Kermit couldn't actually remember the ride from the hospital to Peter Caine's building. All the emptiness inside was filling with rage and revenge, feelings he fought to control for years. Now, it was all unleashed. After his little conference with the department investigator, he let go of those feelings.

Billy March was at the hospital keeping watch, freeing him to hunt. Peter Caine was first. The easy target. The pre-game show. Blood Lao was next.

Internal Affairs had their fangs deep into this fiasco. They asked and, in uncharacteristic candor, Detective Griffin had spilled every word of every conversation he'd had with his nemesis about the setup. Just the facts, ma'am. He grinned with near-insane fury. He'd given them the facts all right. He made sure they knew Peter Caine's hand in wrecking all their lives and threw blame around like confetti.

Now, he had a special gift for young Peter. Erupting from the elevator, he felt the rush of his anger. Every physical fiber tensed and ready, he pounded his way down the hall toward his goal. With deceptive softness, Kermit tapped his twitching fist against the door.

The door creaked open. His muscles flexed and readied to strike.

"Kermit?" Jody whispered, still drowsy. Not knowing what Peter would do in his drunken stupor, she'd been afraid to sleep much. The sight of Kermit Griffin jolted her wide awake. "What are you...? Oh, no! Is she?"

Shoving open the door, he plowed past her. "No. Nearly dead but not quite." The words were flat and cold. The rage he felt crushed the sorrow. Turning sarcastically to the unnerved detective, he spat, "Might have known you'd be here. Do much investigating in my wife's attempted murder while on your back?"

"Just wait one goddamn minute! I-"

"You SHUT UP! Where is he?" Kermit started prowling through the apartment. A groan from the bedroom door drew his radar. Stalking toward his prey, his vision blurred with rage.

"Kermit, get out of here. Now!" Jody tried to insinuate herself between the ex-mercenary and his intended victim. She knew him and, sadly, knew what he was capable of in his state of mind.

Without acknowledging her protest, he threw her aside. After landing on the floor with a sharp thud, Jody struggled to untangle herself from the two dining room chairs she found wrapped around her legs.

The smell of liquor hung in the air. It only served to make him angrier. There before him lay his enemy, wearing clothes he had obviously slept in all night. Peter was sprawled across his bed, totally oblivious to his peril.

"Morning, asshole," Kermit growled, grabbing him by his hair and the waistband of his jeans. With one firm toss, he jerked him to his feet and slammed him into the wall. A lunatic smile pasted across the ex-mercenary's face.

Peter's brain thundered with the impact. Sickness wretched upward into his throat. Still tasting the booze and reeling from his hangover, he fought desperately to sort through the sensations.

Covering the distance slowly, Kermit picked through the felled picture frames that covered his victim, crashing each into the opposite wall. "So, you had a party last night, huh?" Wrapping his fingers around Peter's throat, he yanked the dazed man to his feet. Howling in crazed laughter as Peter tried to summon the moves to fight him off. "Your kung fu bullshit not too effective this morning, I see."

"Ker-" Peter struggled to reach him as the older detective funneled all of his rage and fear into his midsection. Pounding the wind and sound out of him as he slumped against the wall in defeat.

Jody rushed forward and latched her arm around Kermit's throat. "GET OFF, KERMIT!! This won't help!" she screamed, vainly trying to reach through fury to the rational man within.

The protest earned her little attention. One black-clad arm sailed her backward without pause. Kermit continued his assault on the already disabled man with a humiliating round of open-handed slaps to his face. "You've got a meeting with IA this afternoon, BOY!"

It was flooding back to him now. What he had done. The guilt and pain. Drowning himself in pity and booze. Kermit's hatred slamming into his body and mind. Trying feebly in his diminished capacity to fight back, he attempted a half-hearted sweep against the enraged man's leg.

