PART TWO, SCENE SIX:

Jake did feel better. He was clean and warm for the first time in days. He wasn't exactly a fashion plate; one look in the mirror made him grin. He was wearing a T-shirt of Peter's which hung almost to his knees over baggy sweatpants the Shaolin had told him his sister had left behind; he was actually happy the T-shirt looked more like a smock, since the sweats were pink.

Peter laughed as he walked into the kitchen. "Sorry," he apologized, taking in the overall impression. Jake looked like he had once been a taller person who had shrunk.

"Don't worry about it," Jake said, pulling a chair up to the table filled with take-out Chinese food. He grabbed something that smelled like garlic and dug in. "They're comfortable...and I've worn worse."

The smile faded from the Shaolin's face as memories came back to him. "Yeah, I guess you probably have." There was a brief silence.

Jake had always been uncomfortable with silence, so he started talking. He couldn't think of anything to talk about, so he said the first thing that popped into his mind. "There was this one pair of jeans...I could have fit into one leg. The kid who owned them before was also six inches taller than me. I tried shrinking them in the dryer, but I left them in so long they started smoldering...when my foster mother found them... So, you were a foster kid too?" Jake asked, breaking off the monologue, knowing that he was saying too much. He paused to chew, deliberately slowing himself down. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until the first bite. Now he wondered if he would be able to stop.

Peter picked up another container and started eating; using chopsticks with skill Jake envied. "Yup. I was put in an orphanage at twelve, spent some time in foster homes, and ended up with the Blaisdells. They took me in when I was fifteen."

"Fifteen?" Jake asked, pausing to take in this incredible revelation. "Nobody keeps kids that old."

Putting the container down, Peter looked at him steadily. "People do, Jake. I'm proof."

"Yeah, but you were probably perfect," the boy muttered under his breath.

"Hah!" Peter snorted, thinking back to the day he had met Paul on the basketball court. "Far from it. I'd had some pretty bad placements. I was angry at the world, insolent, rude...I had the biggest chip on my shoulder."

"What happened?" Jake asked, intrigued despite himself.

"Paul..." the delighted grin that spread across Peter's face made him look years younger. "Paul and Annie brought me home and accepted me. They wouldn't let me sulk, they asked for my opinions, treated me just like family. They...cared." Peter became pensive as he thought back. "Living with the Blaisdells...I felt like I had come out into the sun after a long, dark winter."

Jake was envious. "You lucked out. I wish that could happen for me. Do they still live around here?" He looked down at the containers of take out food and made a face. "So, do you go over to their house for real meals?"

Peter laughed out loud. "Yeah. I guess you can tell that I'm not the world's greatest cook?" Jake's nervous expression relaxed at this display of good humor. "I haven't got back into the habit of cooking for myself yet...I was living with Paul and Mom until only a couple weeks ago. I do go home for 'Mom-meals' at least once a week."

"So this is a new apartment?" Jake asked, looking around the comfortable surroundings.

"Not really... It's a long story." Peter shrugged. "Basically, I had a little...accident a few weeks ago. I needed someone to look after me, and it seemed easiest for everyone if I moved back home. This was my father's place. I'm living here until he gets back from France."

Jake looked confused. "But I thought... You said you were in an orphanage."

"I was...but my father wasn't dead. Like I said before, it's a long story."

Jake shook his head. "I guess it must be. So which one is home?"

Peter hesitated. "I guess they both are. I sleep here, but Paul and Annie's is where I grew up." Abruptly, he stood and poured himself a glass of water. "You know, if you don't stop talking and start eating, Mary Margaret is going to think we got lost. Are you almost ready to go?"

"Almost," the boy said, throwing a longing glance at the still full containers of food. "Can I take this with me?"

==========================

PART TWO, SCENE SEVEN

Jake grumbled about not being able to take food in the Stealth as Peter herded him down the stairs. "It's not like I'm going to spill anything!" he protested.

"Forget it," Peter replied with a laugh. "No one ever plans to spill something...and you ate so much that there's no way you could fit anything else in your stomach anyway." Something tickled at the edges of his senses, and he reached out one long arm to stop the boy. "Wait," he said, pushing Jake behind him on the staircase. "There's something..."

