The lights in the 101st precinct were down low in deference to the late hour. One office was occupied, and from it issued forth a steady stream of clicks and beeps, with the occasional squawk for good measure. Its sole occupant, Detective Kermit Griffin, had reached that state of oneness with his hopped up computer that the Dilbert cartoon, posted ruthlessly and at some personal risk on his door by one of his colleagues, described as "Nerdvana". The scrap of newsprint lay crumpled in his wastebasket, and mental notes had been taken for future vengeance, but Kermit was too busy for further action. A little more probing, a few more steps and ...KA-CHING! The face he'd been searching for, with a whole string of meaningless names beneath it. With a touch, he downloaded the file to a disk, then dumped it behind a few trap doors and an alias or two and forwarded it to the NCIC. *Just an honest citizen, doing his civic duty* he thought to himself, and snickered. This was hardly his duty. Finding this particular man was a personal matter, an old score to settle.

Elsewhere in Chinatown:

Peter Caine jerked awake, heart pounding, mouth dry. He stared wildly into the dark, hearing and seeing nothing but his companion's soft breathing, her flaxen curls silvered by moonlight as she slept comfortably curled next to him. Even in her sleep, perhaps, Jordan was attuned to her lover, for she woke then, her own cop's instincts making a swift scan of the room necessary before she turned to Peter.

"Hon?" she asked softly, laying a hand over his heart, then touching his cheek gently, to turn his face to her. "Pete, it's Jordan ..I'm here. What is it?"

"Jordy?" and he crushed her close, relishing the feel of her warmth, safe against him. He'd had a terrible fear of waking her, lingering from his dreams maybe, afraid that she had left him in the night, leaving only her unmoving shell behind.

The blonde vice detective could feel the fear and relief in him and resigned herself to teddy bear duty that night, out of love for this cocky wild child with his often hidden depths. Gently she whispered to him, holding him tightly, willing her love to him.

*****

Kwai Chang Caine came out of his meditative state with a start, instantly reaching along the silver thread that connected him to his son, an odd fear driving his actions. When he found Peter well, if somewhat disturbed, relief washed through him. What had he feared, and why? So suddenly? Caine deliberately relaxed his breathing, noting with a flicker of thought that he needed the candle to focus on, and sought the answers to his questions, within.

*****

Jewel Adams was enjoying a rare treat for a Solitary wiccan, a full moon celebration with another practitioner. Jaime was a friend from the City, and in her black silk ritual robe, she looked the part of a witch. She had cat green eyes, and red-gold hair, and was left-handed , "Three strikes" she often explained with a laugh, "Wicca was my only option." She held a pearl in her left hand now, along with a moonstone and an aquamarine crystal, as she spoke the words of a poem praising the Goddess. Jewel sat on the floor within the ritual circle, eyes fixed on the full moon, listening to Jaime's husky voice, half entranced. When the fear hit her, she gasped and Jaime frowned, concerned. "Jewel?"

"I have to call the boys" and Jewel scrambled to her feet, catching up her anthame to cut a door in the circle. Dulled, black handled knife still in hand, she hit the speed dial on her phone and rang David's apartment in New York. "Come on, c'mon" she muttered as it rang, and when her brother's sleepy, dark fudge voice answered, she slumped against the wall in relief.

"This had better be good," he growled.

"David, it's me. Is Jess there? Have you heard from Chris today?"

"Julia? What the hell?"

"David! This is important!"

"Jess is on line with Christopher right now, going over the artwork for the new offices. Shall I fetch him in?"

She was too happy to respond to the sarcasm. "No, that's alright, go back to sleep, sorry I woke you. Goodnight!" She hung up on his questions and dialed one more number, the one Kermit had given her, the one he set up to bounce from place to place until the untraceable line rang wherever he happened to be. "Smith's Grocery" a familiar voice answered and she grinned. "Yeah, I'd like to order a surprise for my fella? A jar of thick honey and a box of ants, giftwrapped please."

"I thought you had that witchy thing tonight?" he asked.

"I do, we are, I just...wanted to say hi. So, hi and also bye." She hung up and stared at Jaime. "Gods, that was weird. I was sure that something had happened to one of them." Then she shrugged. "How paranoid am I?"

