Stories By Dana K
"Clouds and Storms"
(A Postscript to "Retribution", taking place before the goodbye)

Paul Blaisdell stopped at the closed door to Kermit's office. It was unusual, the door being closed. Kermit was one of the main assets to the 101st Precinct, with many people who needed his help every day. They entered his office as a habit, many just to say hello, but most to have him search for information in the computers of the world. That was why Kermit usually refused to work weekends, and was given the right not to. To Blaisdell's eyes, the closed door seemed to almost be a warning . . . {Or maybe that's just me interpreting it.} Blaisdell knew he himself was in an emotional state.

The things that had happened recently were painful, what will him being accused of killing someone. But was Kermit in an equally emotional state? {This may be the last time I see him,} he thought sadly. He knew the long lasting friendship between them would never end. But the chances of them ever even talking to each other again were slim. Blaisdell was not telling anyone where he was going, least of l l one of his oldest friends. Contact was being broken with everyone. It had to be. {Everyone . . . }

Annie was no exception.

{One can talk to themselves about being strong 'til doomsday,} he told himself firmly. {But leaving your family behind will never be justifiable to yourself. } The pain was strong, but he did not block it. How could he fully remember his wife and children if he blocked the grief he felt at leaving them? They deserved his tears. They were brave souls, for accepting what would be done.

He had a feeling Kermit would have approved. {WILL approve. You're not gone yet, Paul.}

But Peter. He was surprised Peter had taken it so well. Blaisdell had not given him much to work with; he had only told his foster son what he had told Annie and the girls; that he had to leave. It didn't equal to much in the end. But that was the way it should be. If Blaisdell ever had a chance to get back, he would reach them. It was too dangerous for them to be able to reach HIM. Even the slightest chance of Peter finding out a phone number or overhearing a name could be catastrophic.

Kermit was different, and in some ways, worse. Blaisdell didn't think his friend would try to find his location as much as Peter would. But if the computer wizard did happen to try, he would be much more successful. Blaisdell hoped that Kermit wouldn't make the attempt.

Blaisdell knocked on the door, and waited for a response.

A brusque, muffled voice traveled through the door. "I'm busy."

Blaisdell smiled slightly at the annoyed tone in Kermit's voice. "Aren't you always busy?"

The door swung open suddenly, and Blaisdell found himself looking at a very surprised Kermit.

"Captain!" Kermit gave a fleeting smile, but foreboding reined his features. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you, too. Especially after all that's happened."

"I didn't expect you to . . . visit, so soon. I thought . . . after the public goodbye."

"Well . . ." Blaisdell gave a small smile and shrugged. "I felt that this might be easier."

Kermit nodded slowly, and cleared the doorway. "Come in."

Blaisdell entered, and Kermit closed the door behind him. Kermit offered him a seat in a desk chair, then sat at the computer.

"Captain . . . I won't ask where you're going."

Blaisdell watched him carefully. "Thanks. I couldn't tell you, anyway."

"I figured as much."

There was a moment's silence, then Blaisdell smiled ruefully. "It was a hell of a time for you to go on vacation."

"Yeah." Kermit sat a little straighter. "Paul . . . I wish you would have called me and told me." Kermit dropped the sentence gently, almost a whisper in the quiet room.

"It would have only been a bothersome thing for you. I was the only one who could have been involved in it."

"I know. I KNEW." He gave a sudden ironic smile. "I guess I still wish I could have been there to help." He became solemn again. "But I've had to do the same before."

Blaisdell sighed. "I'm starting to think, that at some point, everyone will."

Quiet, again. Then Kermit spoke. "How is Peter with this?"

The older man grinned. "Three days at Central Booking and a lot of paperwork hasn't daunted his stubborn spirit." The grin lessened slowly. "But he's being rather understanding. He's not too happy with it. . ." He shrugged. "What can one do?"

Blaisdell could guess what Kermit was probably thinking: {You can stay here, and not disappear like this.} But if anything of that sort was being thought behind those green sunglasses, they weren't voiced.

"Kermit. Look after him for me."

"I will."

Blaisdell nodded, and spoke softly. "Thank you." He paused for a moment. "It's about time for me to leave." He stood up, and Kermit did the same.

"Captain." Kermit took off his glasses and held his hand out to his former superior.

Blaisdell grinned, took the hand, and pulled Kermit into a hug. "I'm going to miss you, son."

Kermit hugged him back. "I'll miss you too. DAD. "

Blaisdell laughed and gently eased out of the embrace. Kermit looked into his eyes. "It's been a long time since you've called me that."

Blaisdell smiled and laid his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "For old time's sake, my friend." He let the hand drop. ". . . Will you watch over my family for me while I'm gone?"

Kermit grinned. "I'll guard them as if they were my own."

"I'm taking you up on that," Blaisdell said, smiling back. His expression dampened. "It's not likely that we'll see each other again."

Kermit put on his glasses with a flourish and gave a minuscule smile. "We'll meet again. Anything is possible. And as you know, the impossible is a usual around here."

Blaisdell nodded, and gave a smile he hoped was free of the pain inside. "Take care of yourself."

"You do the same."

The older man paused before speaking again. "You're like family to me, Kermit. You always were."

"I'm honored. Thank you." He stopped, silent, then spoke. "Paul. Stay alive."

"I will." He opened the door. "Goodbye, Kermit."

"Goodbye Captain. And good luck."

Blaisdell gave him a small smile, then turned away and walked out of the office.

Kermit's door was closed again when Blaisdell began to say his goodbyes. Kermit could hear what was happening outside of his office, and knew Blaisdell would be leaving very soon.

He concentrated on the computer screen, and on finding the files on a suspect for Skalany. But his mind would not be pulled from his friend's leaving. He sat and listened to every goodbye, while he watched the screen saver as a thunderstorm raged around it's frame. He smiled sadly at the muffled stumbling joke of Nickie Elder, the resident M.E., who seemed as uncomfortable as the rest about goodbyes, but was unable to suppress it as well as the others could. Kermit sighed, and waited for the end. Then, everything was quiet a moment, except for the computerized sounds of thunder and rain. Voices flitted softly, then grew stronger. Emotions were squashed, many with pain. The officers returned to their jobs, and Kermit knew that Blaisdell must have left.

"Kermit?" Peter's voice, and another knocking on the door.

"Come in, kid." He watched as Peter slowly entered. The young man was uncomfortable as he glanced around the room, not really aiming any looks at Kermit.

"Kermit," he suddenly said, "were you here when . . ." He broke off numbly.

"Yes, I was."

"Did he say anything important?"

Kermit could read between the lines. He looked up at him. "Pete, even if he did, I wouldn't tell you."

Peter nodded, turning away to wander around the room. "Yeah, I figured as much." He gazed distantly at the floor. "So now what?"

"There's not much to be done, if I'm getting your drift." Kermit paused as Peter sat down in the chair Blaisdell had occupied only a half an hour ago. It made a complete impact on Kermit, for what he was about to say. "Peter. He's gone. And it's too dangerous to try to find out where he is. I know you've heard it all before from him, but there's no way you can find him. You shouldn't even try. He'll return when he's good and ready."

Peter jumped up and began pacing. "But If I don't try--"

"Then you won't be wasting time. He expected this from you. Don't you think he's covering up his trail with everything he's got?"

Peter didn't respond, but he stopped the pacing. "What about Annie? And Kelly and Christy?"

Kermit was silent before answering. "If their last name is 'Blaisdell', the must be strong people. They can handle it. YOU can handle it."

"I'm not certain I can."

{But YOU have two fathers,} Kermit thought. {You can go to one of the other is gone, and won't be as hurt by this as you would be.} "You can take it, Peter."

"I just want to know where he is. Everyone wouldn't be so worried if they knew."

"Don't be so sure," Kermit said dryly. "But that doesn't matter, because you'd still find something to worry about until it was back the way it was."

"I wish it could be. Paul would still be here."

"You can't change the past, so stop hanging on it. You'll drive yourself insane."

Peter got defensive. "He's been my father for twelve years. Should I just stop thinking about him entirely? Ignore the past years of my life?"

Kermit was suddenly very angry. He stood up and walking over to Peter. "Listen to what I'm saying, will you?" he said, his voice raising dangerously. "You are one of the few lucky people to have three parents to be there for you. You have people who love you and care about you all over the place. I had ONE parent, and she was and STILL IS a damned good woman. But a kid doesn't get much attention from a single parent with two other kids to support as well. And she didn't have time to be my father. When Blaisdell came along, he was like my father. He still is, in a way, and I miss him just as much as you do. But you have another father too, and Blaisdell's not dead, no matter how far away he may be. You are luckier then you know, but all you do is wallow in sadness. Be thankful for what you have. And walk away from what you can't get back. I'd give anything to have had a father like Blaisdell, if only for TWO years of my childhood. But I can't rewrite the past, and neither can you. And you definitely can't change Blaisdell's mind. He's as stubborn as you are.

"But I'm trying my best to get your mind back in your brain," Kermit said, his voice calming, "and out of your heart. I want you to see reason. If he thinks the danger is past, he'll come back. But you can't do anything about it, and no amount of people can make him return until he's satisfied it's safe for everyone."

Peter's shock turned to hurt, then shame. "I . . . I'm sorry Kermit, I'm so sorry. You're right. I've been acting selfish."

Kermit began to turn away. "It's all right." {Great speech, Kermit. Now Peter feels even worse.}

But Peter stepped around him to face him again. "Kermit. Would you like a hug?"

Kermit laughed in surprise as Peter wrapped his arms around him before he could answer. Kermit returned the hug firmly, his eyes misting behind his glasses. "I think we're gonna make it, kid." "So do I. And thanks for chewing me out. I needed it."

Kermit smiled and slowly let go of Peter. "Thanks for the hug. I needed it."

Peter grinned. "We both did, pal." He patted Kermit on the arm. "Listen. I'll see you later. I've got a lot of stuff to think about." Possibly sensing Kermit's need to be alone for a while, he smiled his goodbye and slipped out of the room.

The door closed behind him, and Kermit slumped back into his chair. The room was quiet, the way it was usually when he was alone. The other chair that Blaisdell once sat in was empty again. But Kermit found it didn't hurt as much to see it that way.

{And now we go on. And merely wait for something to appear on our doorsteps, signaling that he's back.

{And ten thousand years from now this same thing will be happening to another family, maybe another friend, and they will wait as well. {We WILL survive. We've survived worse. But I hope we won't forget. No. We'll never forget Paul. It isn't possible to forget him.}

The man had changed all of their lives. All of their courses through life would have been different, and possibly even worse, if it was not for that one man. Peter would have stayed in the orphanage, probably not finding any other people who would give his smart-mouthing a chance. {And I would be dead by now if Blaisdell hadn't thrown me into the Academy and made me pass.}

A calm settled over him. He watched the screen saver again, as the thunder continued across it. Then, suddenly, the sky turned to stars instead of rain. It was just the program running, but it stirred a memory of a poem he had once read. He had found it in a book, and had fallen in a sort of love with it. He still had every verse memorized from those days. Soft, and sad, and strangely morbid, it filled his thoughts again, like it had so many years before.

Somewhere, sometime, long ago, The clouds were in my eyes.

Somewhere, sometime, long ago, The storms were in my heart.

I waited for the world to brighten, I waited for the storms to go, I waited for the clouds in me To somehow, someday part.

In the end, old and in my bed, With clouds and storms unabated, I realized now, That in my life, I should not have ever waited.

If I had told the clouds to rain, and told the storms to thunder, the rain would wash the pain away, the storms would let' my anger.

And now I sit, and will soon pass, I will soon go away,

I now know this, I should have told The clouds and storms to stay.

The verses stilled in his mind, sad, bringing peace, though they would not, could not, bring happiness. The happiness would return in time on it's own. A minuscule smile, itself sad, came to his face. The quiet filled him, and he found that the day had left him very weary.

But he had to return to his job. He sighed, and began to read up on Skalany's suspect. {The clouds and storms will stay.} It might take a few weeks, but the fated clouds and storms that could not be expected to fade away in him, would instead thunder, storm, and shed their tears as he did. In doing so, his sorrow would not be a painful taunt, but an old memory of his former captain.

And Peter would be well.

{As it should be.}

The End
Back to the beginning

"Growing Up"
An Epilogue to Black Widow (on the assumption that Black Widow takes place after Prism.)

Saturday . . .

As I hang up the phone after talking to Mitch, I can't help thinking about how much my little sister Marilyn has grown. The first memory I have of her is of a shy girl stepping off of a plane. Now she's a wonderful mother, a grown woman. It's amazing how fast time moves.

Our grandparents on our mother's side lived in Ireland. Our father lived in a place I never learned of until much later. So when I was thirteen years old, my mother had no one to argue with about the decision to send Marilyn to live with our grandparents. She couldn't afford all three of us.

Marilyn was only seven when she left. When Mom got back on her feet, Marilyn came back. After three years, she wasn't a little girl anymore, but I found that I missed experiencing her childhood innocence. I wish that I had seen her through those times. Her years in Ireland were very hard on her.

Marilyn was never very strong. She always seemed very frail and sickly. But she had real strength inside, even if she had a physical weakness. To be moved back and forth the way we were, from one town to the other . . . it was hard for all of us, but Marilyn took the worst of it. Our mother finally got settled down, about a year after Marilyn had returned. But Marilyn always seemed to expect to be whisked away again, especially when David was a new member of the family, only two years old, and she wasn't the baby anymore.

Marylin told me later that she had wanted to go back to Ireland, which had been her home for an important part of her life. I could tell that she liked Ireland much better than America. She called our grandparents as often as possible. She missed the countryside and the people there.

At least she didn't keep away from the rest of her family. Mom was worried that she would avoid us and blame us for making her leave Ireland. But, to my surprise, she loved us, especially me. For the first time in a long while, I began to feel needed. I loved her more than anything, and she was the best little kid you could hope for. Well, at least for me she was. Mom could never get her to do what she was told, but for some reason, I could. Mom said it was my boyish charm. I think it was because Marilyn wanted to get on her mother's nerves.

The interesting part was Marilyn's Irish accent. She never lost it. Just when it was beginning to fade away, maybe about the time she had turned twelve, our grandparents decided to move to America. After that, there was no hope: Marilyn came home from their house every day with her accent getting thicker and thicker, until it was just as bad as when she had first returned home.

It was really strange, having a little sister who spoke with the only accent in the family. Other than Grandma and Grandpa, that is. It was like we had our own little foreign exchange student. People liked the exotic effect she had on any situation. It got her a lot of attention at school, especially from the boys, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. For the boys, that is. I wasn't. . . very diplomatic. I'm still not. My sister was shy and didn't want relationships, and I was not about to let anything be forced on her.

I would have probably been shy, too, but Marilyn prevented that, in an interesting way. It was a bad school in the bad part of town. I had the choice of being scared, or of protecting Marilyn. Of course, I chose the latter. Self-defense became a big issue for the two of us.

I turned nineteen and went off to Vietnam, thanks to the draft. Marilyn and little David were devastated that I had to leave, but I told her that as long as I was there to pull her out of scrapes, she would never learn how to handle her problems herself. She could be the big sister, now, pulling David out of scrapes.

In our family, you learned to grow up early. And she was thirteen, the perfect age to grow up.

"Grow up!?" Marilyn yelled at her son, the Irish accent strong in her voice. "I'm the one who works around here! You're seventeen and all you do is sit around watching TV! When you start acting grown up, THEN you can have the right to decide whether I am or not!"

"Mom, I'm tired of this stupid town, this terrible house- I hate it!"

"Well, too bad, Jason!" Marilyn called after him as he began walking out of the kitchen. "There's no where else for you ta' go, so you'll have to live with it!" She heard the front door slam, and the house shook briefly.

Marilyn turned and walked into the living room where Mitch was returning to her book.

"Hi, Mitch," Marilyn said, her accent strong with emotion. "I'm sorry about the fight." She sat down next to her daughter and sighed.

"Mom, why do you and Jason have to fight all the time?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. It's been so hard since your father died. . . But how are you doing, Mich?"

"I'm okay, I guess."

"How was today?"

Mitch shrugged. "The same as every day: I watched some TV, I rode my bike a little. I finished that book Kermit sent me. . . Oh, Kermit called while you were gone."

"Who did he want to talk to?"

Mitch ran a hand through her long hair. "He didn't care. He just wanted to know how it was going. We talked a long time." She paused, puzzlement on her face. "He also said, before he hung up, to ask if he could come over tomorrow after church and to tell you that 'the trial turned out fine'. What trial was that?"

Marilyn grinned and kissed Mitch on the cheek. "Honey, I'm not sure Kermit would want me to tell you. You should ask him tomorrow.--Did Amber's parents decide whether you could spend a week at her house?"

Mitch's face fell. "No, they said her grades weren't good enough during the school year. It's not fair, Mom! Amber tried so hard. Now what will I do the rest of the summer?"

"What about your other friends?"

"Pauley is in Seattle with her aunt, Angie is at summer camp, and Maria is grounded." She said the word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth. "So now I have nothing to do." Marilyn frowned. "Kermit's coming to visit tomorrow. We'll find something exciting to do, sweetie. I'm sure we will."

So, Marilyn grew up, got married, found a wonderful life. Then Jason and Mitch came along, my two little squirts of a niece and nephew. I loved those guys to death, and probably spoiled them rotten. I am their uncle, I had the right.

As Jason got older, into his teenage years, he grew edgy. He became rude and obnoxious, natural for a boy his age. But it seems that he was meant to have a difficult childhood. When he was almost fifteen, his father died in a car accident. Marylin and Mich pulled through after a year of pain, but Jason still fights the truth, never morning his father.

All I can do is wait and listen, be there for the boy who reminds me of myself so much. Someday, he'll be ready. And when that day comes, I'll be waiting.

Sundy night. . .

As I drive towards my house, I let the relief fill me. Karen, my Captain, my friend, and a part of me that I thought I would never find again, has forgiven my arrogance and stupidity. The murder charge is no more, and Emma Thornton has been banished from my life, thank God.

The whole situation had left me with vague sense of worry for those that I loved. I just had to visit Marylin today, so I did. Now that I'm back, everything seems right again. It probably won't stay that way for long, but for now, I'm happy. I love my family, but more importantly, I'm learning slowly that I can love myself. For so long, I've been unable to do that. Maybe that's why it took me so long to realize the very real feelings I had for Karen. Maybe that was why I let Emma tear me away from her, so that I could escape the true emotions I had for my Captain.

I think I'm ready for that now. I've faced the growing emotions that the trial brought on, and admitted to having them. I've also admitted to being more than a little dense to allow Emma to get under my defenses. I psychoanalyze that this is a big step, but a still bigger one looms ahead: learning to get past the mistakes I've made in my life. If Karen, Marylin and Caine can forgive my past, can I do so as well?

Can I forgive myself?

Monday night. . .

Skalany leaned against the bar at 'Chandlers' and raised her brows. "So, what DO we call you?"

Thomas Jefferson 'don't call me TJ' Kincaid sighed at his spot on the piano. "Just call me 'Thomas'."

Peter suppressed a grin. "How about 'Tom'?"

Kincaid made a face as he began to play a song. "I hate that name. I had an aunt who used to love to call me 'Tommy-boy'. It soured me on the whole name thing."

Jody studied his face from where she sat on the other side of the piano bench. "The thing is, you LOOK like a TJ"

Kincaid looked mystified. "You know, everyone seems to think so. It's really aggravating."

Jody grinned and looked behind her shoulder at Peter. Peter shook his head and walked the few steps to the bar to order another drink. "You know, Skalany," he said as he sat down next to her, "it's nice to have everything back to normal."

"Just what I was thinking, partner," she said, and sipped her beer. "When it rains, it pours, huh?"

