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PART ONE, SCENE ONE:

"Come on, come on, SCORE!" Peter cheered as the Sonics wing landed the puck in the opponents net. He was sitting on the edge of the couch, a beer in one hand, and a pretzel in the other. Both almost ended up on the floor with his enthusiasm.

"Peter, it's an exhibition game. They're playing for fun. It doesn't matter who wins," Mary Margaret Skalany said dryly, looking over at her former partner. She was curled up on the opposite end of the couch, also with a beer in hand.

Peter grinned unrepentantly. "You're the one who wanted to bet on the outcome. And I'm in the mood for lobster..."

"They haven't won yet," she retorted. "Maybe you'll be buying *my* dinner," she said morosely as she watched another goal being scored. "Even if that doesn't look too likely..."

Peter laughed and got up as the second intermission was announced. He headed for the kitchen. "I'll make us a snack. Would you like another beer?" he called back over his shoulder, picking up her empty bottle.

"Nah, I'm driving." Mary Margaret pushed up from her comfortable spot and followed him into the kitchen, watching as he pulled out the fixings for nachos. Leaning against the wall, she looked around at her surroundings. Caine's loft had changed quite a bit since he had left for France a few months ago. "I like what you've done with the place, Peter, but isn't your father going to be surprised when he gets back?"

Peter grimaced. "What, because of the television?"

"And the stereo, and the furniture, and the computer..."

The young Shaolin shrugged. "Hey, he left. I'm spending more time here, waiting for people to 'Come to Chinatown; ask for Caine,'" he intoned sonorously. "I won't sit here twiddling my thumbs. I'm not my father; I can't spend hours on end meditating. I needed some of my life here." He scowled and bent over the food, dicing a tomato a bit too vigorously.

"Easy, partner," Skalany said, patting his arm. "You don't have to defend yourself to me." She studied Peter's averted face, trying to see what was going on behind those hazel eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?" she ventured.

He put down the knife and smiled, good humor restored. "No, but thanks, Skalany. Juice?" She nodded and he poured her a glass. "It's just..." he stopped as a knock sounded on the door.

"Do people actually knock?" Skalany asked, raising her eyebrows.

Peter turned red. "Uh...they do now."

"I'm not even going to ask."

"Ariel!" Peter said, surprised to see the dark-haired woman at the door. "Come in." He opened the door wider in invitation.

The young woman shifted uneasily, looking past Peter at Mary Margaret. "Actually Peter, I was hoping you could come out. I have a little...problem."

Peter frowned, visions of the kind of problems that could trouble the homeless street-waif running through his mind. "Why don't you move in here?" he suggested, "There's plenty of room, and I know you stayed with Pop for a while last winter..."

Ariel smiled, her face lighting up. "Thanks, Peter, but it's not that kind of problem." With a sigh, she stepped into the room. "I don't want to be gone too long.... Hello, Mary Margaret. Are you the only one here?"

Skalany smiled. "Just me," she said easily. "I can leave if you need to talk to Peter alone."

"No...that's okay," but the younger woman didn't sound too sure.

"What's up Ariel?" Peter asked, closing the door behind him. He looked consideringly at the woman. "What's the problem and how can I help?"

Ariel hesitated, looking sideways at Mary Margaret, then obviously reached some kind of decision. "I found this kid today...about twelve years old. He was collecting cans out of the trash. That would have been fine, except he was in Benny's territory, and Benny...well, he doesn't share."

Ariel stopped. Peter nodded, acknowledging the rules of street life. "So, the kid was getting the worst of it," he prompted, leaning against a chair. Mary Margaret came over from the kitchen and sat down, watching the younger woman.

"Yeah," Ariel agreed, beginning to pace. "I got Benny to leave him alone. The kid didn't look like he'd been on the streets for long. He was tough, holding his own with Benny, but not..." she hesitated, as if searching for a word, "...hard," she ended, her frown indicating that this might not be exactly the word she wanted. "I told him I would take him home, and he said that he didn't have a home anymore." She shrugged. "It happens, but sometimes..."

Peter rested a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. Ariel sighed. "Sometimes..." she repeated, her face looking weary and too old, "Whatever they're running from isn't half as bad as what they're running to. So I asked him what happened that made him think he couldn't go back and he blurted out that he saw a murder."

There was silence as she finished speaking. "Do you think he was telling the truth?" Peter asked, searching her face for clues.

The young woman nodded. "He's really scared, Peter. As soon as he said it, though, he clammed up...wouldn't look at me...wouldn't tell me any more. I told him you would help him. We were walking over here when he got dizzy. The Ancient's place was closer, so I took him there and came to get you."

Peter was already getting his jacket. "Did this kid give you a name? An address or any clue about where he lives?"

"No. I think..." Ariel made a face before continuing, "it...happened within the last few days though-I mean, he was still looking for bottles, not food. He hasn't gotten to the desperate stage yet."