"Go ahead, you little shit! Just try it!" With the force of a maniac, Kermit swung Peter into a crunched heap on the opposite side of the room. Taunting his prey as he approached, Kermit said, "Yep, gotta make sure you look and feel your very best when you try to squirm out of this crack." Grabbing Peter by the hair, Kermit pulled his face into the oncoming punches, cracking his fist in release. Building a bloody mass of vengeance across Peter Caine's face, Kermit taunted, "Seems they think your little plan was a mistake, too. Just like I did. REMEMBER?!!!"

Jody got up once again. She had few options. Smack Kermit in the back of her head with her gun, but injecting a weapon into the situation could be dangerous. "Kermit!"

"Yes, dear?" Slam! Another blow to Peter's face.

"Stop! She wouldn't want this!" He was beyond his wife's wishes at this point. The pounding continued. "I'm calling for backup NOW!" She had her fingers on the phone and began to dial. "Assaulting a police officer, Kermit! You won't be much help to her or Kat from jail."

Satisfied with the bloody mess he had made of Peter Caine's face, he pulled back. Kicking him once for the fun of it, just to see him lie there and flinch. His victim lay there at his feet, semi-conscious and moaning. Wiping his bloody fist on Peter's bedspread, he answered with eerie calmness, "Detective Caine may not *BE* an officer much longer so your point may be moot, Detective Powell."

Jody ignored his barb and rushed over to the crumpled man to check his wounds. "Get out, you son of a bitch. You know he didn't do this to hurt her or-"

"You're confusing me with someone who gives a damn." Turning to go back to his quest for vengeance, he tossed over his shoulder, "And, Detective Powell, I suggest that if you plan to find evidence to bring in the bastard who shot my wife, you'd be better off not looking for it between Peter Caine's sheets!" Before he slammed the door, he said, "Or, maybe I'll be able to find little Henry 'Blood' Lao first and save you the trouble."

Jody heard the comforting sound of the rattling door as he left. She'd call Simms in a minute. Now, she had to focus on piecing Peter together. Body first. The rest might be beyond repair.

*****

He didn't have a great deal of time and he knew it. Focusing on the physical pain in his knuckles kept him in the here and now. Kept the visions of her at bay...temporarily.

Kermit Griffin was locked down into single-minded purpose. Get his stuff. Do the job. Get back to her. Stalking his haggard way through the precinct, he let the sympathetic inquires roll off his back. Get it done. Get back to her.

Blind to the daily activity of police business, he found himself inside his office. Laptop. Discs. Where are those codes? Here. Battery. Throwing his equipment into a leather case, he pointedly ignored Karen Simms at his door.

"You mind explaining what you're doing here?" Karen waved back Strenlich, who had moved in behind her.

"Just finding something to wile away the hours while my wife's dying, Captain," he flipped back, gathering more equipment.

"You come near this case, I'll have you arrested for obstruction."

"No, you won't." He stalked past her obvious bluff.

Karen let him pass uninterrupted. She knew this man. Knew how much he loved his wife and daughter. She also knew the ruthless nature the ex-mercenary barely controlled. Now, it was loose.

As she watched him leave, Frank spoke in a low voice over her shoulder, "God help him if Kermit finds Lao before we do."

"I don't know if even that would be enough."

Jody insisted on driving Peter to the hospital, a different hospital. Peter just sat there, staring. "Peter. Peter, come on. I want the ER to take a look at your face and your ribs. You may need stitches. Peter!"

"Take me to County General."

Jody bit her lip. "Don't you think that...I don't think that would be a good idea." Peter just sat there. Unmoving. "That's halfway across town!" His resulting silence spoke volumes. Sighing, she put the car in gear and drove.

When they got there, Peter got out under his own power and strode toward the ICU. Jody detoured him to the ER, where he protested all the way. Finally, they were able to make him sit and tend to his bruises and cuts. Peter endured the obviously painful swabbing and bandaging in silence as Jody paced.

"Damn him!" Jody swore. "Damn it all! I can't believe this. We're going to have to report-"

"Sir, how did this incident occur?" the nurse asked, pen poised to write. "Who was responsible for this?"