Jake stopped moving, looking frantically around for any sign of something wrong. Peter cautiously edged down the stairs, his back to the wall, wishing for the comforting feel of his Beretta in hand. Eyes searched the darkness for movement; he listened intently for any sound. Sensing the form approaching, he sucked in a deep breath and jumped around the corner.

"Expecting someone?" a voice asked dryly.

"Kermit!" Peter jumped, flushing slightly. "I nearly clobbered you."

Eyebrows raised, the green-shaded detective chuckled. "I don't think so. Who's your friend?"

Peter looked around to see that Jake had crept down the stairs and was standing behind him, poised as if ready to flee. The kid looked terrified. "Hey, Jake," he reassured him. "It's okay. This is my friend Kermit."

Kermit felt slightly guilty for being the cause of the panicked expression in the boy's eyes. "Hi Jake," he said easily. "Sorry about the scare."

"I wasn't scared," the boy scoffed, but his breathing was still ragged. Both men let it slide, moving back into the shelter of the building.

"Peter, Skalany said she called you..."

"We're heading down to the station now," the young Shaolin said, an edge of irritation creeping into his voice. "I wanted to give Jake a chance to clean up and have something to eat. She didn't need to send you down to pick us up."

Kermit looked at him over the top of his dark glasses. "It wasn't Skalany's idea. We discovered that Sandra Mason broadcast a community alert for your young friend." He saw understanding flood Peter's face. "I thought it might be better if you had some back up."

"What community alert?" Jake asked, the confusion he felt clear in his voice.

"The Rogers must have been quite worried about you," Kermit said, studying the boy, who squirmed under his regard. "They posted missing child flyers about you all over the city--your picture was even on Channel Three."

"Me? They did that for me?" Jake asked, sounding startled. He thought about it for a moment, then asked suspiciously, "Are you sure it was them and not Social Services?"

"Social Services wouldn't go to the trouble." Peter's voice was bitter with memories. He shrugged when both Jake and Kermit looked at him. "They don't have the staff or the time to get on it that quickly." The explanation sounded lame, even to him.

Thoughtfully, Kermit studied his friend, then changed the subject. "Anyway, I just happened to be in the neighborhood and I thought that I'd stop by and give you a ride." Peter's raised eyebrows earned him a glare. "Are you ready to go?"

"We *were* just leaving," the younger man pointed out. He put one hand on Jake's shoulder and pulled the boy into his side. "You're ready, aren't you?"

"I guess so," Jake said, sounding uncertain. "Um...do you think... should I call the Rogers from the precinct?"

Peter ruffled his hair. "I think that's a great idea," he said softly.

Kermit shook his head, watching the play of emotions over the two faces. "Come on, let's go," he said gruffly, opening the door. "I brought a department vehicle, so... Look out!" he shouted, leaping back at Peter and pushing both the Shaolin and the boy to the ground. The car he had seen approaching from out of the corner of his eye drove past, spraying bullets that hit the wall where they would have been standing. The car didn't stop, but continued on a swerving course down the street, hitting parked vehicles on the sides.

The police detective jumped to his feet. Pulling the Desert Eagle out from under his jacket, he got off a shot at the fleeing car. He was running after it when he heard a shout from behind.

"Peter! Are you okay?" Jake's frantic question caused Kermit to whirl around. Jake was trying to struggle out from beneath the dark-haired Shaolin, who was motionless, sheltering the boy.

Kermit's heart plunged to his stomach as he reached for his friend. "Peter!"

"Ow..." Peter groaned. He opened his eyes. "I'm fine," he reassured them, pulling away to let Jake climb to his feet. "Paul always said I had a hard head; I guess he was right. Jake?"

"I'm fine too." Narrowed eyes looked from Peter, rubbing his forehead, to Kermit, standing grimly on guard. "They were trying to kill us," the boy said, his voice flat.

The two men's eyes met in a brief moment of understanding. Peter answered. "Probably. We've got to get you into protective custody. Let's go, Kermit. We can call it in from your car. They'll send someone over."

Kermit shook his head. "They won't find anything."

"No," the younger man agreed, "but they can try. The important thing is to get Jake out of here to someplace safe."

======================================

To KFTLC Page