A Thousand Deaths

by shylo

started 07/10/98

The sun was shining and the breeze blew gently, just enough to cool off the hot day. Peter Caine didn’t feel the soft touch of flowing air on his cheek, however, nor was he aware of the storm clouds that loomed several miles to the east, just visible at the horizon. His eyes were trained on one thing. A polished bronze urn, carefully placed on a raised platform glowing warm brown in the sun, held his attention making him deny that anything else existed. His face was a mask of pain, both physical and emotional, yet tears would not fall. They remained just below the surface, waiting.

Sunglasses hid part of the bruise on the left side of his face, but it spilled out from under the dark lenses and seemed to flow down his cheek. Swelling cocked the Ray-Bans to one side, and the black sutures stood out in sharp contrast to the purple and red skin stretched tightly over his cheekbone. Kermit Griffin winced just looking at his friend. The damage to Peter’s face was nothing compared to the damage done to his soul. The woman whose remains resided inside the urn was his whole life, and now she was gone.

Kwai Chang Caine was dressed in his priestly best, a white silk shirt adorned with delicate white-on-white embroidery. He was speaking in heartfelt terms about the river of life flowing and being renewed, but Peter heard nothing of his words. In his mind, he listened to another voice, more tender than the breeze, as it whispered in his ear and promised an eternity together. The words of his Shaolin father were nothing more than unpleasant buzzes in the background, masking the sound of Mandy’s words. He frowned, trying to concentrate harder so that he could hear his fiance’s whispers more clearly. The movement pulled at the stitches, though, and brought back the pounding headache he’d had for the last week. . . since that night. . . the night Mandy died.

The buzzing stopped and Peter was vaguely aware that everyone around him was standing. He stood, too, slowly and accompanied with a great deal of pain. The broken ribs howled in protest, as did his aching head. Ignoring the discomfort, he allowed himself to be led by a gentle pressure from either side of him. Kermit gently touched one elbow, while Mary Margaret Skalaney guided him from the other side. Nearly the entire precinct was there, but he saw no one, felt nothing but pain in his heart and his body. He moved slowly forward, swaying slightly as dizziness threatened to overtake him, and tenderly placed the single white rose he’d clutched during the entire service on the platform near the urn. Without a word, the heartbroken man turned to leave. The suddenness of the move was too much, though, and he found himself swallowed up in darkness. . .

****

When Peter opened his eyes again, he knew that he was not at the cemetery. He was no longer dressed in his somber black suit, nor was he wearing the shades that blocked out the harsh glare of the world. The light from dozens of candles and the smell of incense told him where he was.

"You passed out at the grave side services," Kermit’s strong voice sounded a few feet away. He was trying to be casual, but the concern was evident in his tone. "Your father thought you’d be better off here than at your place."

Peter didn’t respond, he simply turned away.The movement was futile though. The action put pressure on his injured ribs and he grimaced. There was no escape on that side of the sleeping pallet, either. Kwai Chang Caine, his face lined with worry and speaking volumes of sympathy without words, met his son’s gaze. The injured man rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Each movement caused a cascade of blackness for a moment, but he ignored that as well. Mandy was dead. How could he respond to these two men when he had died with her.

"My son, you can not do this," Kwai Chang spoke. "Your sorrow is great, but you can not will yourself to die, as well."

*Damn, there are times when I wish he didn’t know what I was thinking,* Peter thought to himself. Knowing that neither man would give him a moment of solitude until he said something, the heartsick man spoke.

"How long?" His voice sounded weak and broken, even to him.

"How long were you out?" Kermit confirmed his question. "About fifteen minutes. Long enough for us to get your here and to begin to wonder if you don’t belong in the hospital ."

"No. I’ve had enough of hospitals. I just want to go home." Peter didn’t look at either man as he spoke. That would have taken too much effort and cost him what little control he had. Inside, he wanted to sob and rip the heart from his chest. How could it keep on beating when his reason for life was gone?

"No chance of that, Peter. Even if we were to let you go anywhere, which is not a possibility, the only place you would go would be Annie’s. You aren’t ready to be on your own. You proved that this afternoon." Kermit was firm, but kind in his speech. He knew the pain in his friend’s heart. Losing someone you love was hard enough, but to have her killed while you watched was beyond comprehension.

"You must rest now, my son," Caine spoke again. He gently brushed a stray lock from his son’s forehead, then tenderly touched Peter’s temple, the unbruised one. The man on the raised sleeping platform closed his eyes and drifted off to a troubled slumber.

"You have got to teach me that, Caine," Kermit said flippantly. He felt the strain of the last week, and would have done anything to lighten the mood. Caine looked at him with kind eyes, knowing that he was worried about Peter.