Before Jody could open her mouth, Peter said clearly, "I fell down the stairs. I'm responsible."'

Jody gaped at him. "ARE YOU-!" Peter held up a hand for silence until the nurse walked away to file her report. The door closed and Jody strode up to him. "Peter! He has to be called down for this-!"

Peter shook his head. "It's just what I would do to myself if I were able. I'm not pressing charges. If Kermit gets into trouble, there'll be no one to take care of Kat. Besides, I am responsible for this. If I hadn't done what I did-"

"A mistake, Peter! It was a mistake! No one is perfect! Not a super-Shaolin-cop, not an ex-mercenary drowning in grief, no one! Kermit's just out of his head with grief, Peter, saying things he doesn't mean. He has to blame someone and he's blamed you. But he's wrong. You're wrong-"

Peter looked up at her with his one good eye that wasn't swollen shut. "I hope when you investigate this case, Detective Powell, that you can remain objective and keep your personal feelings out of it."

Jody looked like she'd been slapped. "Peter...." she whispered, unable to believe that he'd go this far.

"The facts will decide what happens in this case, Detective," he told her without any inflection. "Just do your job. I'm not the victim of the crime and you're wasting time on me." Sucking in a breath through his bruised ribs, he added, "And I'd assume that Internal Affairs is waiting to screen you. Am I right?"

Jody couldn't decide what hurt her more. The fact that Peter seemed intent on hanging himself, having already tried and convicted himself for the crime, or the fact that he was accusing her of being less than professional because she cared about him. Fine. If that's the way you want it, fine. She snapped, steeling her jaw, not bothering to tell him about the early morning wake up call from Calloway, "I'm off to talk to IA. I'll inform you when they're ready to question you." She stormed out of the treatment room, not looking back once.

Peter eased himself off the gurney. He hated to hurt her but felt he had no choice. He was going to burn for this one, no matter what anyone had to say about it. Now, he had to see how Savannah was doing; the reason he had bullied his way here in the first place.

Peter literally staggered into the ICU waiting area. Right into the arms of his father.

Too weak and hurt to ask when his father had returned or how he had known to come here, Peter accepted the arms as he did long ago in childhood. Tears of guilt and regret escaped down his cheeks, unconcerned about witnesses or propriety. For one brief moment, the young man allowed himself solace. One indulgence. It wouldn't last.

Caine held the shuddering body of his child. Waves of guilt and suffering flooded through him. The trip home had been a torturous one. Miles and miles of guilt rolled beneath Caine's feet as he struggled to reach his son. Once again, he had been elsewhere in his son's hour of need. Wrapping his arms around the slumped shoulders, he held on tighter.

Mary Margaret had filled him in on the situation and the heartbreak that Peter's actions had set in motion. Caine concealed his disapproval at his son's choice to deliberately endanger a life, even the life of a violent young man such as Jimmy Wong. The young man died as violently as he had lived. Still, such a choice flew in the face of the younger Caine's training and heritage.

That fact was irrelevant now. He loved his son past any analysis of right or wrong. Peter was suffering from the consequences of his sin. Consequences had crashed down even harder on Savannah, Kermit, and their child.

"Father...." Peter choked out, grasping for the only person who could help him. "Can you help? You've got to try. I'll...do anything."

Caine pulled his son back to face him. Gentle hands examined the savage bruise and cuts on the young man's handsome features. He would address the injuries later, though he had the identity of the perpetrator already. Guiding him to one of the slickly upholstered chairs into the waiting area beside Mary Margaret, he tried to calm and comfort his child. "My son, her injuries are great. The body is weak. I will, of course, do anything I can to help Savannah...and the others injured in this tragedy."

"It's my fault. I did this." Confession didn't help his soul. Not even slightly. Mary Margaret tried to take his hand and he jerked it away. Unworthy of even the touch of a friend.

"NO! The man who fired the weapon did this!" Anger at the senseless violence oozed from Caine's tone of voice. Truth must follow. "You made an error. An error that has set this in motion but you did not set out to hurt this woman. If you are to atone for this, you must mobilize your strength and not allow the guilt to paralyze your judgment."