Jaime also shrugged. "Griffin must be rubbing off on you. If you'd like to rejoin us here in the circle?" Jewel stepped through the door and sealed it with the anthame. Gathering the skirts of her own dark blue sleeveless robe around her , she sat on the floor again and fixed her gaze on the moon.

*****

The mood was subdued at the 101st the next morning. Powell and Skalany exchanged glances as they passed each other, but didn't mention that Jody had been watching "The Sheik" on AMC when a formless dread had gripped her. *Peter*, just the one word and all those emotions she kept tightly locked away poured through her mind. Skalany had been on her way to the fridge for a midnight Dove Bar and had stopped there on the linoleum, hugging herself in cold fright, a vision of a broken Caine flooding her. They had, independently , decided to call each other instead of the men, and as Mary Margaret picked up her phone, Jody was already there. Even Captain Simms had placed an emergency call to her son's new school in New Hampshire. Blake and Strenlich had been remarkably subdued all day. For once, Kermit was the most cheerful person in the squad room, and even he was slightly disturbed. For while the other affected persons were gathering forces, what with Peter inviting Jordan to lunch, Caine arranging a quiet supper with his son, and the whole gang deciding spontaneously to meet at Delancey's after work, a certain private investigator remained stubbornly out of touch. When he couldn't reach her at home, or at the office, he quickly hacked into her computer's day planner and found it empty.

Empty that is, except for a Quote of the Day. It read "You know, Kermit, you could just ASK me!" He scowled behind his shades, then reluctantly grinned. God, but she was a thorny one. He never could quite anticipate her next move, and in moments of great personal honesty, he admitted to himself that her unpredictability made her that much more attractive. But that still left him nowhere, with unanswered questions.

A face from Kermit's past leaned back in his chair , well pleased with his night's work. "So, you think you have me, eh, Kermit?" he murmured to the frozen screen image on his computer, one taken at the scene of Simon's Hot Wax three months earlier. Kermit, gun extended, face grim as he shouted something, was in the foreground. "I think not, my old friend. What lovely little surprises should we give your loved ones tonight, eh? What tortures can we conjure from your mind for them?" He chuckled and reached out a twisted hand to caress the small, wooden statuette at his side.

*****

The beer was flowing freely at Delancey's. Peter and Caine had joined Skalany, Jordan, and the rest of the gang after dinner and now sat, with Peter on his third beer, Caine drinking green tea, among them. It was Skalany who brought the subject to the forefront first. She leaned over and grasped Caine's hand, briefly, giving him a warm smile. He returned the grip and offered his own diffident smile in return, bowing slightly to her. "To what do I ..owe this, Mary Margaret?"

She feigned airy indifference but he caught the hint of remembered panic in her eyes. "Oh, a silly dream I had last night. For a moment I was afraid," but she couldn't get the last words out with the same breezy lightness, " that something terrible had happened to you."

His hand tightened on hers, she gasped, and he instantly apologized, soothing her fingers with his free hand. "Forgive me, dear Mary Margaret, Are you...certain it was a dream?"

She shook her head, dark hair loose and curling around her face adding to the confusion. "That's what was so strange, Caine. I could have sworn that I was awake, I was getting a snack, and a Dove ice cream bar is not an experience to sleep through."

"I too had a distressing experience while meditating last evening." He sought Peter's face, turned away to catch something Blake was saying, as if for reassurance. "I too was afraid, for my son's life. I found no answer and no reason for this fear."

Skalany's eyes were huge. She reached to grab Jody by the arm, dragging her into the conversation by a sleeve. "Powell, Caine went through this too!"

"You were concerned for Peter?" the older man asked gently and Jody nodded, biting her lower lip.

Peter caught the subdued vibes and leaned into the conversation. When he realized that his night terror hadn't been an isolated incident, the younger Caine related his experience. The feel of it clung to him as he fought to keep from turning around for Jordan, just to prove that she was still there. Two slender arms wrapped across his chest from behind, a warm voice tickled his ear with a breathy "Hello, sailor", and she kissed the soft skin below it.

He sighed and folded his arms over hers. "Buy you a drink, ba-bee?"

