Karen Simms was not a woman to be taken lightly. Following the bluster of his former captain's anger, Peter let that drive propel them both through the bland office complex toward Karen's uncooperative FBI contact. There were no markings on the office or entry way to identify this as a bureau outpost. This office was temporary.

Temporary as Kermit and Blake if we don't get to them. The thought sent a cold slice through Peter's chest. Time was running out and running time was never a good thing. The panic he had felt earlier in his dreams was now a subdued ache pulsing through his senses. Its fading energy made it even more urgent.

Karen's hand slapped flat against the surface of a glass doorway and plowed their way through. No longer was she a weary, overworked city employee with a disappearing staff and hair in her face. Captain Karen Simms was about to kick butt and take names. Lots of them.

"I'm here to see Agent Rolph." Karen snapped out the words, simultaneously flashing her badge. Her movements were sharp and decisive as she towered over a clerk and made intimidation her weapon.

Peter Caine deferred to her authority and remained silent. This was her world and the priest knew better than to interfere with the well-oiled machine that was Karen Simms.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but--" The young woman backed up in her chair as Karen loomed, large and angry, into her face.

"You pick up this phone and get him here or I'll arrest you for interfering with police business." The words were cool. She meant each one, punctuating the end of her sentence with an angry smile.

Pale and trembling, the twenty year old secretary was ill-equipped to deal with the voracious anger inherent in Karen's level tone. She dialed, then whispered quickly into the phone. "On his way, ma'am...Captain...ma'am..." The girl sputtered, wanting nothing more than to pass them off to one of her superiors. "You can have a seat over there."

"We'll stand." Karen planted herself in front of the open hall behind the receptionist's desk. Arms folded, she stared straight ahead.

Peter offered an apologetic smile to the young woman and stood at Karen's back. Frustration and fear were mingling into a hard knot inside her body and Peter felt them reach out to him. Keeping his voice quiet, he whispered down into Karen's ear, "What makes you think this Rolph will tell you anything more than the song and dance he handed you over the phone?" That conversation had been abruptly ended by Karen slamming her receiver first to her desktop and then to the the cradle of her phone.

"Because he is neither stupid or particularly brave." Her eyes remained fixed and hard.

The infamous Agent Rolph walked casually down the hall toward the hell fire gaze of Karen Simms. Peter sized him up quickly. The forced relaxation of his hands stuffed into his pockets was designed to throw Karen and her instincts way off the mark. Rolph seemed the standard FBI cut--mid-forties, dark suit, clean cut and wrinkle-free.

The man smiled at Karen, a smile intended to disarm. "Karen, there wasn't any reason for you to come all the way down here to apologize for bursting my eardrum." He offered a hand that sat cold and unshaken in the air between them.

"Stanley," Karen said, in a tone both familiar and furious, "you commandeered two of my people. TWO of my people." She held up two fingers, an aggravated gesture of indictment. "I want them back, now."

Agent Rolph exhaled and leaned against the doorway as the secretary attempted to disappear from the tense atmosphere. "What makes you think I know ANYTHING about your men, Karen? Locals aren't generally up to our standards."

Peter stepped back from the impending explosion that billowed upward through Karen's back. It straightened her posture as it formed and grew. Every instinct in him told Peter that he should defuse the situation, ease the tensions, keep things calm. He ignored them.

This should be fun.

"Number one, I've known you since we were both trying to learn which end of the gun the bullets came out of, Agent Rolph," Karen said through bared fangs. "Number two, I can lie as good or better than you, thus, I can spot one." She took only two steps forward. "As for the issue of the Bureau using lowly locals undercover...well, you and I both know these two men aren't standard issue cops."

"One word, Karen," Rolph stepped up to the line, shedding his congenial attitude. "Classified."

"Nice word, Stan." Karen moved in to close the space. They were nearly nose to nose. "Here are a few you might like. My shoe. Your ass. Surgery."

Neither flinched. The air crackled with the stubborn energy between two people who obviously had a history Peter Caine had not been privy to...and would never. He could sense the feel of warriors between them..

"Who is he?" Rolph never looked away from Karen's face as he finally acknowledged Peter's presence.

