After Peter had left Crystal Springs in his rearview mirror, he dialed Kermit's number to let him know when they could be expected. No connection. "Well, guess we'll just have to wait until we're back on the highway."

Savannah was lost in thought. She was more than a little disappointed at the way she'd let those creeps rattle her. She'd let herself be cornered. Petrified. Couldn't protect herself or, worst of all, Kat. Unforgivable. Kermit relied on her to take care of his child and she blew it. If not for Peter Caine...."Peter," she asked, turning toward her friend, "do you think your father would take me as a student?"

*Should have seen this coming,* he thought. "I've never known him to turn anyone away."

"I'm tired of feeling like this piece of fluff who needs to be rescued all the time." She looked back at Kat, who was dozing peacefully in her carseat.

"There's nothing wrong with needing a hand every now and then. But Lady, you are definitely not a piece of fluff!" He understood, in a strange way how she felt. This was one of the reasons he'd decided months ago to complete his Shaolin training. Control over his fate. Maybe, a part of him wanted to be on a more even footing with his father. Tired of being rescued all the time....

Something behind them caught his eye. Peter could see a vehicle coming up fast behind them along the gravel road. The back of his neck began to prickle when he realized who was following them. He stomped the gas to speed up.

Still watching them in the mirror, he spoke calmly to his passenger, "Savannah, I want you to reach behind my seat and get my gun for me."

"Why?" she asked, looking out the rear window. Instantly, she knew. "Peter..."

"Look, it's all right. They're probably just trying to scare us," he lied, trying to keep from panicking her. Those three were drunk and angry. Kicking his butt was probably the kindest thing on their minds. "I've just got to beat them to the highway."

Savannah had learned enough from living with Kermit to follow Peter's instructions. She unhooked her seatbelt, retrieved his weapon, then put it in his hand.

Their pursuers had the advantage. They knew the roads and Peter had to be more cautious. Couldn't anticipate the curves and rough spots. Within minutes, they were side by side. Two of the men were inside the cab and the third was hanging onto the roll bar on the back. Evidently, they had drowned their humiliation in a few more beers. The three were trying to ram Peter's vehicle with a truck made more of Bondo and rust than metal.

Peter took a side road on two wheels and bought them some time. Not much. In seconds, they were back. Trying to nudge their way in front to cut him off. His palms were sweating. There was no way he was stopping. Here in the middle of nowhere with one gun and a woman and a baby. No one knew where they were. He didn't know where they were. No backup coming.

Savannah was holding onto the door. Knuckles white. With the other hand, she kept dialing and redialing Kermit's number. He'd never get there in time to stop what was happening, but at least someone would know where they were. No connection. Over and over.

Peter used the same maneuver time and time again. Throwing the vehicle down winding side roads. They just kept coming. Roaring up beside them. Smashing into the side panel of the truck. The guy in the truck bed was laughing and tossing beer cans. The road Peter found himself on was narrow and filled with loose gravel and potholes. Not accustomed to driving anything but the Stealth, he had a difficult time negotiating the obstacle course laid before him. A thirty foot drop off to the right. Three lunatics to the left. He'd held off using his gun. Didn't want to draw fire and put Savannah and the baby in the path of a bullet.

With that thought still hanging in his head, he heard the glass shattering the window behind him. *That bastard is shooting!* he screamed in his head.

The entire world exploded at once. A thousand sounds and movements. Savannah screamed and dove into the backseat to cover Kat. Peter, blindly returned their fire, trying desperately to hold his vehicle in the road. Their next shot disintegrated his left front tire. Balance disappeared as their vehicle lost connection with the earth. Airborne and sailing into disaster. Peter reached for his passenger in the seconds before they slammed into the bottom of the raven. In a brief flash, he saw something tossed from the interior of the truck and disappear in a blur of tree branches and shattering glass.

*****

"Dammit, Deke!" Joe yelled as they sped away from the scene of the crime. He peered behind them as they left the wreck in a cloud of dust. He was suddenly sober as a judge. "We gotta' go back!"

"Shut up!"

