Kermit Griffin let himself get lost in the seemingly normal moment. It had taken him ten minutes to figure out how to unfold the stroller and keep it open after he and Kat had arrived at the mall. For something covered in pink and giving the appearance of fluff, the contraption had put up quite a battle. But the ex-mercenary had prevailed, even though Kat had probably added cursing to her toddler repertoire.

Now, with his daughter firmly in place and babbling at all the sights and sounds of commerce, they were on their way. Mrs. March had called to ask if she should buy Kat's new clothes. "It's Fall and I'm sure the little angel is growin' like a weed," she had remarked. "I'll be glad to take care of that for you, dear."

The worry in her voice hadn't escaped him. Kermit Griffin knew that he was an unlikely single parent. Betsy March was not only worried about her daughter, lying in a coma hundreds of miles away for months now, but about her granddaughter as well. Kermit had listened to her veiled indication of his failure, looking down at his daughter.

Kat had been playing on the floor, dressed in a diaper and bright yellow Smilie-face tee-shirt that barely covered her stomach. Barefoot because her tennis shoes were too small. Not wanting to sound as idiotic as he felt, he had lied. "No need. It's all taken care of."

Now, he was attempting to rectify the situation.

"Just you and me and the Gold Card, kid," he said, wheeling his little girl through the bright lights and annoyingly chipper music. Deciding against the escalator, the dark man headed for the elevator.

"Women do begin shopping at an early age, don't they, Detective?" Clarence Choi and his customary shadowing thugs, called from a few feet away.

"Choi." Kermit spat the name like it was poison. He could feel the venom running through his veins and the urge to just draw his gun and fire was stronger than ever.

Kat laughed and pitty-patted the tray. Kermit looked down at her. He couldn't revert to killer, not with her. Especially not in front of her. He did, however, steer the stroller cautiously away from the thugs. "Didn't think Muzak was your style, Choi." Kermit pushed the up button, determined to not let it get to him.

Choi grinned and took a step toward the happy toddler.

"One more step and you're a dead man."

Choi stopped prudently, arms raised. "Relax, Papa! Do I look like the kind of man who would harm an innocent child?" Dripping with a false conciliatory air, he said, "Enjoy your shopping trip, Detective."

"Heard from your cousin?" The elevator was ticking its way toward them at a surprisingly slow rate of speed.

"The black sheep of the family?" Clarence shook his head in mock shame. "Poor, confused kid. Have no idea what's happened to the boy. I was just as shocked as anyone when he took advantage of my employer to stow away out of the country. Haven't heard a word."

"If you do, you'll let me know, I'm sure." Kat babbled at his feet. Why wasn't that elevator moving?!

"Maybe the kid knows he's become the target of some deranged cop without a shred of evidence against him." Clarence jerked his eyes dangerously at his cohorts. "No weapon. No prints. And no witnesses. Oh, except maybe that pretty blonde wife of yours." Clarence reveled in his advantage over a man whose daughter rested innocently at his feet. Grinning, the young thug explained to his crew, "Poor woman..... had her brains scrambled by a bullet. Very sad. Very sad, indeed."

Kermit closed his eyes briefly to summon self-control. He could feel Choi's neck in his hands. Snapping...."Choi, get out of here before I forget I'm a cop."

He wheeled Kat into the elevator as Choi smirked his malevolence. Once the elevator doors closed, Kermit lost no time. The edge of his fisted hand banged the wall of the elevator so hard, the doors rattled. He was going to have to take care of that annoyance once and for all when he wasn't so occupied. Choi knew something. If it weren't for Kat, he'd hunt him down and beat it out of him.

Tracking Blood Lao had brought him one dead end after another. He'd called in every marker. Every merc on both sides of the law had that kid's name in their brain by now.

The net was still being thrown for the little murderer. Kermit had to accept that he couldn't be part of it. His wife needed him here to watch over her. His daughter needed him. End of story.

Right now, Kat took priority.

He was still fuming when he found the desired department...and came to a halt, astonished. "They've got to be kidding!" he said out loud.

Clarence Choi was forgotten. The overwhelming force of his mission hit him full in the face as the explosion of pink bows and lace crowded his vision. *Help,* his mind stammered. For a moment, all he could do was stand in the aisle as his vision was assaulted by rack after rack of confusion.

Into his indecision chimed the cheerful voice of a young salesgirl.