"As Kermit would say, 'oh yeah'."

"Hell and heaven in a few months. Seems unlikely, doesn't it?"

Peter smiled and shook his head. "I definitely know that there must be some justice in the world."

Skalany smiled. "There better be justice in the world, Pete. If there isn't, we're out of a job."

Peter nodded and smiled back. He took a drink of beer and glanced around the room. Jody was teaching TJ a new song on the piano, and Frank was chatting with Kelly and Blake on the other side of the room. Karen Simms was listening intently to a story being told by a joyful Kermit (a rare occurrence). And, best of all, no one was in danger of anything except getting drunk.

Peter leaned back and listened to TJ singing along with the piano, confidant in the knowledge that all was right in the world.

End

 "Lost in Chinatown pt1"
. "Lost in Chinatown" By Dana K

"There is neither darkness nor death. . .
Darkness is only in the mortal eye,
that thinks it sees, but sees not."

----Ursula K. Le Guin

(Historian's note: this takes place after "Prism" but before "Black Widow".)

(These are not my characters, except for Tonya and Dezzee. All others belong to Micheal Slone and the gang. Thanks! Enjoy . . .)

Lost In Chinatown By Dana K-part 1/11

It was late afternoon as Detective Kermit Griffin studied his computer and listened to the sounds of the precinct. As he explored the internet, he heard a young male voice behind him. "Kermit," the voice said, and the detective turned to see Peter Caine standing in his doorway.

"Come in, kid. What's all the commotion about?" For Kermit had heard a slight change come over the people minutes before. They sounded quieter than usual. A little thoughtful, in fact.

Peter sighed and walked slowly into the office. "No one's really sure." Kermit raised a brow, and Peter went on to explain. "Well, you remember that new homicide they found yesterday, the drug dealer? Nickie just finished the autopsy and he says that he can't find out how he died."

"What do you mean?"

It seemed almost as if Peter hadn't heard the question. "No," Peter said softly, as if to himself, "not HOW he died . . ." He returned his attention to Kermit. " . . . But what killed him." Peter looked at Kermit intensely. "Nickie says the vic-tim was healthy, so he can't see how it could be of natural causes. No marks, nothing, no signs of struggle, no DNA traces other than his own. . . No WOUND, Kermit! It was like his heart just decided to stop, Nickie said. I donno'. Everyone's feeling a little strange about it."

Kermit had completely lost interest in his computer now. "The captain wasn't concerned? She let everyone know?"

"Yeah. She doesn't think it's something that needs to be kept a secret. But it's making everyone act a little, I donno' . . . Skittish."

Kermit paused before speaking. "Maybe . . . The toxicological will find something."

"Yeah. You know, maybe were all just letting this strange weather effect us. Ever since the heat wave, everyone at the precinct HAS been kind of jumpy. Maybe that's it."

"Could be," Kermit shrugged. "I mean, there always has to be a reason for death. Maybe he was poisoned."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I must be taking this a little too hard. That's all." Peter smiled, but his heart wasn't in it. Kermit could see that. He could see that Peter was troubled by this. Kermit knew that the same strange feeling that hovered over himself right now had descended over his young friend as well. But he had nothing he could say in return. So he watched Peter walk out of his office, his footsteps fading into the background.

As Kermit turned back to his computer, he tried to shake a feeling that there was something more than a little strange about that death. After a moment, he succeeded clearing his thoughts, and returned to his leisure 'net surfing. He couldn't let this new mystery catch his fascination. He had more important things to do. {And besides}, he told him-self as he began digging back into the large, tantalizing pool of information at his fingertips, {Peter's father is a Shaolin priest. He has the blood for solving magical mysteries. I have the blood for computers. And at the moment,} he thought contentedly, {computers are much more interesting to me.}

A week later. . .

It was cool inside the little house when compared to the weather outside. But she didn't care. She would have preferred to be outside in the heat and the humidity.

The woman's curly black hair fell over her shoulders in a heap, and her brown eyes were blurred in her contemplation. Her circumstances were not unique. . . But all too well the opposite.

{Police protection. Hah. I just want to know when I can leave this dump,} he thought to no one in particular. {In his own good time, they say. I'm about to make my own decision, Adonai.}

{The waiting, the stress. . .}

{All this had to happen right after I got out of. . . Rehab'.} She cringed at saying the word. It implied so many things that were wrong in society. So many things that she fought as a cop. {I was a drunk. Drunks beat their kids and kill people in car accidents. }

{But that's not me,} she argued her conscience, {I just sit there and cry. Pathetic, but not a murderer.}

The woman didn't even want to think of what could happen if she had to deal with more stress. {I will not back down. I can make it through this.}

But self-pity still clouded her thoughts as she tried to push the Eagles' song "I Will Not Go Quietly" from her mind.

She shook her head and reminded herself that there were many people who had it worse. She was only a cop who was being threatened by a criminal that she had sent to jail. So, she was a recovering alcoholic. That was just added stress for her. The others were who she was worried about: the lawyers and the judge who had been on her stalker's case. They were not used to their new problem, and they were in the most danger now. {Don't know why they aren't used to it, though. They send enough people to jail in their work.}

Her stalker, Bobby Canada, was one of those people. He was found guilty of murder, killing a woman who had not carried through with a major drug deal that would have brought her rich killer even more money. Tonya had worked on the case with a partner, but was left in complete control of the investigation. Therefore, when Canada broke out of prison seven months later, he centered his final revenge on her. "I'm going from the top to the bottom" he said in one of his threatening letters. She would be the last. That was why the highest security was being placed on the judge.

The judge was first, but according to Canada, the worst punishment was being reserved for her.

A female voice called to her, shaking her from her thoughts. "Yo, Tony!"

"What! What is it?" Tonya Scott said, looking up from the brown carpeting in front of the couch.

"Snap out of it," came the deep feminine voice. "You're making the natives restless." The voice became a body, as Detective Dezzee Holt walked in front of her, a small black woman of 30 who looked 18.

"Hah. You mean these two?" she motioned at the two male rookies also in the room. The two men laughed as Holt sighed and leaned against the living room wall. "Yeah, sister, they thought you were gonna die right there on the Davenport. Death Of Boredom, they called it in Med school. Too bad I fell victim to it myself and couldn't last through the aforementioned training."

Tonya leaned back and pulled her legs up onto the coffee table sitting in front of her. "This is driving me nuts. If I don't let out some energy soon, I'm going to crack."

Holt smiled. "Yeah, well you just try being an undercover juvenile cop at high school. THAT makes you nuts. Looking young ain't as great as it seems." She yawned and continued. "At least it's not a Monday."

"Yeah. But yesterday was."

Holt laughed and shook her head.

Hours passed, and Tonya had resorted to flipping through channels on the television.

Suddenly, she felt the anxiety build.

"That's it," she said as she jumped up from her seat, "I can't take this any more!"

The officer sitting across from her on the couch shook his head slowly. "Come on, Detective Scott, it's for your own good."

"MY own good? This isn't good! I've been cooped up in this insane asylum of a house for two weeks now. I feel like a lab rat."

Holt, now standing in the kitchen, covered her eyes with her hand. "Tony, let me get you another cup of coffee. Decaf', will you?"

Tonya sat down on the couch to the left of the male officer. "It's not the coffee, Dezzee." She looked around at her companions. "I'm a cop, you guys. The other's definitely aren't, but I AM. I don't need to be in a safe house." She lowered her head angrily and glared at the floor. {Why do I always find myself staring at the floor?} she questioned the floor. It seemed to happily decline an answer.

Holt's chocolate brown hand appeared below with a steaming cup of coffee in it. Tonya looked up into Holt's friendly face.

"Take it," Holt said with an understanding gaze. Tonya nodded wearily, and accepted the cup.

Holt sat down next to Ton-ya, who was now in the middle. "If you don't wanna be here, you know you don't have to. But Canada will still be around. Maybe you should transfer to get away from 'im."

"I've thought of that. But I don't want to run."

"Protect yourself. These are your choices."

Tonya nodded. She wondered which choice was the answer.

Two days later. . .

"We really need to talk about this, Peter," Kelly said.

"I know," Peter sighed at his girlfriend, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Well then, we can start now." She sat down next to him on the couch. "I live here. At least, I thought I did. But that isn't enough for you, Peter. You go out with other women like I'm not even here. God, we work together! How can you think you'd get away with that?"

"Kelly, you agreed that we would see other people." His brown eyes looked at her in confusion.

"But I don't feel that way anymore, Peter. I want to be your full time girl."

"Aw, come on, Kelly. It's just dating."

"Peter, I've had it with being just another girlfriend!" Kelly picked up her purse and swung it angrily over a shoulder. "I want to be your ONLY girlfriend."

Peter sighed. He was getting a headache. "Kell-"

"Listen, I'm late for my doctor's appointment. I'll talk to you about this later." She opened the door and walked out, long brown hair fluttering behind her.

"Wonderful." He slumped in a chair and looked at the bottle of pain medication in his hand. He groaned and stood up, walking into the kitchen to get a glass of water. After taking a couple of the pills, he leaned back against a wall and looked at the mess in his house. Couch pillows, papers, and books were strewn across the floor as if a tornado had been through it: the work of Kelly before she had gotten con-trol of herself. Shortly after that Kelly had threatened to move out, and had began to take her stuff and put it in a backpack. Thankfully, Peter had gotten her calmed down before she could pack more than a few pencils and a Walkman. In the end she had left for her appointment, or at least that was what she had said. {There can't be any other reason. . . } She hadn't taken anything with her, so Peter hoped she was planning on staying. {At least she didn't break anything,} he said to himself. {Not yet, anyways.} He sighed and began picking the things up and putting them back.

Peter was putting her Walkman on the table when the phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hi, Peter, " said a female voice. {Sonova gun,} he thought, {It's Tonya.} He smiled in spite of everything.

"Hey, Tony. How's everything going?"

"Better, now. I stopped the police protection, Pete. "

"Tony!" {God, how could she? The man is a lunatic with a yearly income as high as Michael Jordan's!}

"Peter, it was driving me nuts. Don't worry, I'll be fine."

"Yeah," he said angrily, "how many times have I heard you say THAT before? Dammit, you know he's a killer! You caught him yourself, for Christ's sakes!"

"I'm not going back."

"Fine!" he sputtered, and searched his mind for something to convince her with. "At least get out of the state or something!"

Exasperated, Tonya shook her head. "I'll be okay. Really."

"Tony. . ." he searched his mind for a solution. "Tony, get transferred. Get to the 1-0-1. We need more detectives."

"I don't know . . ."

"Can you come over here, Tony? Just to talk, okay? You don't have to agree to anything."

There was a pause on the other line.

He groaned. "Hey, I haven't seen you in a long time anyway. Come on."

"Okay," she said, giving in. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

"A few min-" The phone clicked and the dial tone sounded.

Peter shook his head. {She lives an hour and a half away. How will she get here so soon?}

Ten minutes after Tonya's call, the doorbell rang. Peter stood up from his spot on the couch and walked to the door.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, you silly!" Tonya's muffled voice called out.

"That's my Tony, all right," he said, opening the door.

He smiled at her. "Hey you."

"Hey you," she mimicked with a grin, "come 'ere." She reached out and hugged him. "Surprise!"

"No kidding," he said, looking her over. "How'd you get here so fast?"

"I was in the area. I was going to stop over here once I called, but after . . ."

"After . . ." His eyebrows arched. "You didn't think I would tie you up and send you overseas, did you?"

Tonya grinned as he walked her into the apartment.

"You know, though," he said, "the thought DID cross my mind a couple of times."

"I bet it did. But I'd rather be working then on vacation."

"Who said anything about vacation?"

"Please, spare me," she said with a barely suppress.

Peter ushered her over to the couch, then sat down next to her. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

Toni looked up at him and said soberly, "I'm gonna try to move on."

Peter shook his head. "But it's not over yet." He sighed and continued. "I know that you don't like to move. I'll help you. I'm sure Captain Simms will allow the transfer."

"I know. She's a great cop. . . Peter, I just don't think running away will help."

"You have to do it. It's the logical choice."

She smiled. "Who ARE you, 'Mr. Spock'?"

Peter grinned. "I think I'm getting there. But, seriously, tell me," his expression sobered again. "What else can you do?"

Tonya gave in with a sigh. "I guess you're right. Okay, I'll move."

"Good."

She smiled at a possible change in subject. "How's it going with Kelly?"

Peter eyed her suspiciously. "Terrible."

She giggled.

"Tony, don't you even start."

During the day, sudden noises and little sounds aren't noticed. But at night, they seem threatening and evil. Shadows form into bodies. . . darkness into your greatest fears . . .

{Where is she?}

That night, Peter sat on his couch and watched television. He didn't really pay attention to what was happening on the screen; he was waiting for someone. For the climax of a yet unspoken ultimatum.

A knock on the door.

Peter got up and turned off the television, hoping it was the person he awaited.

He walked to the door and opened it.

And sighed. "Dad. Isn't it kinda' late?"

Caine hesitated, his silver hair shining in the lamplight. "Yes. But this is important." He looked closely at his son. "Is something wrong?"

Peter shook his head, "Not really," and let his father in. {Only the fact that my girlfriend probably left me.}

"What's the problem, Pop?" He walked into the living room again, and turned to his father.

"It is something that is happening in this city, that I sensed only a few hours ago." The priest paused. "A great, barely contained evil. It has been let loose, but is so powerful that I cannot find it's origin."

"But why tell me now, so late at night? You've sensed this kind of thing before, and you've fixed it." So many times this had happened in fact, that Peter was becoming to see it as a regular occurrence. As if the city was a human body with an alien organism invading it, he figured. Like the cause of influenza; happening regularly when the body's defenses are weak, it can always be dispelled rather easily.

Caine looked Peter straight in the eyes, causing him to listen with greater care. "This power is growing. It has the taste of death to it, and it craves more. It is an embodiment of something primordial, I do not know what. Whoever released it does not have the power to control it for much longer." He looked off into the distance, deep in thought.

"So. . . What will happen if it overpowers them?"

Caine slowly raised his eyes to his son. "Chaos."

It was another two nights later that Peter found himself at Chandlers, thinking, for the hundredth time, about what his father had told him.

He hadn't spoken to his father during those past two days. He had been too busy.

But he still wondered. . .

A female voice entered his thoughts. "Guess what, Pete."

"Hey, Tony," he said, looking up. "I donno'. What?"

She sat down and tried to contain a smile. "Simms has agreed to the transfer."

"That's great! When do you start?"

"Day after tomorrow, right away."

He grinned. "Need some help with moving?"

"I'd love it."

A waitress came over and smiled at Tonya. "Can I get you something? Friday's Lady's Night. Beer is half price."

Tonya sighed and blinked at the table with sudden gloom. "Ah, no thank you. I'll just have a Pepsi."

"Make that two," Peter added.

The waitress beamed happily, "Right away," and slipped into the crowd, heading towards the bar.

"Tony. Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

He reached out his hand, and she took it with a sigh. "I'm pulling through," she said with reassurance.

"How long has it been so far?" . . {Since the last drink you had. . .} He finished silently, not wanting to say it out loud. She paused grimly before speaking. "Three months, two weeks and one day."

Peter squeezed her hand tightly. "You'll make it." {It's a good thing I didn't get any beer before she came,} he told himself. {I wouldn't have wanted her to see the glass and been reminded. I wouldn't want to make this harder than it already is.}

She smiled as the waitress brought them the 'Pepsi's', and raised the glass in the air. "To forever. May I never falter until it's over."

He smiled back. "To forever."

Peter and Tonya talked for a few hours. But through the entire night, Peter couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong concerning his father. He had to find out what was going on.

The sunrise was beautiful in the sky that Saturday morning. Bobby Canada smiled from inside his large house as he looked out the window. "Has she transferred?"

"Yes," the tall black woman said.

"Good. Make sure about the case." His blue eyes flashed at her.

"Anything you say," she said coldly, and began to walk away.

"Oh, and Commissioner," he said, causing her to stop. "Don't make any mistakes. You don't want to be found covered in your dirt."

The woman paused painfully at the joy he got from saying the words. She closed her eyes, not turning to look back. "No mistakes."

"Guess what, Dezzee," Tonya said over the phone.

"What?"

"I'm going to be transferred to the 1-0-1."

"That's great, Tony. When do you start?"

"I start tomorrow."

"You need any help moving?"

"Sure, if you can. Peter Caine's offered also. You remember him, don't you?"

There was a laugh on the other line. "I sure do. He's the official lady-killer of the 1-0-1."

"That's Peter all right."

There was a pause. "Hey, Tony. When you get the chance, say hi to Nickie Elder for me."

"Who's he?"

"YOU met him. He's the head doctor down there. Thin, light brown hair? And he talks a lot."

Tonya could hear a grin in Dezzee's voice, and smiled as well. "I remember him now. I'll tell him."

"Oh, and tell 'im I'm gonna be stopping by there on Wednesday, during the vacation time I'm taking off."

Tonya's smile grew. "Is this any relationship I should be aware of?"

"You know you'd be the first to hear, sister. But just between you and me. . ." She giggled, and Tonya joined her.

Dezzee continued after a few seconds. "I'm seriously thinking of mentioning it."

"Mentioning it? This is much more premature than I thought!"

"We've always been friends, Nickie and me. We met in Med school. We shared a cadaver."

"Hmm. Not very romantic, but. . . Hey, go for it."

"Believe me, I intend to!"

"Lost in Chinatown pt2"
Lost In Chinatown By Dana K-part 2/11

"There is neither darkness nor death. . .
Darkness is only in the mortal eye,
that thinks it sees, but sees not."
----Ursula K. Le Guin

(Historian's note: this takes place after "Prism" but before "Black Widow".)

(These are not my characters, except for Tonya and Dezzee. All others belong to Micheal Slone and the gang. Thanks! Enjoy . . .)

Caine threw another handful of powder into the other small fire, and it scorched higher. {I am sure that if the area around me is cleared, I will be able to find the source. } He sat in front of the two smoking pots and concentrated. . .

. . . and made contact . . .

{It searches. . . but not just with blood lust, not only for death . . .}

He perceived that it had a sentience . . . it called for something, for someone to hear.

{A name?

A quest for the one who sent it into oblivion!}

Caine gasped, the connection broken shards of the consciousness still clutching at him, longing to touch him, to share in his sanity.

"You will not find the one you seek here," he said sadly. "He is in another place, now. You have been in exile too long."

It was late, and Nickie was winding down from his work. He was still trying to find out what had killed the victim.

He tried again to concentrate on the data that he had gotten from the autopsy, but his headache had begun to seriously affect his thinking. He had tolerated it for the past God-knew-how-many hours, and it was still there. Adding insult to injury, his headache had decided to become a sinus headache. It was probably allergy-caused, so it just HAD to add bonus congestion to the whole package. {And in the end,} Nickie thought, {here I sit, miserable, straining to see this stupid report, sounding like a commercial for Nyquil-- Wait. Straining? } He looked at the report closely. Had he just been thinking fussy complaints, or was there really something wrong with his eyesight? He slit his eyelids and looked around the room, but now his vision seemed fine. He was really hot, though. {Great, the air conditioner's not working either. Perfect. Maybe I'll have a kidney failure too.}

With a sigh, he returned to the report, but after a few minutes he gave up. Tomorrow was a new day, and his headache might actually give him some peace by then. What he really needed was to go to bed.

Nickie blinked rapidly and widened his eyes to clear them. They were still rather hazy. . . {Nah, I just need sleep,} he thought, rubbing the painful bridge of his nose. {That's all.} He locked the doors to his office, and prepared for the ride home.