Raff was hooting in the truck bed. "Did you see that! Teach that son-of-a-bitch!"

Joe was sure he'd vomit. They'd killed those people. Nothing they'd ever done came close. Shame overwhelmed him but cowardice prevailed. He shut up. Just as he was told.

Through the fog of pain and semi-consciousness, Peter could hear the baby screaming. He focused on that thread of reality and followed it. As his head began to clear, the horror of the drop off the side of the road returned. The sound of Kat's continued wailing yanked him fully awake.

Something was pressing hard against the side of his head. He could feel his heart beating in his temples. The side of the truck was mangled inward and smashed against his arm. He tried to move and felt fiery pain flash through his shoulder. There was shattered glass covering his shirt and blood running into his eyes. One of his legs was jammed into the dash. Peter had to fight the airbag out of his face so that he could catch his breath.

"Kat, honey," he said, trying to comfort her. "I'm coming." He turned his head toward the backseat and twisted toward the baby. She was hard to see. There were tree branches and other debris scattered throughout the vehicle. Ignoring the stabbing pain in his leg and shoulder, Peter unbuckled his seatbelt and cleared a path to the hysterical child.

In a vision rivaling a sunrise, Peter found Kat in one piece. Infant seat held firmly in place by her seatbelt. Branches had pierced the backseat on both sides of her but had left her untouched. She appeared to be uninjured except for a few tiny scrapes. Just scared to death. Peter took a deep breath and kept trying to get through the wreckage to the baby.

He was almost to the panicked infant when Peter had the breath sucked out of him again. Looking past the baby, he saw Savannah lying in the dirt a good 20 feet from them, body draped over a log. Her hair was matted with leaves and blood. Peter could see gaping tears in her coat and her leg was twisted in an unnatural angle. He couldn't see her face and worst of all, he couldn't see her breathing.

*God, no seatbelt,* he remembered. Savannah had been fighting to protect the baby from the gunshots when they crashed. *Don't let her be dead,* he prayed.

Empowered by adrenaline, Peter forced his way through the tangle of branches and luggage out of the vehicle. Focusing all of his energy, he isolated the blinding pain in his leg. He had one goal. Caring for the two ladies his friend had entrusted to him.

Peter pulled the infant seat from it's perilous resting place and sat it on the ground beside Savannah's still unconscious form. Filled with dread, he reached for her throat. She had a pulse! Maybe Baby Kat's luck was contagious. Carefully, he began to examine her, trying not to move her anymore than necessary.

Savannah's leg was broken. It was a gory, bloody wound with the jagged end of the bone protruding up through her thigh. She had landed across the log, impacting her ribcage. From the ragged, struggling breaths Peter heard escaping her lips, he was sure those ribs had punctured a lung. Her abdomen was rigid. She was probably bleeding inside.

"Savannah! Honey, can you hear me?" Peter was down on his knees beside her, calling into her ear. There was dead silence except for Kat's desperate cries.

Peter could hear Kermit's words echoing in his head. "Take care of my ladies, Caine." His friend had put his family in Peter's hands. The family he'd fought to build and kindled his soul inside. Here they were. Kermit's wife broken in pieces in the dirt and his child stranded in the wilderness with a protector who wasn't exactly batting a thousand.

Savannah groaned and tried to move. Peter stroked her hair and whispered, "Hey, Honey. We've had an accident...."

Her words barely audible, Savannah said, "Kat...."

"The baby's fine. She's right here screaming her head off."

A slight smile crossed the mother's lips then she was hit by a spasm of pain and coughing. Peter tried to hold her in a more upright position to ease her breathing.

His leg was throbbing. Peter hadn't taken the time to check his own injuries carefully. His head was bleeding and he had to repeatedly wipe the blood from his eyes with his sleeve. Every movement of his arm sent a wave of pain right through him. If he'd had to describe it, he felt like he'd been beaten with a baseball bat. He didn't have time to deal with himself right now. He was moving and breathing and that was enough for now.

Exhausted from her unattended cries, Kat had dropped into a fitful sleep. The only sound that remained was the increased howling of the wind through the trees above. The wind changed and blew a frightening smell through the air. Gasoline. He looked back at the wreck. There wasn't any smoke visible but he had to move them fast.