"Can I help you with something, sir?" She was smiling the plastered grin of customer service as she appraised the odd pair. The man, mid-forties, starched and stiff in a black suit and tie, was wearing deep green sunglasses indoors. Must have some problem with his eyes. Giggly and curly and bouncing in the stroller, the bright little girl looked as if she came from a different planet from her companion.

"Yes, you can," he replied, politely. "I need new clothes for my daughter." It sounded intelligent enough and not completely stupid, given his location.

"You've come to the right place." She leaned down to pat the little girl's curly head. "What do you need? Play clothes? Dresses? Outerwear?"

"Uh..." this was going to sound stupid. No way around it. "I don't know...I mean, everything. That's right, some of everything."

"Everything?" The salesgirl couldn't help but be amused. Laughing at what she thought was just another confused father, she smirked, "Now what did Mommy actually say you needed before she sent you two out on your own?"

Kat's sing-song rhythm played on at the man's feet. Once again, his desolation raged loudly through his mind. He was truly alone again. On his own with a small child who was depending on him to perform tasks he had no idea existed.

Sensing the tension, the salesgirl tried to guide him. "What size does she wear?"

Before he could manage to formulate an answer, a familiar voice called over his shoulder. "Finally," Karen Simms came galloping to the rescue. "I've been looking for you two!" A lie, of course, but a tactful out for her twitching detective. She had been lusting after a new pair of brown kid leather boots when the bright tinkling voice of Katherine Griffin had drawn her attention across the aisle into Toddler Town. The sight of Kermit Griffin, sharp and deadly, immersed in the sea of frills could have been comical if it weren't so tragic.

Karen addressed the uncomfortable salesgirl. "I'll take it from here. We'll call if we need anything." After her escape, the elegant police captain smiled at her friend. "Here for clothes and you have no idea what to do, right?"

"Correct." She already knew he'd fallen short in regard to childhood illnesses. Why try to hide this one?

"She needs a little of everything, right?" Karen appraised the child warmly. So sweet and beautiful. Not a clue as to how complicated her life had become.

"Marilyn sent her this dress and it's the only thing that will fit over her head. She's just wearing socks because her shoes are too small." Rubbing his eyes beneath his shades, he confirmed, "Yes. She needs everything and I have no freakin' idea what 'everything' is."

"You got money, Detective? Lots?" It wasn't everyday she got the chance to outfit a little girl from head to toe.

"Plastic has lots of room. Get her anything she needs, I'll be-"

"-right here, learning about this for the next time you have to do it on your own!" Karen wasn't about to let him run from this one. "Okay, little one, I'd say you were about a 2T now." Scooping the little girl into her arms, she got a quick squeeze. "Such a big girl. Let's go fill up your closet!"

The process took nearly an hour. Karen Simms instructed her 'student' in the proper makeup of his daughter's wardrobe. More play clothes than dressy clothes. Wash and wear. White socks so he wouldn't have trouble matching. Tights for the upcoming cold weather and a coat that was just a little big so it would fit over her sweaters. "No one-piece items, Kermit. Stick to dresses or shirts and pants. Much easier to handle when you start potty training her."

"It's time for that? Already?" He was behind before he even started. He'd have to dig out those books Savannah had read before the baby arrived. Surely there was some chart to explain all this.

"Not for a few months yet. We'll cross that bridge later." Karen handed off the armload of tiny sweaters, stretch pants, and turtlenecks. "Next, the shoes." Karen marched to the next department for more hunting. "Here you go, Detective. One pair of black patent Mary Janes, they'll go with all her dressy outfits. One pair of white Keds will go with all her play clothes, again with no matching. One pair of hiking boots for the really cold weather." Dropping one more box onto his already heavy load, she added, "And one pair of navy and white saddle oxfords."

"What are those for?" Men never needed this many pairs of shoes.

"Because they're cute," she stated, matter-of-factly. "Now, perform your duty and pay up. Then I think we should feed this kid before she shifts her very ladylike protests into high gear." As if on cue, Kat, who had begun a babbling stream of protest fifteen minutes ago, reached up one chubby hand to overturn an entire display of Nikes.

Fifteen minutes later, Kermit and Karen had left behind two deliriously happy salesgirls and were sipping coffee in the Food Court. Kat was devouring a cheeseburger and fries with the delicate manners of a disposal.

"Seems I'm in your debt again, Karen." Kermit shifted his gaze from the beautiful police captain and grinned at his daughter.