"He is very troubled. This woman meant much to him." Caine watched his sleeping child as he spoke to Kermit.

"Oh yeah," Kermit used his stock phrase. He didn’t know what else to say.

[end part one]

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Part 2

-- flashback--three months earlier--

It had started out as the blind date from Hell. Peter was fifteen minutes late meeting the latest woman of his dreams--at least that is how Annie described her. Peter would have characterized her more as hostility in a half shell. The glare he received as a response to his apology could have been used as an alien death ray in a bad sci-fi movie. Upon telling him just how irresponsible and rude he was, the pretty blond stomped away from their table, spilling her wine as she left. It was obvious from the lurch in her step that she had consumed more than one glass while she was waiting for the homicide detective. Peter dropped into a chair at the now vacant table and tried to disappear. The entire restaurant was focused on him at that moment, and he knew it. Deciding to play it loose and carefree, he looked up and smiled to no one in particular. . . to find himself making eye contact with one of the most breathtaking women he had ever seen. The woman was sitting alone, a wine glass in hand. She smiled back, and gave a little tilt of the head gesture that clearly said, " Can’t win ‘em all." He shrugged and then looked down a moment to regain his composure. When he looked back up, her table was empty.

"Since we both seem to be alone, mind if I join you?" the voice of an angel spoke from over Peter’s left shoulder. He looked around to see the vision from the table standing beside him.

"Are you sure you want to?" Peter asked, chagrined. "After all, I’m sure that you just heard how rude I am."

"You were late. *She* was rude," The vision in a teal green sheath clarified as she sat in the now empty seat. "At least you showed up. Obviously, my date didn’t."

"I can’t imagine anyone standing you up," Peter blurted out without thinking, then blushed. It sounded like a bad pickup line.

She smiled, forgiving his instinctive charm, and offered him her hand.

"I am Evelyn Lexton. Call me Mandy." Her introduction was warm and genuine.

"Peter Caine. Mandy?" Peter questioned. "How do you get Mandy out of Evelyn?"

"My middle name. I have always hated Evelyn, but my mother loved it. Dad drove her crazy by calling me Mandy." Her eyes twinkled. It must have been a family joke.

"So, Peter Caine. Care to share this evening’s meal with me? I’m a 90’s sort of woman. I’ll even buy."

--end flashback.

. . . and so it began. The pair talked and laughed until the restaurant closed, then drove to an all-night diner and talked some more. Peter remembered no details of the conversation, only that he knew he had to see more of this woman. She made him feel wonderful. Her smile warmed his soul.

Mandy had just moved to town. She’d transferred in with a management consulting firm from New York. As the recently-promoted head of new projects, the attractive woman had little time to meet people outside the job. The man who had stood her up was a blind date, arranged by mutual friends just like Peter’s. He’d called her on her cell phone at the restaurant to tell her that he wouldn’t be able to make it. Something had come up with a client. She understood business, and forgave him, but was not excited by the prospect of one more meal alone. Seeing the breathtakingly handsome man suffer at the mouth of the drunken lady seemed like a sign from God. She hesitated only a moment before she walked to his table. She was glad she did.

The courtship moved more quickly than Peter’s friends liked, and much slower than he wanted. Mandy did not share his bed that night, nor did she until they had been dating for more than a week. Once she did, neither slept alone again. They had been seeing each other during every waking moment not spent at their jobs. The cops at the 101st jokingly called them the newlyweds.

Kwai Chang Caine had not immediately taken to the young woman, but Peter ignored his father. Caine senior was not in love with this incredible woman, he was. Peter brushed aside the warnings that Mandy’s past was shrouded in secrecy and death. He frowned and argued when his father tried to tell him that this woman would bring him great pain. Mandy became a non-subject between the two. She didn’t accompany Peter on his less and less frequent visits to his father’s place. Caine did not visit Peter’s apartment at all, choosing instead to see his son at his labors, when he was on shift. The father and son struck a wary truce, neither wanting to lose the other, but neither able to change their mind.

Peter wasn’t willing to give up Mandy for anyone. He loved everything about her. He loved that she did not mind that he was a cop. In fact, she seemed to like the idea. The rest of his friends and family didn’t share the priest’s misgivings about the young woman. Annie had greeted her warmly. Even Jody, brilliant green with jealousy, had to admit that Peter was happier than she had ever seen him. The last time he had been this much in love was when he fell for Rebecca Calvert. That relationship had ended in tragedy, with Peter falsely accused of her murder. Jody sighed when Peter introduced her to Mandy. She knew she had finally lost him for good. Still, he deserved happiness. Jody wished the couple well.

