Peter Caine walked restlessly through the city, thinking about his father. His experience with Caine at the loft had both exhilarated and overwhelmed him. Searching through his memories, he was sure he hadn't such felt pure love and acceptance from his father since he was very young, back in the temple. Now he couldn't wait to talk his dad alone.

Yes, talk to Caine alone. But Peter wondered when that would be, because from the strong vibes he'd picked up this afternoon, it seemed Skalany was here to stay. Once he let the thought rise to his conscious mind he knew he could tackle it head on. God, he felt like an idiot. Here he was, a Shaolin priest who'd endured the ordeal of the brands, worrying whether his Pop would have time for him. Looking around, he realized he'd been heading in the direction of Mary Margaret's apartment, the very same one his father now shared with her. Skalany had gone back work; maybe he could talk to the old man alone.

Approaching the building he slowed when he sensed that his father was not there. Coming to a stop, he closed his eyes and searched for the warm thread of his father's presence, then almost jumped as he felt not a thread, but a live wire right in front of him. He opened his eyes just in time to avoid Mary Margaret running him down. Holding out both arms, he softened the impact and they both avoided crashing to the sidewalk.

"Whoa, Skalany, slow down! Where are you going? Is Pop behind you?"

"No Peter, I don't know where he is. I had to go home and change my clothes. I just found out I'm in a big operation tonight and that dress would've never made it. I'm really excited about this, although I'll miss--" Skalany stopped. "Walk with me, Peter. I'm going to pick up my car and I'm already running late."

Peter released her hands and they started walking.

"You started to say, 'I'll miss'. What is it that you'll miss, this week's episode of Melrose Place? The weekly call from your mother? What?"

Mary Margaret said nothing while she fished around in her purse. When she pulled out her keys she finally answered him. "Peter, I should let your father tell you this, but I'm going to tell you anyway. If I can get the time off, he and I are going away for a few days to try and figure all this out. I don't know where we're going yet, but I'm sure you'll be able to find Caine if you need him."

"Not if he doesn't want me to find him." Unwelcome bitterness crept into his voice like weeds poking through cracks in a sidewalk. But weeds also represented a stubborn struggle for survival.

They had nearly reached the garage where Mary Margaret's car was being detailed. "Peter, I know this is difficult for you," she began.

"Skalany, you have no idea what this is for me. I just hope you know what it is for my father. Do you really think the two of you living together is going to work? It doesn't exactly go with his image."

"And what image is that, Peter?" Mary Margaret shot back, "One of a celibate priest who must always put other people's needs, including yours, before his own?"

"Mary Margaret, I...I don't know what to say. The last couple of days have turned me upside down." He looked at his arms and thought of the brands. "I guess having these doesn't mean I'll have all the answers."

"Peter, I know your father has had the same thought. You should go and talk to him. You know I love him, you know that from when we had to enter his Bardo. But don't you ever forget, partner -- I was your friend first! I'll always be your friend. That will never change."

