch or Beretta for nothing."

"Is there a rule that says a cop cannot also have completed Shaolin training?"

Peter laughed a little although there was little amusement in it. "No. There isn't. But it would be a waste for me to do that and not become a priest."

It was Caine's turn to laugh. "Many complete their training, but only one is chosen to become a priest. There are many in the world who are not priests, but are in every way Shaolin."

"I'll think about it," Peter said. "I don't want to do it for the wrong reason."

"What would be the wrong reason?"

"To piss Miranda off." He said honestly.

May 6th

The following morning found Peter taking in his morning run before breakfast. He weaved through the trees of the woods surrounding the monastery. He could hear some of the other students running as well. Much like the academy, it was part of their training. It felt good to run. He wasn't as accustomed to running through the woods as the others, but he was learning to trust where his feet fell in the terrain, and the more he ran the more his mind drifted, not staying on any one thought for more than a moment. It was liberating and even Nag was quiet.

That was the best part. There was no squirming sensation, no quiet susurration in the back of his mind. He didn't know if that was because of the running, or the box he was building in his mind to put the snake into if worse came to worst and he was captured again. In those moments he didn't care why, he was just enjoying being free. He had forgotten what that felt like.

He was the first back to the monastery and smiled as he entered the doors. "Good morning." He said and walked toward the dining hall where he found his father.

"You look better this morning," Caine said, as he handed his son a bowl of fruit and rice.

"It was a good run," Peter said. "Endorphins, ask for them by name."

Caine nodded understanding completely. He led the way to the table. "It is good to let go and focus on the run."

"Like when you turn walking into meditation?" Peter asked. He stirred the rice in the bowl and psyched himself out to eat yet another bowl of rice. But hey it wasn't a stale peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Compared to that, the rice was a welcome feast.

"Yes," Caine said simply. Peter was starting to fill out again, regaining the weight that had been lost in his captivity. Their time on the road had been good for him, whether he realized it or not.

"Master Hsiao asked me to show them Elapidae," Peter said. "I don't know how I feel about that. I don't want to fall back into it."

"Then say no." Caine shrugged "We are here for you to heal, if this foreign f0rm does not aid in healing then do not do it."

"Glad you understand," Peter said.

Jordan took her time with her shopping. Normally she just wanted to get it over with and get home. She didn't enjoy it, not really. It was basic necessities, what was to enjoy? It wasn't like she was shopping for anything fun. She was taking her time in order to be seen. It was possible that they had figured Bellamy all wrong. Possible but unlikely.

She wondered if Tammy Li's thoughts were accurate. Were the cultists preparing to use Sean David Bellamy to kill her if she didn't accept their invitation to join the cult? Was that even what was happening on Sunday? It may be nothing more significant than going to Sunday dinner at the boss's place.

She checked out, and told the clerk to have a nice evening." She said. She walked to her car and put her purchases in the trunk. Once in the car, she drove to the restaurant that she had prearranged with her team. She didn't dare go anywhere spontaneously until Bellamy was back in jail. She had no doubt that would happen soon, but she was also positive that would be because he committed another murder. Worse was that it might just be her murder.

She parked in the parking lot and went into the Mexican restaurant. She thought that she might have been followed. But it could be just as likely that it could be just some guy going about his business. She didn't recognize the car and she had been paying attention to cars that she saw frequently behind her on the road. She went into the restaurant, her favorite Mexican restaurant in town, and was led to her seat by the hostess.

She browsed the menu, eventually folded it, and placed it on the table. She gasped sharply and stood up. Sean Bellamy was seated across the table from her.

"Relax, Detective. I'm hardly going to kill you in the local Cantina now am I?"

"I wouldn't put it past you to try." She said taking her seat once more. "So is this how it starts? Trying to make your targets increasingly uncomfortable before the strike?"

The water approached with two glasses of water and chips and salsa "Do you need another menu?" He asked.

"No. Mr. Bellamy won't be staying long." Jordan said. "But I'm ready to order." She wasn't about to give the man the satisfaction of appearing to be affected by his presence. Bad enough that he'd startled her. She placed her order and instead of her usual margarita she chose iced tea. Now wasn't the time to indulge in a pleasant buzz.

The waiter walked away and Jordan looked at the man across the table. "You're still here?" she asked and ate a chip.

"I'm always here." He said. "I'm there when you go to work, I'm there when you do your shopping, I'm there when you sleep."

"Well, that's going to be a problem. My landlord doesn't allow animals on the premises." She said blandly.

"I was even there when you went to Chinatown with your partner."

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "My partner is Chinese, it's hardly exciting when we go there for lunch. You'll have to do better than that." How was he able to follow them so easily, when they were careful to pay attention to everyone and everything around them? Was he getting inside information?

He shrugged. "Perhaps. We'll see."

She laughed. "Now it's we?" She asked. "Who's the other half of that equation? Because I know it isn't me. I'm not as easily spooked as the women you're used to. There is nothing for me to see."

"They never are in the beginning. You high-toned bitches think nothing ever touches you. That you rule the world around you. News flash, you don't. It's people like me that rule the world."

"People like you?" She asked. Jordan looked up as the waiter returned with her iced tea.

"People like me." He repeated.

Jordan rolled her eyes and laughed mockingly. "Yeah, right, whatever." She said, intentionally pushing his buttons. He needed to make a move on someone in order for them to arrest him again and have his bail revoked. She'd rather that someone be her. She had a better chance of coming through it alive than anyone else he might choose to target.

"You scoff now." He said getting to his feet. "They always scoff in the beginning."

"You're either lying now with your inferred 'they', or you were lying when you told the judge you were innocent." She said. "Either way, you're a liar and not worth anyone's time."

Bellamy laughed "You're going to be fun, Detective. Oh yes… you are going to be fun." He turned to walk away.

Jordon continued to eat the complimentary chips and salsa until Richard Cavenaugh sat down in the seat recently vacated by Bellamy.

"You don't know when to back down do you?" he asked rhetorically.

She laughed nervously. "I guess not. Better me than someone else." She shrugged. "I've got you guys looking out for me after all." The waiter brought her dinner and set the plate in front of her. "You know," She said, "I think I want a margarita after all."

"I'll have a menu please," Cavenaugh said. He hoped things worked out with Jordan McGuire. He actually liked her.