Peter Caine sat on the floor in his father's abandoned apartment, totally lost in his thoughts and feelings. He couldn't help but think that he'd never felt so lonely before in his life. His mind knew it couldn't be true because the time in the orphanage, after his father's temple had been destroyed, had surely been living hell on Earth for a frightened kid who'd lost everything he'd ever known and loved and believed in. Yet despite those awful memories Peter had hidden deep inside his soul, his heart ached terribly for a father he had suddenly lost for the third time in his life. The last time had been very hard, when Caine went off in order to regain their family's honor and clear their name. But this time it hurt even more. The four short years father and son had spent together, learning about and from each other, felt like a distant memory and cruel teasing about something they would never be allowed to have: enough time to make peace with the past in order to look into the future without regrets. Peter hadn't even known how much he yearned for this. Until now. Until it was too late.

The first days after Caine's disappearance, Peter had restlessly roamed the streets of Sloanville, desperately trying to find something he couldn't even name. At night, when his feet finally couldn't carry him anymore and his hands had gone numb from the cold and snow outside, he'd hidden in his father's meditation room, staring into the flames of the dozens of lit candles with unseeing eyes, his thoughts wandering back in time. There were so many things he and his father had never talked about, so many memories about their time apart they'd never shared. He'd always meant to talk to his dad about those fifteen years they'd been separated, but somehow they had never gotten around to it. Sure, they'd shared some of the less uncomfortable stories about their lives, tiny pieces of information here and there, but there was still so much Peter didn't know about his father. Secretly, he'd started making plans for his next vacation. He'd wanted to take Caine along as a surprise, spend some quality time with his father without interference from work or his dad's responsibilities in Chinatown, but now it was too late: Caine was gone.

Caine had left for Paris to search for Peter's mother only a week ago, but to Peter it felt like an eternity. He knew why his father had gone, but it still hurt. It felt like being abandoned all over again. He'd tried to suppress his feelings, but somehow he couldn't stop the little demon inside his head that screamed "Betrayal!" Caine had promised to come back, yet all Peter could see in his mind was the small figure of his father vanishing in the crowd, walking further away from him with every step and not looking back. He was ashamed of himself for these emotions, and the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks made him hate himself even more. He was a Shaolin priest now, he should be able to accept and forgive – but he couldn't. Not yet, at least.

Peter hung his head and stared into the flame of the nearest candle. He'd ended up in his usual spot tonight, but so far his attempts to meditate had failed miserably. Peter knew he was sulking, being unfair towards his father and everything the Shaolin stood for, but he didn't know how to stop himself. He hadn't talked to anybody from the precinct for one horrible week, not since the day he'd handed in his resignation and left his gun and badge on the Commissioner's desk. Saying goodbye to his friends and colleagues on the 101st had been heart-wrenching. Even the usually collected Captain had seemed ready to collapse, and the hug she'd given him before he walked away from his old life had spoken volumes in the shocked stillness of the precinct. Then when he was finally ready to go, all hell had broken loose. Karen Simms had had no choice but to send a team out – and it had hurt like hell. Standing there, seeing his friends going out without him for the very first time had almost crushed Peter's heart, but at the time his father had still been there, waiting for him, so he'd been able to turn his back and go. Because there had been another life calling to him, asking him to fulfill his destiny as a Shaolin. Now Peter wasn't sure whether he'd imagined that feeling or not.

He'd only gone back to his own place once after that to pick up some clothes and personal items and to listen to the messages on the answering machine. Everybody except for Kermit had called and asked how he was, but he hadn't felt like talking to anybody at the time. Peter wasn't surprised that Kermit hadn't left a message. His friend surely knew where to find him, faster than anybody else in the city – now that his father was gone. Peter heaved a deep sigh, gave up on the idea to find any inner peace tonight, and jumped to his feet. Maybe he could stop the whirling voices in his mind with some Kung Fu moves. Since Caine had left, Peter hadn't had a partner to practice with, and the streets of Chinatown had been eerily quiet and peaceful so he hadn't been able to use his skills in an open fight either which made his restlessness even worse.