The change in Peter was clearly evident. Five days after Peter woke up with Mandy in his arms for the first time, he was working a drug related homicide on stake out with Mary Margaret. The deal went sour and Peter and Skalaney had to enter a dark warehouse or risk losing their man. The perp detected their presence and fired, two slugs slamming into Peter’s chest. He crashed back against some boxes, trying desperately to breath in. His battered lungs would not cooperate, and he felt blackness come as Mary Margaret was sobbing and telling him to hold on.

She ripped at his jacket, afraid to see what the wounds looked like. There was no blood. The only time a wound like that didn’t bleed was if death was instantaneous. He couldn’t be dead. She tore through the soft blue shirt underneath the jacket. The sight of the Kevlar vest took her breath away. Two slugs were embedded in the white mesh, one over Peter’s heart, the other lower and mid chest. He gasped for breath like a drowning man brought to the surface.

"A vest?" she asked incredulously, as the first black and white unit drew nearer. "Peter Caine wearing a vest?"

"I was going to ask Mandy to move in tonight." Peter groaned as he eased open his eyes, his face screwed up in pain. "I didn’t want to miss that. Damn. . . that hurts. I’m not sure it feels better than getting shot."

Skalaney shook her head in amazement. Peter Caine wore a vest without being forced to do so. It had to be love.

****

The couple entertained at Peter’s apartment, making their home a warm safe retreat for all of his friends. Nicky became a frequent visitor, as did Kermit. Mandy was a fantastic cook and a sports fanatic. Peter had met his soul mate at last. The two settled into mutual habitation as if they were born to it. Peter brought his paperwork home with him instead of working late. Mandy did the same. The two workaholics managed to maintain their job commitments, yet spend time together. Long periods of comfortable silence filled the apartment as each worked on their respective jobs, buried deeply in paperwork, but together. It was on one such night that their world changed forever.

"Oh Peeeeter, I have a surprise for you," a voice called out from the bedroom. Peter couldn’t help but smile. He was knee deep in the paperwork on the Bates case, one that promised to require all night to sort out. He really didn’t have the time to break away, but he couldn’t help himself. Closing the file, he switched off the lamp beside the couch and rose to see what his surprise was.

The bedroom was dark, lit only by dancing flames from a half dozen candles. Soft blues music was coming from the CD player. He stepped into the room further, unable to see where Mandy was. He felt her presence as hands reached around his chest from behind. He could feel her moist warm breath on his back, feel the curves of her body hug his. There would be no more Bates case tonight.

"Hon, I think you should relax for a while. That old file can wait ‘til tomorrow , can’t it?" Mandy’s voice, soft as wind chimes in a morning breeze, whispered in his ear. He leaned his head back slightly, giving her easier access to his neck and ear. She nibbled playfully on his right ear as her hands unfastened the buttons on his shirt. As each button gave way to her charms, she lovingly stroked the skin beneath it, starting at his throat. Peter reached back behind him without turning around and pulled her closer still. She molded herself to his body. The silken green nightshirt that she wore only served as an interesting wrapping on his surprise for the evening.

"Let’s go to bed," Peter managed to speak. A few more moments of her ministrations and he would not be able to put together a coherent thought, let alone express it.

"Not yet, lover. I don’t have you unwrapped yet," she said with a laugh.

"Hey, I thought you had a surprise for *me*!" Peter teased, trying to sound indignant.

" Oh, I do. Trust me, I do."

They made love as if every moment was the last second on earth.

The first time was all heat and passion, need and needing. As they arched against each other stars became supernovas and worlds crumbled. The second time was much slower. He caressed her with such tenderness that she uttered a small cry from the sheer power of his love. His hands and lips gave testimony to the truth of his commitment. His fingers gently traced the tiny tattoo, the skin still slightly red around it, on her flank. It was a small rosebud. Mandy smiled. She told him that she had gotten it in his honor. Her words echoed in his mind.

"My love for you is like this tattoo. . . perfect, and permanent. There will be no more before it or after it."

As his mind wandered to the first moment she had shown him the tattoo, and the frenzied hours after, Mandy spent an eternity kissing and touching every centimeter of Peter’s body until he thought he would die from the wanting of her. Her warm moist breath on his navel as she traced words on his skin with her tongue drove him to near madness. Peter looked down at the woman in his bed and smiled. He was smiling a lot lately. Just feeling her skin on his in the morning made him grin. Hearing her laugh sent him in fits of ecstasy. Making love to her took him beyond Shambhala.

Entwined, the two lovers didn’t hear the men enter the apartment. Engrossed in each others pleasure and sensations, neither realized that they were being watched.

"Hey Caine," a harsh voice called out behind Peter just as he cried out Mandy’s name. He jerked nearly upright and turned slightly, startled by the sound. In the dark, he didn’t see the men. All he saw was the rifle butt coming at his face. . .

[end part 2]

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