"Something cold and wet in a long necked bottle" she answered promptly and he waved to the bartender.

"Are you always this intuitive?" he asked her with a confident grin. It slipped a little when she answered him, seriously.

"How do you think I've survived this long, Pete? A cop without good instincts is a dead one." A smile entered her voice and she continued, "although, I'm willing to concede an extra effort in your direction, lover."

Kermit was talking with Karen Simms as they worked on a bottle of crisp Chardonnay. She managed to laugh a little, recalling the school's night staff. They had ARGUED with her, and she had snapped into protective mother mode, a hundred times more intimidating than even Angry Captain. Her son's sleepy voice was answering the phone in less than five minutes. He had been pleasantly confused over her concern, maybe even a little touched. He had left a message on her machine after classes, to make sure she was feeling better.

Kermit swirled his wine, sloshing the pale liquid around the glass, and said, musing aloud, "I wonder...Jewel called me late last night, just to say hello, and that's all she did say, hi and bye." He shook his shaggy head and Simms saw herself twinned in his green gaze. "It was one of her wiccan nights, full moon or something, and she had a friend visiting. She takes this stuff real seriously, Karen, and I don t see her interrupting a ceremony to prank call me."

"So, she was afraid for you? That seems to be par for the course last night."

"Maybe, but she didn't say anything." Kermit grinned, a rakish smirk that Karen remembered both fondly and with some trepidation, "But then, she probably wouldn't. Ms. Julia Tough Kid Adams wouldn't want me thinking she freaks out over nightmares. Even the ones that happen when she's wide awake."

"Then there you are, Kermit. I never thought Detective Kermit I Don't Get Involved Griffin would be concerned over a LACK of hysteria on a woman's part." Karen Simms jibed lightly at him, the warmth that their brief relationship had added to a close friendship shining in her eyes.

He raised his glass to her in appreciation. "Touche, ma capitaine."

*****

He tossed in his sleep, images buried deep within coming to surface. Horrors, pain that could only be endured, never forgotten, wrapped him in nightmare sheets, calling forth faced both twisted in terror and leering with sadistic pleasure. And one of those faces laughed with genuine delight as it reached out with a clawed hand to choose.

A frown touched Skalany's forehead as she lay dreaming, duvet fluffed around her shoulders.

* Sitting at her desk at the precinct, typing up a report, then emailing the electronic version to records, printing a papercopy for hard files. Routine. Peter handed her the printout but his face was odd, smirking in a nasty, half-pitying, contempt she'd never seen from him.

Before she could ask him what was wrong, Kermit appeared in his doorway looking disgusted. "Skalany, you want to keep your purple passion out of my nice, clean files?" He slammed the door behind him and she rose angrily, to find Captain Simms glaring at her.

"Detective, I do try to stay out of the personal lives of my people, but I have to tell you, this is NOT the way." She slapped her copy of the report back into Mary Margaret's hand. Mystified, she glanced down at it. Her report had turned into a huge, gooey, pathetic love letter to Caine. A huge, gooey, X-rated love letter, she decided, cheeks aflame. Shamed, she looked up and saw the whole squad room ringing her desk, her friends, pointing and laughing. Then, far down the hall, she saw Caine, his face dark with embarrassment and anger. Mary Margaret tried to go to him, to explain, but he turned away and she stood there alone, her heart breaking.*

She curled into a tight ball around the pain, tears soaking her pillow as she slept.

*****

Caine had finally retired to his pallet, determined to find the cause of the nightmares that had affected himself and his friends. When meditation proved fruitless, he admitted a need for sleep.

* Caine stood by his son's hospital bedside, gently holding the hand of a man he hardly knew, trying to reconcile this with that of the eager child he had loved so much. To find his son, and then to come so close to losing him! It was not to be thought of and Caine cast it from him. Peter was alive and that was all that mattered.

He looked up as a large man walked in and stared. "Who the hell are you?" Paul Blaisdell demanded, coming forward and standing protectively over his foster son.

"You..do not remember? We met two days ago, I am Caine." The Shaolin was confused. Paul, while wary, had been much friendlier when Peter was brought in two days ago, when they had begun their reconciliation.