She surprised him with that, and again when she grabbed both his arms, reached up and kissed his cheek. "Go see your father," she said, "He's with the Ancient, I think. You two need to talk, and I won't be home until late, so I won't be in the way. Wish me luck, Peter."

~~~

Kwai Chang Caine sat in a chair next to Lo Si and drained the last of his tea from the porcelain cup. Other than pleasantries, the two had not exchanged many words since Caine arrived at the Ancient's apothecary. Finally, Lo Si reached over and gripped his old friend's arm.

"I cannot read your mind, my dear friend. You will not let me. Shall we verbally spar, then get to the point, or shall we simply get to the point?" Lo Si let go of Caine's arm and leaned back; he seemed quite pleased with his argument.

"What point is that, Master?" Caine asked.

Lo Si raised one eyebrow and folded his arms. Caine sighed and shook his head.

"I am worried about Peter," Caine finally admitted. "Much has happened since he received the brands, to both him and me. I sense his need to talk, yet..." The priest finished with a shrug.

"And you, Kwai Chang Caine, do you also need to talk to your son?"

Caine sat quietly a moment, than conceded, "I do."

"Yet you did not approach Peter. You did not press him to set a time for the two of you to talk."

*I, too, am unsure of what to say. You are indeed wise, my old friend.*

*I am also very ancient. * Lo Si's eyes twinkled. He rose and pulled Caine up from his seat.

"You have finished your tea, Kwai Chang Caine. Now you must leave."

Caine looked at him in surprise. "Lo Si, surely you must sense Peter's impending arrival!"

"Whatever Peter's intentions, Kwai Chang Caine, it would be best if you are not here." Lo Si, smiling smugly, stared up at his friend. "It would be best for Peter to talk to me and clear his head before he speaks to his father."

Caine, unwilling to risk losing the opportunity to talk to Peter, pursed his lips disapprovingly, but he picked up his jacket and hat. "Very well, master. I bow to your judgment."

"Go quickly, and do not worry. I will send him to you!" Lo Si smiled gleefully. Shaking his head, Caine left the apothecary.

Peter decided to take Mary Margaret's advice and talk to his father. Arriving at the Ancient's apothecary, he entered to find him clearing teacups. "Hi, Lo Si," Peter said.

Peter closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He noticed the faint, earthy scent of familiar incense. Lifting his arm, he closed his fingers to his palm as if he could capture a piece of the lingering, warm essence his father had left behind.

"I know. I just missed him."

"You did, Peter, but he is very anxious to talk with you," said Lo Si as he moved to sit down.

"Really?" asked Peter. "He said that?"

Lo Si smiled and said, "Your father cannot wear his stoic mask with me, young Caine. He did not use those exact words, but his emotions were very clear today."

"Yeah, I felt that, too."

"As are yours."

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, that's not all that unusual for me. Pop's another story, though. Lo Si, things have changed so fast, I feel like I'm running on a treadmill and it keeps going faster. I'm not getting anywhere. I never, not in a million years, thought I would ever say this, but--"

"Go on," Lo Si prompted.

"I almost, well...I think I could handle his leaving again better than I'm handling this...new development. Pop and Mary Margaret living together, that is."

"Peter, even as a young boy, your mother was gone, and you shared the special place in your father's heart with no one else." The Ancient paused for a moment.

"Perhaps you should search your heart to see if your feelings about your father's relationship serve an additional purpose."

"Serve an additional purpose? Now you're getting cryptic on me, Lo Si!"

"Think about the path you have decided to travel. You have left your police career behind you. Have you yet to discuss this with your father?"

Peter knew that he'd buried his feelings about taking the brands. Ideas about his role in the community were racing through his mind. The word had spread that Peter had resigned, and already he'd been deluged by e-mails and phone calls with offers of jobs and requests for his time. He was nervous and wanted to talk to Caine about it. Suddenly, the urge to see his father overwhelmed him and he started toward the door.

"Go to him now, young Caine. He waits for you."

"Okay," Peter said, and as an afterthought, added, "why do I get the feeling that you two planned this whole thing?"

Peter started to knock at the door to Mary Margaret's apartment, then smiled and lowered his arm. * Why bother knocking? He knows I'm here, I know he's alone. *

"Pop?" he called, stepping inside, closing the door behind him. He stood for a moment and surveyed the living room. Comfortable furniture rested on hardwood floors and a few impressionist prints hung on the walls, but that was about it. * That's good. I can't imagine Pop sitting in a room cluttered with knick-knacks.*

"Pop?"

Caine walked in with a dishtowel slung over his shoulder. "Join me in the kitchen, my son."