"An associate of the department."

"Why is he here?"

"Classified."

Rolph flinched. It was unnoticeable to the untrained eye, but Peter Caine picked up the mental retraction. "Look, Karen--" he said, voice lacking the metallic bite of conflict. Karen stood arrow-straight, not ready to shift from adversary to colleague. After a moment of consideration, Rolph turned quickly, speaking as he moved. "Follow me."

"We think they're in trouble, Stanley. Are we right?" Karen followed. Peter easily matching her double strides with single steps.

"Just come with me and we'll talk."

Shedding their false optimism, Karen and Peter walked into the private offices, looking for the one answer they needed.

*****

Blake's eyes were reduced slits as he lifted his head to stare at Kermit. The water dripped from his hair, lazily draining down his face. The gun stuck to Blake's wet hand and pointed wearily toward the floor.

"Go on, Detective Blake," Latrodect whispered into the man's ear. "Point the barrel toward Detective Griffin and squeeze the trigger."

Kermit focused on Blake. Just another old merc hiding out in a cop disguise. For one flash of remembrance, Kermit saw the shock on Blake's face the day they both arrived at the 101st. "He talked you into this, too," Blake had whispered behind his back as they met at the coffee maker. Kermit had nodded, not wanting to give away anything in front of these *real* cops. His own life was still in a state of shock, still reeling. Into this chaos of civilian life had stepped one ounce of familiarity. Familiarity both comforting and uncomfortable. Blake. He didn't want to know why Blake was here, didn't want any memories of that old life while he was trying to begin anew. He didn't want to explain to Blake why he looked like warmed over death. He didn't want to know why Blake's wedding band was gone and why he was here instead invisible in Vegas.

"How did you manage to get the office?"

"Quarantine. Blaisdell's afraid I'm contagious."

"Well, stay away from the coffee. You never made coffee worth a damn, Kermit." Blake had handed him a cup of near-sludge and walked away.

Now, Blake was going to kill him and probably die himself.

Ain't life a bitch, Blake.

Blake's ragged breath continued to suffer its way out into the room as Latrodect directed his movements. "Point the gun at Griffin and pull the trigger. That's it." Latrodect smiled as Blake's trembling hand raised in a leaden, jerking motion to aim the weapon at Kermit's chest.

"Blake." Kermit said his name, knowing that the older man's venom-strained mind would probably never register the sound. But Blake's light blue eyes found his own for a split second. Words came to Kermit's mind but he clamped his mouth shut over them. Honorable notions like forgiving ones executioner would be wasted on people like Latrodect and Emma. He refused to create displays for their entertainment. Focusing on Blake's eyes, he searched and found only absence.

Hell of a way to end, Shaky.

"Pull the trigger, Detective. Just squeeze." Latrodect whispered his seductive commands closely into Blake's ear.

Savannah. Her face smiled in Kermit's mind. His daughter laughed. I'm sorry. He said his good-bye as the distinctive snap of a trigger and gunfire exploded. A flash. Nearly blinding at such close range. His eyes blinked shut out of self-preservation.

No impact. The bullet flew by Kermit's head, leaving a mocking buzz in his ear as it passed. As his eyes snapped open, Kermit watched Blake crumble to the floor, gun clattering against the concrete floor. He lay there, a wet unmoving heap of man at their captor's feet.

"I thought Sloanville's finest was made of stronger stuff," Latrodect said, stepping over Blake's body as if it were garbage.

"Just as gutless as always, Spiderman," Kermit taunted from his bonds. "If you had half a dick, you'd take me one on one instead of hiding behind poison and women."

Latrodect motioned Emma over to the body on the floor. "Not even a worthy try, Griffin. Manly posturing isn't a requirement for me. You see," he said, walked back to Kermit's side, "I only care about victory. The method is irrelevant to me." With a quick jerk of his arm, Latrodect plowed his fist into Kermit's face. As the blood pouring from his victim's newly split lip, he laughed. "But I must admit, that did feel good."

Emma crouched over Blake, carefully avoiding any physical contact. "Still breathing," she reported, looking to Latrodect and avoiding the glare of the prisoner anchored in the center of the room.