Peter nodded grimly. "Mary Margaret, I know you're on vacation but do you think you could..."

"Go to the precinct and see if I can find anything?" his ex-partner finished. "Sure. Do you have your cellular?" Peter patted his pocket and nodded. "Okay, I'll call you as soon as I get something."

The young Shaolin kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Skalany. I owe you one."

Mary Margaret laughed. "Let's just say this cancels the dinner obligation."

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PART ONE, SCENE TWO:

Peter tried to keep up with Ariel as she danced ahead of him. His legs were longer but she was a blur of constant motion. He wondered where she was living now-had asked several times, but she wouldn't give an answer. Ariel was one of the mysteries of Chinatown.

When they reached the outside of the Ancient's building, the young Shaolin paused. He hadn't actually been avoiding Lo Si, but every time he tried to reconcile the fact that Ancient with was really Ping Hi... That the man who had helped raise him had then abandoned him to the cold world of the orphanage... Peter admitted to himself.

Ariel was waiting for him at the door. "Come on," she said impatiently. Peter sighed. Time and distance would only make matters worse. It was time to get on with his life and to figure out where the older Shaolin fit into that life.

As they approached the apartment, they heard a young voice raised in protest. "...Look, I appreciate the tea and all, but I'm fine. I just, uh, stood up too fast. If you just help me get out of this thing, I've gotta go."

The murmur of Lo Si's response didn't carry clearly. Peter hesitated at the door but Ariel pushed past him, opening it and leading their way into the Ancient's home.

The elderly priest greeted them in the entry with a bow. "Ah, Peter," he said. "It is good you have come."

Peter nodded, already uncomfortable. "Lo Si," he acknowledged.

The Ancient looked disappointed in the lack of warmth but just sighed. "I would like you to meet my new friend. Come this way." Lo Si led the way into his living area, Peter and Ariel trailing after him. He stopped beside the couch. "This is Jake," he said, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. Jake appeared to be wrestling with the blanket wrapped around him. He looked about twelve; thick auburn hair hung raggedly over his eyes and almost hid the haunted expression in them.

He quickly looked away before he let their eyes meet. "Yeah. Nice to meet you. I'm just leaving now," the boy said, succeeding in freeing one arm from the blanket cocoon. Ariel tilted her head to the side and looked relieved.

"You're much better than when I left," she said, sounding surprised. "You scared me when you fainted like that."

"Hey!" Jake protested with a frown. "I did not faint. I just stood up too fast. Look, I really gotta get out of here now. If you'll just help me with this stupid blanket..." Twisting his body around, he continued his struggle. The Ancient looked on with just the slightest trace of amusement in his eyes.

Peter knelt beside the couch, examining the boy closely. What he could see of his clothing was filthy; dark circles, like bruises, under the boy's eyes emphasized the pallor of his skin. Jake stopped struggling and watched the young man warily. "What are you staring at?" the boy demanded rudely.

The young priest chuckled. "Nothing," he said easily. "Jake, my name is Peter. I hear you have a problem and I'd like to help."

Jake shook his head with exasperation. "I'm okay," he said. "The only help I need is unwrapping this thing from around me so I can leave."

Peter ran a hand through his hair. The kid was stubborn--this wasn't going to be as easy as he had thought. "Then how about I call someone to come get you?" the young priest asked.

The boy shook his head and looked away. "No," he said shortly. "There's no one to call."

Ariel patted his hand. "You can trust Peter, Jake. Really..."

"Like I trusted you? You left me with some old stranger," the boy jeered, darting one accusing glance her way. "Thanks, but no thanks."

Ariel bit her lip. "The Ancient's not a stranger and you know you need help. I told them what you told me this afternoon."

Peter looked at the ragged boy on the couch. "Is it true, Jake?"

Jake's answer was to pull the blanket around him, sinking down into the warmth. "I don't know what she's talking about," he said defensively. "She's crazy."

Ariel stood, her eyes flashing. "You wanted help earlier. You won't survive much longer on the streets. Remember what was happening when I found you?" Jake obviously did. The young Shaolin could tell from the way the boy's face twisted that the memory was not a pleasant one. "Tell Peter everything-he really can help."

Wary green eyes studied the concern in the young man's face. "Why would you help me?" he asked in a voice that was too suspicious for one so young.

Peter shrugged, struggling for the words to reassure him. "It's what I do. Ask anyone. They'll tell you 'Go to Chinatown, ask for Caine.' I'm Caine, I help." He looked at the boy in mute appeal. "Let me help you."

Jake studied the man in front of him. He did seem sincere and the boy knew he had reached the end of his own resources. Besides, there was something steady and comforting about the man waiting for an answer. "Okay," Jake said, releasing a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Squirming in his tight wrapping, he sat up a little straighter.

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