His father had pulled no punches. Peter knew how his father must feel about what he'd done. Still, the love and support were unconditional. That power temporarily strengthened him. "Okay, Pop." He straightened and raked his hand across his wet face. "Let's go. I'll help."

Caine's firm hand stopped his assent. "My son, you cannot help her in this state. Your emotions of guilt and panic would only serve to push her away. I will go alone."

"Caine?" Dr. Sabourin eased her way into the emotional scene. Extending her hand, she greeted the priest who had become her own counselor from time to time. "I'm glad to see you."

Caine grasped her hand and responded with a respectful bow as Peter straightened himself. "And I, you. I am here to see Savannah and to help, if it is allowed."

Glancing down the hall toward the ICU, the doctor answered, softly, "Well, she's not my patient. A very skilled neurological specialist, Dr. Ashton, is handling her case." After a quick thought, she said, "But, she's a close colleague of mine and we generally see things eye to eye. I don't think she would be adverse to you making an effort on her patient's behalf."

Caine turned to his son and looked on the face of helplessness. Gently touching the young man's cheek, he said, "Wait here."

Peter didn't argue. For once, he accepted his weakness. His flaws were evident. Nodding, he relaxed back into the chair as Caine followed Dr. Sabourin down the hall toward his student's room.

******

Hunting by conventional methods was impossible at the moment. Kermit knew his captain. If he stayed in the vicinity of the squadroom he would be in for another layer of lecture. Beating up Peter Caine. Being too close to the case. Letting the others do their work. Not getting in the way of their investigation. His only job now was to be a pillar of strength for the wife who no longer registered that he was even by her side. Yadda, yadda, yadda....

Actually, he had every intention of doing that last one - sitting by Savannah's side - as soon as the job was done. The job of killing Blood Lao. The most crucial mission that he'd ever had. He knew he couldn't just sit back and let others do this. His soul would not accept that. Not when she might still be in danger. Not when he was crying out for revenge.

He had bypassed the privacy of his office and ducked into the records room of the precinct. It was logical; any leads his computer couldn't track, he could just look at the hard copy. As an added bonus, no one would think to look for him in here. No sense opening himself up to his captain's further meddling. He knew Mary Margaret and Billy were watching over Savannah. Kat was in the hands of a thoroughly screened nanny. He was free to do what needed to be done.

He would track down the perpetrator and then never leave Savannah's side. He knew that the trail was growing ever colder.

The only weapon available, at the moment, was sitting in his lap. He brought the Powerbook to life.

Blood Lao hadn't disappeared on his own. There hadn't been one trace of the teenaged murderer. It was like he vanished. No small-time gangbanger had those resources. Karen Simms had locked down the escape routes within an hour. It would have taken more than a bus ticket to get him out of town unscathed. The ex-mercenary was looking for a trail.

Kermit Griffin had thrown out a dragnet of his own. Beginning with the more savage of his former associates, he had found Tage in the Orient. "How many pieces would you like, Griffin?" Tage had inquired with a cool slice of ruthlessness coloring his words. He and Griffin operated in different circles nowadays, but after hearing the details - after reading the call for vengeance - Tage was more than willing. "I'll leave that up to you," Kermit had replied. "Repayment upon request." Kermit knew he would request, but that wouldn't matter.

Steadily, he had run down the list. Lao would be running from the best. Not a one of Kermit's associates was interested in returning him to the hands of the state.

Starting with the obvious, the man's sandpaper eyes raked through Henry James Lao's juvenile rap sheet. He'd seen the destruction in black and white once before. Started at nine, the little bastard, he grumbled to himself in disgust. The years of mayhem pranced over his screen. Shoplifting. Car theft. Armed robbery. Assault. Even murder charges last year in California.

Bouncing back and forth through the legal system, Kermit quickly did the math. The boy had spend more than half his life as a guest of the state. California. Quickly shifting gears to the boy's former homeland, he focused on the personal information.

