Part 10
An ambulance rushed both Mary Margaret and an unconscious Peter to the hospital. Peter was seen briefly in the ER, then sent to the operating room minutes later, after Mary Margaret reassured the doctors that Peter had not been shot or stabbed again.
Paul, Kermit and Caine were ushered out of Mary Margaret's treatment room. Annie, who had been brought to the hospital by a neighbor, was allowed to stay with her.
"I know it sounds silly," Mary Margaret explained with a frail smile and dread in her eyes, "but, I don't think I can handle being around strangers right now."
Annie held her hand, giving it a brief squeeze, and sat on a stool next to the bed.
While Strenlich and Caine waited outside the ER, Kermit watched Paul pace in the surgical waiting room.
"Paul, the kid is tough. He'll be all right," Kermit said, hoping that his words were true.
Stopping, Paul looked out the window at the passing pedestrian and automotive traffic. "Sometimes I wonder if Peter would have been better off if his father had remained dead." He turned to find Kermit standing behind him, his eyes unshaded. "You should have seen Peter when he found Caine; he was like a child with a new toy. For a year, Peter talked constantly about his father, about being attacked by 'Sing Wah' and other adventures, all because of Caine. Then the man left and Peter was so…so depressed, like he had been orphaned again. He was reckless before Caine came back from the dead, but when he walked out for those six months…" Paul remembered the reports on Peter's behavior, and the one time he spent several weeks in the hospital. Anger came back, and he slammed his balled fist onto the windowsill. "And then this happens! All because of Caine!"
Kermit shook his head. "I think you're wrong, Paul. From what I understand, Clarence shot Peter because he was a cop. And the junkie shot him because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, not because he was Caine's son. Think about it, Paul. Even when he fell down the stairwell, it was because he was a cop, not a Shaolin priest's son."
"So you think he'd have been better off without me?" Paul asked.
Kermit realized the root of Paul's anger. For the past 15 years, Paul had talked about Peter being the son he'd never had, how proud Paul was that Peter had been accepted to the police academy and then passed with honors. Kermit understood now that Paul didn't blame Caine as much as he blamed himself. "No, Paul. That's not what I'm saying. It's just that…" Kermit stopped, searching for the right words.
Neither man saw Kwai Chang Caine at the waiting room entrance. "I believe," Caine interrupted, "what Kermit means is that, no matter what profession our son is in, there will always be danger. In any job where one follows the path of light and truth, there is always someone following behind that is on the path of darkness. It is the yin and yang of life."
Paul listened to the wise words and realized that Peter had always followed the path of helping others.
"I, too, blame myself for Peter's injuries, just as you -- his other father -- do. When he was shot by the…junkie? I blamed you, but then I realized that he has always protected those who are weaker. I rode with him and I saw him at his work. He is a cop. As he told me later, 'That's what I am; that's what I do.'"
Paul smiled at the thought. "I think we need to talk about our son." He led the way to some chairs.
"Yes," Caine answered and followed, anticipating learning more about their son.
Kermit left the two men alone and went back to the emergency room.
Sitting beside his hospital bed, Mary Margaret watched the steady breathing of her partner. She noted his color was not as white as it had been the day before, when they were both rushed to the hospital.
With paper and pen in hand, she mused to herself of the time when, as a little girl, she would write her deepest secrets into a diary. A better friend she could not have had than her diary. It never spoke of her secrets like her friends would; instead, she locked away the feelings and thoughts every night. The habit had not stopped when she reached adulthood.
The doctors wanted to admit her to the hospital for the night, but she would stay only if she could be in Peter's room. Kermit had taken the doctor aside when he hesitated at the idea of a male and female patient in the same room. "It isn't appropriate," he had argued. After the doctor's one-sided conversation with the ex-mercenary, the doctor had changed his mind. A smile touched her lips at the memories of the men in her life fighting for her.
She was transferred to her room with both Annie and Kermit at her side. Peter had been in recovery and had been brought to the room later.
Caine had remained in the room for a few hours after Peter was brought in. Later, Lo Si ushered him out, stating that Caine, too, was in need of healing and rest. Paul had taken Annie home and promised to be back in the morning, after Kermit declared that he would be the one to stay with the two injured officers.
Sleep evaded her mind and body until she asked for something that would help her to relax. Kermit sat in a chair between the two beds, trading small talk with her until his own yawns punctuated his sentences.
The pull of sleep on her eyelids became too much to fight, and she drifted off into peaceful darkness. The dreams started out pleasant, with Caine gazing into her eyes and smiling at her. Then the smile turned into a sneer, the face changing to Alexander's as he reached out to grab her and press his face against her. Hands restricted her movements; she fought for release, and screamed.
"Mary Margaret, wake up." The familiar voice broke into the nightmare as she still struggled against the restraints. "Come on, Sweet Cheeks. It's me, Kermit."
The horror stopped as she woke up and stared into Kermit's dark eyes, and leaned into his gentle caress to her face.
The scream did not phase her partner as he lay unconscious in his bed.
She reread what she'd written in her journal so far tonight. "It's me again, Margaret. I am scared again, as scared as I was when I was a little girl who thought that monsters lived in her closet. The night brings the monster back. I can feel him pawing me, can feel his hot breath as he says my name. Then the sun comes back and drives him back under my bed. I don't know who to trust, anymore. We were all deceived by people around us. As a cop, I should have known what was happening. I should have done something to stop it."
A shift in Peter's breathing made her stop and look at him. Peter slowly woke to sorrow hanging in the room. The feeling threatened to push him back down into the dark waters of consciousness as a means of escape, but his mind registered the sorrow as belonging to a friend, and he could not desert her.
Meeting her gaze, he whispered her name, "Mary Margaret."
A sincere smile lit her face; a tear of happiness and relief freely ran down her cheek as she reached for his hand.
He met her halfway and felt her warm touch in his hand. "I guess… your prayer worked," he stated weakly.
"It did, Partner, and we're safe," she answered, again saying a prayer of thanks. "How do you feel?"
He paused and looked around the white hospital room as though maybe the room could provide him with the answer. 'Numb' was the only word he could come up with. "How are you?"
More tears flowed from her eyes. So many emotions were loosed from her mind -- relief, fear, anger, sorrow all chased each other.
Peter leaned up slowly and reached for her, wanting to take her in his arms and help ease her mind and even his. He shared her feelings; he could sense them fighting for the lead in her just as they warred in him.
Mary Margaret placed her pen and paper on the table and reached over the bed rail, embracing Peter. Each held onto the other, fighting their own monsters and helping to conquer each other's.
Kermit opened the door to find them holding each other and nodded. "Oh, yeah."