"No debt, Detective. It was my pleasure. How often do I get to have a shopping spree on someone else's money?" Karen winked to dissipate his uncomfortable position. "But I have told you before that you don't have to do this alone."

"Clarence Choi knows where to find Blood Lao." Kermit's voice was flat as he waved the waitress over for more coffee.

Karen straightened her posture. "How do you know?"

"The look in his eyes when we chatted here in the mall a few hours ago." Kermit gently wiped ketchup from Kat's face. "And, no, he didn't tell me."

Karen relaxed in disappointment. She wanted the little murderer as much as any of them, but by the book. Within the law. "I know you've probably put out 'inquiries' of your own, Kermit, but don't do anything that will endanger the case OR this child's security. Anything that could take you away from her falls into that category." Karen knew what would happen if, evidence or no, Kermit Griffin got his hands on Blood Lao. Murder would be a mild term.

"The well is still dry, Karen." He met her glare, reading the worry and caring within.

Successfully breaking the moment, the perky waitress arrived with more coffee. "What a pretty little girl! Both of you must be so proud."

Karen opened her mouth to explain only to be cut off by the deep tones of a male voice.

"Thank you." Kermit didn't want Karen to feel uncomfortable. He'd had enough of that to last a lifetime. She was putting herself out on an emotional limb to help him, and Kat, through this tragedy. It wouldn't matter to let the waitress think what she wanted.

Into the stretching discomfort, a squeaky voice invaded.

"Ren!" Kat reached out to pat the captain's stylish suit with one sticky hand. "Mo!"

Karen couldn't fight the laughter. "Well, of course, Kitty Kat. How about ice cream?!"

"IIIIII SCREEEEEMMMM!!!!!!" The little girl became a bouncing ball of excitement. After signaling the waitress once again, Kermit let himself laugh out loud. "Kid, keep eating like this and your new wardrobe won't last a week."

******

Mary Margaret Skalany chomped into her hot dog eagerly as the onions, relish and sauerkraut attempted to make a break for it. Indelicately, she shoved them back with a finger as she let her eyes roam over the street next to the precinct. The hot dog stand was the only chance she'd get for a meal and, anyway, it was a bit of a rebellion. As much as she cared for the man, she was getting a bit sick of rice at Caine's place. Ever since they began going out together, he had promised to experience her world as she was experiencing his. But somehow, it never seemed quite even.

A black-and-white leisurely trailed around the corner, being the only car thus far today to obey the 15-mile-an-hour speed limit into the parking area. Just the oddity of that caught the detective's eye but what was even more surprising was the driver.

"Peter!" she hollered, waving, mouth stained with chili sauce.

The officer in question raised his head slightly in recognition as he stepped out of the car, hat firmly in place. His partner dashed out of the car, gave a quick glare and headed for the precinct steps as Peter leisurely secured and locked the car.

Skalany strolled over. "Hi, partner," she greeted cheerfully.

"Detective."

Skalany stared at him. No, there was no doubt. This was Peter Caine. Kwai Chang Caine's son. Hotshot Shaolin cop. Friend. "Oh, come on, Peter-"

"I haven't clocked out yet." Peter's voice made the new rules of socialization very clear.

"Fine. I'll wait till you're clocked out. Maybe then, you'll turn back into a human being." The passing months had done nothing to ease Peter Caine's retreat into formality and regulations. Squelching her annoyance, Mary Margaret tried to make conversation. "What brings you to the wild side of town?"

"The 101st was one patrol short today and we're on loan." Peter fairly squeaked in his patent-leather facade. No recruitment poster could have been more starched.

She tried to loop her arm around his but he casually avoided the touch. She then noticed what he was wearing. "Peter," she blurted before she could stop herself, "what in the world are you wearing?!"

"The winter uniform."

Skalany gaped at him. "You're not serious! You must be dying of heat exhaustion in that thing! It's 73 degrees out-"

"We change to winter uniforms by the specific date, not the temperature," Peter recited.

Skalany was struck speechless. While it was true that there was a specific date for street officers to change uniforms from warm season to cold season, nobody paid any attention to it. In fact, due to their unseasonable heat spell, Skalany figured that beat cops would wear short sleeves for weeks yet. But Peter stubbornly wore the prescribed uniform even though it just might kill him.

"Peter," she said, reaching out to him as if from a great distance, her heart heavy. "You don't have to do this. You're a good cop. A GREAT cop. You think it's an improvement, going from Shaolin cop to Stepford cop-?!"