Social worker. "Every piece of juvy crap has a social worker," he reasoned, clicking on the L.A. County Juvenile Division's client files. Divided by alphabet, he quickly found the worker lucky enough to handle the L's. Elayne Richie. Bursting into the confidential analysis maintained by the meticulous social worker on this particular client, he read until he became ill. He didn't give a shit about broken homes and perceived learning disabilities.

Guardian...where did you live, punk. Let's see who you'd run to. Mother, deceased. Father, unknown. *Figures.* Clicking quickly through the pages, he found the relative claiming guardianship in Los Angeles. Rene Lao.

One reference caught his eye. The last recommendation used to squirm the young man out of the murder charges. The charges had been dropped for lack of evidence but Henry James Lao was remanded to the state by his guardian. "Can't blame her for having enough." Kermit read in amazement and disgust. "Due to the instability of the child's environment and the effects of his peer group, the state recommends that the child be relocated to relatives out of state where his living conditions and supervision could be improved."

'Ship him out of their hair' was the inference. Shifting focus to the local records, he found more mundane information. The new guardian, his great-aunt, Lia Chang. Kermit knew T.J. Kincaid had already been there. Lia Chang was an elderly woman, trapped in a bad neighborhood who had no earthly idea where her rabid young nephew spent his time. The detective had described her as "a woman from a simpler time convinced to house a juvenile delinquent by a family tired of dealing with him." She had enrolled the young man in high school, fulfilling the requirements of the state. Then, Blood Lao had headed to the street. He slept and ate at her home, nothing more.

Something else.... Lia Chang. The name sounded so familiar. The angry search continued. City records. She paid her taxes. No parking tickets. I've seen that name. Shooting in the dark, he ran court records. The needle leapt from the screen with blinking success. Bail records. 1993. Defendant: Clarence Choi. Charge: Misdemeanor Assault. Bail: $500.00 Guarantor: Mrs. Lia Chang, 4027 Spadina Ave. Relationship to Defendant: Aunt.

Fingers gnarled with rage. Clarence Choi. Would-be Tong leader. New up-and-coming hoodlum in Chinatown. Clarence... The name he had been searching for to point him in the right direction. The obvious benefactor. Focus now locked, Kermit slammed the computer shut and bolted from his chair.

So enraged, his green-filtered vision disavowed Jody Powell's unexpected appearance in his path. Clutching at his jacket to keep from toppling over, the woman shouted, "Hey! Don't go through me, okay?" Righting herself, she felt the surge of anger building. "Come here looking for someone else to pound, Kermit?"

Bouncing off of her, Kermit turned his attention to the stairs.

Jody knew that look. She quickly stepped in his way again, forming an adequate barrier in the small, crowded corridor. "You could have killed Peter, you know! Fortunately, he's stronger than you thought and he's all right." She didn't understand why she felt the need to let Kermit know Peter wasn't seriously hurt. Perhaps she hoped to touch that last piece of caring left inside the emotionally battered detective.

"Get out of my way."

"What do you know, Kermit?!" It wasn't a request. It was a command. This was a fellow cop but this was her case. And she'd be damned if Kermit Griffin would barrel in and screw it up.

In a venomous gesture, Kermit pulled his Desert Eagle from his back for a cursory inspection. "I know who Blood Lao went to disappear to and I'm going to his place for a chat."

"Hell, no, you're not, Kermit!" She bellowed, as Kermit managed to dart around her, forcing her to follow. "Give me what you have. I'll check it out." The needs of the case began to overshadow her fury at what Detective Griffin had wrought on Peter just hours earlier.

Cocking his head thoughtfully to the side, he laid out blunt facts before her. "Blood Lao's guardian is an aunt named Lia Chang." To the puzzled expression, he replied blankly, as if reading information from a page. "His guardian, and ALSO Clarence Choi's aunt. Quite a family tree."