"Caine?" the police captain frowned. Then frowned more deeply. "Oh, yeah. Look, don t you think this is a little late? Peter is happy with us, he's our son now. Why don t you just hop a magic carpet back to wherever the hell you have been for fifteen years?"

"My son.."

"Your son? Your son is dead! This man, this cop, is MY son. I found him when he was hurt and lost, frightened. He was on his way to becoming one hell of a criminal when he came to us. My wife and I sat with him practically every night for a year while he had nightmares about your death, about you leaving him to die in the temple!" Paul's voice was hoarse, trying to whisper in deference to the injured young man beside him.

The pain hit Caine like a blow and he staggered. "I did not choose to leave him! I was injured and Ping Hai told me that Peter had died!"

Paul laughed harshly. "So much for those famed Shaolin senses then, huh? Look, Pete's a good kid, he's grown up to a decent man, a good cop. He doesn t need you, Caine."

"Dad?" Peter's eyes opened and his weak voice drew them both to him. He saw them leaning over him and turned his face from Caine, reaching a hand to Paul. "Dad?" Paul gripped his hand and glared over at his "rival".*

Caine sat up on his pallet, holding the pain deep within him, working through the past back to the present, reminding himself of the real facts. It could so easily have happened differently.

*****

Shade was warm against her legs, curled up and purring on top of her quilt. After a long day, dropping Jaime at the airport and running down some facts on a case, Jewel was wiped and grateful to fall into bed. She fell asleep right away, dropping off into nightmare..

* Walking around a case scene, taking pictures, studying the details, her hands were covered in blood again. So much of it, she kept washing but there was always more. She looked up and saw that Justin was pouring it on her hands, as she frantically scrubbed, more rained down. His hateful laugh rang in her ears and she flung a handful of it at him, trying to distract him so she could get clean and away from him. Her hands were raw and still she washed them, over and over, screaming at him to leave her alone. Then, a large hand came out and shoved Justin away, blowing him away at point blank range, his blood splattering over both her and her rescuer, Kermit. She stared at the body, wiping her face clean, then up at the ex-mercenary.

"I told you he'd never hurt you again, kiddo." Kermit announced and pulled her close. "It's you and me now, two against the world.." then he thrust her away in horror, staring at her incredulously.

She looked down and saw her ritual robe, covered in blood, a knife in one hand and a skull in the other. A large inverted pentagram hung on an iron chain around her neck. "Kermit., this isn't me. you know this isn't me."

"Don't try that witchcraft on me!. You lied to me once, and I swear you'll never lie to me again." He turned away from her, and she stumbled after him.

"Wait, Kermit, you said that you understood! This isn't the way it is, really !" Her voice was piteous and he turned back, his face covered with a dark green shield from forehead to chin. There was nothing to be seen but her own begging reflection as she wept.*

Jewel lay awake in the dark, cuddling her cat close and staring up at the pen and ink Goddess drawing Jaime had brought her from the city.

Deep in his own sleep, Kermit's face smoothed over as the nightmares returned to their subterranean levels in his subconscious. The other withdrew, leaving no hint of what had gone on before, no memory of the nightwalking in Kermit's mind.

*****

An apple green '65 Corvair is an impossible car to disguise, so Kermit didn't bother to try. Instead, he slid to a halt in front of the building he had tracked his quarry and parked in a no parking zone. Black cannon in hand, he knocked on the door with the sole of his foot, breaking it in. The house was shadowed and quiet as he stalked through it. Only in an upstairs room were there signs of recent occupation, the most obvious being a computer, screen still lit. The screen saver was an Alice in Wonderland print, but little Alice was holding a frog labeled "Read Me." Scowling behind his shades, he did, breaking off a long, thin piece of the cheap veneered molding and standing around the corner, just in case. Kermit used his makeshift ten foot pole to tap the return key and ducked back.

The computer bleeped and he crept forward, keeping low to the ground, until he could see the screen. It read, "How are you sleeping, Griffin?" Puzzled, he read the message over, then hit the return key again. The screen blanked, and he realized his mistake as it flashed white, then the words "system failure" began to scroll in tiny letters. It was no use, all of his skills couldn't stop the wipe. Any information the hard drive might have contained was gone, and his prey with it.

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