Peter turned toward the door to go to the training room and jerked back in surprise. The Ancient stood in the doorway, observing him with a knowing, sad expression on his face. Peter wasn't in the mood for any "lessons" from Lo Si today, and his first reaction was the wish to act on his anger and tell the old man to leave him alone. Then again, he knew that he couldn't avoid his wise friend forever. The apothecary had been very respectful and understanding these past few days. At first he'd tried to talk to Peter, to make him understand why Caine had had to go, but Peter hadn't wanted to listen, too absorbed in his own emotions to see that the Ancient wasn't only trying to comfort him, that he also needed someone to talk to. The sudden realization hit Peter hard, but before he could apologize or say anything, Lo Si interrupted him.

"I know."

And without any further comment, the Ancient turned back into the hallway and started walking away the way he must have come. Baffled, Peter stood frozen on the spot for a second, but when his brain finally kicked back into gear, he stormed out of the room to catch up with his friend. It never ceased to amaze him how someone so old could walk with such measured and careful steps as the ancient apothecary and still reach his destination – in this case the front door of Caine's apartment – within a very short amount of time, that even Peter had to struggle to keep up with him without running.

"Lo Si!" he called, but the Ancient didn't stop. He merely gestured for him to walk with him, and mystified, Peter complied. He wanted to ask "Where are we going?" but Lo Si's posture made it clear that there would be no answer, so they walked in silence, down the stairs, out of the brick-lined warehouse Peter's father had moved into after his last return, and out into the still bustling streets of Chinatown. It was dark already, but not too late. Tired workmen enjoyed a last cup of tea or a quick snack before returning home, huddled together around the patio heaters as Peter and Lo Si passed on the sidewalk, and shop owners and their families were busy packing up for the night.

Many people looked up from their tasks as they walked by. Some of them only nodded a greeting, while others came over to shake the Shaolin's hand or have a short talk with the Ancient. Lo Si seemed to know everybody they met by name. He took the time to listen to everyone's story, even if it was only about Yuan Chun's broken arm which was healing nicely thanks to the old man's medicine or about Tsai Chin's grandson who'd found a job at a local factory because the Ancient had finally talked him into applying to the owner who was looking for people who were fluent in both Chinese and English.
Because of the many hold-ups, their progress through the neighborhood was annoyingly slow. After a while Peter noticed that the people weren't only coming over to talk to the Ancient – they were also looking at him. The previous nights, when he'd aimlessly wandered around Chinatown, he hadn't stopped to talk or look at anybody; but now that he followed Lo Si's slower pace, he started to see the glances and whispers coming his way from every direction. They weren't intrusive or insulting, merely kind and encouraging signals turned toward him. The young woman in the flower shop sent him a shy smile while bundling up lilies and roses for the night; and the owner of the bakery, busy with handing out leftovers from the day to a bunch of scrawny kids assembled at his door, nodded in his direction. All this was disconcerting, to say the least. Uncomfortable, Peter answered with a small smile and turned towards his companion.

"Lo Si," he said quietly, not really wanting to disturb the Ancient's talk with Mrs. Zhu; but the two of them were already saying goodbye to each other anyway. Sensing Peter's distress, the Ancient bade good night to everybody within earshot; and, as if on cue, the throng of people around them dispersed immediately and let them continue their evening walk. The building that housed Lo Si's apartment was already in sight across the street.

Thoughtfully, Peter chewed on his lower lip for a moment before asking, "What was all that about?" He had a pretty good idea what the Ancient had been trying to do, but he hadn't decided yet whether he should be flattered or annoyed with the old man. And he really wanted to hear Lo Si's explanation, who – once again – didn't reply. Peter sighed and kept walking.

Surprisingly, the anger he'd felt at his father's place had vanished during their stroll through the emptying streets. He hadn't even noticed, but now that he had time to think about it as he followed the silent Ancient up the stairs to his apartment, he felt – different. Seeing the old man with all those people, neighbors, and distant acquaintances alike, caring about everyone and everything they told him, had magically altered his perception of the world around him.