With bells of her own sounding, Jody responded, "So you made the leap to think that Clarence Choi, Bon Bon Hai's new lieutenant, is risking life and limb to-" Her retort was cut off sharply by a face full of green glasses.

"Come with me if you like. Be the good cop to my bad if that suits you." The words jabbed with the force of building rage. "But get in my way and I'll move you." Warning given with the essence of perfect timing that was his nature, Kermit Griffin cut his way out of the precinct with Jody on his heels.

"Wait, Kermit!" She chased him across the parking lot. Trying to stop him from acting on the bloody dripping fury she read in every step. "It'll take an hour to get a warrant!"

"Fuck a warrant!" The storm of rage and revenge pounded through the field of automobiles, searching for his own. Whirling to a stop, he tried to warn her off with accusation. "And if YOU weren't playing patty-cake with Detective Caine, you would have already found this information."

The intent was becoming clear. Jody instantly understood his motivations. "You aren't interested in an arrest, are you?"

"I'm interested in justice."

"No," she corrected, "you want murder and I won't let you do that, Kermit." Now, she had to come with him. There was no choice. Given privacy, if the crazed mercenary found his victim, it would be over in seconds. Freeing some of her venom, she yelled after him, "Isn't turning yourself into a 'blue rat' with IA enough?! You have to destroy the case AND your life in one swift motion?!"

Stalking over to his car, Kermit ignored her completely. Jamming his keys into the door.

She couldn't stop him from going short of arrest. And even then, she'd be hard-pressed to actually hold him. "All right, but don't forget, Kermit," she slid into the passenger side and Kermit got behind the wheel, "I'm on YOUR side...and hers. I want him to pay. If we find him, we arrest him. That clear?"

Receiving only a look in response, the two drove away for the confrontation.

******

An hour had passed in the stark waiting room as Mary Margaret hovered over Peter Caine. He didn't speak and would barely make eye contact with her. She felt sympathy for him beyond measure. All cops took gambles from time to time. This time, it wasn't just the cop who lost his bet.

Kermit was in a rage and Mary Margaret was truly afraid of what he'd do to Peter if Savannah died. The shooter was temporarily out of the ex-mercenary's grasp but Peter wasn't. As immobilized as the young man was by guilt, Peter would more than likely bare his throat for Kermit to slice.

Hearing footsteps, Mary Margaret looked up and caught sight of Caine as he stumbled from Savannah's room, steadying himself on the wall. Peter was already at his side.

"Pop!" Peter was practically holding him upright, supporting him in his weakened state. "Is she okay? Did you bring her back?"

"No...my son." Caine let the two of them return him to the waiting area and rest his body in a chair. Nodding his thanks, he watched as Dr. Sabourin disappeared down the corridor. "She is still in a coma. Out of reach."

Peter was astounded. "What do you mean?? I've seen you heal people with daggers jammed into their guts! People who were practically DEAD!" His eyes were wide with disbelief.

With as much authority as Caine could muster, he attempted to explain. "Peter...this IS NOT MAGIC! Healing is not magic. There are limits to all skills...even mine." Now, it was Caine's turn to feel guilt. Savannah was a gentle spirit. He had counseled her and accepted her as a willing pupil. Caine had married her and delivered her child. She, Kermit and Katherine were as close as family; family that he agonized at the thought of losing.

"So, there's no hope." Finality and death wrapped around Peter as unshed tears burned his eyes.

"There is always hope, my son. Savannah's body and brain are too injured at present to support her consciousness. She has retreated in an attempt at self-preservation. The body must heal before she may return. If her body strengthens, perhaps she will be able to return. To force this return...would would be fatal."

Peter was in no mood for Caine's mystical double-talk. "Will she get well?" he asked, pointedly.

"I do not know. I have done as much as I could to strengthen her at this time. As I said, this cannot be forced."

His father didn't know. He had not doomed her to death or this eternal sleep, but he could offer no reassurance that she would return. Hopelessness and helplessness overwhelmed Peter Caine. His heart ached as he rose from his father's side. Peter walked over to stare through the window at his friend's fragile body. She was so still. No laughter. No smile. She was completely lifeless.