On Sunday, Peter and Tonya moved out all of her things from her old apartment and put them into her new one. It seemed to take all day just to move everything, but then, when a cop gets a day off, it's torture to spend it working. {At least,} Peter told himself when they were finished, {that's how most do it.} Some of the officers ran all their errands on off days, repaired their houses, or even other people's houses. Sometimes he did that himself.

Peter plopped onto Tonya's newly placed couch. He looked around her new living room and gave her a sweaty grin.

Tonya sighed wearily, watching him with a smile. "I can't believe you're still helping me with this. I would have left hours ago."

His grin lessened a little as he looked at her skeptically. "Sure you would," he said flatly. "Right."

His mock disbelief made her smile as she sat down next to him. "If it were anyone but a friend."

"Ah. That's what I thought."

She wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand. "Well, we're all done. Thanks again for the help, Peter."

"No problem."

He thought of when they had first met, and all of the times they had helped each other. The brother/sister relationship had started in the academy, and had grown over the years. But when they were separated by their jobs, they hadn't talked much. It was nice having her back, even for a short time.

After saying goodbye to Tonya, Peter headed for home. As he took a shower, he decided that it was time to talk to his father about the strange visit he had made only a few nights before.

"Pop?" he asked, slowly walking into the dimly lit apartment.

"Yes, Peter. . ." his father said patiently as he walked into the room from the balcony.

"Sorry. I should have knocked."

Caine watched his son. "Is there something bothering you?"

Peter's eyes narrowed in thought. "I donno'. Maybe there should be. Dad, can you tell me what all that talk of evil was about a few nights go?"

"I can."

"Well, what's going on with it? Has it changed, or gone away or something?"

"I apologize. I would have told you had I thought you were troubled by it. But you did not seem worried at the time."

"Yeah, I guess I didn't. But everything's fine, right?

" "It is the same as it has been." He paused, the tone of his voice-becoming grave. "I have only told you of it in the beginning because I may need your help to defeat it. I must find it and deal with the human cause behind it, which may not be a simple task."

"So, you'll tell me if something wrong happens?"

"Of course. Now," he said, his voice becoming lighter. ". . . it is around six o'clock."

Caine suddenly smiled wanly, and Peter knew his father was about to attempt some scheme. "Since you are here . . . would you like to have dinner with me?"

His son grinned. {He's a master at persuasion as well!} "Sure, Pop.-Dad . . . Sorry."

It was late Monday night when Tonya parked her car in the high-rise and got out. {I will never, ever move again. After yesterday, I know why my dad sold everything before each move.}

There were still boxes in her car and piled up in her new apartment that needed to be unpacked from the move, and she doubted they would ever be unpacked. {I'll find undeveloped rolls of film ten years from now and wonder, "Who in the world ARE these people?"}

She shook her head wearily, locked the car, and began to walk towards the elevator.

A loud click suddenly echoed through the garage, and Tonya leapt to the ground as bullets fired past her. {Shit!} she thought, {What's going on!}

She pulled out her gun and thought, {Bobby Canada, most likely.} But whoever it was, she had to move fast and get some backup.

She crawled back to her car, stopping at moments to return fire. When she got there, she opened the door, shaking her head at the mess the attackers had made of her car tires. It would have given her an escape, but now the only use it could give was her radio. She climbed in and grabbed the speaker for the C.B. "This is DeLeon 1-3, in the parking garage on the corner of Henry and Leighton." She paused to duck as a bullet shot near her right shoulder, cracking the windshield. "I'm being fired at. I need some backup as soon as possible. Over."

"Roger that," a female voice answered, "this is Green 4-7, we're almost there. Over and out."

She hung up the speaker and called Peter on the car phone, almost sure he would be at his nearby apartment. The fastest help would come from him. "C'mmon, pick up the phone . . ." She looked at the windshield warily. A few more, she knew, maybe even one, and the car would be useless for protection.

"Hello?" he finally answered.

"Peter! You have to get over to my apartment, now!"

"Is that gunfire I hear in the back-"

"Yes. I'm being fired at. I don't know by who, but they're going to kill me if you don't-"

"I'm leaving now."

"Thanks." He was near enough that his help might be of use. She heard the click and hung up, just in time to duck again as another bullet neared the window. It crashed though, hurling glass all over her covered head as the windshield collapsed.

Tonya leveled her gun and got ready to spring from the car. It was useless now.

{Battlefield war tactics. Never thought I'd be doing THAT in my parking lot! } Tonya threw open the door and leaped out. She turned and shot a man, then ran to a car for cover. She and peered around the corner of the now-shot up vehicle. {I should have joined the army. Less dangerous.} She slipped her head out and fired another shot, then pulled back. Adrenaline rushed through her, making her senses more alert. Only a single gunman fired now, and she popped up to look over the trunk, squinting to see how many shooters were left. There was only one: the other two had been injured by her fire. They lay on the ground as the single man stood up defiantly behind a car, having no cover from the waist up. He ducked down again just as she shot one more time, and he returned his own fire.

Tonya waited for the lull in the shooting that would come when he reloaded. She got ready to jump up and shoot again, but the screech and stench of burning tires stopped her. She turned, and Peter was diving out of his now-parked car and crawling towards her, shooting his own return-fire at the unknown adversary. He was about 75 feet away, she estimated, and she began to shoot randomly to pull the attacker's attention away from him as he neared.

Peter was almost to her when the pause in gunfire happened.

She leaned out from behind her cover and aimed for the heart.

She heard a bang that wasn't from her gun. {Maybe I should have started going to church recently,} she thought with strange amusement. {Adonai, are you there?}

"Tony!!" Peter cried in slow motion-

"Auhh!" she was slammed back and to the left with a blast of psychosomatic reaction, blood suddenly seeping from her right arm as the bullet grazed her. {Damn, he tricked me!} she thought. {He wasn't reloading after all! } She looked to her gun, but it had been flung far across the lot. Her thoughts were hazy, and her head was ringing. Her mind fumbled for logic and action.

As she crawled back behind the car, Peter ran to her, heedless of the man pointing his gun at him. "Tony! Tony, are you all right?"

"Yes! Now go get those guys!"

He gasped as she held the pouring wound tightly in her fist, a recognizable expression on his face.

{Chivalry is dead, son. Don't assume that because I'm a woman I don't know how to bandage a minor bullet wound.} "I don't need your nursing, I need your automatic!" He ignored her and reached for her arm, but she pulled away. "Go shoot the bad guys. I can take care of myself! If anyone's shirt is going to be ruined, it's mine." He sat, shocked into silence, as she took out a switchblade and sawed a cut on the bottom of her blood soaked shirt. Using that as a start for the tear, she clenched her teeth, gripped the two parts, and ripped a long, thick strip of cloth from her shirt. "Well?!" she said, glaring at him, "shoot the guy!"

Peter nodded, brought up his gun to fire. She looked to his opponent and cursed silently. The man had become men, three strangers joining the lone enemy. ({When had THAT happened,} she wondered.) But they had stopped shooting, almost as if waiting for something. . . {Why aren't they attacking?}

Peter obviously noticed the men weren't firing, but until the others arrived, she was sure he knew they could do nothing. "When to the other reinforcements get here?" he said, as if reading her mind.

Her wound was still bleeding, but looked worse than she was sure it was. She wrapped the cloth tightly around her arm and looked down at her new mid-drift top. "Soon, I hope," she said, ears picking up a shrill sound, "Ahh, here they are now."

The whine of police sirens filled the air, and the attacking men glanced around nervously. One of the new attackers walked to the open in the ensuing confusion and yelled out, "Stop!" He threw his gun to the ground.

Tonya ducked down, pulling Peter with her. "Don't fire, Peter!"

The man stood tall as the blaring police car sped in. "A note from Bobby Canada, miss Scott. 'This is not the last you'll hear of me, Tonya. It's only the beginning of your end. Enjoy the ride.'" He slipped away into the shadows as a man and a woman detective got out of the car and raised their guns to him, hurrying to try to capture who they could.

The attackers had slipped into the shadows, and Tonya knew that once they were gone, no trace of them would be found.

Peter drew closer to her as the woman and man began to walk towards them. But Tonya was studying the detective that was watching her and Peter. The man was handsome. {Like Peter, but in a different way,} she thought. His face was rounder, with a hard edge to it. The brown hair that softened his face had a white streak running though the bangs, and he wore dark sunglasses and a blue suit and red tie. {This is new,} she said to herself with amusement. {Detectives never wear suits.}

The woman was pretty, casually dressed, the obvious comparison being her partner. She had long loose curls of light brown hair and a face that had held a lot of smiles. She bent down to Tonya with a polite and distanced grin, that somehow wasn't an oxymoron. "Mind if I check your wound?"

Tonya smiled, "No," and allowed her to look at the nicely clotted scrape. The blood was scabbing well, but needed more time with a better bandage. Still, the woman nodded with satisfaction. "Not very serious." She rewrapped the bandage over the wound with a smile.

The man bent down to see as well, slight hidden worry on his face. His manner relaxed somewhat when he saw that all was mostly well. He then turned to Peter, his eyebrows arched. "Okay, Pete, what are YOU doing here." He sounded like he didn't really want to know. But Tonya got the feeling it was something of a joke.

"Kermit," Peter said, giving a little smile, "she called me too." He also was more relaxed, and Tonya was glad. His worry was overwhelming at times. It was unconscious, she was sure, but could become a nuisance at times.

Kermit looked at Tonya calmly. "You ARE all right?"

{"All right" psychologically, I assume}. She scrutinized him. "Yes." {Kermit. What an unusual name,} she thought as she slowly stood up. The other three followed her lead, and they began to walk towards the direction where the attackers had escaped.

Peter got up also and ran his fingers through his hair. "I think you should go to the hospital anyway."

"Maybe," she said.

Peter sighed. "Kermit, I'd like you to meet Tonya. She's a detective at the 8-6. Tonya, this is Kermit."

Tonya nodded her head once, carefully holding her arm. "I would shake on it, but I'm a little indisposed." One corner of her mouth inched up with the dry humor.

Peter turned to the woman and smiled. "And this is Skalany. Uh, Mary Margaret."

The woman smiled back. "Hi," she said in a sing-songy voice.

They stopped, having come to the area. Skalany frowned as she stood looking at the pools of blood on the ground. She shook her head. "You injured these guys badly. So where are they?"

Tonya closed her eyes. "They wouldn't have left any evidence if they could. Even the dead bodies would be taken with them to keep us from finding out where their boss is."

Kermit said to her, "You know these people?"

She paused and bent down to look at her attackers red blood splattered on the floor. "Yes." {Adonai,} she prayed, {if it could only be a lie.}

Peter began walking back to his car. "I'm calling the 1-0-1. We need to get some people down here to gather evidence."

Skalany stood with her hands on her hips. "But if none of them were registered in records-"

Tonya finished where she left off. "We won't have a thing on them. They wore gloves, so no fingerprints. All we have is the blood. Not much to go on."

Tonya stood up and turned to her new acquaintances. Kermit continued his silence, and Skalany seemed to sense that there was nothing left to say. Except . . .

Why did this happen?

{If only I could tell you. But this is too personal. } Even though, to anyone else, it was something common. But a stalking shouldn't have ever been common, especially to the victim.

She sighed and looked at the shot up cars in the lot. {Why can't Canada just leave me alone?}

Peter slowly walked back, a look of knowledge on his face.

When he reached them, he fixed his gaze to hers and held it. "We need to talk."

Her head was bent as she looked into his eyes. "I know."

Peter leaned back against the seat of his car as they headed for the hospital. "Now what?"

"I don't know." Tonya said. "But I'm not getting police protection just because of this."

"That's fine with me."

{What?! } She turned to him with disbelief. "Did you just say what I THOUGHT you said?"

"Yes. Don't worry, it's not reverse psychology. I just had a feeling that you would object."

She shook her head, bewildered. "So what's the point to this conversation?"

He was silent before answering. "I want you to realize where you stand with this. I know that you're aware of the danger. . . but you seem to revel in it. Don't take this the wrong way," he quickly added.

"No, no, I can see where you're coming from." She stopped. "Urban Commando is my forte, Peter. But I'm not trying to die. When the adrenaline leaves my system, I return to normal." She smiled at him. "I'm an unforgiving feminist that tries to make up her own rules. Which means, no protection. Maybe I'm insane, but after two weeks of it, who wouldn't be?"

Her expression became somber again. "I can't say it was fun while it lasted." She looked out over the lit night of the city. "But it's better than sitting on my butt all day."

"Tuesdays," Jody muttered. "I hate Tuesdays."

Strenlich walked up to the blond woman. "Jody, you and Peter are now on the Parveno case. Here's the file."

"Oh thanks Chief," she said glumly. She was not a morning person.

He shook his head. {They all grumble like it's my fault. It's the captain, you guys. Not me.}

Skalany walked up to him. "Chief, I can't work on this new case you gave me and Kermit. I still have to finish tons of paperwork on my other cases. I just don't have time."

{I know, I don't either. } "Everyone's busy, Detective. I have no one else to assign the Clenleer case to."

A woman walked up to them. She had long curly black hair pulled up in a banana clip, and two long strands falling on both sides of her face. Strenlich turned to face her.

"Hey, Chief," she said with a smile, her brown eyes twinkling. "Give me the case."

He stared at her in surprised recollection, a smile slipping onto his face. "Tony. My God. Where did YOU come from?"

"Transferred. Simms told me to talk to you about the assignment."

"The case is yours, if you want it."

"Actually, Frank," she said, "For some reason, the commissioner WANTS me on this case." She showed him the transfer form with some bemusement.

He shook his head with disbelief. "Well, you got it then."

She grinned at him and patted him on the arm. "It's good to see you again."

His smile widened. "You too." Maybe the day wouldn't be that bad Maybe.

End part 2/11

 "Lost in Chinatown pt3"
Lost In Chinatown By Dana K-part 3/11

"There is neither darkness nor death . . .
Darkness is only in the mortal eye,
that thinks it sees, but sees not."
----Ursula K. Le Guin

(Historian's note: this takes place after "Prism" but before "Black Widow".)

(These are not my characters, except for Tonya and Dezzee. All others belong to Micheal Slone and the gang. Thanks! enjoy . . .)

Kermit smiled as he exited Captain Simms' office and began walking towards his own. The captain was turning out to be very good at her job, and Kermit found her to be very intelligent. And, rather pretty. More than pretty. . .

Kermit couldn't help it, and he had to be honest with himself: he was beginning to like Karen Simms. Now, if he could just figure out why she gave him the case on that mystery death instead of Peter. . . Skalany WAS Peter's main partner, not Kermit's. Speaking of which, Kermit really didn't have a main partner. . . Anyway Peter's dad did so many weird things that the younger detective would have had a much better chance at solving the case. In fact, Caine would have probably been able to solve the case FOR Peter. . .

"Kermit," Frank's voice called out from behind him. He stopped and lithely spun on his heels. "Yeah, Chief?"

"You should have been a dancer."

"Why, thank you, Chief," he said, in unusually good spirits.

"Kermit, Skalany's off the case. Your new partner is a detective that was just transferred from the 8-6. Someone at the top wants someone new to work with you on the Clenleer file. You're now working with Detective Tony Scott."

{Great. A newcomer.} "O.K., Chief," he said, his tone now much less than light, "where can I find him?"

Kermit noticed Strenlich purse his lips together as he answered. "I told Tony to wait for you in your office."

"Thanks." {I think.}

{This is very strange.}

Strenlich didn't reply as Kermit continued the rest of the way to his office. {What was all that about?} Kermit thought, shaking his head. {Huh . . . } He wrote it off as just another quirk that had popped up from Strenlich's imagination, and walked into his office.

And puzzled over the woman he found there.

She stood with her back to him as he slowed his steps and slipped into the room.

She turned around to face him.

Kermit's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Tonya. What are you doing here." {Bobby's stalked detective,} he thought, remembering the speech his old enemy had sent someone to recite.

He hadn't thought much about it since yesterday evening, when she and Peter had left for the hospital. He and Skalany had been left with the crime scene, and he hadn't had much curiosity running free on it.

Tonya's smile was warm, yet her expression was bemused. "I was waiting for you to get here."

She brushed a lock of curly black hair out of her face. "Is anything wrong?"

"I'm not sure. A detective was supposed to be waiting for me here. A man by the name of Tony Scott."

Her smile turned to a grin. "You know what, I think I know the detective you're talking about."

"You do," he said stiffly. {Wonderful. There's a strange cop snooping in my office, Frank's acting bizarre, and my new partner is missing. This is turning out to be a very disappointing day.

It would have made more sense if it was Monday.}

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a forefinger and studied Tonya. "Do you happen to know where he is?"

"Ahem," she grinned even broader, "Where SHE is, you mean."

He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't think of a way to respond. {Tonya is--}

She stuck out her left hand, as her right, lying at her side, was wrapped in a bandage. She spoke as if meeting him for the first time. "Hello, my name is Tonya Scott. But a lot of people call me 'Tony'."

He closed his still parted lips, and reached out HIS left hand. He took her hand and shook it. "That is so annoying," he said, mostly to himself than to her. "I am really sorry." She had a firm grip and let go with a smile.

He looked into her large brown eyes as she spoke. "Don't worry," she whispered conspiratorially, a grin on her face. "'Happens all the time."

She grabbed his desk chair by the back and looked up at him. "Do you mind?"

"No," he said hastily, {Kermit, where are your manners?! }"go right ahead." He looked at her tight shiny curls of black hair pulled up by a white banana clip. {Too stylish,} he decided.

"Let me guess," she said as he closed the door and sat down across from her in his computer chair. "Frank set you up."

He nodded with a relenting half-smile. "He certainly did."

She shook her head with a grin. "Good ol' Frank."

They looked each other over, and Kermit fully expected to be asked about his sunglasses or about his name. But she was still as he noticed her ivory slacks and her form-fitting ivory blouse, and the cornflower blue button-up sweater with matching belt. It was definitely too trendy for him, {But you have to have someplace to put a gun. . .} he thought wryly.

The silence grew uncomfortable. Kermit could smell her light lavender perfume in the air, and her eyes had dimmed of their merriness in the bittersweet stillness. {After last night, you'd think she would be a little wilder than this. }

I wonder why she won't continue with police protection.}

She studied his glasses, almost as if she was trying to stare into his eyes.

He quickly looked away. "So," he said, breaking the lull in the conversation, "Frank says you were transferred."

She looked at the floor. "Yes. To get away from the guy stalking me."

{Perfect, you klutz,} he told himself angrily, {she obviously didn't want to talk about it.}

He changed the subject right away. "What do you know about the Clenleer case?"

Relived, she looked back up at him. "Not much, really."

"Well then," he said with a small smile, "We've got a lot of work to do." He woke the screen saver on his computer with a few clicks of the keyboard. "They found the victim about two weeks ago," he began.

Everything was running smoothly again, and he could get back to work.

The second body was left in a dark ally in China Town. Lonely and quiet, the narrow passage was far away from the busy streets. It was the perfect place to hide a body.

The woman was placed in a serene pose, her hands resting on her lap, her back resting against the brick wall. The two men doing the job went about it softly, knowing the risk in being so near the public.

The killer himself watched from a few feet away. His dark skin was full African, and his eyes were deep brown. He wore a large trench coat in the terrible heat, not minding the temperature when comparing it to that of South Africa's.

He smiled over his handiwork. No one would trace them, he had made sure of that. The woman had died inside the very building he was standing next to, close to where she was being left. He and his employees would not exit the ally, but would leave through the same building, ensuring that no one saw them coming from the scene of the crime. There were no witnesses, no prints, and the body was so clean it was sanitary. . . no way for the police to trace it to him.

Unfortunately, one man in the city knew more than the killer wanted him to.