"Excuse me," Peter Caine said as he walked into the precinct, letting the door slam shut in front of Skalany.

"Peter," a new voice chimed in from atop the stairs, "good to see you."

"Captain," Peter greeted as he made his way toward the locker room. "My partner and I were on loan for the day. We'll be heading back across town in a few minutes."

"Oh...um...Officer." Simms hated this. She hated the way Peter was acting. It was foolish and she knew it would blow up in his face. And the resulting explosion would be the only thing to shake him out of this funk. But until that happened, she was determined to be patient.

Officer Caine turned. "Yes, Captain?"

"Mind telling me what this is?" She held out a piece of paper to him.

He glanced at it, not bothering to take it. He knew what it was. He had a copy, after all. "It's a requisition form, Captain. I needed to fill one out for the winter uniform. The winter uniform supplies at our precinct hadn't arrived by the appropriate date, so I requisitioned one from the 101st when we arrived this morning so that I could change the correct uniform before my shift began. Don't worry, I filled out the form in triplicate. One for you, one for the desk sergeant and one for Headquarters so that the uniform will be credited to the correct division."

"You...sent one to Headquarters?" Simms's heart sank. It was even worse than she had thought.

"As per SOP, yes, ma'am...excuse me, Captain." Peter replied, moving slightly away. Simms just stared at him if just now discovering a new life form. Finally, realizing he had not been dismissed, Peter asked, "Was that all, Captain?"

"Yes," she said in a barest whisper.

Peter nodded once, crisply, before turning and continuing on to the locker room.

"Did I hear right?!!" Frank Strenlich boomed behind her. "He sent one to HEADQUARTERS!???"

"Yes," Simms sighed.

"Why didn't he just grab the damn uniform from under the counter like everyone else?!!" Strenlich's deep voice demanded. "Doesn't he know that if he sent his in, Headquarters is gonna be wondering where the rest of the officers' requisitions are?!! And what is this going to do to our budget?!! We're gonna have the pay for those damn uniforms now! That money could have gone to something useful!! Goddam it!!!!! Why the hell-!!!"

Simms turned around, the mere movement choking off the Chief's tirade. "You know why!" she snapped. Strenlich met her eyes and looked down to the floor. "And there's nothing we can do about it," Simms continued, sadly.

Karen Simms had been a cop for a long time. She had yet to see an officer without passion, without breadth of soul. Until now. Gone was the gracefully annoying young man who had the nerve to ticket his captain on her first day at work. What remained bore little resemblance.

"Captain," Skalany interrupted, in a voice soft with concern, "can't you get him back here....with us?" Mary Margaret had worked her way up the precinct steps, after seeing Peter's confrontation with the Captain.

The inference was obvious. Get Peter Caine back with family and let that family help him. "I'm trying." With a soft touch to Skalany's arm, she returned to her own office.

******

Kermit briefly caught Miguel's eye and he passed the undercover bodyguard. One curt nod was all that was needed to acknowledge his satisfaction with Rodriguez's efforts. Quickly moving through the halls, Kermit found Savannah's room and eased his way inside. After months had passed without a change, his visits were becoming routine. He would come in, sit and talk, touch her...all without response. A heartbreak he was doomed to endure everyday.

Today, another visitor was already in his place.

Kermit moved quietly so as not to disturb the concentration of the priest. Kwai Chang Caine stood gently arched over Savannah's body. One hand smoothed his patient's pale forehead as the other carefully massaged the delicate hand in his. Exhaustion draped over the man's shoulders, revealing the massive amount of energy Caine expended on each visit.

Waiting patiently for the session to end, Kermit took in the power radiating from the priest to his wife. It was the only connection between this life and her own frozen existence.

Caine eased out one long slow breath and, bowing his head, released his connection with Savannah. Lowering himself back into a stiff wooden chair, he let his head drop back slightly, resting against the hard surface. "She is trying."

Kermit moved carefully to his wife's side, taking her hand, still warm from the priest's attentions. "You keep saying that and I still don't know what you mean. Do you speak with her? Does she know what's happened? You're not telling me anything."

Caine stared back, compassion and sadness painted in his eyes. "She is isolated within the struggle to survive and heal with little to spare for contact. I can not reach her in the conversational connection you desire, but I feel her reaching out for life, for consciousness."

The dark glasses focused on the sleeping woman. "Does she know we're here?"