"You'd better kill me, Latrodect." The words came out in a brutal slur, as Kermit spit the blood from his mouth. "If you don't, you're dead. I swear." Kermit stared at Blake's body. There were longer and longer breaks between each breath. Soon, they would stop all together.

"Don't worry, Griffin," Latrodect opened a valve behind a still silent Miguel, "I still have Mr. Rodriguez to complete my research."

Tainted water began to flood down over Miguel's dark head.

*****

Agent Rolph entered the large conference room without knocking. A rumpled man sat at the table, banging away at a computer terminal. Peter could taste the man's frustration as his fingers pounded over the keys. He'd seen Kermit Griffin in the same position a thousand times, with the same sweating obsession, as the detective searched for some electronic clue.

"Anything?" Agent Rolph leaned over the man's shoulder, staring at the lines of effort inscribed there.

"No. No trace." The man slammed his keyboard forward and leaned backward in surrender. "The transmission was cut and the file is gone. No way to get it back."

"Stanley, start talking." Karen Simms moved in behind the screen, taking in the lines of type she didn't understand.

"Your men volunteered to help us bring down Latrodect," Agent Rolph said, gesturing Peter and Karen to sit. "Detective Griffin had a plausible cover and since we had lost our man on the inside--"

"You'd lost one man and sent in one of mine to take his place?" The words were calm, but the indictment was not even slightly veiled.

Ignoring the accusation, Rolph continued. "Seems Griffin knew the man, a mercenary named Tage, and given his own history with Latrodect, he was more than willing, Karen."

Accepting the information as truth, Karen said, "What was his assignment?"

"Latrodect is developing some sort of chemical agent, maybe for sale on an international scale."

"Chemical warfare?" Peter asked, injecting himself into the conversation.

"Not sure. All we know is that he had some heavy hitters in the Middle East making inquiries. He'd snatched a chemist who turned up dead about a month ago, same as Tage. We were able to determine that the project was incomplete, thus, our opening." Rolph looked back to the other agent, dismissing him with a nod. "Griffin recruited his own backup, Detective Blake, and one other. They were to infiltrate, transmit the data and location, then the Bureau would move in for the kill."

"Where does it stand now?" Karen watched the other agent leave, suspicion joining hands with her hostility.

Rolph remained silent for a moment, looking between the pair. The impending bad news was painted all over his face. "They began the transmission about an hour ago, but the connection was severed before we could get the entire file."

Everyone understood what that meant. Peter Caine had done enough undercover to know when it was time for backup to assume failure and move into the scene. Karen said what he was thinking.

"Abort the mission and bring them out."

"We can't, Karen."

"Why the hell not?!"

"Because we don't know where they are." The words hung heavy over the table. A death sentence. "When the transmission was sliced, we lost our line to them. We didn't even get a partial download and no position. They may have included it in the file, but we don't know."

"Let me get this straight?!" Karen was on her feet, pacing and accusing. "The almighty FBI has hung out three VOLUNTEERS to dry and you have no way to get them back? Does the concept of a PLAN B ever occur to you people?"

"Don't blame me because your people didn't deliver, Karen!" Rolph joined her, claiming the other side of the table as his walkway.

Before Karen could respond, the frazzled computer tech from before burst back into the room. "Sir, we've isolated the cell," he said, handing Rolph a printout. "Best we could do was a half mile sector."

"Get some men out there, Jack." Rolph held on to the paper, frowning.

"Already on the way." Jack left the room quickly, closing the door behind him.

Peter read the lack of enthusiasm on Rolph's face. This new information wasn't of much use. "Trying to track a cell phone call from Kermit?"

Rolph looked down at him differently, taking in the new information. "They were using a cell phone for the download." Rolph paused, giving Peter a more thorough examination. "You sound like a cop? What's your part in this?"

"Former cop, now a priest. Friend of all concerned."

"No such thing as a former cop," Rolph said, handing the page to Karen. "This is where we stand, Karen, a half mile area where the transmission originated. About one hundred buildings and warehouses where they could be, if they're still at the point of origination."

"If they're still alive, you mean," Karen said, the fire burning brightly in her voice.