{Now,} the killer said to himself as he walked back into the abandoned building, {how will I keep the Shaolin priest from finding out about me?}

It was 11:34 at night at the precinct. And there were only two people there who weren't in the Midnight shift.

" . . . and that's all I could find in the computer," Kermit said wearily.

"Hm. Nickie said the victim had one gram of

cocaine and one ounce of a strange type of herb. A hallucinogenic, but very mild." "Cross-reaction?"

"None."

"And nothing changed about the autopsy."

She shook her head. "Nope. He stands by it."

Kermit sighed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "There's no cross-reaction," he said slowly, "so how can a single gram of cocaine and an ounce of a mild hallucinogenic herb kill anyone?"

She scratched a spot on her arm and shrugged. "A rare herb that we don't know that much about."

"We know it doesn't react with cocaine."

She paused in thought. "We need to talk to someone who knows a lot about herbs. A specialist in alternative medicine."

Kermit leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. {Medicine.}

He sat up and snapped his fingers. "I know someone who knows everything about that and more," he said slowly. "He might be able to help us find out what killed Clenleer even if it DOESN'T have to do with the herb."

"Who is it?"

"Peter's dad. His real dad. Have you met him?"

She shook her head and yawned. "Peter's told me about finding him, but we've never met." Her eyes were blurry and her hair mussed.

"Hm," Kermit said, watching her and noting her fatigue. "We should figure that out tomorrow."

"Please," she said slowly, "I'm exhausted."

Kermit gave her an amused half-smile. "I can see that." He gathered up some disks and papers and put them in his briefcase, and turned the computer and printer off.

Tonya groaned. "Adonai, I completely forgot. It's too late for the busses that go to my apartment."

{"Adonai"? I'll have to look THAT one up. } "You want a ride?"

"No, it's okay. I can get a taxi."

"It's not out of my way."

"Well . . . Okay," she smiled, looking up at him.

He reached out his hand to her.

She took it, and he pulled her to her feet. "That's the spirit, Tony." "Thanks, Kermit."

"No problem."

{If she's being stalked, why is she so smiley?}

Tonya picked up her purse and laid the strap across a shoulder. She walked out into the hallway and smiled at the midnight' officers. Kermit followed her out of the office and locked the door behind him. Tonya waited for him to catch up, then walked beside him down the hallway.

Kermit spent the silence thinking about his new partner. {"Tony,"} he said to himself, trying the nickname that Strenlich had called her. He looked at her closely while she was gazing ahead, then looked away. {The name doesn't sound like her.}

As they reached the doors, she walked in front of him and pushed the door open. She stepped to the side and let him through ahead of her. He smiled his thanks and began to walk down the steps.

Tonya stopped at the first step and grimaced. "It's so hot out here. Damp, like Florida. I like dry heat much better."

Kermit nodded, and said, "Most people do," expecting her to either take the comment badly, or with good humor. She took it, he was glad to see, as the sarcasm it was: with a smile and a flashing grin. "It's hard not to," she added.

He gave her that trace smile again, taking off his suit jacket without stopping his walk down the stairs. Tonya began walking after him, following his example. She took off her sweater, careful around her right arm, then folded it and laid it across the other.

Kermit stopped at the bottom stairs and Tonya caught up with a smile, a strong breeze coming up and ruffling her hair. His eyes looked over her and he marveled at her sudden happiness. She was bouncy and youthful, nothing like the tired woman who had sat in his office just moments before. It confounded him how she could be that way. It was his opinion that the time was too late at night for that kind of hyper-activity. At least, not without a good reason: like an adrenaline rush in preparing for a fight, maybe.

He ignored the way her blouse fit her, and concentrated instead on her brown eyes looking up at him.

"The car's over there," he said, thumbing his left hand in the direction it was parked.

She nodded and they began to walk towards it. "I love warm, windy nights. A little too warm, tonight, and not enough like Arizona, but. . ." She shrugged with a smile and an "oh well" expression on her face. A breeze fluttered again through her long curly hair caught up in her clip. "It's nights like these that make me want to sing at the top of my lungs."

She was beaming at him, he realized, her eyes twinkling in the street lamplight. Her constant smiling seemed natural, all of a sudden. He found that observation about her to be strange too. But he couldn't help grinning back, despite himself. It was catchy. "You sing?"

"Oh yes. I only joined the force to carry me along until someone 'recognized' my talent. Needless to say, no one did."

"I'd like to hear you," he said. He paused, then continued, deciding to lay something on the line. "I play the piano, myself. I decided that if I could type on a computer keyboard, I could play on a piano keyboard just as well."

"That's interesting. I play the piano too."

"You're very versatile."

"I guess," she said with another smile. Then she grinned and teased, "How's YOUR singing voice?"

Kermit grimaced. "I'm not THAT versatile." He hesitated. "And my voice isn't that public."

She was quiet again.

He turned to see the bland expression on her face. {Go ahead,} he said to her in his mind, {say it. 'You're not very public, at all, are you Kermit?' }

He braced himself.

But the inquisitive words in his mind never came. "Maybe I could have a private session."

Her friendly expression melted away some of his tension. {She hasn't asked me anything. And I don't think she wants to. }

He couldn't believe it.

"Maybe," he answered. "I'll have to warm up my voice, first."

The smile returned, this time with acceptance. "Understood."

And he could see that it was. In that one look, she had told him everything.

They neared his glow-in-the-dark green Corvair. Her face came alive when she saw it. "It's beautiful, Kermit."

"She sure is." He unlocked the driver's side, then reached in to unlock the other door.

She opened the door on her side. "I like the color."

He stepped into the car. "Well THAT'S a first. Thanks."

When she had gotten in as well, Kermit started the engine. They drove out of the parking lot and down the street.

Kermit began to think hard about the man trying to kill her. There wasn't much use walking around it now. {No protection. Unless she has a boyfriend or a roommate. Even then, unless he or she's on the force, the chances are grim. } He looked over at his silent companion. {Tonya's a good fighter, but she's too headstrong for her own good. The kid needs to learn when she's beat.}

He decided that the invasion of her privacy was unavoidable. {She's blinded by her problem. Or she doesn't want to believe this could happen to her.}

{Or}, he admitted to himself with more than slight understanding, {she's had her full of safe houses. Two weeks is a while, for a cop.}

She spoke up before he could start. "You turn left at the next light. If you don't remember."

He nodded. "I remember." It was quiet, and he began. "Tonya, I have to ask you a question."

"Go on." {She looks calm enough. Maybe she can take it.}

He took a breath. "Do you have police protection at your apartment?"

Her mouth tightened. "Please don't get into this."

"Tonya, I'm concerned."

"Well don't be!" she snapped at him. She winced and turned away, and she fell silent.

Kermit waited. The only sound was the wheels on the road and the nervous tapping of Tonya's ring on the door handle. {Maybe she CAN'T take it. If last night is any indication of what USUALLY goes on, she must REALLY be under stress.} He could imagine. He could really imagine.

There was a time, when he was in her place. But that was long, long ago, after he had just started out as a mercenary. Many others after that had attempted his murder without succeeding.

{Must be the first time for her. She doesn't seem like a weak one. }

She spoke up from the emptiness. "I . . . I'm really sorry. I guess this has gotten to me more than I'd like to admit."

{MUCH more than you'd like to admit,} Kermit thought. "Is anyone there with you?"

"No." She saw his small frown and continued. "I'll be fine, really. I can take care of myself."

Tonya's voice was quiet and roughened with her last words. "Anyway, you've only known me for a day."

"Whether it's a day, a week, or a month," he said firmly, "I don't like to see people get killed." {Never did,} he thought sadly. "I consider you to be someone I'd be willing to help. And that is a lot from me." {If only I knew why I was getting into this,} he said to himself. But he had no answer.

There was a silence at his response. Then, "Thank you for the offer, but I have locks on my doors and windows. And I have a gun. And myself."

Kermit sighed. {Very stubborn.} "There are very few people who can keep a determined killer at bay with just those three things, " he stressed. "Canada has men, he has a lot of ammunition, and he has a strong hunger for revenge. Even I'd need more than what you're satisfied with having."

"And you know SO much about this man," she said defensively.

"Actually, I know him very well. He's an old enemy of mine. And believe me, he can pretty much get anything and every thing he wants. He's more dangerous than you think."

She grimaced sarcastically. "I didn't know you cared."

"Neither did I," he said seriously. {And that's the truth, so don't give me that crap, Tonya.}

His words created a long pause. {Why DO I even care?} he wondered again.

Kermit lifted his hand and massaged the back of his neck. "At least get a ride to and from work with someone." {Maybe I should just shut up an' let 'er die. She annoys the hell outta me.}

"Who would I get a ride from? The only friends I have here are Peter and Frank. Frank's wife never liked me, and Peter's so busy all the time that I would be a terrible inconvenience to him."

"Busy with what?"

"His girlfriends," she said, with the distaste most people would use to say "a psychotic killer".

"Oh." Without thinking, he said, "Well I don't have a forth as many girlfriends as Peter does." {What?!! Kermit, where are your senses?} He rolled his eyes, feeling like someone in a bad soap opera. {Well, they say truth is stranger than fiction.}

She glared at him from the corner of her eye. "Right."

"No, I don't, I'm serious."--{Or I'm insane, why am I saying this?}-- "I'll give you rides to work and back."

She shook her head and shrugged. "But you hardly know me," she said, protesting in the way people do when they desperately want to be proven wrong.

The words brought him back to a lonely night at his sister's, when Mitch was having a hard time. She had fought with her mother, and Kermit had just happened to arrive after it. "Oh, Kermit," Mitch had wailed when he had asked what was wrong, "she doesn't love me anymore. No one does. I can't do anything right." She had begun to cry, and Kermit had spent an hour helping her and her mother work things out. In a way, Mitch had believed that her mother hadn't loved her. But she knew that others did love her, and that she didn't do everything wrong the way her teachers, classmates, and mother might make her feel. However, she was in such a state that she needed others to tell her that she was cared about. She would have wallowed in self-pity for a long time if no one had.

Now, years later, he looked into equally lonely eyes and noticed the small wrinkles around the corners, and the circles underneath. {Must have had many sleepless nights,} he thought. Here was another person who's self worth was pretty low. She felt there was no one to be there for her. But after that incident with Mitch so long ago, he knew he wouldn't allow it. He couldn't.

"No," Kermit said, "I don't know you well, and you hardly know me. But we seem to be a little alike, at least for the time being. And we understand one another."

She didn't speak, only nodded with agreement.

"Listen. I'll pick you up and drop you off. Hey, I'll even charge you half price for the gas."

That brought a smile to her. "You're very kind."

"It's a bad habit I can't seem to break."

Her smile disappeared, a sad look now on her face. "You don't give yourself enough credit."

"To give yourself credit you have to take credit. Taking credit for anything draws attention to yourself."

A car horn blared in the distance as they headed for her high-rise apartment building. {I guess she can't think of anything to say.}

He glanced at her in the quiet, then looked back to the road. "I thank you for never asking me anything."

"I didn't see it as mine to ask."

He waited before answering. "I think you might as well know what everyone else does."

She gave him a quick glance, then looked down. "You don't have to tell me anything, Kermit."

I know. But someday the questions are going to come up. You might as well know now."

He sighed at her silence, and began. "Yes, I do wear these glasses all the time. And whether 'Kermit' is my real name has to depend a lot on what your definition of a 'real name' is." She said nothing, so he continued. "And last, but most certainly not least . . . I have no idea why people call me 'Kermit' except maybe for the fact that my favorite color is green."

She didn't answer, only looked at her hands on her lap.

"You could have read my file, I guess, but--"

"--But there isn't one," she completed softly. "Yeah, I know. I checked." It would have been funny if it wasn't for her expression.

"You checked, hmm? So why didn't you ask?" He looked at the road, remembering the route he had taken the night she was attacked.

She responded slowly. "I didn't ask for the same reason you didn't ask: I saw what you were not willing to share. No matter what those things mean to me, they won't leave the same to you. You're secretive about some things, and I'm secretive about other things." She paused. "Your secrets have a personal value that no stranger can understand. And a stranger shouldn't try to. If you wanted to explain, I knew you would."

Kermit looked at her. "That's very true. And very insightful."

They sat in empty quiet as Kermit turned the corner down her street. "This is it."

She nodded. "You have a good memory."

Kermit shrugged and continued down the street. He drove past the parking garage attached to the high rise and found a parking spot with a meter. They got out and walked towards the building without a word spoken. Cars honked their horns and crickets chirped in the darkness as they walked inside.

Kermit watched her as they walked up to an elevator and she pushed the button. "So," he said, "what do you think of my offer?"

The doors opened, and they stepped in. Tonya pressed the button for the fifth floor, and glanced at him. "I don't know." She paused as the elevator rose. "I guess . . . I'll ride with you."

Kermit watched the floor indicator as it stopped on the number five. "Good," he said to her as the doors chimed and opened.

Tonya walked out and down the hallway, Kermit a step behind her.

She slowed at her apartment and turned to him. "Are you sure it won't be a bother to you?"

He rolled his eyes, {Doesn't matter, she can't see me anyway,} and said, "I'm SURE."

She lowered her head and took her keys from her purse, and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Kermit noted the silent look she gave him and watched while she unlocked the door.

She turned to him as the door swung open, eyebrows raised and a skeptical look on her face. "Well?"

{As in: "What are you still doing here",} Kermit said to himself. He shrugged one shoulder. "I'm just here to make sure you get safely inside."

She sighed, pain breaking through on her face. "I'm sorry, Kermit, this whole thing just makes me so defensive."

"It's forgiven," he said with a sly smile.

She flipped the light switch by the door and backed into the suddenly lit apartment. "Well. I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Kermit nodded once. "Tomorrow. 6:30?" He asked.

"Okay," she said, her face stoic, but her eyes soft and lonesome. "Good night."

He spoke softly, "Good night," and she slowly closed the door.

End part 3/11

 Lost in Chinatown pt4
Lost In Chinatown By Dana K-part 4/11

"There is neither darkness nor death . . .
Darkness is only in the mortal eye,
that thinks it sees, but sees not."
----Ursula K. Le Guin

(Historian's note: this takes place after "Prism" but before "Black Widow".)

(These are not my characters, except for Tonya and Dezzee. All others belong to Micheal Slone and the gang. Thanks! enjoy . . .)

"It's late Lisa," the young oriental woman said to her friend. "China Town is dangerous at night."

"Nonsense, Lin. This is the busiest part. There are still stores open and people everywhere. I want to see everything before I leave!" Her blond hair danced on the breeze as she walked down the street.

Lin looked around nervously. "Lisa, do you smell something?"

"Now that you mention it . . . that is STRANGE," she added, almost to herself. "Here, it's coming from that ally, I think."

"What is 'strange', Lisa?" Lin asked as they walked down the ally. "I mean, other than the smell being here."

"Well, it smells like a dead animal, but different. I don't think I like this difference." They held their noses as they neared the end of the short ally.

Lisa looked closely at the garbage cans and boxes. "I've hunted many kinds of animals, and I've never smelled anything like this."

"What if it's a person?"

Lisa's breath caught in her throat. "I wouldn't know."

Lin froze abruptly.

"What's wrong, Lin?" Lisa asked as she walked over to her.

"It's . . ." she whispered, "it's a body."

Lisa looked down, saw it and quickly turned away. "We've got to call the police."

Tonya turned to walk into her kitchen when she saw the note on the carpeting, near her front door. {I must have passed over it without seeing it under the door,} she thought. She knew what it was going to be, but picked it up and opened it anyway.

You Will Die, Tonya!

Bobby

She smirked and walked into her living room. "Give me a break."

She took the note over to her desk and pulled a box out of a drawer, then threw the thing into the box. She put it back in the drawer and walked into the kitchen. {If this keeps up much longer,} she said, taking out a TV dinner, {I may get used to it.}

She sighed and put her midnight meal in the microwave.

Kermit walked through the front door and set his briefcase down. A small black form leaped through the air and landed at his feet. "Meow!"

The feline stood up on her back legs and kneaded Kermit's pant legs.

"Ouch, stop it. Here, come on. Get up here." He patted his thighs and reached out his hands, but didn't bother bending down. The cat jumped up with out a second thought and Kermit caught her. She climbed up into the crook of his arm and nuzzled his ear.

"Hey!" he laughed as he walked into his living room. "No Eskimo kisses. I'm trying to cut back."

His companion merely purred in his ear and rubbed her forehead against his neck.

"Something must be up, Cat. You're never this affectionate." He sat her down on the couch and took off his tie. She busied herself with licking her back, then set her sights on his shoe.

He went to check her food and water in the kitchen as she readied her back legs to pounce.

"You have everything, and you were out a few minutes ago, so don't whine at me," he said, turning to watch her. He sighed as she jumped towards him, and then tore away to the other side of the room.

"Nuts." He sat on his couch and tried to ignore the hyperactive cat racing around his house. "Absolutely insane."

He began to think over the evening with speculation.

{What if she ends up dead tomorrow? What then? } he asked himself. {I keep working,} was his uneasy answer.

He shook his head. {Being nice IS a problem. I thought killing people smoothed over that imperfection.}

Karen was right. He was a VERY unlikely hero. He didn't want to be a hero. {It just. . . sort of turns out that way in the end, that's all.}

At least he didn't pick up strays. {Well, not anymore. . .}

He sighed, a sour expression on his face. {Just another excuse for my wife to leave me, after all.}

The cat yelped, shaking him out of his reverie. She ran up to him and meowed.

"Hey, there," he said to her coolly. She took this as an invitation and leapt onto his lap, her green eyes staring demurely into his.

He pet the black feline and thought about his new partner. {Outgoing, that one. Powerful. . . mentally, and probably physically.}

He went over the ride in the car. {Why did I say all of those things? Impulse?} He hated the word but it was true. {I never acted on impulse before. . . I hope I didn't.}

{But I know Bobby, and she doesn't. Maybe THAT'S why. This woman is in more trouble than she can even comprehend. Already I've gotten in deep, letting her know I know even the smallest amount about him. I could become very involved in her life very quickly if she knew that Bobby's an old enemy of mine.}

{And now, of all things, I'm driving her to work and back.}

{You've flipped, Griffin. You've really done it this time.}

He tried to analyze it again, from a different viewpoint. {Do I have even the slightest crush on her? }

No. He was sure of it. {She IS attractive. But I don't have any feelings for her. She's more like my kid sister.} It took him much longer than a day to become that entangled, and he already had someone else he had fallen for. . .

He sighed and closed his eyes, pulling away from the more attractive subject to what was of greater importance at the time. To what needed to be solved in order to quiet is mind. {Instinct, then. That must be it. . .} She was, he realized, acting much as Marylin, his little sister, acted when she was under emotional pressure. When her husband was first diagnosed with the cancer that had killed him, Marylin had acted the same: irritable, angry, and many times unchangeably sad. That must have been why he had faltered in the car. He couldn't think of any other reasons. {I acted on impulse, that's all there is too it.}

{But what do I do about it now?}

It was Wednesday morning, and Tonya was almost ready.

The doorbell rang once, and she slipped on her other shoe, swatting her loose hair from her face.

She looked at the clock. "6:31," she whispered to herself, and laughed softly. {Right on time.}

Tonya spoke louder. "Just a second." She stood up from the living room chair and walked to the door.

She looked through the peephole to make sure it was him, a good habit to acquire if you were being stalked. On the other side, a serene Kermit stood waiting.

She smiled and opened the door. "Come in," she said, walking back into the apartment, "I just have to get some things."

He stepped leisurely inside, and looked around. Tonya watched him from the corner of her eye as she picked up her purse and some files. He was looking over the apartment, she was sure, but she couldn't tell. {Not with those glasses. But then, who cares? } He could see her apartment if he wanted to.