The grief threatened to stop his heart. I'm so sorry, Savannah. So sorry. His pointless apology filled the tortured young man's mind as he fought for a way to help this woman and the man who he'd thought of as a brother. The same man who wanted him dead.

Savannah lay perfectly still, in the same position as before. Her younger brother hovered over her, seemingly willing her to wake.

"My son," Caine rested a quiet hand on the knotted muscles of his child's back, "you are injured. Allow me to help you."

Stiffening, he shook off the cool comfort. "No. Save it for someone else....save it for her."

"Peter," Billy March emerged from his sister's room, "I didn't know you were here." He reached out touched the ragged detective's arm. "Thanks for comin', man. I know it would mean alot to her." For a moment, Billy's eyes focused on Peter's battered face, but never pried into the cause.

Peter stared at the young man in confusion. He was thanking him? For what? He doesn't know. The realization filtered in as Billy March forced a slight smile to his face.

Shoving his hands nervously into his pockets, Billy asked, "So, are you workin' on the case? Kermit said it was some gang thing. If you can help, I'd be--"

"Jody and T.J. Kincaid have the case." He was at odds as to what to say. Surely, someone would soon fill Billy March in on the facts -- then he would retract his misguided trust.

"Good." Billy switched his gaze to fall gratefully on Kwai Chang Caine. "I don't know much about what you were doing in there, but if it can help her, I'm grateful." Turning back to Peter Caine, "I want the son of a bitch who hurt her. I want him bad, Peter." The young man's usual jovial expression frosted over with the sheer weight of his anger.

Peter shifted his trouble hazel eyes back through the window. Back to his victim. "Where's Kermit?" It was a rhetorical question. He already knew where Kermit was and what he must be doing.

"He said he had a few things to take care of and he'd be back soon." Taking in a deep breath, Billy said, "If you find out anything, let me know. I'm going back in until they kick me out." The blond head disappeared into the deceptive serenity of the ICU cubicle.

"Peter...." Kwai Chang Caine rested his hand on the knotted muscles encasing his son's back.

Jerking away with the force of his guilt, Peter backed away toward the elevators. "Save it, Pop. Not now...."

Caine watched as his child faded into the elevators. A child in so much grief. A child rebuilding walls of isolation in his pain.

******

It never failed to sicken her that so many high profile hoodlums ended up on the high side of life. Jody prudently unsnapped the strap on her shoulder holster and matched Kermit Griffin's double-length strides. She didn't ask how he had the address.

Kermit shifted into another reality. Senses buzzing, he moved on reflex. Hunting. Through a chrome and glass jungle that housed a pack of animals, but hunting nonetheless. The hunger burned deep down within, fueled by the vision of his wife. A gentle creature at the mercy of an animal. Barely alive, if you could call it life. An atrocity that should be...must be...avenged.

Jody read the change. She had rarely seen this side of Kermit Griffin. Cold and deathly focused. Smart-mouthed and aloof, yes, but not this. The clicking mechanisms of his mind were nearly an audible rhythm.

The elevator opened on the thirtieth floor, the penthouse. "Clarence must have his nose right up Bon Bon's butt for these digs," Jody grumbled and surveyed the posh surroundings. A decorator's dream. "First class for the low class."

Two thugs were standing as odd sentinels before the carved mahogany door. Meaty goons in expensive suits moved in to block access. Jody pulled her badge. "Police business with Clarence Choi. Step aside."

"No warrant, no chance," croaked the arrogant mountain in her way.

Before she could refute the idiot in her path, Kermit spoke with an amused quality to his voice. "Cops are so pushy, don't you think?" He stood, deceptively docile, hands clasped behind his back. "Just ignore her."

Posturing his chest more into the detective's face, the other guard narrowed his eyes and asked, "If she's the cop, who the fuck are you?!"

Grinning with the charm of an alligator, the ex-mercenary growled, "Landshark!" and smacked the man a deafening blow to the side of his head. Caught off guard, the stunned victim's head crashed into his cohort's skull.