"I believe that she does." Caine watched the man suffer, each movement forced through emotions of despair and desperation. "How are you and Katherine coping?"

How were they coping? Taking time to examine his own survival wasn't something Kermit cared to do. His daughter seemed to be adjusting to her new routine quite nicely. "Kat doesn't ask for her anymore. At first, I tried to keep Savannah alive with pictures and videos but it only made it more confusing for her. When I stopped, things became easier."

Caine could read the guilt between the lines. "You must do whatever is necessary to help the child feel whole and content. Do not blame yourself for living."

"That 's not what I blame myself for," Kermit whispered, folding himself down into a chair.

"Blame serves no purpose."

"Well, lots of things serve no purpose, Caine. Innocents taking bullets. Little girls losing their mothers. Black hearted mercenaries losing their wives. You preaching to me." Hopelessness assailed him once again.

"The only purpose you must concern yourself with is your own. Yours is the only destiny you can control."

"Will you keep trying to help her?" Kermit turned the conversation away from his own battered emotional state.

"Yes." Caine concluded his efforts for the time being. "I will return tomorrow."

Kermit ignored the priest as he evaporated from the room. Leaning down to rest his head on the pillow beside his wife, the tiny shreds of hope that wouldn't let go moved him. "I'm praying that you hear me. Because, if you do, you have to know I love you and I'm doing whatever I can to help you."

The minutes ticked into measureless time as he rested there beside her, feeling her every breath. Being here alone with her was one of the few havens remaining to him. Allowing himself the luxury of closing his eyes, Kermit clawed at the peace. Digging in deeply, until the bite of his ringing cellphone shattered his illusion.

******

Peter Caine watched the scene with growing urgency. His unit had been commandeered via radio to assist with a hostage situation. Some disturbed gunman had taken a hostage from a local college hangout. The standoff had moved into a center courtyard, surrounded by several small clubs.

A circle of flashing lights, weapons, and milling police officers trying to defuse the situation. His job was to control the growing collection of bystanders. That was all. The instructions were specific. Stand there. Hold back the crowd.

The sounds of panic assaulted him as he stiffly faced away from the incident. The instinct to intervene prickled the back of his neck. Useless chatter over a bullhorn wouldn't do it. Opening his senses, Peter was forced to close his eyes against the onslaught of terror. Terror and raging despair pelted him from the angry lunatic sweating in the blood behind him. Bone chilling fear scratched at his heart from the terrified girl with a gun to her head.

He had to DO something. He could not just stand here, on crowd control duty. That girl's life was hanging by a thread and he knew, somehow, that he was the one to save her. To help her. And he couldn't do that while using the rules. Forgetting the yellow barricade he was supposed to patrol, he turned to evaluate the situation.

The maniac with the gun was screaming his lungs out in the center of bright neon signs and early evening partiers. Against the background of an enormous fountain, the wild man alternately waved a gun at the crowd, and brought the gun barrel up to rest against the girl's head. Peter could imagine the cold metal resting against her temple. She was whimpering in little gasps, tears streaming down her face. The taste of terror from the gun was bitter in Peter's mouth. The girl closed her eyes, begging and praying for her life. Her pleas went unheeded by the gunman, who just spit out his demands and ground the barrel of the gun against her skull.

Peter closed his eyes, trying to contain the emotions churning within him. Play by the rules and no one gets hurt, he reminded himself, holding his arms out to prevent passersby. Hostage unit will take care of it.

Two seconds later, Officer Caine had disappeared around the corner of the building.

Hell with it, Peter thought grimly as he inched closer to the scene in question. He couldn't believe it himself. Here he had clawed his way back into the system and he was going to throw it all away.....but the girl's terror was now almost overwhelming. There was no way he could stand around, let that wash over him and do nothing about it.

His back against the wall, he continued to sidle up to the gunman. People saw him now and were beginning to point, tipping the gunman that he was there. The gunman twirled to face him, girl anchored under his arm, with the barrel of the gun up against her temple. "Get away from me!" he screamed.

Peter continued to advance. Now, there was blood in his eye. This man was, if possible, more scared than the girl. Peter brought his gun up in his right hand, to train it at the man.

The watching officers were agape, mumbling soon that they'd have a dead hostage and lots of paperwork as they watched one of their own lose it.

"Put down the gun!!!" the man screeched. "PUT IT DOWN!!!!!"