Tonya slowly walked back to him, "I'm ready," and began to follow him out the door. When they had both exited, she turned around and locked the door, slipping the key into her purse. "So, tell me about Peter's dad."

He looked to her, (this time she was sure of it) as they walked down the hall. "With pleasure."

It was becoming a very hot day, so not many students would come to Caine's small apartment to take lessons. Caine had expected as much.

He was walking in from the balcony when he noticed a restless girl, of about seven years old, standing outside the doorway of his apartment.

He walked up to her. "Hello."

The little black girl smiled up at him. "Azadazi," she said, making a strange, sharp, sweeping gesture with her left hand.

{A form of greeting?} It appeared rather complicated to duplicate, so he declined.

He did attempt to duplicate the word. "'Azadazi'?"

She giggled. "Dat's m' name. You can call me Z. Like, the letter Z."

He smiled at her. "All right. . . Z."

She was a cheerful girl, her coarse hair in a ponytail down her back, and sweat dripping down her face. She didn't seem to mind the heat, though. Her spirit was undaunted.

Azadazi stared in through the doorway at the empty apartment. "Is that where you teach 'dos Karate classes?"

He thought for a moment. "Uh, yes, but it is not Karate. It is Kung Fu and Tai Chi that I teach." He looked down at her hungry gaze. "Would you like to come in?"

"Can I?" her piping voice strained softly.

"Of course."

"Thanks, man," she said, slowly edging into the room. "Woah, you got a lot of cool things in this place."

He shrugged. "I suppose. . ."

Azadazi turned full around the room, absorbing everything she could see. "You Chinese people are fresh." She turned to Caine again. "Do you think. . ." She began to look into the distance, then came out of it quickly. ". . . nah, forget it." Her face slowly began to loose the glow, and her eyes looked tired.

"What is wrong?"

"We don't got no money. I was gonna ask if you could teach me some a' that Kung Fu, or somethin', but. . . Can I just watch some?"

For the first time since she had come up to his studio door, Caine noticed her clothes. Though clean, they were old and poorly mended. She also was barefoot. Caine knew it was normal in the summer for children to have no shoes on, but when he looked closer, he saw that her feet were tough and had calluses and blisters on the sides. He was sure they were from exposure to more than summer-time's hot concrete.

"You do not have to pay me for teaching. I will teach you for no cost."

"Thanks," she beamed, "I mean, thank you."

"Do your. . . feet hurt?"

"Naw, man. I'm strong. I gotta be." She glanced around again, and movement in a window caught her eye. "I gotta go," she said, suddenly nervous. "What's your name, man?"

"My name is Caine. Why are you so upset?"

She looked back to the window. "Cops, Caine. Over there." As she spoke, Caine looked out the window and down to the street, to where she was pointing. {Ah. . . Kermit. . . and a stranger.}

The girl said, "I can smell 'em miles away," and started walking backwards, away from the door. "They're comin' over here. Is there a back to this place? Can I go down the fire escape?"

Caine watched her. "There is no reason to be afraid of the officers. I know them."

"No, man, say it ain't so! Cops don't get the street life, Caine. You got to stay away from 'em if you're on the street." She patted her chest. "I'M on the street."

"You have committed a crime?"

She glowered at him and said sharply, "Not on your life!"

"Then, why be afraid?" She didn't answer. The fear was probably taught to her. "Perhaps, if you would get to know one. . ."

He stopped as Kermit and the woman appeared in the doorway and entered.

Kermit smiled at the priest. "Hi, Caine."

"Hello, Kermit." He nodded and smiled to the woman, who smiled back, her face framed by curly wisps of black hair.

Azadazi grew frantic, and stared at Kermit as she spoke. "Caine, I have ta go now." She flew out of the room and into the hall.

Kermit watched her go. "What was that all about?"

Caine sighed. "A child who has had a fear of law enforcement installed into her. She lives on the streets."

The woman slowly walked up to the window, watching as the girl ran out into the crowded streets, running into people as she went.

Kermit cocked his head towards the woman. "Caine, meet my partner, Detective Tonya Scott."

Tonya turned around to face him. "Hi. I've been told you're Peter's father."

"Yes."

"It's nice to meet you." She paused. "We're here because we need some help with a case, and Kermit says that you're an apothecary."

Caine turned his palms outward. "I am. I will help you in any way that I can. What is the problem you have?"

Kermit answered. "We're on a murder case and we can't figure out what killed the victim."

Tonya pulled at her blouse to fight the heat. "According to Nickie Elder, NOTHING killed him."

Caine spoke slowly. "That is not possible. Though the cause may be hidden, there is a cause nonetheless."

Kermit wiped the sweat from his face. "A gram of cocaine, and one ounce of a rare hallucinogenic herb was all we found."

"Unfortunately," Tonya said, " it isn't adequate. That's why we're here. To ask you if this herb could kill the man." She took a folded piece of paper out of her purse and looked at it. "I can't pronounce the name of the herb, but Nickie wrote it here." She gave it to him and waited.

Caine read it, then looked up. "Yes. This is its medical term. It is called Wild Penyii, used by the holy men in some African religions when they contact their ancestors. It may not be well known, but it could not kill anyone."

Tonya nodded. "Like the herbs and plants that the Native Americans use to talk to their spirit guides. They hallucinate, and think they're being spoken to."

"No, Tonya," Caine said softly, "even though they use a herb that causes them to hallucinate, they DO speak to the spirits. It is a promoter to the experience. Not the cause." he could tell she had not witnessed many supernatural occurrences. "I do not know what killed him, but that might be a clue. Would I be allowed to look at the body?"

Kermit said, "Of course. You can see it now."

"That will be fine," Caine responded.

Nickie turned when he heard his door open and grinned. "Dezzee!"

Holt smiled, met him half way across the room, and wrapped her arms around him. "Hey, Nickie. Good to see you, man!"

The nurse, working on some samples, smiled and turned his head the other way. "About time he got a chance. . ." he muttered softly.

Nickie ignored him, centering on Holt instead. He squeezed her once, and let go. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. But you don't look so good. What's goin' on?"

He sighed. {You had to ask.} "Oh, it's this new body they brought in. It's just like another that's here. And I can't tell the cause of death on either one. It's not stroke, It's not a heart attack, and it's not poison, unless it's something completely untraceable."

She smiled. "I would offer help, but I think you've been in here too long. You need a break. Come on, I'll take you out to lunch." Nickie shook his head. "You are so lucky you didn't make it through Med school." He winced painfully at her peal of laughter. "Oww. I shouldn't have said that. I have the biggest headache."

"Then you should NOT be working." She walked towards the door, then turned around when she got there. "Are you comin', or what?"

"Yeah, I'm coming, I'm coming." He grinned and turned to the nurse. "Jason, mind the store for me until I get back, okay? And if Kermit comes, tell him that we found another corpse that's like Samuel Clenleer's."

The tall, dark skinned man grinned and nodded to him. "Sure thing, Nickie. Have fun."

Kermit walked into the morgue, with Tonya and Caine following him. "Hey, Jason. Is Nickie here?"

The black man sitting at one of the tables looked up. "Sorry, man. You missed him by a few minutes."

Kermit looked around the room. "We need to have a look at a body."

"Okay," Jason said, getting up. "What's the name?"

"Samuel Clenleer."

Jason nodded and looked at the charts on the desk in front of him. "Let me see. . . That's what I thought. Nickie was looking at that one before he left." He took the chart and walked them into the morgue, then slowly scanned the hallway. When he had found the correct body, he pulled open the drawer and looked at the chart again. "He told me to tell you that they found another body, like this one."

Tonya looked up from the covered body with surprise. "What do you mean? 'Like this' in what way?"

"I don't know. He just told me that." He looked at Caine, who was standing over the corpse. "That's not going to be a pretty sight."

Caine laid his hands on the body bag. "I will not need to see it. Only to feel the man's aura."

Jason shrugged. "Okay. Whatever."

{A forceful death,} Caine thought, sensing the cause. {The man's body gave up.} "Where is the other victim?"

The nurse went to pull out the other body, and Caine placed his hands on the second corpse. "No. . ." he said quietly. {Not this.} He looked at Tonya and Kermit. "I know what has killed them." He turned to the nurse. "Is Doctor Elder in the building?"

The nurse shook his head. "Sorry sir. He was going on lunch break."

Caine paused. "Tell him when he returns, that I will come back.--You must not stay here," he told the nurse. "Wait outside the office for him. In the outer room."

The nurse looked at him strangely. "All right."

Caine spoke to the two detectives again. "We must leave now."

Tonya's face was puzzled. "Why?"

"Please, do as I ask," he said firmly, noting the fact that Kermit had not questioned him, but had simply began to walk from the hall. It was a good sign; the boy was learning. {"Boy"?} Caine noticed with slight humor that his mind had slipped into parent mode concerning his son's friend.

Caine's attention returned to Tonya, as she nodded gravely and followed Kermit outside of the room.

Caine walked out behind her and stopped as they reached the spot where Kermit was standing. "They have been poisoned," he said sadly. "It is not safe to be there, in the same room as the two bodies."

Kermit spoke. "We should get them quarantined, then. If this is something infectious. . ."

"No," Caine said. "That would install fear of this. That is not needed. The poison will not kill, only make one very sick. I will rid the bodies of the poison, then begin to search for the killer as well."

Tonya shook her head as they walked out the doors of the precinct. "You're looking for this guy too?"

"He is very dangerous and must be stopped. The victim's bodies have given me a clue as to how to do that. I will clear the bodies of the poison so that no one else will become sick. And so that their souls will be able to rest." Caine began to walk back into the room. Tonya and Kermit followed, after a pause and a shared glance.

Caine put his hands on each covered body, and held his breath. {It is strong. But only a remnant of the real creatures power. } The poison WAS conquerable, he knew. He began to pull the evil remains away from the bodies, and turned it into the powerless waste products of death that they should have become. The spirits of the dead were mournful, clinging helplessly to their bodies, wanting to leave. The otherworld called to them, but they could not go. Slowly, carefully, Caine released the spirits of the hold that was on them.

{Go free,} he said, washing the memories of their deaths and detainment from them. They were no longer tormented spirits, but soaring entities. {You are ready to leave this plain and live in the other.}

He pulled his concentration away from them and looked to Kermit and Tonya. "There. It is done."

It was around noon when they took Caine home, to find Peter waiting at his father's apartment. Kermit and Tonya left them to talk, and spent the rest of the day interviewing the old man who had found the first body and the police who had been at the scene.

Other than what had happened when Caine had looked at the corpses, it was a slow and tiring day. The man had seen nothing of use, and the officers who had answered his call hadn't found anything either.

When Kermit got home from work, he sat down at his home computer and thought about his partner. He knew nothing about her. Usually, he checked all the files of the new people he began working with, but he had become lax in his follow-ups.

He began typing on the computer, and after a few seconds, found the section for accessing the 101st precinct's computers. He typed the code for the first security block, pressed 'return' and waited.

It was a familiar procedure, one that he had done many times before. The precinct's computer system was very hard to crack from the outside, but he hadn't had to do so. Although hidden deep, all of the codes and commands were in the 101's computers. All he had done was find them from the computer he had in his office, and hook a "relay" up to his one at home.

He added another code, {Almost there,} and waited for the third and final block. After a while, it appeared, and he punched in the last set of numbers.

"Presto-chango," he muttered to himself, and looked for Tonya's file.

{Ahh. Found it. Now maybe I can find out what Canada is after her for. } He opened the file and began to read.

Tonya had been born and raised in Arizona. She was born to a Jewish family, but worshiped loosely. Her father had taken care of her from the age of four, when her mother had died in a car accident. According to the file, she had hardly any recollection of her mother at all. Her father had remarried when she was twenty, so she had grown up without a mother. Then her father had died in a car accident two years ago. Her grandparents were dead as well.

The middle section of the files was routine: high school, applying for acceptance by the Academy before collage, and then getting accepted after the four years had been completed. What she had told him about not wanting to be a police officer must have been only half true: she had showed great enthusiasm at the Academy, for even Physical Training, one of the most hated activities. But then, the file added that she had been a qualified gymnast ever since she was a small child, and that might have had something to do with it. Yet, Kermit suspected that she had wanted to be a police officer.

The interesting part was when he reached the recent events that were put on file. {She was put into a rehabilitation center for Alcoholics. BEFORE Canada started stalking and threatening her.}

He sat and thought for a long time after that.

End part 4/11

 "Lost in Chinatown pt5"
Lost In Chinatown by Dana K-part 5/11

"There is neither darkness nor death. . .
Darkness is only in the mortal eye,
that thinks it sees, but sees not."
----Ursula K. Le Guin

(Historian's note: this takes place after "Prism" but before "Black Widow".)

(These are not my characters, except for Tonya and Dezzee. All others belong to Micheal Slone and the gang. Thanks! enjoy . . .)

The next day, Tonya and Kermit began to look up the correlation between the African herb and killer. Kermit worked on the computer to find out about the places in the city you could buy Wild Penyii, and to research the two victim's files on what enemies they had. While he was doing that, Tonya returned to Caine's apartment to ask him a new round of questions.

Caine was just leaving when Tonya got to his apartment. "Caine, 'm sorry, I caught you at a bad time. . ." There was an uncomfortable "but" hanging on the end of her sentence, and she ran her fingers through her curly hair uncomfortably.

"No," he said slowly. "You wish to talk to me about the murders you are working on." She nodded as he continued. "It is fortunate for the both of us that you arrived at such a time; I am leaving to finish my search for the murderer as well. It would benefit both of our. . . Investigations, if you were to join me now."

She looked at him solemnly. "I will, then."

"Thank you." He looked into her eyes with sudden concern. "Are you well?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Strangely, she chose that moment to straighten the shoulder pads on her red blouse and pulled at her suit jacket.

He nodded, noticing the actions and not being convinced. "Tonya. Tell me about yourself."

"Tell you about. . . myself?" She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "Why?"

He smiled slightly. "It is always best to know the person with whom you are searching."

"Well, then. . ." She smiled and began. "I'll make this short. . ."

Peter started up the stairs to his father's apartment, only to find Caine standing outside with Tonya.

Tonya spoke with her back to Peter. "I didn't time it." There was a grin in her voice.

"The conversation was not too long," Caine said, watching his son as he neared. "Hello, Peter."

Tonya turned around and smiled. "Hi Peter. Your father and I were just going to start 'searching'." She turned back to Caine. "I hope it wasn't. I don't want to get in trouble for chitchatting on the job. And my dad always said I talked a lot."

Peter looked at the two of them. "Chit-chatting? Searching? For what? What's going on?"

Tonya responded. "Searching for the killer in my case."

"Oh, that." He still looked confused.

Tonya rolled her eyes and smiled. "Peter you're not the only one who can ask your father for help with a case."

He gave her a tolerant glance. "I know. It's weird, that's all. I walked over here to talk to you," he said to Caine, "about THAT."

Tonya looked at him closely. "Peter, isn't your 'in' box a little full right now? You shouldn't be helping me. Simms'll--"

"I know, I know what 'Simms'll' do. I've already asked if I could be reassigned, but she refused. That's why I've JUST come up with the perfect excuse."

"What's that," she said flatly.

Peter grinned. "'I was helping my father'. --Did you take your car?"

She rolled her eyes. "Simms'll tan your hide."

All Peter did was shrug.

When Canada entered the room, he expected the homeless man to be cowering. He wasn't, but was standing tall and as dignified as a man, even in rags, could be. The man didn't flinch when Canada stared into his eyes, but stared right back.

Canada smirked, uncomfortable at the display of strength. "Good. Do you know why I sent for you?"

"No."

Canada walked slowly around the room. "You saw it happen. You seem to be law abiding. So what I want you to do should not worry your conscience."

"What is it that you want me to DO?" the man stressed coldly.

"Simple," Canada said with a smile. "Tell the police. They will go to the scene of the crime soon, I am told. Wait there, around the area. Go to the woman, tell her that you saw him. Be realistic when you talk to them."

"But if Monteruebeau finds out--"

"You are under my protection. He is under my power. That means I can destroy him any time I wish. You can either chose to go along with it and be protected, or be destroyed as well." He smiled slightly, without humor. "You know you have no choice."

Tonya sighed. "Anything?" It had been two hours since they had begun the search, and it was getting late.

Caine sensed that she did not wish to bring up that point. "We are two thirds of the way there," Caine answered calmly, then decided to bring the point up for her. "But it is late for both of you, is it not?"

Peter answered grudgingly. "Yeah, it is. Jody's gonna kill me if I don't get back."

Tonya agreed with a nod. "I have to see what Kermit's found out."

Caine spoke as they started toward Tonya's car. "And I must go to the precinct as well."

Peter looked at him in surprise. "Really? Why the precinct?"

Caine spoke slowly. "I have promised to talk to Nickie Elder about the cause of death. And I am also worried that some of the people have grown ill from the time they were there. It is not a deadly sickness," he reassured the two young adults when they showed their concern, "but it is very uncomfortable." {I hope Nickie has heeded my advice,} Caine said to himself.

Peter spoke. "How did this illness get to them?"

"I will explain later," Caine said as they got in the car.

Tonya got in the front seat and looked at Caine. "But Nickie knows this? You did tell him?"

"I told the nurse to tell him. Jason, I believe?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, that's one of 'em."

{Perhaps Jason forgot to tell Nickie,} Caine thought. It would matter little now, except, perhaps, for someone who had been around the body frequently. {Such as Nickie.} The sickness, though nonlethal, was not something particularly enjoyable. Caine knew that Nickie had more than a fair chance of getting sick.

Peter looked at his two companions. "Then it's settled. We'll all go back to the 101."

Tonya started the car and left the abandoned neighborhood behind, happily voicing her hatred of it.

After a few minutes of light talking, everyone settled into silence, each with there one personal concerns. Soon, they arrived at the precinct. They got out of the car and went inside.

Tonya glanced at Caine and Peter as they walked through the doors. "I have to talk to Kermit. Thanks for having me along, Caine."

He bowed. "Thank you for coming with us."

She smiled at them both and began to walk away, down the corridor.

Peter turned to Blake, standing behind the front desk. "Hey, is Nickie here?"

Blake shrugged. "He's back there somewhere," he motioned behind him.

"Thanks." Peter and Caine started to walk away.

"Hey," Blake added, "Captain Simms wants to talk t' you."

"Okay."

Caine followed Peter back to Nickie's office, and walked through the doorway after him. Nickie sat at his desk, his eyes red and his breathing shallow.

"Nickie!" Peter hurried over to Nickie and took his head gently in his hands. "Oh, Nickie."

Nickie hunched over in his chair as he spoke. "I really don't feel good, Peter."

Peter spoke as Caine helped him pick up the M.E. "Come on, Nick, you need to get some help."

Caine laid his hand on Nickie's forehead. {A fever.} "There is a great amount of evil invading him. I must try to cleanse it from his body." {I wish he would have listened. Perhaps he was not told.}

Peter watched as his father gently put his hand on Nickie's chest. "Dad, how did those bodies do this to Nickie?"

{Nickie is having great difficulty breathing,} Caine thought, so absorbed that it took him a moment to understand and answer his son's question. "It is the corruption that they gained when they were murdered. Their souls were poisoned, and the poison entered any who had extended contact with their bodies."

Peter looked at him, clue less. "Right."

{Someday you will understand what I talk about, my son.} Now, we must get him to my apartment so that he may be healed."

Peter nodded and helped his father to walk Nickie out the door.

The few officers who were at the morgue at the time watched their process down the hall, and many began walking towards them.

Jody was one. "Peter, what's going on? What's wrong with Nickie?"

Peter glanced at her as he carried Nickie through the growing crowd of cops and M.E.'s. "He's really sick, is all I know."