"We've started a search, but--"

"I can find them." Peter stood up, directing his words to Karen. It was unlikely that Agent Rolph was open minded enough to quickly accept Peter's enhanced mental abilities. There was no time to explain.

Karen's weary features took in the hope. The faith and trust she gave away so sparingly, flooded out to greet him. He need not convince or explain--she already believed and Peter saw it in her eyes. "Let's go," she said, already moving toward the door.

Rolph stepped in between the door and their progress. "Wait just one damn minute, Karen. What's he talking about? If you have information, I want it."

"Given your success rate thus far, Stanley, I don't think I'll be polluting my team with your FBI screw ups." Karen pulled out one finger and held it under Rolph's nose. "These are my people you've compromised and *MY* people are going in to bring them out. We take care of our own. You want to come along for backup, fine, but you get in the way you and I BOTH know what I'll call down on your head..." she paused and withdrew her finger, "...don't we, Stanley?"

Peter felt the crackling past flaring between the two of them. Karen held cards, good cards, in her secret hand. Whatever ace Karen Simms held, it was concrete enough to fade Agent Rolph's coloring one shade closer to paste. Karen's satisfaction at besting her opponent trumpeted in her expression as Rolph stepped back to let them pass.

*****

Both Karen and Peter raced to the parking lot and piled into her car. As Karen headed toward the warehouse district, she said, "What now?"

"I find them." Peter whispered, closing his eyes and forcing physical reality release him.

The hum of Karen's engine, the feel of the leather seat against his back, the tell-tale scent of the new car began to fade. Peter focused on Kermit. Visualizing lead him to the thread of consciousness that was his friend. Green glasses. Repetitive dark suit. Slouch and silence. The wide off-center grin that appeared when the ex-mercenary talked about his daughter. They had mended their damaged relationship. The bonds of friendship, or brotherhood, reformed stronger than before. Peter moved quickly into the whirling emotions, searching.

Anger reached out to squeeze Peter's mind. A tight fisted grip of fury clutched at his senses. Kermit. Peter's breath caught hard in his chest. He had to control the assault. Taking the emotion in one hand, Peter isolated that message and read the mental images.

"Blake." The word sounded from Peter's fist. Blake. Peter looked down into his fist and saw Blake lying on a floor, soaking wet and unconscious. "Hell of way to go, Shaky." Kermit's voice was loud and clear now. His sight, Peter's own.

Peter's chest tightened. Something squeezed his lungs, his legs. A fire boiled through his blood, clouding his vision, Kermit's vision. It was poison, venom. Kermit was tied up, fighting the effects of Latrodect's poison, watching Blake die. Blake's unsteady pulse vibrated against Peter's chi, giving him a greater sense of urgency.

Focus. Peter gave way to Kermit's vision, looking through the haze of the man's pain. A locker room. Showers. Blake was lying on the cold gray concrete of a shower. Another man was tethered to a chair beside him. Who? I know him. The name ran through Kermit's mind, tripping into Peter's consciousness. Miguel Rodriguez. Kermit had hired him to protect Savannah when she was still trapped in a coma. The dark skinned man weighed two-eighty if he was an ounce. His height and shear bulk dwarfed most men.

Peter watched Miguel carefully as Latrodect turned on the shower hanging over his head. He made no change in his expression. Slowly, Peter began to pick up on the man's movement. The hard muscles of his arms flexed ever so slightly, over and over. The tight bands around his chest expanded and contracted at each movement. No one else would have noticed the straining effort as it was disguised by the steady stream of tainted water.

Except Kermit. "Go for it, Miguel. Break out and break his fuckin' spine in half." Kermit's blood-thirsty mental support echoed inside Peter's mind.

The impact of emotion muddled Peter's senses. There was too much to take in and sort. Death. Anger. Betrayal. Sadism. Sorrow. Peter closed off the spiritual visions. Sight would not guide him to them. Pairing down his exploration to the most familiar essence, he wrapped himself around Kermit's volatile presence, using it as an anchor.

I can do this.

Shaping the emotions into a solid marker in his mind, Peter embraced the sensations. Light and dark. Nothing new to him, only more intimately displayed. This was Kermit. He would guide Peter to their location.