Peter sat at the small kitchen table and watched Caine remove plates from the dishwasher and put them in the cabinets. From time to time, Caine would take the towel off his shoulder and dry a piece that held a few drops of water. Peter noticed a teakettle heating on the stove.

"Wow, Pop. Skalany's gonna love this!" Caine turned and shot him a warning glance. Peter chuckled. "Seriously, I can't get over this, you actually living here. Hell, I still can't believe the two of you, you know," Peter felt himself blush, "got together...whatever!"

Caine said nothing, and started putting away forks and spoons. Peter got up and stood next to his father. He pulled a fork from the basket and turned it over in his hand. "Maybe this is why it took you so long to go after her. You knew it would be all or nothing."

Caine's hand blazed as it clamped a hold on Peter's wrist. The startled son met his father's stern gaze. With his free hand the priest plucked the fork from Peter's fingers.

"An interesting theory." Still gripping Peter's wrist, Caine placed the fork in the proper slot and closed the drawer. The Shaolin turned to fully face his son.

"Peter, I will discuss my relationship with Mary Margaret in full detail, if that is what you really wish to do. For the most part, there is nothing more to it than what you see--two people who have decided to share their lives." His voice became quiet. "There is something, however, that I wish to discuss with you."

Caine stared at Peter's arm, and using both hands, he extended it fully and turned it to face palm up. Peter's heart thundered in his chest while Caine unbuttoned the cuff of the crisp white shirt and pushed up the sleeve. The scar of the brand, though healing nicely, still looked inflamed and sore. Caine lightly touched a section with his fingertip. When he again looked at his son, his eyes shone with love and pride.

Caine swallowed hard, blinking back tears, and said, "My son, I deeply regret not being there when you endured the pain of the brands. I would like to know everything that happened, when you took the brands, and when you left your comrades."

The young Shaolin winced at the pain in his father's voice, but surrendered to the love in his eyes. His voice choked as he said, "Father, I wish you had been there, too." Peter and Caine moved towards each other, and their long embrace helped soothe the pain of loss; the rite of passage that fate had not allowed them to share. For the second time that day, Peter felt the overwhelming power of his father's love.

Peter finally stepped back and then kissed his father's forehead. "Pop, I gotta tell you, there are so many ideas running through my head! I don't know which one to tell you first."

Caine smiled, and patted Peter's cheek. "Sit down, my son. I will make tea while you talk, and together, we will sort through them."

Much later that night Caine relaxed alone in the apartment, contemplating the day had spent with his son. Pleased with the time they had shared, he conceded that Lo Si was right about talking to Peter alone. Caine was curious about the conversation they must have had, but did not asked Peter about it. The happy truth was that he did not have time, as he and Peter had a satisfying exchange of personal ideas. Sighing, Caine believed that his relationship with Peter had truly reached a new level.

His mind was occupied with these thoughts when suddenly his heart started racing. Closing his eyes he focused on the source of the terror and confirmed his fear that Mary Margaret faced serious danger. Rising from the sofa he headed for the door, but his pace slowed, then stopped. The time had come to make a decision on how he would handle these situations. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the source of the fear, and determined the danger came not from a personal threat to her, but resulted from her job.

Mary Margaret would be in danger far more often than he liked. He had to trust her, and could not run to her side every time he sensed trouble. Determined to start out right, he retrieved his flute from the closet. Sitting on the floor, he began to play while focusing on Mary Margaret, knowing if the situation worsened, he would go to her. Long moments passed when he realized that he had stopped playing for a long tense stretch.

In the early morning hours, Mary Margaret crossed the threshold and quietly closed the door behind her.

"Did you wait up for me?"

"Yes." Placing his flute carefully on the floor, he rose, walked to her and helped take off her coat. Cheeks flushed red with excitement and brown eyes shining, her strength and courage moved him. Caine could feel the pride she felt from a job well done. Tenderly, with love, concern and tremendous relief, he held her, letting out a deep breath.

"Are you angry?" she asked.

"Quite the opposite. My heart is lightened to see you home safely."

"It's been a long night."

"I sense that it has. I have mixed herbs I would like you to take. It will help to replenish your energy."

"That sounds nice, but first I need to take a shower. I feel filthy. After that, I want to tell you everything that happened."