Strenlich joined their procession. "Is it contagious?"

Caine quickly answered. "No. But he must get outside of this place." {They must not make this problem more difficult than it already is by over reacting.}

Jody stepped back and stopped as they came up to the doors and walked out of the morgue. "Poor Nickie."

Strenlich scowled and watched the doctor as he was carried away. "I wonder what's wrong with him."

"Yeah," she said, distracted. "I wonder when I'll get my partner back."

Strenlich looked at her. "I wouldn't want to be around Captain Simms when she finds out about this."

Monteruebeau woke from his nap with a start, an amazingly terrifying dream shaking itself form his mind. He looked around the room quickly, relaxing when he realized where he was. Slowly, he began calling to him the power of the ONE, the soul he had carried down the years as his ancestors had before him. He called on the power, but it did not respond . . . !

An anger built in him, but also a fear. A coward at heart, he had to admit he did not know what he would do if the soul had escaped. And, yes, he realized as he probed his mind, the soul HAD escaped! His face crumpled, and he cried out angrily, a roar that had no words. "Whoever did this," he swore softly to the empty room, "will pay dearly."

But just as he was sure who it was, he knew, as he looked upon himself in self-pity, that he would not have the control. His instructor, Jauran Nytora, ad been appointed by Canada. Canada had learned much about the accursed man who lived in that city, the man who had all the strength of white magic at his command. Nytora had warned both himself and Canada, and Monteruebeau had felt his presence. Now, the man had stolen his only power. And though Monteruebeau sought revenge, he would never be able to make that threat real. Not anymore.

Monteruebeau covered his face with his hands, silently cursing Qui Chang Caine.

When Tonya entered Kermit's office, he began to tell her of what he had found. The two victims both were cocaine dealers, and neither one of them had been caught before. Also, he discovered that they worked for a man named Garret Monteruebeau. But that was all Kermit had found before she came back. He didn't know anything about Monteruebeau yet.

Tonya nodded, then said, "I know the officers on duty went over the crime scene of the second murder, but I really want to go over it again."

"I don't see a problem with that," Kermit said from where he sat at the computer.

She nodded. "Good. Well, this is what I found out from Caine: the herb that was in he first body is also in the second. And it's only used in specific ceremonies. You have to be of a certain single clan to use it. It is considered evil to allow anyone not in the clan to eat the herb or inhale it in smoked form. He said that that was the reason the victims had the herbs in their stomachs. They were not of the clan, so, to promote evil, they were made to eat them. Caine said it was one more factor against them and their deaths. Witchcraft, I guess. But that's a very good lead."

Kermit responded as he began to shut the computer down. "Yes. We need to find someone from Africa who is in that clan. But not now." He put his trench coat on and took his gun from the desk on the other side of the room. "If we're going to look at that crime scene, we need to get to it before the rain washes whatever's there away."

Even without the rain, the scene of the crime was clean. Not clean for an alley, but for a crime scene it definitely seemed thoroughly planned. There had been no evidence when the Crime Scene Unit had arrived except for the victim's clothes, and, of course, the victim. According to the reports by the Crime Scene investigators, there were no fingerprints, footprints, or discarded items at the scene. Nothing.

During Tonya and Kermit's own investigation of the crime scene, Tonya had noticed a young man watching her. When she would turn to look at him, he'd look somewhere else. She noted his old and dirty clothing and decided he must have been homeless. Perhaps he was planning on picking her pocket, she mused.

After an hour and a half, Tonya was about to call it quits as pertaining to the scene of the second crime as well. She had all ready done so with the first crime scene.

She took off her black jacket and pulled at her blouse, mentally cursing the heat. {I wish we could wear skirts, like the FBI,} she thought, looking at her black slacks with contempt. But cops needed to be able to run. {So do FBI agents,} she told herself, {but that's a mystery that will have to be left for others to solve.} She began walking out of the alleyway that was to the left of the crime scene, heading for the car where she would meet up with Kermit. But in front of her, blocking the exit, was the ragged young man. He was standing only a few yards away from her, and looked frightened.

"Sir," she said to him. "What's wrong?"

He walked closer to her, staying a respectable distance away. "You are investigating that murder that was here, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are."

"Well. . . I need to tell you something."

"What is it?"

He whispered vehemently, "I SAW it! I saw it happen."

"You're serious?!"

"Yessss . . . quiet, I don't want anything to HAPPEN because of this." He glanced around nervously, then his eyes rested on her once more.

"Sir, could I have your name please?" she said, taking out a little notebook and pen.

"My name's Henry Winson." He spelled it for her, and she quickly jotted it down.

Slowly, she said, "You'll have to testify about this-"

"No. I won't. I won't testify to ANYTHING."

"We need to bring you in for questioning, she said softly. "Please-"

"No. He'll think I went willingly, that I saw something. He always has people watching."

"Who is 'he'?"

"The killer. The girl worked for him."

"Does he know you saw the murder?"

"No."

"All right. . . What does he look like?"

"I can't tell you."

"We need this information, sir. If you had a name. . ."

"I. . . he's black. I can't tell you the name, just that it's French. But I know it," he said quickly, "I-I just can't tell you."

She paused to think. "Could you tell us the name if we put you into police protection?"

"I don't think so."

"We can make it look like we're arresting you for being drunk and disturbing the peace, and then you can write out what happened and sign it, and you won't have to testify. No one will suspect anything."

"No," he said, "I should never have told you anything. He'll know for sure, no matter what you do."

She slowly took a step forward, not unaware of how contradictory the man's behavior was becoming. "Please, sir. A man has been murdered. You are the only witness. -- You don't have to worry, police protection is very successful." It is sometimes, she thought. "My partner should be over here any minute now. There he is," she said, glancing at Kermit as he walked up to her, and willing him to hurry.

Kermit looked at Tonya and the man standing next to her. "What's going on?"

Tonya smiled at him, then turned to look encouragingly at the nervous homeless man. "We have ourselves a witness to a homicide." She held out her hand to the man. "Sir, no harm will be done to you."

"Can you guarantee that?"

"Honestly. . . I can't. No one could. But I will do as BEST I can to keep you safe."

"All right," he said softly. "I will."

Dezzee strolled away from Nickie's empty office. {I wonder where Nickie is,} she thought. She hoped nothing had gone wrong. So many things were happening in her life lately, it wasn't even funny. Her sister was dealing with her second miscarriage, and her father was very sick with lung cancer. {It's too much for a cop,} she thought glumly. {Please don't let anything be wrong, God,} she begged silently.

Dezzee looked around the squad room and asked everyone in general, "Where's Nickie?"

Strenlich turned around at her question, and walked up to her. "Detective Holt. Nickie grew ill a few minutes ago. I won't lie to you. He's very sick."

"Where is he?" she said, biting back her fear. {Oh, no, dear God. . .}

"We don't know. Detective Caine left with him, saying Nickie had gotten some sickness from the bodies, and Caine didn't tell us where they were taking him."

"They?"

"Detective Caine's father was with him." He paused. "I'm sorry, but I have to get back to work." He began to turn away.

"But how am I gonna find him?"

Strenlich sighed and faced her. "I don't know. We weren't given a name of a hospital. Maybe Detective Caine's father is looking after him; he's an apothecary. Nickie should be in good hands. But I have to say, that's all we know. I'm sorry, Detective. I wish I could tell you more." He turned around and began walking down the corridor.

She listened as thunder rolled in the distance. {It's going to rain soon,} she thought fuzzily.--{Where did they take him? They can't just go abduct him and not tell anyone where they're going!}

Anger raged in her heart, but worry overpowered it. What if it was something deadly? Would he die before she would see him again? {He can't die. I love him!}

Dezzee steadied herself and walked up to the front desk. She spoke to the man standing there. "Do you have any idea where Detective Tonya Scott is?"

Tonya looked into the sky as it began to thunder. The sky was dark, and filled with clouds. It was a strong sign that summer was soon ending.

She thought of the murder witness sitting in the backseat. The handcuffs had been removed long ago, having been just an act. She knew, though, that the act didn't matter a bit if those who had watched them were suspicious. It was a strange coincidence that two cops who had been there to go over a crime scene were now taking a man to jail because he was drunk. But if they had waited for an uniformed pair of officers in a squad car to act it out fully, he might have changed his mind by the time they arrived. They had to take the man at that moment, because they might not have had another chance. {Usually when witnesses change their minds, it's for good,} she told herself. Even though this man seemed to change his mind frequently.

She wondered if they should have left him there. It might have been very dangerous for him either way, but were they risking his life even more by entering him into police protection?

She turned around in her seat and studied the man sitting behind her. He was calmer than he had been before, and almost seemed to be enjoying himself. {?????} , She thought. {What is going ON?}

She turned to look at her partner as they drove up to the precinct. Kermit was impassive as usual, and she had no idea if he noticed her gaze or not. {Doesn't matter,} she told herself, but not knowing made her uncomfortable. {That's probably WHY he wears those glasses. To have the advantage. I wonder what he would do if he lost his sunglasses? Maybe he has a whole truckload of them at home.}

Kermit parked the car, and the two detectives got out and opened the door for the man in the back. The man stood up and walked towards them, then jerked his head up as lightning ricocheted through the sky. Tonya felt a little better after that, but still was wary of his new reactions.

Kermit watched him rather distastefully. Tonya assumed it was because of her own conclusion: that the witness' attitude seemed to change with the wind.

{What is this man planning?} she thought suddenly, meeting him the rest of the way. "Mr. Winston, please come inside." It wasn't a request, and he knew it. He nodded, and walked with them up the stairs, just as it started to rain.

Tonya covered her head with her arm as they walked inside.

"Tony!!" A feminine voice called out. Tonya's mouth fell open in surprise as Dezzee appeared and grabbed her hands. "Tony, you're here. You have to help me."

"What's wrong?" she said, glancing a concerned look at Kermit.

Kermit flashed her a humorless smile. "I'll take care of this guy. "He looked at the man, "Come on," and walked down the hall towards the squad room. The man followed reluctantly behind.

"Dezzee, what is it?"

"It's Nickie. He's gone. They said that he was really sick, and that Detective Caine and his father took him with them somewhere."

"Where?"

"I don't know. They didn't tell anyone if they were going to a hospital. And even if they went to a hospital, they didn't say what the name was. Tony. . ." She looked up into Tonya's eyes. "He might all ready be dead."

Tonya pulled her into a corner of the room, away from the officers working around them. "He's not dead, Dezzee.--Don't worry. I'm going to help you find him."

She wanted to keep her promise. {But how can I?}

End part 5/11

 "Lost in Chinatown pt6"
Lost In Chinatown by Dana K-part 6/11

"There is neither darkness nor death. . .
Darkness is only in the mortal eye,
that thinks it sees, but sees not."
----Ursula K. Le Guin

(Historian's note: this takes place after "Prism" but before "Black Widow".)

(These are not my characters, except for Tonya and Dezzee. All others belong to Micheal Slone and the gang. Thanks! enjoy . . .)

Caine placed Nickie gently onto the table. "Lo Si, we must find the right herbs to heal him."

"Yes, Qui Chang Caine," the old man answered as Caine took out some of the herbs. "I will help you in any way I can."

Peter watched in panicked confusion as his father and the Ancient conversed over remedies. "Wait, Dad, you took the stuff out of those bodies easily. Why is this taking so long?"

Caine looked at him with mock-disapproval and good humor. "Peter. He is ALIVE. There is a large difference between a trapped spirit in a dead body and a sickened spirit in a living body. We have to deal with the body as well now, and the way it interacts with the spirit. Before, the interaction played a very small part. Now it is the essence of the process." He turned back to the Ancient, and continued the conversation. As he spoke, he motioned to the plant extracts he was talking about, and Lo Si nodded.

Peter had no idea what they were talking about. Peter could speak Chinese, but it seemed that even in English, his father was still speaking a strange language. Peter could hardly ever tell what his father meant. He knew, without doubt, that he would never be able to understand everything his father said.

"The Granchee leaves might work if we mixed them with the enib," Caine was saying.

{I'm never becoming a doctor,} Peter said to himself. {Or an apothecary.} He shook his head as the two older men made their decision, having found a mixture they thought suitable.

"Now," Caine said, bringing the herbs together on the small table, "we must make it."

The Ancient smiled, and they began.

Kermit had returned from taking the witness to get police protection. The homeless man was now in the care of two other officers, who were waiting with him until he as assigned a safe house. Kermit had then went his office to check out the witnesses' claims. Winson had said while Kermit had talked to him that the murderer had been the boss of his victim. If that was true it would probably be Monteruebeau. But after looking at the man's files, Kermit had still not been sure about Monteruebeau. There wasn't enough information, and Monteruebeau didn't seem to be as influential as Winson had made him out to be. But Kermit's contacts had backed up the claim, going so far as to say Monteruebeau's accomplice was one of the most powerful organized crime lords in the city.

He had told Tonya about his findings right away, and was now back at the front of the precinct, watching as Tonya tried to quiet her friend. It was obvious to Kermit that calming Dezzee was much harder than Tonya had thought it would be. From the expression on Tonya's face when she looked up at him, it was all too true. But he only shrugged in reply. He didn't have the vaguest idea as to what she should do, and he didn't want to get into it at the moment.

All the while, Dezzee's tears were threatening to overflow. "But--but no one knows where he is. And he's sick," she said, casting terrified eyes at Tonya.

Tonya again gave a worried glance at Kermit, as she took Dezzee's arm. "It's all right. I'm sure Nickie's okay if Caine is taking care of him. Did they say what it was he was sick with?"

"No. Just something from the victim's bodies."

"Oh! Honey, don't worry then. Caine told me that that sickness wasn't fatal. Nickie will be all right." Tonya shook her head, letting go of Dezzee and motioning for Kermit to come with her. He followed her to the other side of the room, out of hearing distance of her friend. She then said, "It's Caine who spoke of finding the killer who used this poison, or whatever it is, to kill the victims. He said that it could infect others, and though they wouldn't die, it would make them every sick. If Nickie was infected, he must be with Caine."

Kermit nodded. "So. What do we do about your friend?"

Tonya paused in thought, then smiled humorlessly. "I would take her there. But my car's in the shop, and she took the bus." She looked at him. "Would you be willing to take us?"

He shrugged, "Sure," declining to tell her that he was just as worried about Nickie as they were. He started for the door, then turned his head to look back at her.

Tonya took her best friend by the hand. "Come on, honey." She put her arm around Dezzee's shoulder and looked up at Kermit. He gave her the smallest of understanding smiles, {give the kid a break, Kermit,} he told himself, and continued out the door.

They walked quickly down the stairs, rushing through the torrents of rain to the Corvair. Lightning flashed, and thunder rolled nearby as Tonya gently pushed Dezzee into the back seat, then got in after her, sitting behind Kermit. Dezzee sat numbly, staring out the window on the violent weather.

Rain spattered on the roof as Kermit started up the Corvair and turned on the windshield wipers. He glanced back at Dezzee, and slowly drove out of the parking space and onto the street. {At the rate we're going, we'll never solve this case.} But just as he was worried about Nickie, he was sure that Captain Simms was as well. If the case wasn't finished in time, she might not get SO angry when she learned that they had found Nickie so that the precinct (and, in relation, SHE) would know where the M.E. was. {There's that. . .}

He listened as Tonya cooed to Dezzee in the back seat. "Don't worry, Dez. He'll be at Caine's. He'll be all right."

The black woman just nodded, pressing close to the door, and held back her tears. Not one fell, and the only sound was the stifled choking noise she made when she stopped herself from sobbing.

{She needs a vacation,} Kermit told himself. He knew of her work as a junior cop, and he had heard from Peter about HIS experiences undercover in high school. It was not something to look forward to. Kermit was glad he didn't look like teacher material. Or kid material. {Too old for THAT.} It was too bad, too, because there were times with his niece Mitch that he really felt like becoming a father.

He suddenly felt warm breathing at his neck, and smelled lavender around him. "Kermit," Tonya whispered, close to his right ear, "she's really upset. If no one is at Caine's apartment. . . She's had a lot of bad things happening lately. I'm afraid she might have a break down."

He nodded dourly, and, without turning, whispered back. "So what do we do about it?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you might have an idea."

He shrugged an apology, "Not at the moment," and the soft warmth left his neck. He looked in the rear-view mirror at her, and saw her glum expression as she sat back against the seat. She looked up, into the mirror, and their eyes met. Tonya tried to smile, but it died on her lips. Kermit smiled it for her, kindly. Thanks glimmered in her eyes, and she returned the smile wanly. It fell soon afterwards, but she mouthed "thank you", before resuming her thoughtful, pained, expression. He was satisfied, and hoped that she wasn't going to have a breakdown as well. {Quite possible,} he thought, thinking of what he had read in her file about her alcoholism. He returned all of his concentration to the rain drenched road, ever so often looking at her in the mirror.

{I used to like this kind of weather,} he thought, watching the lightning and enjoying the rumble of thunder in the otherwise silent car. {Until I had a computer of my own, though, and had to turn it off every time it stormed.} He timed the lightning and thunder in his head, and found that the lightning was very near. He decided that the storm would probably not end for some time.

Caine's apartment was close by. Kermit looked through the heavy downpour to the busy streets, trying to find the little building. Even at 6:30 at night, dinnertime for most, the sidewalks were filled with people. They were like multi-colored tapestries, the sides of the street filled with umbrellas and raincoats of many different colors and patterns. It reminded him, strangely, of the Chinese New Years that were held in that Oriental haven of the city, except this had more like a fuzzy watercolor-painting effect. His direction faltered a little as colors mixed and spun, and the rain blurred everything, but he eventually found the apartment.

He parked the car in front of the building and turned around in the seat. "There should be an umbrella on the floor back there."

Tonya nodded and bent down to grab the long black umbrella sitting next to her feet. "Dezzee, we're here."

Dezzee had relaxed a little by now, but her voice was still rough. "Yeah, Tony. I hope he's inside."

Kermit watched as Tonya smiled at Dezzee and got out of the car with the umbrella. She opened it up and stood under it, waiting as her troubled friend followed her out of the car. {Poor Holt,} Kermit thought. {She's really taken the worst of it.}

He made sure all the doors were locked, then got out. It was pouring waterfalls, and he could only attempt to keep it away by holding his arm over his head as he began to walk to the door into the building. Tonya and Dezzee huddled under the umbrella, following him through the torrential rainfall.

He made sure all the doors were locked, then got out. It was pouring waterfalls, and he held his arm over his head as he began to walk to the door into the building. Tonya and Dezzee huddled under the umbrella, following him through the torrential rainfall.

"Ugh," Tonya complained as they entered the building, shaking out the umbrella. She looked at Dezzee, who in turn did absolutely nothing. Instead of waiting for acknowledgment, Tonya started up the stairs to Caine's apartment.

Kermit watched the by play with semi-interest, thinking more of where their case was going than of his partner's friend's love life. {Or is it even that yet?} he thought, as Dezzee followed Tonya up the stairs. He shook his head dismally, and walked up the stairs after them.

When they reached Caine's apartment, Tonya walked in, pulling a lethargic Dezzee along with her. "Master Caine," she said, smiling at the priest as he looked up from his patient. "We're very glad to see that Nickie is with you. You didn't tell the precinct where you were taking him."

Caine looked a little surprised. "I thought they knew." He looked at Peter, but his son just shrugged noncommittally and said nothing.

Dezzee slowly walked over to Nickie, as if not sure what she would find. {Perhaps she has the strange notion that he's dead,} Kermit thought. But Nickie was conscious, and seeing him snapped Dezzee out of her shocked state. "Nickie," she said, "you're all right!" She sounded like she could hardly believe he was alive. Kermit could hardly believe she hadn't swooned right there.