Jody jumped back as the sickening crack of bone sent the two men to the floor. Watching in shock, Jody flinched as Kermit kicked the door from its hinges and stalked inside. Couldn't he just use the freakin' doorknob? she mused to herself as they pulled guns to outdraw the two men flanking a surprised Clarence Choi.

"You know why I'm here," Kermit raised his weapon. "Where is he?"

"Kermit..." Jody eased in, standing slightly behind the man's shoulder, to call into his ear. Trying to be the voice of conscience that would stop him from firing. From the corner of her eye, she caught a movement. Snapping her weapon out behind Kermit's back, she leveled an arm at the man reaching into his jacket. "Pull it and you're dead."

"Thanks, sweetcakes," he quirked, never peeling his eyes from his target.

"My pleasure," she answered, waving her gun at the thug and directing his weapon from his coat and onto the floor.

"My lawyer will eat your department alive, Detective." Clarence stood rock solid, an impassive bullseye for one enormous gun barrel.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Kermit waved the gun in time with his response. "I'll kill him, too." Never wavering, he spat, "You're hiding that little animal who shot my wife. I want him. I'll have him...or I'll have you. Take your pick."

"Oh," he responded flippantly, "Cousin Henry? I heard from my aunt that you were looking for the poor boy. What makes you think he did this heinous thing to your wife, Detective?"

"Don't make the mistake of playing with me, Choi!" Digging into his pocket, he yanked out his badge. Clattering it to the table, he laid out the program. "Unlike my partner here, this badge means nothing to me. Especially compared to my wife. I'll toss it and kill you. Is protecting some brat packer worth it to you?"

"Honestly, Detective," Choi held on rabidly to his cool, "I have no idea where the boy is hiding or why he would want to hurt your wife." Carefully waving his hand around the room, he countered, "I have concerns of my own with many business ventures under my direction. No time for counseling troubled youth."

"Where is he?!!"

"I don't know."

"I'll kill you."

"I still don't know."

Kermit's eyes narrowed as he lowered the Desert Eagle while casually walking over to one side of Choi, the guns covering his movements exactly. "I don't know why, Choi, but I believe you." Jody remained vigilant, knowing Kermit must be up to something.

"Good, good," nodded Choi cooperatively. "You do know that I very much sympathize-"

Kermit lowered his head in a showing of grief, then, in seconds, attacked. He shot one gun out of the hand of the thug farthest from him and turned with a vicious kick to the knee with the other. Choi leapt up just as Kermit shot out one hand to tangle with the jet black hair on his adversary's head. Slamming Clarence down to breathe into the polished glass of his own coffee table, Kermit growled into the man's ear. "If I find out you're hiding him, you're dead." Looking around at the impotent aides in the corner, he added, "and sometimes my aim can be a little sloppy.....no telling who could get caught up in the slaughter."

"Look, man!" Clarence struggled beneath the twisting vise latched onto his head, "I don't know where he is or I'd tell you....if I see him...I'll..."

"You bet you will!" Jody leaned over the man, enjoying a perverse pleasure in the non-regulation interrogation. "Time to go, Kermit...Kermit!"

Kermit relished the handhold he had on scum that deserved to die anyway. He was very tempted. He had the power. All it would take would be to shove Choi's face through this glass coffee table. End of villain. One less player. Then, he looked up reluctantly into Jody Powell's face.

Her face was the picture of sorrow and sympathy. Her lips formed a precious name. *Kat.*

Kermit read from her silent lips. The inference was obvious. A little girl needed him. His duty to her reasserted itself. Of their own volition, his fingers uncurled from Choi's neck. Without a word, he strode away into the hall before he changed his mind.

Jody found herself unable to resist a parting shot to Clarence Choi, who stood there rubbing his bruised face. As she gathered Kermit's badge from the table top, she said, "We might not be able to stop him next time."

Choi rubbed his neck. Of that, he had no doubt whatsoever.

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