~~~

Mary Margaret finished her shower, and her damp hair framed her face and shoulders with gentle curls. Donning an oversized nightshirt, she felt refreshed and rather hungry. She entered the kitchen and saw Caine standing at the counter.

"I thought you were only making tea. Something smells really good. What is it?"

"I thought I might tempt you, " Caine turned, plate in his hand, "with this."

On the plate sat a large blueberry muffin, warmed, split in half and buttered. Mary Margaret's smile filled her face. Looking at her lover, she could tell he was pleased to have made her happy.

"Caine, I love blueberry muffins! Where did you get this? You didn't make it, did you?" she teased. She took the plate from his hands, broke a piece off from the top and ate it.

Caine placed her tea on the table. "I did not!" Smiling, he added, "If I had, it would be tastier."

"I bet," she said between mouthfuls, "I didn't realize I was this hungry. Thanks, Caine."

The Shaolin sat next to her while she ate her snack. She caught his eye, and sensed the energy checked behind his calm demeanor. "I'm used to coming home to an empty apartment. It's strange having you here, know what I mean?" Caine shrugged; she put down the muffin and continued, "It's strange, but it's nice. I like it."

Mary Margaret squeezed his hand. Caine covered her hand with both of his and began to gently massage it. She felt a pleasant tingling sensation tiptoe up her arm to her chest, then move through her body. She forgot what she was going to say next. He gazed at her intensely and their eyes remained locked.

"I am interested in what happened earlier tonight," he prompted, "you had said you wanted to tell me everything."

"Yes, I did." Mary Margaret cleared her throat. "I do." She pushed away the plate with the half-finished muffin and began to talk. "It was a big operation, a drug bust on the water front, but it should have been routine. We were all in our positions, watching six male suspects unload the product, waiting for cash to change hands."

Caine interrupted, "Product?"

"Yes, this time it was cocaine, when suddenly one of the guys, his name is Rick, flips open his cell phone, listens, then looks around and opens fire! Obviously, somebody tipped him off, though a little too late." She leaned forward, and continued solemnly, "We think there's an internal leak. We're pretty sure Rick was called by one of us." She tightly squeezed his hand.

Caine seemed surprised. "Someone from the One Hundred and First Precinct?"

She sat back again. "It could be, but probably not. This was a joint operation, coordinated with two other precincts. We're thinking, praying actually, that if there really is a leak, it came from one of them." She paused then said, "Not that it makes too much of a difference."

He continued to rub her hand, and asked, "And the gunfire?"

Mary Margaret leaned forward again, and her heart beat faster as she focused on the memory, "Caine, once Rick opened fire, all hell broke loose! I heard a bullet whiz by my head. It was too close."

Eyes closed briefly as she remembered the fear of the moment, her face flushed and she gripped his arm. "We were ordered to return fire, but I didn't have a clear shot. I had lost sight of Rick, but suddenly, heard footsteps approach. I realized he hadn't seen me, and was going to run past me! This all happened so fast. I saw him, not too much further than I am from you, and ordered him to freeze, and drop his weapon. He turned and looked at me, and I knew he would kill me if he could."

Mary Margaret saw the worry in Caine's eyes. She finished quietly, "I'll never know what made him listen, and drop the gun. He's the only one out of six men that we were able to bring in."

A tense moment passed as they held each other's gaze, then Caine said softly, "Mary Margaret, I am so sorry. I am grateful you escaped this close brush with death. I am also very proud of you. You were very brave in the face of such great danger."

"You are proud of me, really?" She asked the question, but could read the truth in his eyes and rewarded him with a smile that she knew squeezed his heart.

"I am proud, and...." he reached out to caress her face.

They had both inched their chairs closer together; she felt the passion in his touch and saw it in his eyes. "And?" she whispered.

They leaned forward and their lips met. He slipped his hand behind her neck, pulled her closer and kissed her again thoroughly, his lips tenderly caressing hers. Still, he showed restraint, and stopping, he leaned back a bit.

"And," he said, "you have a long day tomorrow, and must rest."

Mary Margaret stroked his knee. She ran her palm up the length of his thigh, stopping only when she heard the sharp intake of breath. Smiling, she repeated, "And?"

Sighing, he stood and pulled her up with him. He wrapped his arms around her and she did the same. Looking deeply into her eyes, he said, "And, you look delicious."

He tasted the corners of her mouth and then sampled each lip. When he slid his hands under her nightshirt she tingled with pleasure, pleased that it was all she had worn. Her body shivered as he caressed her everywhere, and she felt his energy pulsate through the gentle touch of his fingers. Finally, their mouths joined and they kissed each other deeply, instinctively trying to merge their bodies to the oneness their spirits had already achieved.

Breathless, she broke from the kiss, and as his lips found her neck and shoulders, she whispered in his ear, "And?"

Before he answered, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her one more time. As he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, he said, "And, lover, you can catch up on you rest...later."

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