Nickie smiled up at her haggardly. "I HOPE I'm all right," he said, hoarsely. "But I wouldn't know. Ask the doctor," he joked, motioning to Caine.

Caine spoke to her, a small smile hinted on his face. "He is still healing. But he will be fine."

Kermit watched Dezzee and Nickie talk from the other side of the room. He turned to Tonya, who was standing next to him and smiling happily at Dezzee, all thoughts of work washed from her mind. "Tonya," he said in warning. {This should be done on your time, not the precinct's.}

"I know," she said, sadness flooding back into her features. "We're wasting time." She walked away from him, towards Dezzee and Nickie. "Dez, we have to go."

Dezzee turned to her and gave her a hug. "Thanks for taking me here, Tony."

"Don't give it a second thought, Love," Tonya said, returning the hug.

Peter must have thought it was about time he offered his assistance, or maybe to just say something after staying so quiet. Whichever it was, he now decided to speak up. "Detective Holt, I'll drive you back to your car for you."

Dezzee turned to him and smiled. "I'd like that. And you can call me Dezzee."

"Okay," he said, smiling back. "I'm Peter." She said something in response, but Kermit tuned out the rest of the conversation impatiently. {This is going nowhere fast.}

Tonya walked back to Kermit as Nickie and Dezzee, and now Peter as well, continued their talk. "Okay," she said. "We can leave now."

"Thank you." {Finally.} He turned around and paced out of the room and down the stairs. Tonya's light footsteps scampered behind him in an attempt to catch up.

"Kermit," she said behind him, "I really am sorry about this taking so long."

He waited for her at the doorway to the outside. "It's okay," he said dryly, "we have an excuse." He watched her leap down the stairs in twos. "Sort of."

She landed at the bottom, and slowly opened the umbrella. "Here," she said, slightly breathless. She held the opened umbrella up over her head and handed it to him. "It's yours anyway."

He looked at her for a moment, before responding dryly, "You don't believe in superstition?"

"No."

"Good," he said, taking the handle, "Neither do I." He looked at her depressed expression. "You going out there like that?"

She shrugged drearily. "I don't mind the rain."

{That's not what you implied when we were coming in.} "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I-" she paused as if about to add something, then stopped. "I'm fine." She slowly to walked past him and stepped out into the pouring rain. {Unbelievable,} he thought as she turned around, half way there, hair soaked and clothes spattered. Buckets of water seemed to fall from the sky, streaming down on her angrily. But she paid no heed to it, only shouting over the cacophony of water, "Are you coming or not?" presumably to get him to unlock her door for her.

He shook his head at the way enigmas seemed to follow him in the universe, and began to walk to the car. "I'm coming."

The recent events in her life were taking their toll on Tonya. Her low spirits seemed to slow the all ready snail-paced rate the case was moving. She began to think that they would never solve it, and that added on to her being stalked, made her feel even worse.

Kermit, being someone who was usually not high-spirited, suffered, nonetheless, from her lack of will. He had grown used to having partners who had been the optimistic side of the pairing. Now he found himself forced to leave his pessimism behind.

The day had been busy and tiring for them both. Tonya, after exiting Kermit's car at the precinct, had plodded through the rain as if she no longer had a reason to live. By the time she made it to the precinct doors, Tonya had reached what Kermit thought of as the wet-rat stage: her clothes were drenched and stuck tight to her body, her long hair was flat against her skull, and she was soaked to the bone. Over look all that, and she appeared depressing. Take in it all, and she looked little more than a waterlogged street waif who'd been to hell in a hand basket.

Kermit, while still dry, was in a bad mood from having the opinion that much of the day was wasted on his partner's part. This made him feel a little guilty as well, only adding to his bad mood.

Kermit stood under the awning of the precinct, waiting as Tonya walked slowly up the stairs. He shook out the umbrella and closed it, watching her as she reached the doors to the precinct, and stood under the awning to wring out her blouse and hair. Kermit watched her with a strange fascination, as she meticulously squeezed and shook water from her clothes. Only minutes ago, having been so determined to stay depressed, she had walked with depression through the rain as if it had been salvation, and death a close second; now she wrung it from her clothing with a serious expression plastered on her face. She had instantly turned all business.

Without giving even a glance to her partner, Tonya turned away and began to whip her head back and forth, droplets spattering everywhere, black hair flying. When she turned her head to look at him, it was like Kermit was looking at someone else. Strands of black hair plastered to the contours of her face, wrapped around her head as if to engulf her. She raised her hands to brush away the hair from her face, and gazed into his eyes, arms suddenly still. Then she shrugged, her palms facing upward, as she lowered her arms from her face.

{More of a wet rat than I thought}, Kermit said to himself as he looked at her. She glanced away again and pulled at her wet blouse, which was also plastered, to her contours. She finally decided to take off her jacket, and wrung that out as well, looking into the storming sky as the thunder grew. When the jacket was off, Kermit could see the extent to which her upper half had suffered. Her red blouse was wet down her front, but the jacket had protected most of her shirt. This made her look a little better. The blouse looked as if it was made of a silky material, something likely to dry quickly, but it also looked like something likely to bleed it's coloring. It also became very transparent when wet. (Kermit attempted to ignore this.) However, the color had not run, and she was very lucky that was so. (And, thought Kermit, so am I. I'd have red dye all over my car.) If the blouse had bled, she would be standing there dripping red rain, so the most she had accomplished during her short crusade was to make herself undeniably WET. After all of her shaking and wringing, Tonya still looked like soggy corn flakes to Kermit. But she must have decided she was good enough, because she began to walk through the doors inside, glancing back once to see if he was following. He was, albeit not happily.

All in all, they were a sorry sight when they entered the precinct. Thankfully, no one paid them much attention: it was not that strange to see someone wet when it rained. {Though he wondered if it was obvious to everyone the inconsistency of a completely drenched detective and a partner who wasn't even slightly moist.}

He walked quickly through the squad room and into his office, Tonya closely following. When she had walked in, he closed the door behind her and sat at his computer. He started up the computer and waited as Tonya sat down in her chair. {"HER" chair? When did I start thinking of it like that?} he thought crossly.

"Tonya," he started, "we know that it was Monteruebeau who killed the woman, and he probably killed the man also. You said that Peter's father was close to finding the whereabouts of the killer. Do you know if Caine can find him before he disappears again?"

"I don't know," she said. "I think he said he was half way there. . ." She slowly shook her head and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Kermit. I just can't think straight. I don't think we're going to get ANYwhere tonight, at least not on my part."

{That's funny,} Kermit thought ruefully, {I already thought that we hadn't gotten anywhere tonight on your part.} But all he said was, "Neither do I. It's too late, and we're both too tired to do much of anything. We should start again tomorrow." {Deja vue,} he thought to himself, reminded of the day he met her. {Three days later and I still don't know whether I like her, or whether I want to kill her. Hah. Maybe it's both.} But not at that moment. She had tested his limits enough for one day. He didn't think he could stand another hour without confessing his exasperation towards her behavior, and that was something he wanted to do with a clear head. And, at that point in time, he was too tired to accomplish anything except to make her offended and sullen. He'd already seen his share of her "sullen". He didn't want to see "offended". After all that had happened, another gamut of emotions was a little too much for his nerves. So he readily agreed that the day was finished, and took her home.

Kermit waited outside as a now-dry Tonya opened the front door of her apartment and walked in. She turned on the lights and gasped. "Oh my God!!"

Kermit paced in to find her white-faced, staring at the floor. He stepped in front of her and surveyed the room.

She had good reason to stare at the floor. All over the carpeting, all over everything in fact, there were long stemmed roses. BLACK long stemmed roses. Everywhere. The furniture was littered with carefully spaced rosebuds, the counter in the kitchen as well, each one with black petals and green stems. And long thorns.

Behind Kermit, a rosebud crunched satisfyingly under a well placed boot heel. He turned around, his eyes resting on the sight of Tonya as she viciously swept away the black petals with her toe, her foot landing with a jar onto the floor. She swung her fists down to rest at her sides, her head flinging back, a snarl on her face. "He. . ." she choked with a vengeance, "he KNEW. He knew all the TIME how to get in here, what my keys were--"

"Don't jump to conclusions," Kermit said, quickly walking up to her. "He may have just broken the windows to get in."

She shook her head. "I bet that all along he had a key. No, Kermit," she said with cold fury. "He got in here easily."

Kermit raised his brows at the eerie tone her voice had reached. He filed it in the back of his mind, then turned around and went to the windows in the living room and kitchen. After slight pause, Tonya reluctantly followed behind. But he saw that no windows there were broken, and the clasps were all locked tight. The left window in her living room was the only one attached to a fire escape, and it had been boarded up. Kermit guessed that Tonya had done it when she rented the apartment.

Even though there was no way to reach the other windows from the outside, Kermit wanted to be sure. "Tonya, I assume there's a window your bedroom."

Her mouth was tight and her face still pale, but she answered firmly. "Yes. We'd better check it."

He noted her continued pallor as she walked him passed the kitchen to her bedroom; it wasn't a good sign. Then again, there hadn't been many good signs lately.

She pushed open the door and slowly walked to her window, with Kermit close behind. But when she pulled back the curtain, the window was whole and also locked. She let the curtain fall, and slowly turned away from both the window and her partner. She looked instead upon her bedroom, sadly, like she had lost something meaningful. Kermit glanced around at the room for the first time; he had not noticed the roses covering the floor in this room as well. It wasn't surprising; Bobby WOULD fill the entire house if he was going to fill a room. The man was a perfectionist. What WAS surprising was that he had spent the money on the roses at all: he didn't usually bother with scare tactics if the person was going to die anyway. He must really be out for revenge: {First he's going to break her mind, then he's gonna break her spirit, and then he's gonna to break her body.}

Frankly, it made Kermit want to destroy something.

Kermit walked up to Tonya and stood beside her. "Let's clean this place up, okay?" he said softly. "You don't need roses all over hell 'n back."

She shrugged lifelessly and slowly began to pick up the flowers. Kermit watched her with uneasiness, then joined her.

After a few minutes, they finished clearing the apartment of roses. All of the black flowers were in a garbage bag, awaiting whatever end came to them. Tonya offered to burn them using some matches, but Kermit talked her out of it. He thought that idea was more than a little extravagant and impulsive. "Anyway," he said to her as they sat in her living room, "Setting this place on fire won't do you much good in the long run."

"Really." She gazed drearily at the wall, caught up in depression. {But at least her color has returned to normal,} Kermit thought.

"Tonya," he said, getting up, "you can't stay here if he has a key."

"I know. But it's what I have to do. I'll change the locks or something." She stood up from her chair and walked up to him. "Thanks for helping me pick up everything. I don't know WHY you helped me," she said with guilt, "--I wasted most of the day concerning our case--but I really a predicate this. And," she said quickly, "I'm sorry I've been acting so strange. I haven't exactly been myself lately."

He paused, then answered. "You haven't killed anyone. So it doesn't bother me.--But THIS," he said, looking around at the room, "this bothers me. It's not drastic, but it is his style. And it will ultimately get worse. He'll go through your closet and rip your clothes to shreds, then have a box of chocolates delivered, all in the same day. He might even change the locks on YOU, if he wants to. He's an insane romantic. I wouldn't be surprised if he felt an attraction towards you."

She cringed. "That is sick."

"Yes. And that's why I don't think you should stay here alone. Canada likes death to be quick and clean. But he doesn't have any qualms about finding use for you BEFORE you die." He watched her troubled face as she absorbed the information. "Tonya, I'm not saying this to upset you. . ."

"No, I know," she said with a sigh, "I just thought that after all this, he'd get it over with. Now I have something ELSE to look forward to."

Kermit was too tired for more cynicism, so he didn't bother to reply at all. He merely looked at her and waited.

Maybe that was what she was expecting, or maybe she had realized his vexation. Whichever it was, her next words were not what he expected. "Sorry. I'm doing it again." She gave him a small smile. "I'll try to keep my dark side under control." She took a deep breath. "So. You were going to say?"

"'You'll have to have someone stay with you.'"

"Dezzee's in the city for the night. She'll come over. But she can't stay for long: she has to go back tomorrow." Tonya shook her head as she headed for the phone. "I don't know what I'll do about it after that."

End part 6/11

 "Lost in Chinatown pt7"
Lost In Chinatown By Dana K-part 7/11

"There is neither darkness nor death. . .
Darkness is only in the mortal eye,
that thinks it sees, but sees not."
----Ursula K. Le Guin

(Historian's note: this takes place after "Prism" but before "Black Widow".)

(These are not my characters, except for Tonya and Dezzee. All others belong to Micheal Slone and the gang. Thanks! Enjoy . . .)

Dezzee was able to stay with Tonya that night, so Kermit had gladly went to his own house.

The Saturday was bleak and wet, and spirits at the precinct were not at their best. Kermit thought the weather could be blamed for much of it. {I, of course,} he thought to himself with rueful humor, {am ALWAYS like this.} So the weather couldn't be said to have affected all of them.

Tonya, having gotten through the night, had left to talk to the witness who, strangely enough, had decided to stay after being released from custody. While she did that, Kermit passed on the information on Monteruebeau to Strenlich that he had found the day before. By the time Tonya had finished questioning the man, Strenlich and Kermit had just finished talking to someone at the DEA who was very interested in Monteruebeau.

She stood against the doorway to Kermit's office. "Mr. Winston says that the murderer's name is Garret Monteruebeau. It's him all right."

"Black male, 42 years old. . . His files say that he's a native of Africa, and DOES practice his ancestor's religion. Wild Penya is a herb used in many of their ceremonies."

Tonya's brows raised once. "Really. With that and Mr. Winston's testimony, this sounds like the guy."

"It certainly does. Did our witness put his testimony in writing?"

"Yes. And I didn't have to do much convincing to get him to sign it."

Kermit turned around in his chair. "That could be good or bad."

"Yeah. It's kind of suspicious. But he's really getting upset about police protection. If he's not a plant for someone, it could just be that he knows enough about Monteruebeau to be scared after coming forward. But even if he refuses to testify, we have that written statement about what happened."

Kermit nodded, turned back to his computer, and began typing. "I'm putting a quick APB out, and I'll contact all the police precincts to see if they have any undercover officers working deep in Monteruebeau's ring. Maybe they can tell us something."

Tonya smirked in amusement. "Then I guess there's nothing for me to do but get some coffee." She smiled ruefully as she stood and walked out of the office. {Too bad the computer is faster than the phone. Coffee Gofer was not exactly taught in the Academy.} But she was in a good mood: the case was very close to being solved.

She had gotten the coffee machine and was filling the second cup when she saw, from the corner of her eye, two men walking down the hall. It was Peter and his father, and they stopped in front of her.

"Hi, Peter, hi Caine." She said without looking up. "What's up?"

She lifted her head to them as Caine shrugged and spoke. "I. . . know where the killer is."

Her eyes widened. "You mean Monteruebeau?"

Caine looked up at her. "I do not know if that is the man."

"But you know where the KILLER is."

He nodded, and responded slowly. "It has been hard to follow, but I have found it."

"Perfect," she said with a smile. "So where is he?"

Caine took a moment before answering. "He is in an abandoned building in the worst part of China Town. The corner of Harley Avenue and West Bell Street. Quite near to this precinct."

"But in a bad area," she said with slight concern. "Ah well," she brushed it off, "it's great news anyway. She grabbed the coffee again. "Let's tell Kermit."

Tonya looked at her companions as they walked down the hall. "You two are sure this is where he is?"

Caine nodded.

"Of course you are." She paused and smiled. "Thanks for doing this." They came to Kermit's open office and Tonya walked in. "Kermit. Caine and Peter found the killer."

Kermit turned halfway around. "Really?" He shook his head. "I should've known." He went back to the computer. "So, is he still in the state?"

She smiled. "He's still in the sector. Harley Avenue and West Bell."

"Great," he said, then noticed Peter looking out the door and grimacing. "I hate to spoil the celebration," Peter said, "but a very angry detective is probably searching the city for me by now." He smiled at his father, "By Pop," and slipped out the door.

"Good by," Caine said softly.

Kermit watched him go, then turned to the priest. "You told us that this man could kill people using his ancestor's magic. How easily can he do that? How powerful is he?"

Caine responded right away. "He has no power. Not any longer. The power he held was not his but another, and I have freed the other from his cage."

Kermit looked at him with curiosity. "Where is this 'other' now?"

Caine paused, and slowly looked to the ceiling. "Uh. . . Heaven, I believe you would call it."

"Commissioner Marks," came the sugarcoated answer from the receiver.

The dark skinned woman set her jaw as she spoke into the phone. "Mr. Canada, I'm glad you found time in your busy schedule to talk to me."

"I always have time for YOU, Violet."

"Commissioner, Mr. Canada. Violet is for my friends.---I'll get to the point: I'm finished with you. No more. I don't care what you tell to the press, what you tell to anyone."

"You'll go to jail. . ." he let off sweetly.

"You should know," she said tiredly. "No tricks, no games. I'd rather be in jail for a white-collar crime than play your rules. Do it. Be my guest. You have no control over me."

The line went dead, and the woman hung up the phone.

She smiled, at ease, and picked up the phone to her secretary. "Jamie. Get me Captain Mendelez of the 86th."

An hour had passed at the 1-0-1. After Caine had said goodbye to them and then disappeared, Kermit and Tonya had told the chief about their lead.

The two partners were talking at Tonya's desk when Strenlich returned. "We just got a message from the 8-6," he said. He paused as if thinking over what he was about to say, then slowly continued. "Monteruebeau is working with Bobby Canada. They're accomplices to murder and illegal drug operations."

Tonya turned white. Kermit glanced at her, then looked back at Strenlich as the man continued. "The guys at the 8-6 have teamed up with the DEA for a drug bust on Robert Canada. They think that Monteruebeau may be with him because the warehouse Caine told you about is the same warehouse that Canada is at. If Monteruebeau is the killer as Peter's father says, the DEA may be able to catch both of them."

Kermit took a small, instinctive step towards Tonya as he spoke to Strenlich. "What does this mean?"

"This means that the DEA agents in charge of the bust may do your job FOR you. If they decide to take over your case, there's nothing we can do about it." He paused, then walked away.

Kermit turned to Tonya, expecting a bad reaction. He was not disappointed in that respect: she looked like she was going to faint, and Kermit wouldn't have doubted it if she did. It was a shock, and also put her in a bad position: a closer and easier target for Canada. Even though there was a good chance the FBI would catch him, knowing that was a lot different than believing it. Kermit knew that Tonya would rather be anywhere than near Bobby Canada. Now she was closer than ever.

Kermit began walking her over to her desk, and she willingly went along. She sat down in her chair and closed her eyes, as if doing so would block out everything happening around her.

He watched her as the color slowly began to come back into her face. "Hey. You okay?"

She smiled bravely. "I'm fine, it was just a shock." She blinked rapidly and her mouth tightened. "The coincidence of it and everything. I'll be okay. I'll be fine."

"All right. . ." he said, trying to suppress his concern.

"Listen," she said, her tone becoming lighter. "We can't do anything about that anymore. But I have another problem I have to figure out. Dezzee is going to be going back to the suburbs today. She can't stay with me anymore. So I'll have to find some way. . ." She shook her head. "Who could stay with me. . . ? I've already talked to Peter, and he can't, he's on stake out tonight." She looked up at him. "Would YOU?"

Kermit blinked. It would work. . . And no one else could do it. He looked back at her, returning the gaze. "Sure."

It was dark and black in Tonya's apartment. {But then, every apartment is, or at least, should be, at eleven thirty-four at night,} Kermit thought. He took his sunglasses off as he looked out the window at the night sky.