THERE!

Peter's eyes jolted open, and he looked frantically at the buildings peeling by as Karen drove through the maze of tin and concrete warehouses.

"Peter? Are you okay? Do you know where they are?" Karen backed off on the gas and reached out a cool hand to touch his shoulder.

He was sweating. Kermit was sweating and dazed, running out of time. The feeling was reaching a molten intensity. Peter stared straight ahead, not needing sight to find them. "Go down two streets, then left. There's parking under the building. That's where Kermit came into the building himself. Lower level. They're in some sort of locker room with showers. Blake's down. Latrodect is working on Miguel Rodriguez now. All of them have been poisoned."

Karen took the corner on two wheels. "What kind of resistance are we facing?"

Peter let himself reach out away from Kermit and his drama. A woman. Maybe Emma. Other men wandered the lower level. One, two, three. They were easy to read. Simple-minded thugs who wanted nothing more than to make a get away.

"Emma's there and maybe three others. All on the lower level." Peter felt the sensations boil more desperately as they stopped one block away to wait for backup. Kermit was preparing to die. Peter recoiled briefly. It felt obscene to be feeling this resignation. Kermit thought of his wife, his daughter. "I'm sorry." There was no fear. Kermit Griffin wasn't afraid of death. But the sorrow at leaving his wife and child behind thundered within him. The weight was heartbreaking.

I'm coming. It's not over yet. Peter couldn't be certain if the message would be coherent to a man in Kermit's condition. His own skill at sending was also in question. Hang on, buddy.

"No SWAT, Chief. Just our people." Karen gave their position and dropped her phone onto the seat. Pulling her service revolver, Karen inspected the weapon and asked the question she didn't want to ask. "Are they alive, Peter?"

Peter sucked in a deep breath. "For now."

Karen jerked open her door and stepped outside. Peter followed. "Peter, you're a civilian, now."

"I'm going in as a civilian, then."

"You're unarmed."

Peter walked forward, putting himself at Karen's side. "You're not. Let's go."

She didn't argue and they walked forward together.

*****

Latrodect fairly floated around his prey. Even in his handsome shell, his carriage betrayed a predator. Kermit watched him circle around the shower spray as Miguel absorbed more and more venom. The look on Latrodect's face was pure pleasure. He was the master.

For now.

"Miguel," Latrodect softened his voice to a warm stroke as he continued to monitor his victim, "soon you will be the victor. No more taking orders from Lord Griffin." Almost absently, he kneeled and retrieved the gun from the floor then passed it back and forth from one hand to the other.

"How does it feel, Griffin? Being bested? About to be killed by your own arrogance?" Latrodect strutted about the room, puffed up by his own confidence.

"Wait a few minutes and you can tell me yourself," Kermit answered, never moving his eyes from Miguel's chest.

The bands were stretching under the huge man's rhythmic pressure. It was an old trick passed on from one soldier to another. A prisoner's duty was to escape. Patience and persistence could wear away bonds, could weaken wood to the breaking point.

Go for it, Miguel. Break out and break his fuckin' spine in half. In the contest between Miguel, the restraint, and the chair, Miguel was the odds on favorite. The clear battle was between Miguel's speed and the venom pouring into his veins.

Searching his memory, Kermit tried to find a time when things had seemed worse. Into that futile search came a breeze of energy. Words that were breath touched his mind. Hold on, buddy. Peter's voice was there, then gone; one quick touch, then silence. The icy shock of invasion and withdrawal came and went quickly.

Kermit wasn't certain if he had reacted outwardly. Latrodect had turned away to focus on his other prisoner. Emma was still staring a death ray through Kermit's chest, but she seemed to regard his startle as nothing unusual. The sheer hatred on her face hardened her features into stone. If she had noticed, she didn't care.

The meaning was unclear, but Kermit elected not to analyze the gift horse. Just how Peter Caine was coming or how he had wiggled inside the detective's mind were subjects for later discussion. Salvation, no matter how humiliating, would be a welcome sight at this particular moment.