"Look, man," Peter used his best-buddy tone of voice but kept the weapon steady, "things just got a little out of hand. Why don't you let her go and we'll talk."

"FUCK YOU!" The man was soaked with fury. "I tried to talk to her in the fuckin' club and she's just like the rest of 'em! Another princess bitch too good for anybody!" As if in emphasis, he tapped the girl's temple rudely with the cold steel.

"Well, you've made you point. Why don't you--"

"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!" The man raged beyond reason, scuttling backward as Peter stepped closer.

The girl's cries intensified as Peter advanced, then stopped when he was almost in arm's reach of the man. The cop's gun was still extended. The man was still swearing and ranting as he continued to threaten his hostage. All of a sudden, Peter raised the gun in an I-give-up gesture and pointedly transferred the gun to his left hand. His body language showing the gunman that he was no threat as he started to put the gun down on the ground. Then, with no warning, Peter's comfortable left-handed grip curled around the weapon and fired -- just as the man, in a false sense of security, took his gun away from the hostage.

Peter's deadly aim shot the man in the arm, allowing the hostage to spring free from his grasp, as Peter had hoped. In less than a second, he'd closed the distance. One well-placed kick to the man's chin and it was all over.

The girl dove into Peter's arms, sobbing hysterically, as the officers in charge all approached to clean up the area. I broke the rules, he thought, comforting the girl unconsciously with gentle pats on the back, but she's alive. Peter hadn't felt so alive in a long time and it was as good as he had remembered. Empowered by the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he embraced the resurgence of himself and walked the girl to a waiting ambulance.

******

No one noticed the glowering figure across the parking lot, staring at Peter Caine and the released hostage, until T.J. Kincaid took his life into his own hands by approaching the man.

"Peter's back in action," the detective observed with a grin. "Good to see the old Caine, isn't it?"

The man in black turned his death-glare onto the detective. "Are you insane?" he asked, hoarsely. "He nearly got that girl killed. He took a chance that could have blown up in his face and that girl's death would have been the penalty. Looks like you care about that just as much as HE does. But then, that's a given, since you're the one who got him back on the streets again."

T.J. returned the glare. "Peter Caine is a great cop. That's why he took that chance -- because he cares. Kermit...."

"So what if he fails the next time? So what if his luck runs out again? I wonder who'll pay for it then."

"Is that what's really bothering you?" T.J. stood his ground, solid in the face of Kermit's twisted logic. "Or is it that you would have done the EXACTLY the same thing and if you admit that--"

Kermit took three carefully spaced steps forward. Inspiring the flinch that was his ultimate intention, he growled out his fury inches from the younger detective's nose. "Don't presume to analyze me, Kincaid. You don't have the balls to take a good look at what you'd find."

T.J. exhaled his frustration as Kermit Griffin backed away and walked back into the daily nightmare that he called his life.

******

Captain Levins sliced his way through the crowd of officers and reporters. The bristling fury flushed his wrinkled face bright red. First, he laid eyes on the triumphant Officer Caine.....then, hands.

"Come with me, Officer." The barely controlled fury slipped from between the Captain's clinched teeth. One hand on Peter Caine's shoulder tactfully pulled the younger man from his place beside the newly liberated hostage.

Moving a discreet distance from the still hysterical girl, Captain Levins exploded among the bright neon signs in the Pub square. "I KNEW you'd pull this shit! Knew it from the first day when you laid that 'by the book' bullshit on me, Caine!"

Peter Caine stood perfectly still and silent, willingly accepting the verbal fist being shoved down his throat. Do the crime, do the time. He knew the consequences....but the decision was correct. He knew it.

"You could have killed that girl or caused that lunatic to blow her head off! That's what the HOSTAGE RESCUE team is for, you arrogant little shit!" Captain Levins leaned over to growl into the passive face. "You are done! Got it!? Get back to the precinct and get your ass OUT of that uniform!"

"I would have to second that motion, Captain." Commissioner Kincaid breezed over to the one sided battle. Laying a calm hand on the volcanic man's shoulder, his diplomatic air blew out the fury. "Good job, Caine. The mayor," he waved a hand toward the ambulance, "is eternally grateful that you saved her niece's life."

Peter shot a quick glance to his right, taking in the sight of Sloanville's polished and formal Madame Mayor shedding tears of relief over the rattled girl resting inside the ambulance. The woman comforted and stroked and held the girl and angrily rebuffed the press and their prying microphones.

