Part 17

Peter backed away from the door, motioning Kerry to go up the ladder. After one frantic glance around the cabin, looking for something, anything he might have missed, he moved beside the door, baseball bat in hand. The door handle jiggled, and stopped. Peter could hear his own breathing sounding loud in the silence. Kerry peered at him from the second floor opening. Would they go away?

The door was kicked open.

Swinging the baseball bat like he was aiming for a home run, Peter hit the first man through the doorway just under his ribcage. He heard something snap. With a choked cry, the man staggered backwards and fell outside. A second man leaped over the first and towards Peter as the detective was pulling back the bat. Ducking, Peter grabbed the man's shirt front with one hand and helped continue the leap, letting the mercenary's own momentum send him to land in a heap in the middle of the cabin.

While he had been doing that, though, a third man had grabbed the bat. Peter recognized the grey-haired merc from before. He regained his hold and thrust the bat towards the grey-hiared man's stomach, but the man dodged and kept his grip. Grimly, Peter held on, aiming a kick at the other man's knee. That missed too, and Peter could feel the power of the other's grip.

There was a noise behind him, and Peter glanced back to see Green, the man who had landed behind him, rising to his feet. The man on the other end of the bat could see him too, and he grinned at Peter. "You're gonna be soooo sorry," he threatened, the confidence in his voice making Peter shiver involuntarily.

Green approached from behind just as Peter released his grip on the bat and pushed it aside. A quick elbow to Green's face knocked him backwards; he then came up under the man in the doorway's guard. Peter thrust forward to strike with the heel of his open hand at the man's chest, then hooked his leg around the legs of the man, who was still holding the bat, and yanked, pulling him off his feet. Face full of astonishment, the man fell, hitting his head on the edge of the doorframe he landed on the ground unconscious.

Peter landed on the floor beside him, looking up at Green, who grinned with anticipation at the helpless man lying before him. Grunting with pain as Green kicked his ribs, Peter's glance moved past Green to Kerry, coming down the ladder, tennis racket over her head. With a two-fisted grip, she closed her eyes and brought the edge of the racket down on Green's head. There was a dull thud of impact, then Green fell, landing on top of Peter. He didn't move.

Peter pushed Green off and slowly got to his feet. Kerry opened her eyes and unsteadily made her way into his arms. "Did I kill him?" she asked faintly.

"No," Peter answered, hugging her, not knowing who was supporting whom and not caring in the slightest.

"I certainly hope not," a voice from the doorway said. Kerry started, but Peter knew who would be standing there when he turned around.

Straker walked into the cabin, tsking as he surveyed his men lying strewn about the small room. "Good help is so hard to find these days," he said, shaking his head.

He turned to glare at Peter. "*You* are turning out to be a bigger pain in the ass than your father," he stated, jabbing a finger in the air. "You're not quite as good as he is though. We discovered you little escape before we even got out of state. So, we turned back and found you perched on that ledge. You lose. Come on, let's go," he said impatiently, gesturing with one hand.

Peter looked at Straker, then around at the men he and Kerry had defeated. "We're not going anywhere," he stated calmly. "Your little operation is finished. I refuse to be bait; to lure the three men I love most into your hands for your depraved games."

Straker's face turned crimson with badly suppressed fury. "Depraved?" he said, voice rising. "Games? This is no game, Peter Caine. You will come with me."

Peter shrugged. "how will you make us? Your men are gone, Straker. Defeated. You thought I was a pawn to be manipulated on your twisted game board. I'm not. My fathers, all three of them," he added with a quick smile, throwing Straker's words back in his face, "have taught me well."

Straker sneered. "They have taught you nothing. You are still my prisoner." Satisfaction filled his eyes as he pulled a gun out of his coat. Kerry gasped. Peter remained quiet, concentrating.

The calm reply filled his mind.