Peter had never been an uncaring person. Even in the dark times after his father's "death" or when he first started working as a cop and earned his reputation as a loose canon, he'd never really hated the world, not from the bottom of his heart. He'd tried to act as if he didn't care. He'd shut out everyone and everything that could cause him any more pain, but deep down he'd still been the boy from the temple who'd learned to respect every living thing around him. Paul, Annie, and his sisters had been the only ones to see this softer, vulnerable side of him, once he'd overcome his fear of ever being sent back to the orphanage.

He had re-learned to accept love and friendship, especially after the reunion with his dad four years ago; but still, only a few selected people had been allowed into this sacred circle which remained surrounded by high walls. Tonight, though, brick after brick seemed to have vanished from the wall, crumbled to dust at his feet; and right now, it felt as if the whole district, the whole town, even the whole world, was asking for entrance. And it scared him more than anything he could remember.

Peter hadn't really noticed their arrival at the Ancient's apartment or that he'd started pacing in Lo Si's kitchen while the apothecary rummaged around, gathering ingredients for one of his (in)famous herbal teas. The shrill whistle of the tea kettle suddenly brought him back to the here and now. The wheezing noise broke his concentration, and Peter shook his head to clear it from any intruders in his mind. But he'd surely imagined those. Hadn't he?

Lo Si motioned for him to sit down in the living room, and Peter complied, taking a seat at the small coffee table and rubbing his aching temples. The Ancient followed one minute later, carrying a tray with tea and crackers. They sipped the hot tea in silence for a while; but when it became clear to Peter that the older man wasn't about to talk first, he finally asked, "Lo Si…What just happened?" He carefully observed his friend's reaction.

Lo Si seemed to weigh his answer very carefully, but eventually said, "You have taken the next step."

"Next step?" Peter didn't understand. "Step to what?" he inquired, a little of his former anger creeping into his voice.

In reply, Lo Si put down his delicate tea cup, reached over the table and pulled up the sleeves of Peter's shirt until his still sensitive brands on both forearms were exposed. "To becoming a Shaolin," he said. "You now carry the sign of the tiger and the dragon, yet you are not complete."

"What?" Peter jerked his arms out of the Ancient's grasp and jumped up, no longer able to sit still. "But I am a Shaolin." He only just managed to sound civil at the last possible moment. "You said that with accepting the brands I'd fulfill my destiny and gain the power to help my father," he continued, trying to keep his temper from flaring out of control. "It worked, didn't it? How could I not be complete then?"

He raked a hand through his hair and started pacing again, frustration getting the better of him, but Lo Si's next sentence stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Because you have not fully accepted your destiny."

Peter didn't know whether to laugh or cry about this statement. With two long strides, he stood directly in front of the old man and held out his branded arms, the red tiger and dragon clearly visible in contrast to his pale skin. They seemed almost alive in the flickering candlelight that illuminated the room.

"Then what's this, huh?" he challenged the older Shaolin, waving the marks of his new status in front of the Ancient's eyes. "Some freak accident? Do you think I cheated, just to help my father, and never to talk about it again? I gave up my job… my life, for God's sake!"

Now Peter was shouting, but he was too agitated to apologize. Lo Si's expression remained infuriatingly calm and understanding in the face of the human thunderstorm raging above his head. Then he reached up suddenly and took Peter's strong hands in his own, much smaller and wrinkled ones.

The sudden physical contact stopped Peter's tirade, and he couldn't help but listen when his friend tried to explain.

"Peter, you are a Shaolin. Do not doubt that," Lo Si began. "I have seen you at the temple; I know that you have the strength and the heart for it. But you are not yet whole. Changes like these do not happen over night. You have to find your inner peace and become one with the world surrounding you."

Something in the Ancient's choice of words stirred in Peter's memory; and when Lo Si let go of his hands, he stumbled back to his seat and sat down heavily.