Peter picked up the baby and took her to a clearing a safe distance away. Then he went back for Kermit's wife. The thought of the pain he was about to inflict on her made him sick to his stomach.

She was moving in and out of consciousness. Peter leaned down into her ear and quietly explained why and how he was going to move her. "I'm so sorry, Honey," he said, knowing the suffering that was to come. "I'll be as gentle as I can, but this is going to hurt a lot."

The blood had begun to clot around her leg wound and luckily, there didn't seem to be any major bleeding. Peter tried to immobilize the area as best he could and began the painful process. Slowly, he rolled her into his arms. The intense pain jolted her back to consciousness and left her screaming in agony, then gasping for the breath she'd just released.

Peter stopped to let her rest for a moment. His arm was on fire. Probably dislocated his shoulder. Focusing once again, he grasped the pain with his mind and masked it. He was whispering into her ear. Trying to calm her down if he could. This was ripping the guts right out of him. Running his arm under her injured leg, he lifted her up.

This time, the pain won her over and she went limp in his arms. Peter was grateful for the tiny bit of relief she'd been granted. Half walking, half stumbling, he carried her over to rest beside the sleeping baby.

He had to risk going back to the vehicle. Peter hobbled back to retrieve what he could. He searched for the cell phone and found it in pieces near where Savannah had landed on the ground. "Plan A shot to Hell," he said, to no one.

Miraculously, he found Kat's diaper bag intact. At least he'd be able to keep her fed and dry. He grabbed a couple of blankets from the back of the truck and whatever he could find to keep them warm. There were a couple of drinks rolling around on the floor and he found his gun. He was glad to have it. In addition to the wind, he'd heard an unfamiliar howling in the distance.

Not wanting to stay away from Savannah and the baby for too much longer, he took a brief survey of the area. The embankment was too steep to climb in his condition. It was the same terrain as far as he could see. To reach the road, he'd have to search for an easier access. That meant leaving an injured woman and a baby alone. No time for that at the moment.

He returned to his charges to find Savannah still unconscious, but breathing. Kat was also sleeping. Peter covered them both with a blanket and sank down beside them. Disaster was the best word he could use to describe the situation. *Pop....you show up today and I'll keep my big trap shut for a hundred years.* In spite of all his efforts, he felt blackness slipping into his mind.

*****

Kermit was dialing Peter's cellphone for the hundredth time. Still no answer. He'd paced a path in the carpet.

Paul had now joined his trek across the den. "Kermit..."

"Don't tell me to relax!" he snapped. "They're an hour and a half late. No call. No nothing."

Paul was trying not to appear as frantic as he felt. Peter was as much his Child as if Blaisdell blood coursed through his veins. The thought that he was....Paul pushed it out of his head. "Maybe the phone's just out."

Shaking his head, Kermit replied, "No. Savannah would stop and use a land line to call here. Keeping track is something we have an understanding about." His wife had accepted the fact that she wouldn't know where he was every second of the day but when either of them promised to be somewhere, they kept in touch. It kept them sane and safe.

Grabbing his coat, his birthday present, he headed toward the door, "I'm going to look for them."

"Annie," Paul directed, moving to follow Kermit, "you and Kel call the highway patrol and the hospitals between here and home. I'll keep in touch." He raced after Kermit and jumped into the car as the ex-mercenary sped off in search of his wife and child.

*****

"Peter...." Savannah was weakly calling to him. Trying to touch his arm. Digging up from his slumber, Peter forced himself awake. Time had slipped away from him. Checking his watch, he realized that they had been here for a couple of hours. *Kermit should be pissed as hell at me by now,* he thought. He reached over to check on Savannah. She was white and her skin was clammy. Holding her head gently in his hand, he helped her take a drink out of one of the cans he'd rescued from the truck. She was in serious pain.

"Honey, just relax. I'm going to try to help you feel better." Peter was weak himself. He wasn't sure how much healing he could offer. Although his training was complete, his practice was lacking. *Pop could probably have her dancing in ten minutes.* He reached to touch her under the blanket.