The gun turned a burning red. Straker threw it from his hand with an exclamation of pain. He looked at his men lying on the floor. "This is not over," he warned, "Don't think that it will ever be over." Somehow managing to look like he was leaving of his own volition, he turned and left the cabin. Peter and Kerry heard the sound of an engine starting, then tires spinning as the van was gunned down the dirt driveway.

"Should we let him go?" Kerry ventured.

"Did you want to stop him?" Peter responded, eyebrows raised.

Kerry shook her head as she moved away from Peter. Without her support, he staggered slightly. Kerry helped ease him into a chair. "What was that? She asked, eyes wide with astonished surprise as she motioned towards the gun. Peter opened his mouth to speak, but another voice spoke first.

"It was a…Shaolin technique."

Part 18

Kerry turned, fear coming into her eyes. Peter grabbed her arm as she reached for the tennis racket. "Kerry, meet my father, " he said, relief filling his face. "Pop, my…friend, Kerry." Caine bowed to her.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance," he said gravely.

"Likewise," Kerry said uncertainly. This man with graying hair and kind eyes certainly didn't look like a mercenary, so he must be 'the mystic Shaolin priest' Straker had mentioned. She drew back slightly as he came to stand before his son.

"Pop, am I glad to see you!" Relief and happiness filled Peter's voice. "How long have you been there? Never mind, it was long enough for you to help defeat Straker."

"I did not see Straker," Caine said calmly, surveying the various bruises on the visible parts of his son's body. Placing one hand on his son's chin, he moved Peter's head so that he could more closely examine some of the bruises. Peter kept talking, paying no attention to these ministrations.

"You must have. You did the Shaolin thing," Peter continued, remember the gun Straker had thrown away.

"Did…what…Shaoling thing?" Caine asked, reaching into his pouch.

"You know, the burning gun," Peter said before he obediently opened his mouth to accept the herbs Caine was insistently holding in front of his lips.

Kwai Chang Caine shook his head as he began running his hands over the rest of his son's body, a few inches away from the surface. "No. You did it Peter. The need was great, so you found the…means."

"I did it?" Peter asked, sounding stunned.

"Yes. You are hurt, Peter."

Peter grimaced. "Yeah, well, I've been worse. It's nothing a few days sleep can't cure. Pop, can you help Kerry? She has a broken finger." The older man inclined his head and looked to Kerry.

"It's really nothing," Kerry protested. She stood still as Caine took her hand in his own and unwrapped the very dirty cloth. Regarding the bare finger, he closed his eyes, and she felt both his warm hands around hers. When he released her, the finger felt…better.

"Thanks!" she said, wiggling it back and forth. It felt almost healed. She looked at peter's father with amazement.

"You are…most welcome," he said with a smile. The warmth of his smile wrapped around her like a blanket, and she felt herself begin to relax for the first time in… Well, for the first time since she had met Peter.

Peter ran a hand through his hair. "So Pop, how did you get up here?"

"I…walked."

Peter laughed. "No really, you couldn't have…"

A howling moan startled them all, then a black shape ran through the open doorway and across the room, landing on Kerry and knocking her to the floor. She laughed as her lap was full of squirming, happy, howling dog. Maggie pushed against her, licking any skin she could reach between howls.

"Having a little clean up problem in here?" Kermit walked cautiously into the cabin, gun drawn, followed by a similarly armed woman Peter didn't recognize.

"Oh yeah," Peter intoned, grinning around his father at his friend.

"Kerry!" the woman cried.

"Kim!" Kerry called back. Kim dropped to her knees beside her and they hugged. Maggie's whole body wagged as she leapt around them.

"Sister." Kermit explained succinctly, following the direction of Peter's gaze. "You look like shit, kid."

"That's pretty much the way I feel," Peter said with a sigh. He watched as Caine moved between the unconscious men on the ground. Despite what they had done, he hoped he hadn't injured any of them permanently.

"They will all…live." Caine announced, "but we must get them medical attention."

"On the way over here, we found some transportation. One black van coming up." Kermit said. "There was a driver in it, but he saw the error of his ways."