"How are you feeling, Miguel?" Latrodect leaned over the umbrella of water covering his prisoner. "Are you ready to kill Griffin for us? Let's have a little smile if the idea appeals to you."

It was a perfect test. Miguel Rodriguez would have to be under mind control to smile for an enemy. The man's dark head had begun to drop slowly forward until his chin was resting on his massive chest. The haunting, rasping breath that Blake had emitted before his collapse was now rumbling from Miguel's chest.

"Don't you die, Miguel. Be a soldier, dammit. He's the enemy. Don't listen." Kermit spat out the words, oblivious to the humor his outreach inspired.

Latrodect was laughing. Loud and long. "You are a bossy man, Griffin." After his taunt, the man again returned to the bath of poison surrounding Miguel. "Smile for me, Miguel, and then I want you to shoot Mr. Griffin." Latrodect crouched at the edge of the spray, bouncing slightly on his heels as he waited.

Miguel's head wobbled as he struggled to raise it. Lids barely open, his eyes focused on his captor.

Then, he smiled.

The odd quirking of Miguel's lips lent a frightening quality to his normally sullen expression. The consistency of Miguel's features was shattered in the face of his psychotic grin. The restraints held his arms stilled at the elbow but he tilted his hand upward, his open palm a signal of compliance.

Silent glee surrounded Latrodect as he stretched his long legs in victory. Stepping around the flood of poison, he shut off the valve and returned to place the gun in Miguel's hand.

"Shoot him."

The same lunatic smile plastered to his lips, Miguel took a firm grip on the weapon. Long brown fingers circled the grip and slipped around the trigger.

Kermit fought the reflexive tense, holding his head a little higher. Miguel had lost. Peter had lost. It was time to die.

Good-bye, Savannah. The thought flowed through his mind with a tender remembrance of her green eyes and soft touch. A memory that would go with him. That memory blotted out the image of Emma standing before him, arms folded, furious silence holding her firm as her eyes focused on the center of Kermit's chest. She waited patiently for the bullet to connect with Kermit's body and repay his debt of betrayal.

"Shoot him." Latrodect uttered the words with flat authority, an authority that belied any doubt of his control.

In a roar of sound and movement, Miguel Rodriguez won his battle with the venom and his bonds. The back of his chair splintered with an echoing crack as Miguel's hulking body jerked suddenly erect. The wide band that had held him securely bound to the chair fell away and he spun around to face his enemy with a primal growl and a smile still on his lips.

The seconds dragged into slow motion as Kermit fought through his affected daze to take in the action. Miguel leveled the weapon at Latrodect's chest with split-second reflex.

Latrodect's reflexes responded beyond his surprise. Spinning with a brutal grace, he landed one foot against the weapon sending the bullet to slam against the far wall.

Miguel held firm to the revolver as another foot connected with his chest and sent him crashing to the floor.

PETER!. Kermit summoned his thoughts, his fury and desperation, and rolled them into a single message as Latrodect descended on Miguel. Their bodies mingled on the floor, the gun buried between them. Latrodect's nearly one hundred pound deficit held little, if any, part in turning the tide of battle toward Miguel.

In the space of one thought, the outcome was decided.

Latrodect's right hand clamped over Miguel's throat as his left lay sandwiched between their bodies in an attempt to control the weapon.

One shot popped out a muffled defeat and Miguel's resistance fell away.

Crawling to his feet, Latrodect stared down over his second victim. Tainted water and blood ran from the wound in Miguel's abdomen. The fake smile long gone, Miguel's expression melted back to unreadable unconsciousness. A thin trail of crimson water snaked its way from his body toward a drain in the shower stall, sucking what little remained of the man's life.

Latrodect's once orderly appearance was wilted with battle. The heavy black shirt and coat were soaked even darker with water and blood. Sharp, angry breaths pushed from his nostrils as the adrenaline surge of attack subsided. Turning back to Kermit, his resolve solidified.

"So much for research," he said, moving to Kermit's side. "Not nearly as much fun, but...if you want a job done right..."

Pressing one finger against Kermit's throat, he sent fire exploding through the ex-mercenary's veins.