"No!" she stated, summoning what little energy she had left. "Peter....Kermit told me about this 'thing' you can do. It weakens you...doesn't it?" She paused to catch her breath.

"Yes, but not so much," he lied. A necessary evil at the moment.

"Don't lie to me. You can't do anything to make yourself weaker." Her voice was fading. "Someone has got to take care of the baby. You're...hurt...and...." Her strength had been exhausted and she started coughing again.

It was difficult to admit, but Peter knew she was right. No one knew where they were. Those bastards who caused the accident sure as hell weren't coming to their rescue. Peter was the only chance Savannah and the baby had to get out of here alive. All this skill he'd taken such pride in seemed useless.

"Okay," he agreed, reluctantly, "you're right. Happy?" He noticed a slight smile cross her lips.

"Yes," she whispered.

"But I can do something to help ease the pain a bit....for a while," Peter explained. "I'll control the flow of energy just enough to mask your pain for a while. Give you some relief, okay? I promise to pull back before it goes too far."

As if it were involuntary, she started to giggle. "I...bet you say that to....all the girls."

"You're just as nuts as that husband of yours."

Peter touched her gently. Opening his mind and reaching out to her. The pain and fear were swirling around within her being. Slowly, he attempted to pick his way through the confusion. The intensity of her pain shook him. How could she be conscious? He let the power of his chi flow into her. Covering her pain. Wrapping his essence around her thoughts to block the waves of agony surging through her body.

It was working. Peter could sense her calm returning. There was still pain but the magnitude had decreased. She could rest for a while. He pulled himself back and tried to regroup. He had to do something to help himself, too. If he was going to be able to keep them all alive, he had to be able to function. Centering himself, he was about to begin when Kat jolted out of her dreams. Wailing at the top of her lungs.

Savannah was trying to move. Trying to get to her baby. "Stop, Honey. Don't move. I'll take care of her." Turning his attention to the baby, Peter evaluated the situation. Wet. *That's easy to fix,* he thought. Digging through her bag, he found a diaper and faked it. When it didn't fall off at her first kick, Peter assumed his diapering job was good enough. Still, Kat screamed on into the trees. Hungry. Peter found a bottle in the bag and Kat sucked it dry in minutes. Temporarily satisfied, Kat began to amuse herself by tugging on her new shoes.

It was getting dark. Cold. That distant howling was still there. Peter had to build a fire and concentrate on getting them through the night.

*****

The headquarters of the highway patrol was an hour away from the cabin. Paul and Kermit had driven the distance, scanning the roadside for any sign of their missing family. Kelly had called to say that there had been no reported accidents on the highway between there and home and no one matching their family's description had shown up at the hospitals. Not a sign anywhere.

Kermit skidded the car into a parking space and leaped out toward the office. Bursting in with Paul on his heels, he addressed the trooper at the front desk.

Flashing his badge, Kermit announced, "I'm Detective Kermit Griffin, Sloanville P.D. I want you to process a missing persons report. ASAP."

The trooper, obviously overworked in the nearly empty station and annoyed at being commanded by some pushy cop, replied, "You do, huh? Well, sir, yes sir!" He didn't move. Only sat there staring.

Paul could see the screws tightening in Kermit's neck. He attempted to step into the lead role in the conversation, only to be cut off before his first word.

"Listen....Trooper Davis...my wife and daughter and HIS son are missing. I want you OFF your ass and DOING your job...NOW!"

The description of the missing group seemed to get his professional attention. "All right," he began, opening a new file on his computer terminal, "how long have they been missing?"

"Two and a half hours."

He dropped his hands from the keyboard and gave a disgusted look at what he deemed to be a ridiculous request. "You want me to file a missing persons report for people missing for two and a half hours? The rule is forty-eight hours. Being a big shot detective, you should know that."

Kermit leaned over the desk into the Trooper Davis's face, while Paul reached for the back of his coat. "You're goddamn right! To hell with the rules and to hell with you. You get that report started and get people out there looking for them or I'm coming over this desk and do it myself!"

