One month later, Peter's loft.

The fire at the brownstone had been contained to the main room of the loft. Peter Caine had many friends and support from the community and with their help, although the loft wasn't completely restored, it was ready to live in. Kwai Chang Caine helped his son bring all his things from Caine and Skalany's apartment. The weeks had flown by and the month was so hectic they'd had little time alone, so Peter was glad to have the entire day with his father. He'd spent nights and shared some meals at the apartment, but his days had been busy rebuilding the brownstone. So this morning when he'd taken a really good look at Caine, he'd been surprised so see his father had lost weight and seemed distracted. Now that they relaxed at the long worktable with a cup of tea, Peter decided to try to get to the bottom of it.

"I stopped by the One-oh-first yesterday. Kermit told me that things look good for David Reed. He's doing great in the rehab program. If he graduates and stays straight for two years, he'll have a clean record."

"I am pleased."

"Yeah, I knew you would be. David's not happy about Lisa and her Mom leaving town, but he won't fight it. They have family out west who will help them with the baby.

"And a change of scenery might someday be helpful to David. A fresh start in a new location."

"That's true, Dad. When he's done the rehab, it's possible."

During the conversation so far, Caine's expression stayed neutral. Not exactly guarded, but not the face of open happiness Peter had enjoyed and even taken for granted before Li Sung had turned their lives upside down. The tenacious young priest was not about to give up so easily, but he also knew to keep the pace slow.

"Li Sung is still cooling his heels in a jail cell. The case against him is airtight." Caine raised one eyebrow and regarded Peter with what could only be interpreted as Shaolin skepticism. "What? You don't think he'll get convicted?"

"What I think is not important." Caine proceeded to sip his tea.

"Okay, so what, he gets off, he escapes, whatever. It doesn't matter, because whatever happens, we'll be ready for him, Dad. I promise."

This time Caine's answer was to cradle Peter's cheek and smile. Peter smiled back, grabbed his father's hand and kissed it. It was exactly then that he saw the sadness deep in his father's eyes.

"That's it, Dad," Peter cried, smacking the edge of the table. Diplomacy be damned. "What's bugging you? If it's not Li Sung, or the Reeds, or Lisa, then what is it? What's wrong?"

Caine sighed and walked to the balcony, but said nothing. Peter quickly followed and stood next to him, leaning sideways against the rail, watching. His father looked out at the city, but Peter could tell that Caine did not see the buildings or trees, nor did he hear the cars or people. Peter knew his father was hiding in a shadow- land, determined to stay there until he figured things out alone. But this time Peter was just as determined to join him there. And he knew it was time to push.

"Jody told me Mary Margaret went back to work Monday," Peter said gently. "She's pulling desk duty for a while until the broken arm is fully healed. Jo said she's doing okay, but that she looks tired and thin. Is she still having headaches?"

"The headaches have become fewer in number, but they have not entirely stopped."

"What did the doctor say?"

"The doctor has given her a clean bill of health."

"Yeah, but I know that you're worried. Something's not right. What do you think it is?"

Caine shrugged. "I cannot tell you something I do not know."

"Dammit, if there's something wrong, tell me! Don't shut me out, Dad. I don't like being in the dark, it's lonely and it's downright terrifying." Peter grabbed both his father's arms and turned the priest to face him. Their eyes met. "We're a team, remember? Dad, please. Tell me, what is it?"

"She has been having nightmares. Horrible nightmares." Caine turned, facing the city again, and Peter released his hold on him.

"What about?"

"She says she does not remember. And I cannot sense what they are, or anything else about what troubles her."

"But you know something's wrong."

"Yes."

"And there's nothing to do now except wait and worry. But I know something now." Peter moved sideways until their arms were touching. He waited until his father glanced at him. "I know that you hate to wait and worry just as much as I do, Pop. Maybe even more."

Caine's eyes narrowed and his mouth curved to a frown. "Sorry! I mean Dad." Peter slipped his arm around Caine's shoulder. "Well you won't have to do it alone, because I'll be with you every step of the way. I'll be watching, too -- we'll all be watching out for her."

Peter held Caine's intent and focused gaze, keeping his consciousness fully open, giving Caine permission to probe as deeply as he wished. But unexpectedly, his father shuddered once and closed his eyes. The priest's face and lips turned gray, then white; his hands gripped the balcony rail and his body swayed.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Peter forced away the fear and held on to his father, supporting him. "Are you okay?"

"I will be fine now, Peter," answered Caine slowly. As the color slowly returned to his face the Shaolin pulled Peter close and kissed his cheek. "But earlier today, did you mention something about lunch?"

"Well yeah, I guess so," Peter answered calmly, not reacting to the sudden shift. He knew it was time to back off. "I did say that if you helped me move back in, that lunch was on me. Hmm. The kitchen's fine, so I could make us something here."

"Very well."

"You're actually hungry?"

"Yes."

"I can't believe it. I never see you eat."

Keeping an arm around his father, Peter guided them both out of the balcony and toward the door.

"Peter, what you don't know about me …--"

"I know, I know. What I don't know about you, Father, could fill the Library of Congress."

"Indeed."

"Or even the Sears Tower."

"The…Sears Tower?"

"Forget it, Dad. How about we go out for lunch?"

"I thought you would never ask."

"Great. Chili dogs all around."

"Peter!"

The young Shaolin priest laughed. "I'm just kidding, Dad. Your choice. Anything but rice." Caine shook his head, smiling. Peter felt good again. Things weren't perfect, and he guessed they'd never be, but he and his father had reached an understanding. He paused and let the memory surround him.

*You will never be alone again. I will always be there for you. You will hear the sound of the flute. You will feel the wind of my hand stopping an attack.*

Caine canted his head and slid a look at his son, and the young priest knew his father shared the moment with him. Peter tightened his arm around his dad.

*It works both ways now, Pop. It works both ways.*

*Come to Chinatown, ask for Caine, they will help you.*

...and the legend continues…

THE END

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