"You mean…like what happened to me tonight?" he whispered, annoyed that he couldn't keep the slight tremor out of his voice. "I sensed…Something happened to me tonight. Someone…These people on the streets, I couldn't just see and hear them anymore. After a while, I could feel them around me, in me, touching my mind."

He broke off, unsure what to say, how to explain the weird sensation, the fear he'd felt only a few minutes ago. He'd experienced a lot of unusual things in his life, as measured by Western standards, but not even walking through steel bars or seeing in the dark had prepared him for the revelations of this night.

Lo Si couldn't quite hide the proud smile forming on his lips. "Yes, that is exactly what I meant," he confirmed. "You have a special connection with your father, you know that. Now it is time to extend it to other people as well. People who one day might need your help."

"But, Lo Si…" Peter couldn't help but object. "I'm not my father. I don't know how to do this. It's like…like going swimming without water wings. Like jumping in at the deep end without knowing how to ever get back to the surface. And this connection between my father and me…It's not there anymore. He's gone."

And there it was again: the thought he'd tried to avoid all night, all week, every waking moment. His father was gone, had left him with the vague promise that he'd come back one day.

Before Peter could get lost in the resurfacing darkness of his pain, Lo Si spoke up again. "Do you still have the pebble Caine gave you before he left?"

Peter looked up in surprise. "How'd you…? Never mind," he said, reaching into his pocket and producing the polished stone he'd snatched from his father's hand only a week ago.

"What do you see?" the Ancient asked.

Peter looked at him, not sure how to understand the question. He wasn't in the mood for riddles tonight.

"Not only with your eyes," the older man explained. "Listen. Feel. What do you see?"

Peter decided to humor the apothecary – weirder things than he'd already experienced tonight could hardly happen, right? He closed his eyes and concentrated on the tiny stone he held on his open palm. At first, nothing happened. But then, concentrating harder, he could feel warmth spreading through his hand, emanating from the pebble, as if something seemed to caress his skin. And there was something else…a whisper, a presence at the back of his mind. One he'd had no hope of ever feeling again. "Pop?"

His eyes snapped open to reveal Lo Si's living room – and the Ancient in the seat opposite his. The old man looked much too smug for Peter's liking. He couldn't stop himself. Peter smiled back at his old friend. "He's not really gone, is he?" he asked.

"He is not" came the calm reply. "But you must be patient. If you allow me to help you, we will work on your abilities together. I can teach you how to control and sharpen your skills. I will also introduce you to the community – as you have seen, our neighbors are anxious to meet you." His eyes twinkled at that. "And I will also show you what you need to know to heal and cure minor injuries."

Peter wanted to say something to that, but the Ancient stopped him with an upheld hand. "I know you do not have the training in herbs and medicine, but you can learn to take care of yourself and your friends and neighbors. Will you allow me to do that, as long as your father is gone?"

After a moment, Peter nodded, suddenly ashamed of himself for avoiding his old friend the whole week, for hiding and wallowing in sorrow and darkness. "Thank you," was all he could say.

"Good." And with that, Lo Si suddenly got up from his seat, grabbed his woolen coat from the rack by the door, handed Peter his own jacket and motioned for him to follow his example of putting it on.

Peter did as told, but then his natural curiosity won. "Where are we going?" he asked. He'd had enough surprises for one night.

The Ancient chuckled and shooed him out the door. "I think there are some friends of yours who could use one or two additional players for their weekly poker game."

Peter stood and stared after the older man who was already half way down the hall - again. "What? Oh, no… You didn't!" Then he muttered, "Of course he did." Did the old apothecary even know how to play poker? Well, he'd see soon enough. And to tell the truth, Peter was looking forward to seeing his friends and colleagues again. He'd been out of the loop long enough.

He didn't know what his future would look like, but at the moment it felt as if everything would fall in place in time. Patience had never been one of his virtues, but maybe he could learn it now - among other things.

Peter fingered the pebble in his pocket that still felt warm and comforting in his hand. "See ya, Pop," he whispered, and sped to keep up.

Fin.

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