Unflinching, the trooper shot back, "You'd better calm down or I'll have you removed from this office right into the slammer, Detective!"

"LET ME TELL YOU HOW I FEEL ABOUT BEING REMOVED!!!!"

Paul wrapped his arm around Kermit's chest and yanked him back before he snapped the other man's neck. Physically, Kermit could have broken away but Paul understood that he held enough command over him that he wouldn't fight him. "Sorry, officer. We'll come back."

"PAUL! What the hell are you doing?" Kermit turned his anger on him as he dragged him outside.

"Kermit, just..."

"How can you be so fuckin' calm? Your son's out there, too." Shaking off Paul's grip, he stood there fuming.

Taking the role of commander with this man he'd trained from a pup, Paul grabbed his shoulders and said, "Listen to me, dammit! We need them. Shut up and let me work." Paul pulled his cellphone and placed a call. Turning his back to the seething detective, he spoke in a low voice then snapped the phone shut. "Come with me." Paul returned to the station with Kermit in tow.

A satisfied smile on his face, Paul Blaisdell addressed Trooper Davis, "Trooper, I would like to apol...."

He was interrupted by the blaring of a telephone. The aggravated officer snatched up the receiver and identified himself. Listening intently, the man began to offer a myriad of "Yes, sir's" and "Right away's". Hanging up the phone, he addressed the pair with a completely new attitude.

"Mr. Blaisdell, is it? That was the governor's office. My commander is on his way here now. We're at your disposal."

*Well, I'll be damned!* Kermit thought. He sat down with the officer and began providing every impassioned detail he could to put them on the right track.

******

Darkness had fallen hard and heavy. After Peter had started a fire, he stepped away from Savannah and the baby to pull himself together. He had to do something about his shoulder. Having endured this particular injury during his hockey days in high school, he knew the proper way to put the shoulder back in place. Problem was, it required two people -- the victim and someone to pop the arm back into the socket. Savannah was in no shape to move, much less help him. All that was left to him was the improper way. Peter positioned himself in front of a small tree and prepared. Sucking in a deep breath and clamping his teeth together, Peter slammed his injured shoulder into the trunk of the tree.

As the bone joint returned to its natural position, the molten pain flashed through his body, dropping him to his knees. Blinded and breathless. Peter grasped the tree and tried to focus. Tried to ride out the wave of sickness without screaming out loud.

Little by little, control returned. Moving into a seated position, he began to direct his energy to the weakened parts of his body. Peter had seen his father heal far more savage wounds in his own body. *Pop...I've got to do this. Those two are depending on me for a way out of this disaster.* Peter felt a warmth travel through him. Oblivious to the outer world, the healing energy coursed through his body. Strengthening the aching muscles and clearing his mind.

He stopped short when he realized that his resources were being exhausted. The pain in his leg was still there but lessened. With Savannah in such a perilous condition, he had to reserve his strength. If she suddenly took a turn for the worse, regardless of her wishes, he'd have to focus his energy into her body.

Kat began to cry again. Hurrying back to the fire, he lifted her up. "Hey, Tadpole. You don't like camping?" Obviously not. No amount of baby talk or bouncing seemed to quiet her.

"Peter...give her to me." Savannah had been awakened from her fitful sleep. She was reaching up to try to get to the baby. "She goes to sleep here every night." She patted her chest, gesturing for Peter to lay her there.

"Wait a minute. There is no way you can hold her with those ribs. It'll hurt like hell." Peter continued to pat the baby on the back, to no avail.

"I don't care. GIVE HER TO ME!" She began to cough after her exclamation.

Arguing seemed pointless. He eased Kat down onto her mother's chest. She wrapped her tiny arms around her neck and sighed her relief. Grasping her mother was the only familiar moment she'd felt in hours. Kat was only an infant but she knew something was terribly wrong. Knew she wasn't at home. Knew the adults nearby were afraid. Her only release was to cry. Now, resting on her mother, she relaxed.