"Straker?" Peter asked, hoping.

Kermit shook his head. "Nope. Just some nameless pawn."

Peter roused himself enough to frown at Kermit. "They're not nameless."

Looking at his weary friend, Kermit's voice softened. "Sorry, Peter. You're right. We'll find out his name and story later."

"There's rope in the kitchen drawer," Peter offered, as Kermit picked up Green and dragged him out the door.

Peter leaned back and closed his eyes, feeling secure for the first time in a week. He was asleep in minutes. When the van was ready to go, no one had the heart to waken him, so his father carried him out of the cabin and into the waiting transportation.

Epilogue

"My parents are coming back tomorrow," Kerry said, watching as Peter finished caulking the last pane of glass in place. The French doors were finished.

It had been a week since Peter had been carried from the cabin to the van. When they had returned to the house, Peter had been transferred from the van to the master bedroom. He slept for twenty-four hours. After a meal and a shower, he had gone back to bed for another twelve hours. He was still sleeping eight to ten hours a day.

After dropping off the prisoners at a nearby hospital and making the appropriate security arrangements with the local police, Kermit had returned to the house. He stayed the first two days to make sure that Peter would be fine, they had left to take care of some mysterious business having to do with Straker. He hadn't volunteered any information, and none of the others had asked. Through the local grapevine, Kerry had discovered that the men in the hospital had been transferred to and undisclosed location.

Kim had stayed a day longer than Kermit, worried about her sister. Kerry managed to convince her to go back to work and just check in occasionally. Occasionally had turned out to be threee to five phone calls a day. Kerry saw more of her sister in the next forty eight hours than she had in the last forty eight days.

Kerry spent much of that time with Caine, who had remained at the house with his son. They had walked the dogs frequently, and after some coaxing, Caine had told Kerry of his life in Chinatown. She was fascinated with the apothecary, and had taken him into the woods to search for herbs. In return, he had begun instructing her in their uses.

When Peter managed to finally stay awake, he had insisted on repairing the French doors. Somehow, that short project had extended his stay for the full week her parents were away. In addition to repairing the doors, he and Caine had also painted the porch and replaced broken windows in the barn.

Kerry objected, but Peter had insisted. Caine had pulled her aside to tell her that he wanted to give his son time to recover in a peaceful setting. Kerry figured out for herself that without something to keep him busy, Peter wouldn't stay in one place long enough to allow his body time to heal. She had spent the time helping with the various projects and trying to get to know Peter. Now the last task was finished, and he was about to leave.

"I wish you could stay," she said impulsively. He had been friendly, but distant all week, like she was a glass figure he might break.

"You do?" Peter asked, sounding slightly surprised.

"Well, of course. I…really like…being with you." Kerry said, looking up into the hazel eyes.

"Oh." Peter said blankly. "I thought that you would run screaming in the other direction, given the chance."

"Why? Because you're a cop?" Impatience entered Kerry's voice. "My sister is a cop too, remember. I know what it's like. If it's because of what happened this week, you know that wasn't your fault." She glared at Peter.

He looked abashed. "Well…I thought…You…" he was tripping over his tongue, face turning slightly pink with embarrassment. "After all you went through because of me…"

"I won't break." Kerry said firmly. "I can hold my own, even if all I have is a tennis racket," she added, hoping the reminder would help rattle whatever picture he had built up in his mind of her. She took a step towards him.

"You won't?" Peter asked, a smile stealing across his face. He bent down towards her.

"Nope," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders. His lips touched hers.

"I can't stay," Peter said, some time later.

"Oh." Kerry said, disappointed.

"Your parents are coming home. I don't think I want to be around when you explain what you went through this week. Besides, I have to get back to work," he explained, pulling away from her.

Kerry's frown grew as his excuse went on.

Peter touched her nose with one finger. "But what are you doing next month? I was thinking, I have some time built up, and I hear that hiking is fun in this part of the country…"

Inside the house, Kwai Chang Caine smiled.

FIN!