It was worth it. That one scene made it worthwhile. In a flash of satisfaction, Peter Caine remembered what it was like to be a police officer. To feel that lofty high when the victims were safe and sound and the perp was chained.

He felt alive again. The smile bleed over his features and he greedily sucked in the feeling. "Thank you, sir." Peter's back straightened with pride instead of formality. "I'm glad she's all right."

"Yeah, well YOU'RE not all right, Caine!" Levins refused to be swayed by the name dropping. "You're ou--"

:Off probation," the commissioner interjected, speaking as the boss--not like some flattering politician. "Captain, this officer is being reinstated as a detective and will be transferred back to the 101st as of tomorrow. Understood?"

"Perfectly," the angry man snapped. Spinning on his heel, Levins grumbled away in anger. The commissioner's words pounded in his brain, like the imprint of a booted foot on his forehead. "Take the little shit.....gladly."

"Commissioner," Peter ran a damp hand through his hair as the sentences all began to sink in, "I don't know what to say. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Don't screw up again." Commissioner Kincaid shifted back into the political arena and went to run interference between the press and the mayor.

The relief coursed through Peter Caine's veins like a drug. He was himself again.

At least....for a few moments.

******

It had been a long day. Kermit put his key to the door but paused as he heard some sounds coming from the interior of his house. He listened; sounded like singing. He opened the door to see Karen Simms, her lap full of happy toddler, as she crooned a silly song that made Kat clap and giggle. Kermit walked in slowly, listening, as she continued the song.

"Five little monkeys jumpin' on the bed....one fell off and--"

"Boomt hees head!" Kat sang, slapping her head in illustration.

Karen smiled down and sang, "The mama called the doctor and the doctor said!"

Kat finished with happy enthusiasm, "No mo monkeeeeees jumpin' on da' bed!!!"

Both performers dissolved into laughter and clapping hands to applaud each other. Karen winked at the quietly approaching father as she hugged the toddler close. Finally, Kat spied Kermit and, song forgotten, she screeched for joy as she lifted up her arms to be held.

Kermit smiled one of those rare smiles that came less and less these days as Kat nearly leaped into his arms. Karen sighed as father and daughter embraced, knowing that the little bundle was the only thing that kept Kermit going these days. Karen could see that there were days where Kermit was tempted to leave Kat with Karen and take the next flight out to Borneo or anyplace that was under heavy artillery. The only thing that prevented that was the hope that Savannah might wake up.

Karen looked to the ground. Savannah wasn't the only one in a mindless coma. Her husband had joined her.

"What's up?" Kermit asked, taking Kat into the kitchen for a cup of juice. "Where's the baby-sitter?"

"Oh, I let Beverly go home." Karen had become acquainted with the parade of sitters that had come and gone from the ex-mercenary's employ. The revolving door wasn't entirely his fault, given the odd hours the sitters were being asked to fill, but, Kermit Griffin WAS less than flexible when it came to his standards. "I thought you and I could have a chat."

"Oh goodie," Kermit quipped. It wasn't good news or she would have said it already. He was too tired for this. He brought Kat and her toddler cup back to the living room. He sat down with the little girl as she pulled on his tie. Just like her mother when....Kermit closed his eyes briefly. He couldn't think of things that. It was hard enough to look into those beautiful green eyes and not break apart.

He handed her the cup. "Okay, I'm sitting down. What?"

"Peter's transfer has been approved."

Kermit's heart sank. It just figured. It had to happen. Every day, Kermit was able to push himself through the pain. Visiting Savannah every day, being with Kat every night -- it was a sanity-saving ritual. Could he handle this new curve ball? He didn't know. "As patrol or as a detective?"

"As a detective."

Kermit nodded as if he'd expected it to get worse.

"He's proved himself, Kermit. He's--"

"Save your breath." Kermit repositioned Kat, trying to drown himself in her innocent beauty. He'd been doing that a lot lately. "He nearly got a girl killed playing Rambo. I saw the whole thing. It doesn't look like he's learned a lot." He sighed. He was too tired for this, too depressed, too old, too dead. "Keep the son of a bitch away from me." As if he knew his words were pure poison, he picked Kat up, hugged her to him and took her to her room. "Thanks for the news, Captain," he said over his shoulder.

It was clearly a dismissal. Karen Simms touched her forehead with her clasped hands briefly. Hoping and praying that someone could get through to this man. Before someone else got hurt.