Savannah ran one hand up and down Kat's back, whispering softly into her ear. Though her voice was quiet and comforting, Peter could read the intense pain on her face. A tear ran down her cheek. The weight of the baby on her internal injuries must be excruciating.

After about fifteen minutes, Kat's easy breathing signaled her arrival into a restful slumber. Peter lifted her slowly from her mother's chest and wrapped her in a blanket between them. Savannah bit her lip to suppress a gasp of pain when the baby's weight left her body. Now, with Kat peacefully dreaming, Peter turned his attention back to Savannah. Getting her something to drink and pulling the blanket closer to her chin.

"I hate camping." Savannah managed a weak laugh. Peter was so tense and she understood how badly she was hurt. She didn't know how badly he was injured.

"Hey, if we had coat hangers and marshmallows it might be different." Peter knew that they were trying to keep the subject off the obvious. No one knew where they were. Though their families were certainly looking by now, they didn't know where to look. Peter couldn't risk trying to carry her out. With her injuries as serious as they were, one more move could kill her. It was cold and getting colder. And there was that howling....

"Peter, you'll have to take her and leave me in the morning." It was a statement of fact. A fact Peter wasn't yet ready to talk about.

"Look, let's just get through tonight. Let me worry about that. Come morning, I bet your husband's gonna come barreling down here to kick my butt for getting you into this." Peter was trying to ignore the elephant sitting there beside the fire. They both knew no one was coming.

"If you recall...*I* got us into this. I'm so sor..." He touched his finger to her lips to silence her needless apology.

She knew it was pointless to argue at the moment. Savannah knew she was slipping. The fire in her side was returning. Her thigh was pulsing and she didn't dare risk moving and reigniting the raw, bone-chilling pain there. Thoughts were more difficult to organize. She was fading, but not ready to give up. The thought of leaving Kat...alone...motherless, was more painful than her broken body.

"Peter, how old were you when your mother died?"

"Just a little older than Kat." He was confused by her question at first. Then....

"What do you...I mean...do you remember her?"

Now it was clear. She thought she was going to die here. Leaving Kat without a mother. What she really wanted to know was would this little girl remember her. Peter ran a quick ethics check then answered. "Yes. I remember her. Her smell and her voice. The way she rocked me to sleep at night and sang to me. She had a...gentle way that stayed with me after she was gone. Her smile and laughter. She's with me every day."

"And after she died, you and your father, you...were okay?"

Right now, they were far from "okay." *Whose fault is that, Pete?* Growing up with his father was all he ever knew. Caine had been annoying at times to an adolescent boy. But the warmth between them made up for that. Their personalities were always different. In time, Peter had come to realize that different was all right. His father loved him simply the way he was. These flashes of understanding were coming a bit too late, in Peter's opinion. They illuminated his screw-up of a few days ago. "Yeah. I guess we were all right. Things were difficult for him, I suppose, but we managed. If we hadn't been separated, we would have probably lived a pretty normal life." He managed a smile for her. "Or as normal a life as a bald kid in a temple can have."

"I'm sure that was an interesting look for you." Savannah sighed with relief at his answer. "I need you to promise me a few things..."

"Okay. Let's just stop this 'deathbed' crap. You are NOT, I repeat, NOT leaving me to explain this little detour to Kermit on my own. Got it?"

"Peter. I may not have another chance to say these things, so shut up and listen."

The time for lies had passed. He knew it and she knew it. It was time to deal. "All right. You say what you have to, but bear in mind we'll be laughing about this in your living room next week."

"Tell Kermit...HE is to raise our daughter. Not my parents. Not Marilyn. No boarding school. HIM. And I want him to stay right where he is...Sloanville. Where his *family* is." She paused, voice breaking. "Tell him...I love him and...."

Peter picked up her hand and kissed it. "I will. Now, rest so I don't have to tell him these things at all, okay?"

"You sure are bossy for somebody as beat up as you...." She drifted back into a traumatic slumber.

*Okay, Pop. Now would be a good time,* he thought as he threw another log on the fire. That now-familiar howl echoed in the distance. Peter checked to be certain there was a bullet in the chamber and rested his gun in his lap. He decided not to sleep.

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