*****

Peter and Karen leaned against a gray concrete wall. Carefully peering around the corner, Karen sized up the situation. Revolver held tightly in one hand, she made a formidable adversary. Peter watched her closely. Karen Simms was all cop, to the core. She was cop down to her standard issue service revolver. In an instant she had shed her near manic worry for Kermit and Blake and had become a starched, hardened police captain. The wheels were turning inside her head, weighing odds and plotting strategy.

Separating feeling and sentiment had always been difficult for Peter. After leaving the force, he had been able to examine those struggles from a more objective viewpoint. Monday morning quarterbacking might seem useless now that he was no longer a cop, but the struggle remained in his new profession. Detachment was required in his life as a priest. To become too muddled in his emotions and desires interfered with the work at hand. It had proven true in his inability to uncover Savannah and Kermit's ruse from the beginning. It had delayed his understanding, his intervention.

Watching Karen tuck away her personal involvement and isolate it from her cop-self was a marvel in self control. Peter stored that lesson.

Karen nodded her intention to move out around the corner and Peter followed. Moving forward only a few steps, Peter Caine felt his knees connect with pavement. A white hot slice cut into his mind, his thoughts. The invasion lacked finesse and ease. A scream of desperation edged with broken glass.

PETER!

In his desire to leave himself open to the experience around him, in his need to help his friends, Peter had left his mind exposed. Somehow Kermit had reached back along that line between them. Temporarily blinded by the sensations, Peter clutched at the wall and at Karen's hand on his face.

"Peter? Talk to me." Karen was holding his cheek as he gathered his senses.

"We've got to move. Now." Peter struggled to his feet, using the wall for support. Kermit's pain still rang inside his head. He had reached out blindly for help, the only help he could find. The raw need burned through his message.

"What is it? What happened?" Karen moved double time to catch Peter as he ran away from her.

Control had returned as Peter reached the door. He loosed his skills, reaching out with his mind to touch the world around him. No effort, only release. All was revealed in an instant. He pulled open the heavy metal door and held up three fingers. Words spilled out quietly, leaving out any unnecessary syllable. "Down the hall, through the doors. Two on the right, one on the left. All armed but holstered."

"Do we have time to wait for backup?" The fact that Karen even asked the question signaled her understanding.

"No." Peter went in low, moving quickly to the double doors at the end of a stark gray hall. There was an evil dampness to the space, be it humidity or tangible evil.

Karen joined him at the door, crouching beside him. Peter motioned to her side, indicating a hostile just inside the door. Pointing to his chest then nodding to his own side of the hall, he took his position. Surprise was their advantage.

Mouthing the countdown of "One, two, three!" Karen exploded into action. Slamming her door wide, her target was knocked abruptly into the wall. A long bloody streak followed his head to the floor as the man slumped into unconsciousness.

Peter was behind her, outnumbered and unarmed. He had driven through the door at the same time and the heavy blows of flesh on flesh had sounded as Karen secured her target. Staying low, she turned to find two unmoving thugs splayed out on the floor, weapons still held in their belts.

Peter was gone.

Stopping only to gather the weapons scattered across the floor, Karen ran after the disappearing Shaolin.

*****

Latrodect fastened his grip to Kermit's throat, pinning him more firmly against the metal pole. Kermit squirmed, trying in vain to release himself, as he felt some peculiar kind of heat emanating from Latrodect's fingers. As he struggled, he could feel his strength ebbing away, only the tight bands around his body holding him upright.

Emma eased in to stand in front of her ex-lover. "I hate you."

"I hate you, too, honey." The words sounded from his mouth like a faraway recording, his voice no longer his own.

Latrodect smiled. "You feel it, don't you, Griffin? My power. A power you can never understand or defeat. You may have destroyed my plans but I'll be back. And, in the meantime, you'll be having a slow and very painful death...."

His body could not obey his mind's commands. The heat radiating from Latrodect's hand bleed through his neck and upward. Its taste was a sour waste inside his mouth. His eyes burned within the bath of sickness. Prickling heat boiled inside his brain.

"Let him go!"

Both Kermit and Latrodect looked over to see Peter Caine standing firmly inside the doorway.

"BACK OFF!" Karen Simms burst in behind him, gun drawn and venom in her stare.