******

Peter found the silence comforting. Sitting at Savannah's bedside, with his starched navy facade wrinkled around the edges, the officer embedded himself in the calm. Here, there were no expectations. Savannah lay quietly in her static slumber, her gentle breathing the only sound. His father had said the doctors wanted people to talk to her, maybe helping her push her way back into consciousness with the stimulation. The others were doing their part and so should he -- privately of course.

He had come twice before to sit here with her. It had been easy to charm his way into the good graces of the nurses. Once he'd shown his badge and had his identity confirmed by a phone call, he was free to visit. It was his secret. His way to offer himself in Savannah's struggle. As long as he carefully avoided Kermit's presence, his visits shouldn't make any trouble.

Peter would come and talk to her. Talk about his day. About the boring prison of his probation. About things happening on television. About the weather. Anything that popped into his mind. Generally, he would be interrupted once by a maintenance man who seemed to eye him like raw meat to a hungry lion, but he would come and go quickly.

"Looks like I may be back at the 101st soon, Savannah," he said, holding her limp fingers. "After the stunt I pulled today, I thought I'd be job hunting but I suppose I still have a little luck left." He pulled his chair closer. "Just between you and me, God, it felt good. The first life I've felt in months. Like I was myself again, at least for a while. I had to do it. I couldn't let that girl take a bullet like...."

Peter let the words fade away. Something happy. That's what he should talk about. "I saw Kermit and Kat in the park the other day when I was on patrol." He smiled at the memory. Kermit Griffin in his ebony armor and his little girl in a bright yellow ruffles. "You would have gotten a kick out of it. Kermit must have bought her cotton candy. When he was walking away, I could see these bright pink hand prints all over his back."

The sun was going down, streaking blurred orange rays through the window. Releasing the soft hand and gently folding it down onto the bed, Peter got up to leave. "I have to go now, dollface." What he wouldn't give to have her open her eyes and screech, "DON'T call me that!"

"I know. Don't call you that." Peter eased his long body up from the chair, joints stiffened from the stress of the day. "I'll come back another day." The young man walked past the ever present maintenance man, who was coming into the home holding a fluorescent light bulb, and left for home. Hopefully, he could hang onto the piece of Peter Caine that had resurfaced today.

He still hadn't decided if that was a good idea or not.

******

"Kermit, I wanted to talk to you about-"

"I don't care if he's in trouble, okay?!" The detective cut off his Captain's opener with one sharp retort. He and Karen had been to a meeting at the D.A.'s office. On the way back, she had insisted that they stop for coffee. Since she was driving, she was calling the shots. Once inside, Kermit knew he'd been cornered into a 'please lighten up' conversation.

He wasn't interested. There were only three hours left before his day ended, and he had to pick Kat up from the daycare by six. Kermit was still looking for a replacement baby-sitter to keep her at home. There had been an ugly scene when he'd fired the last one.

Kermit had been working on a case, and asked the woman to stay until he got home at about ten p.m. When he'd finally gotten home, Kat was in her bed, screaming bloody murder, while the baby-sitter sat knitting on the sofa. He'd raced past the woman and found Kat in her room without her night light. Fighting the urge to strangle the woman, he'd asked her why the hell she'd ignored his instructions and left Kat in the dark. She commented that rocking the child to sleep every night and leaving on a night light would 'make her clingy and whiny.'

He WANTED to slug that woman. Remarkably, he was able to restrain himself, and told her to get out of his house before he did something that would leave HER 'clingy and whiny.' Now, he was back to square one.

Simms had been great about his scheduling. Let him pretty much put himself on a 9 to 5 day at the precinct, since he routinely took work home to be with Kat. She'd done everything she could to help personally with the baby. Between her and Mary Margaret, Kat was drowned in affection to make up for her mother's loss.

After all Karen had done, Kermit felt he should at least listen to what she had to say, but he couldn't understand why she kept after him about Peter. By now, she should understand.

"Kermit, it's been six months. What he did was foolhardy but he's PAID for it. He never intended to-"

"Captain," he reverted to the professional title, "HE is not paying for it. My wife is. Peter set in motion, AGAINST my warning, events that led to a drive-by shooting. He SHOULD pay." It had been only days ago that the grieving husband had crossed paths with Peter Caine in the nursing home hallway. The sound of air rushing out of the newly restored detective's lungs was music. He only wished he'd done it twice if for nothing more than the physical relief it offered. Thinking about it only rekindled the aching fury.......

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