Latrodect chuckled almost abstractly and released his grip. Kermit's body jolted with the severed connection. A smile on his lips, Latrodect released an explosion of light and heat around them. Heavy white smoke clouded the room, choking all with a acrid fumes.

The haze was beginning to clear as Frank Strenlich, Mary Margaret, and Jody burst in behind them.

Only empty space surrounded Kermit when the man-made storm cleared.

"Latrodect and one woman! GO!" Karen pointed toward the back of the room and the only avenue of escape. Frank and the others stormed out the back of the room to give chase.

Karen holstered her weapon, and moved over to release Kermit from his restraints. "You ever pull this again and I'll have that badge."

The absence of the tight bands holding him upright nearly made him collapse, but Kermit's sheer force of will kept him on his feet. "You already have my badge."

"Then I'll just shoot you." Kermit swayed and Karen steadied him.

Peter knelt beside Miguel and reached out to touch his wound. "Don...." Kermit shook his head lightly in his weakness. "Don't...touch him, Peter," he warned.

Peter, heeding Kermit's warning, drew back.

"Venom...in water...absorbs through your skin." Kermit's strength gave way and he braced against a wall, sliding to the floor.

Frank returned with the other officers in tow. His face belied his failure. "Helicopter, Captain. They beat us to the roof and took off. FBI just got here. They're tracking it." Pulling his radio, Frank called for more paramedics then kneeled beside Blake.

"Don't touch him, Frank," Karen warned, as Frank pulled off his trench coat and dropped it over Blake's soaked body.

"Helps on the way, Blake," Frank whispered, leaning over Blake's ear.

Simms stood up to direct the other officers arriving on the scene, tossing a pair of rubber gloves to Peter. His hands were hovering over Miguel's body as he fought to help him survive.

"Thanks, but I don't need them." Peter laid his hands over Miguel's bloody wound. The bullet fairly pulsed against his palm. Focusing his healing energy into the wound, Peter courted the bullet, drawing it upward.

"Peter...," Kermit's voice was rasping, "don't touch him..."

Peter didn't reply. All that was Peter Caine enveloped Miguel's body, stanching the flow of blood and battling the venom choking out his life. Time and life were far away as Peter immersed himself in the process, giving away his energy to the injured man. He felt himself tumble into the effort, disappearing as their chi began to blur and mingle. The floodgates of his own life force had sprung wide, allowing more and more of Peter Caine to be given away. The rush tumbled faster and faster, gathering strength. The seductive giving dragged him along...Stop...can't stop..

Suddenly, two small hands closed around his shoulders, pulling him back. "That will do, young priest." Lo Si dragged Peter away from the fallen man. "You have succeeded. His bleeding has stopped and the venom no longer has control."

Two gloved paramedics descended on Miguel and his wounds. Peter sucked air deeply into his lungs as his connection sliced in two. "Lo Si...how?"

Lo Si smiled. "I was needed." Releasing Peter's shoulders, the withered priest turned to Blake, also ignoring Kermit's warning to keep his hands free. Forcing the detective's mouth open, he shoved in a pinched bundle of leaves and gently closed it again.

Another set of paramedics rushed into the room to care for Blake. Lo Si stepped away, then turned back to the younger priest. "Peter, I will accompany these men and offer what help is needed. It is not necessary for this man," he gestured to Kermit, "to be taken to the hospital. You may tend him yourself."

Peter struggled to his knees. It felt good to have backup, felt good to have someone echo his own decisions and confirm them. Still, part of him was unsure. He knew the antidote, he knew the methods of healing, but...

"You know what must be done. Do it." With that, Lo Si left the room, ending any opportunity for doubt to surface.

Peter approached Kermit. "Looks like you're stuck with the new guy." Peter pulled Kermit's arm around his shoulders and lifted him to his feet. Karen slipped her own arm around Kermit's back to support him and the three began walking toward the door.

"New priests are my favorite," Kermit said, trying to concentrate on remaining upright. "Always anxious to impress the parishioners."

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Kermit offered a sheepish smile. "I hate poison," he muttered

"Well, I can fix that," Peter said. "Let's go."

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