He watched the stars, his thoughts wandering. He was too tired to think straight; the day had been so busy. But he was at the point where no matter how tired he was, he didn't want to sleep. So he slid from thought to thought in his weary state of mind.

{All the different beliefs that there are, all that could be watching me right now. . . . at this exact moment. God, Buddha, The Divine Mother, Jesus, Allah, or any of the multiple deities that may be outthere. . . }

{Someone out there must know why I'm on this crazy planet.}

He WOULD have been grateful for a clue as to what was going on. Yet, he disliked the thought that his life was planned out in advance.

{They can keep their plans and resolutions. If You're listening, whoever or whatever you are, I'm here because of me.}

The phone rang.

He picked it up. "Hello, Tonya Scott's residence."

There was a pause before a man's voice answered. "Hello, Griffin," the man said with his English accent. "Funny you being here. Or should I say, 'THERE'?"

Kermit took a slow, deep breath. "Bobby." He spoke skeptically. "Are you calling to say you're done threatening Detective Scott, or is this just another step in the romancing of your future victims? Are you going to want her to, oh, I donno', buy you a few flowers now? Black ROSES, perhaps?"

There was a self-satisfied laugh on the other end. "Come now, Griffin. Petty scare tactics, but they work. Anyhow, why would I stop the threats? She WILL die."

"We're all gonna' die, boy. It's just a matter of time."

He could hear Bobby smirking. "You of all people should know THAT."

Kermit mentally rolled his eyes at Bobby's usual lack of finesse. "Throwing stones doesn't suit you, Bobby. Especially such obvious old ones. It's late," he said flatly. "What do you want."

"Only what I was going to tell Tonya on her lovely answering machine: now that you're protecting her, you're also a target." He stopped, then continued garishly, "It works out quite well, actually. I get ride of the both of you instead of just her. A complete package." Canada chuckled in the background, then resumed with a satisfied sigh. "Anyway, prepare yourself. You WILL be destroyed."

"Really." He shook his head with disgust. Canada was starting to sound like a very bad horror movie. Kermit leaned an arm on the windowsill, trying to think of something completely ridiculous to anger his old enemy. Fighting fire with fire {Or childishness with childishness,} he thought to himself, could be the only way to quell the annoying young man. "You know," he started out mock-seriously, "if this is long distance, it's a good thing YOU called ME. . ."

"Joke all you want," Bobby said, getting annoyed himself, "but death is never-"

"Oh, I'm not joking. Detective Scott would have really, REALLY been mad at me if I spent-"

Kermit heard the dial tone, gave a small smile, and stopped talking. {He never could take even a little of his own medicine. I'd have thought he'd grown out of that by now.}

He put the phone back on the hook and softly walked into the living room. He was suddenly very sleepy.

{That is the way to do it, Bobby,} he thought. {And you will never learn that.} He pulled the sheet back on the hide-a-bed, and began to take off his shoes.

The morning was a rough one for Tonya, as she settled into another day of being completely aware that, concerning Bobby Canada and herself, anything and probably everything could happen. Forcing herself to look at every possibility was a painful thing, but, being a police officer, it was something she knew she should have been used to. Unfortunately, she wasn't used to it at all.

"New case," Kermit said, plopping a file folder onto the desk in front of her. "To try to keep your mind off the old one."

Tonya looked at it with much less than what he considered the usual gusto. {But then, look at what's been happening. . .} Kermit mentally shrugged as the thought panned off, and watched from the corner of an eye as she picked up the folder. He waited as she read, going over his copy as well to make sure he had everything. But Tonya's reading was interrupted by the phone ringing. She answered it with a sigh, meeting a glance from Kermit. "Detective Scott here." Her face flashed an emotion, then blanked stiffly. "Yes, I. . ." she stopped, listening. "Thank you. Yes." She through a quick glance at Kermit, so fast that though he could swear she looked stricken, he wasn't sure. The mask was up as soon as it had fallen. "Thank you. No, everything's all right. Rick. . ." She blinked, once, deliberately. "Don't worry. . . Yeah. Goodbye, Rick." She hung up

Kermit put down the file and quickly glanced behind him. Tonya's head was down, and her face was worried. She sighed deeply and looked up as he turned around.

"Tonya, are you all right?"

"Sure," she said brightly, with a wane smile, "I'm fine." Her smile disappeared as she glanced at the floor, then at her cup of coffee. "I just found out from that phone call, that, well. . . He. . . he killed the lawyers, one last night and the other one this morning. . ." Kermit drew closer to her as she continued. "He's killed everyone involved but me," she said, a sick smile on her face that made Kermit feel slightly ill. "I'm next. Eight o'clock, Monday night." A small, humorless laugh. "You saw the letter, you know it's true."

"No. . ." He stood in front of her and gazed into her face. "It won't happen. You aren't going to die." {She should have quit instead of transferring,} he thought. {She's going to crack.}

Tears threatened to well in her eyes, but her voice remained firm. "Yes I am."

He took her hand and shook his head. "No. You are NOT going to die. Think about it. You're scaring yourself for no reason. It won't happen."

She looked at the ceiling and blinked rapidly to keep the tears from falling, so no one would notice them there. "I can't cry. Not here."

"It's all right. You can in my office." He turned, her hand still in his. She nodded and stood, her free hand wiping the tears from her eyes.

Kermit tried to release her hand as he walked with her towards his office, and mostly succeeded, hoping that the others, most of all Karen Simms, wouldn't notice. But Kermit could feel the stares he was sure were being thrown their way as they walked inside and closed the door. {Gossipmongers,} he thought with irritation. He really didn't care what they thought. All he could think about was the woman standing in front of him, and the pain that was ripping her apart. The fact that he had started to really care.

{That is a very bad sign,} he halfheartedly told himself. {Isn't it?}

Tonya sank into the desk chair and covered her mouth with her hand. She trembled and tried not to sob as the tears began to run down her face.

Kermit sat down in the computer chair and kept at a distance. {God save her. She's been so strong, then they had to go and tell her THAT. Who in their right mind would basically tell someone that they're next to die?}

He watched her silently, not sure what to do. "Do you want me to get Peter?"

She quickly attempted to dry the tears, almost as if she was embarrassed, and had just noticed he was in the room with her. "Peter's gone. He and Detective Powell."

{No, damn it,} he thought, anger raging at the world itself. There's no one here that she knows.} He could tell that she needed someone to talk to. {ANYONE in this situation for the first time would need someone,} he acknowledged. {Especially after what she's been through.}

{But maybe she can deal without someone this time?} Kermit hoped so.

He stood up and slowly walked closer to her. "If you want me to leave, I will."

Tonya shook her head, her face flushed yet composed. "I'm fine." She took a deep, shaking breath. "Listen, I'll go and wait outside the precinct for you, so you can get your stuff. Or whatever."

She started to walk past him for the door, but he stopped her with a touch on the shoulder. "Tonya. How are you, truthfully?"

She turned around and leaned her back against the door. "Truthfully?" she said shakily, looking away. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes." He held her hand out to her.

After a moment, she took it and spoke. "I . . . I really don't know how I am . . ." Her face crumpled into tears again, this time uncontrolled. She let go of his hand and shrugged through her tears. "I'm sorry." She broke then, doubled over with muffled sobs, arms holding her middle. "I'm sorry . . . I thought I could get through this . . ."

Kermit walked up to her and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "No, don't be sorry." She leaned her head against him and slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.

He ran his fingers through her hair and whispered, "It's okay, everything's okay." She nodded and continued to sob.

He reached for the Kleenex on his desk and gave her one.

"Thank you," she mumbled as she cried, and wiped her nose on it.

He smiled sadly. "No problem, kid."

Kermit bent his head and took in the sweet smell of her hair. {All this pain . . . just because she was doing her job. And she won't give it up for anything. Not even her own sanity.}

He closed his eyes and enfolded her in his arms. "Don't worry, Sweetheart. Let it out."

Seconds past as she sobbed and shook. Kermit rocked her gently, a deep ache in the pit of his stomach. {She must have never cried about it at all,} he guessed. {Not after the two weeks, not even after that attack. . . } He couldn't imagine anyone who could go through all of that without breaking down. {She must not have. Unless she's not as strong as she seems.}

Kermit pressed her to him and sighed. {This must be uncomfortable for her. It is for ME. If Peter were here she would feel better. He would be in my place.}

He looked at her again, reminded of the day Marilyn had told him her husband was dead. She had cried so long, with such despair. Only those were the tears of rage, of unfairness. Marilyn didn't have the wild look of fear he glimpsed every time he looked in Tonya's eyes. He didn't like how close he was feeling towards here. He was getting too near to her, and he was starting to care.

{Emotions just won't stay put when you want them to, will they?}

She slowly slumped in his arms, sobs diminished. Tears still ran down her face. She gave him a final squeeze and pulled away. "Thanks, Kermit."

He held her hands in his. "Sure."

Tonya sighed and let go of his hands. "We'd better get to work now."

He looked at her closely. "No. You should take the day off."

"Kermit. . ."

"I need a cop who can point a gun at someone and yell at the top of her lungs. Your energy has been spent on crying."

"But I just started here. If I ask for a day off, Captain Simms won't let me have one. Anyway," she said, her face downcast, "I have to get on with my life. I might as well start right away."

"No, Tonya. You get on with your life AFTER each climax is over. This one has just begun. If you get killed because you're so shaky that your reflexes are impaired, I don't want to take the fall."

She looked at him skeptically.

He raised his eyebrows, his expression completely serious. "Seeing you die wouldn't be very nice either. . ."

"Yeah, right!" she smiled, shaking her head. "You're a closet melodramatic, Kermit."

He stayed serious, his voice defensive. "No I'm not. . ." But he cracked, and grinned. "I'll talk to the Captain for you."

Her face fell and she sighed. "You'll have to tell her I was crying, won't you." It wasn't really a question.

"Everyone cries," he said dryly, "even the Captain." He paused. "I think. Anyway, she'll understand."

Tonya looked down. "Well. . ."

He sighed. "Do you want me to talk to Simms?"

She slumped into a chair. "This whole thing is very embarrassing."

"Sure it is. It happens to the best of us."

"The best of WHO?" she said with abrupt irritation. "I don't KNOW any of you! I don't even know what color your EYES are!"

My God, not THIS again.} He sat down in the other chair, leaned forward, and took off his sunglasses. "My eyes are brown, you've known everyone here for a week at the most, and I've spent a night at your house and I'm probably going to spend three more." His voice began to rise slightly. "Unless you kick me out, I may never leave! Contrary to your belief, you cannot just keep digging up the 'you don't know me' excuse. It's getting old." He ended and waited for a reply.

She sighed, and stated, "I've been an ass, haven't I?"

He shrugged with a sudden smile. "Happens to the best of us." He studied her, convincing himself she would be all right. "I'll go tell Simms."

She nodded silently and watched him slip out of the room.

End part 7/11

"Lost in Chinatown pt8"
Lost In Chinatown By Dana K-part 8/11

"There is neither darkness nor death. . .
Darkness is only in the mortal eye,
that thinks it sees, but sees not."
----Ursula K. Le Guin

(Historian's note: this takes place after "Prism" but before "Black Widow".)

(These are not my characters, except for Tonya and Dezzee. All others belong to Micheal Slone and the gang. Thanks! Enjoy . . .)

Kermit stood in the doorway to Simms' office. "Captain. . ."

Simms looked up, smiling when she saw who it was. "Yes, Kermit?"

"I need to talk to you about Detective Scott."

She waived him in. "What's wrong with her? I noticed she was having a bit of trouble out there a few minutes ago. . ." Her eyebrows raised, but she remained silent.

Kermit tried with difficulty to ignore her expression. "She's been under a lot of stress concerning Robert Canada." He paused to see if he would have to explain, but she nodded her head with understanding.

"Yes, I know of her being threatened by him."

Kermit took this in and continued. "I think she needs to take a day off."

"Shouldn't SHE be the one asking me about that?"

He paused an instant. "Yes. But I don't think she could even handle that, right now. And it was my idea for her to take a day off. I convinced her. She still wants to work, and probably would until it killed her."

"So why doesn't she?"

"Well, she was crying just a second ago. I don't think she's ready to fight crime. She really needs a break."

Simms sighed. "Then she'll get one. That sounds like a reasonably good cause. - But. . . tell her I expect her to be up to par by tomorrow morning, no matter what happens with Canada."

"I will. Thank you."

"Wait. Let me tell her. I need to talk to her anyway."

He looked closely at her. She gave a small smile, understanding his concern. "She's not the only one who's had too much of life around here, Kermit." She stood up and walked around the desk to face him. "I've heard it said that being a cop is suicide, mentally and physically. And I've noticed how close she's gotten to that ledge." She paused, placing her hand against the wall and looking up at him with determination. "We need to bring her back."

Kermit waited at Peter's office for an answer to the phone.

A click. "Hello?"

"Peter, it's me."

"Hi, Kermit."

"Listen, Pete, Tonya's really upset right now. She's taking the day off and she needs someone to be with her."

"What happened?"

"She found out that the two lawyers were just murdered. You know what that means."

There was a pause on the other end. "Yeah. She's the last one. How is she?"

Kermit sighed. "Not good. She's really had a hard time with this and I don't think she can take being by herself. I also don't think it's SAFE for her to be by herself."

Peter paused again at this. "You don't think she'd try to kill herself?"

"If Canada doesn't kill her first. You never know with people, Peter. And you'd certainly know better than I."

"Then I'll stay with her."

"That's what I thought you'd say."

"I'll be right there."

"Good. We'll be waiting." He hung up the phone and walked to his office.

The door was ajar, and he peered in to see Tonya sitting, with Simms standing next to her.

"Tonya," Kermit said, watching her as Simms turned to look at him, "Peter's going to stay with you today."

Tonya continued to stare at her hands. "Thanks, Kermit."

"Are you feeling any better?" Kermit said as Simms patted her shoulder.

Tonya looked up and smiled bravely. "Yeah. I'll be all right." {Don't count on it,} she said to herself sadly. But she could not deny that the talk with Simms had helped a great deal.

Kermit nodded. "Peter will be here any time now."

She nodded resignedly. "Can I just. . ." she motioned around the office, "wait. . . ?" She broke off and sighed with fatigue. {This is getting to be way too much.}

"Sure," he said slowly.

"Kermit," Simms spoke up softly, "When Peter comes, send him to me first, where ever I am." Simms glanced back at Tonya, and noticed her bloodshot eyes. "Tonya, have you been sleeping?"

She bit her lower lip. "Not very much."

Simms sighed and smiled. "I think that's understandable."

"Hang in there, kid," Kermit said with a smile, and opened the door. "You'll make it." He loosely saluted the captain, and walked out, leaving the two alone.

Tonya closed her eyes. {Why is he helping me? Why does he care? }

It didn't really matter. {I would be completely lost in this if he hadn't stepped in.}

Simms looked at Tonya, as if reading her thoughts. "He's quite the mystery. But then, everyone must be at times."

"Yes. More so than any of us know."

Simms gave her a measuring look, but let the strange comment slide. "And you are all right now?"

"Yes, I guess. I still wish I could have dealt better. Emotionally."

"Ah," Simms eyebrows raised. "You dealt as well as most I've seen. Better, in fact. Humans seem to long for mutual comfort in hard times. It's not unexpected."

Tonya looked into her eyes. "Did this happen to you the same? If it's none of my business-" she added quickly.

"No. It's something that would do you good to know. It was much the same for me. And the need for support from others was just as great. As long as your friends are around, you feel at least minimally protected. At least from someone stealing their love. When you feel no one loves you is when you fear the most."

Tonya smiled. "I didn't know you were prone to deep observations. It's a quality I wish I had more often."

"I wish I had it more often too!" Simms grinned. "Sometimes it shows up unexpected. . ." Her grin faded to a sad smile. "But I can see that you need to be alone right now. I'll get back to you later." She bent down and gave the detective a quick hug, then left before Tonya even realized it.

There was a sudden silence in the room as Tonya stared at the closed door, holding on the wonderful maternal feeling of Simms' arms around her. She was a little surprised at what Simms had said, especially at the end. {I DO need to be alone. How did she know that before I did?}

It was quiet in Kermit's office. The only noise was the computer humming softly to itself, and her clothing rustling as she moved. The lighting wasn't harsh, what with the only light being the sun from the windows and the light from the hallway slipping through the blinds on the other side. The colors were earthy, and even the temperature was a nice, comfortable warm, unlike the freezing cold of the outside offices. The heat was due to the computer and printer being on, she supposed, but it reminded her of her native Arizona, and made her sleepy.

Tonya propped herself up with an elbow. {Didn't someone once say, "Live each day as if it were your last"?}

She sighed and leaned back in the chair. {I don't think this is what they meant.}

She watched the screen saver on the computer as snowflakes fell slowly to the bottom of the screen.

{If I'm going to die, I'm going to die; it's that simple.} She closed her eyes. {Or, at least, it should be.}

The snowflakes were dancing as she peered at them through slit eyelids. {But it's not.}

Kermit was looking at his files at Tonya's desk when Peter arrived at the precinct.

"Where's Tony?" Peter asked when he reached Kermit.

"She's in my office. Resting."

"She's not taking it too bad is she? She's had some problems. . ." Peter left off uncertainly.

{Yes, she certainly has,} Kermit thought. He lowered his voice and spoke. "I know about the alcoholism, Peter."

Peter bent his head, his mouth taunt. "How does it look?"

"Not good. But she can take care of herself, at least in that matter. The rest, for today, is YOUR job."

Peter was silent, then mentally shook himself and returned to the problem at hand. "Did they say when the bust is gonna be?"

"Yeah. They want to get him as soon as they can, so it's tomorrow. Before the time Canada specified for Tonya's. . . ," he paused with a grimace, "death." {Someday, Bobby, we'll catch you. And you and I will be face to face in an interrogation room. That'll be fun.}

Peter sighed. "At least they gave her that advantage."

They could have given more." Kermit placed his palms on the desk and leaned over on his arms. "The DEA still wants us to wait on our investigation until after the bust."

"Because they think Monteruebeau's there right now? I thought they needed more proof than that."

"He's there, according to your father, and I believe him. And so do they."

Peter paused a moment. "But if they screw up. . ."

Kermit completed the thought. "We could loose him for good. He could catch a plane out of the country in less than an hour. The most we could do is to contact the airport security at his destination, run his files through, and have them search the entering U.S. flights."

Peter shook his head. "And most likely, we'd loose him on the way."

"Oh yeah," Kermit scowled. "He's good at loosing a trail, and he's done it before. I read all of his files. He always had a backup plan to shake the authorities."

"Then if they loose him now, he's gone for good."

Kermit sighed. "That's about it."

Peter studied the active precinct around him. "We have to get some of our people in there."

"They won't go for that, Pete."

"He's wanted for murder. We even have a witness."

Kermit shook his head. "Not a reliable one."

"No. But a witness."

{I guess that's good enough for most judges,} Kermit thought.

Peter frowned in thought. "And what about Canada?"

"I don't know. This 'team effort' is bringing him very close to Tonya. I'm hoping he doesn't know just how close she is to him."

Peter looked to the side as a movement caught his eye. It turned out to be Tonya, walking out of Kermit's office and coming towards them.

She clasped her hands behind her back. "Hey," she said in greeting.

Peter smiled. "How are you doing?"

"Good, I guess."

Kermit merely glanced at her, feeling uncomfortable, then returned to Peter. "I'll call the DEA and work this out. They have to allow someone to supervise it, at least. Oh, and Simms wants to talk to you."

"Okay. Tony, you ready?"

"Yeah. Just let me get some things." Kermit moved off to the side, out of her way, so she could begin looking for what she needed.

Tonya started to search for something, but couldn't find it.

"Need some help?" Peter asked.

"No that's okay. I can't find this file I had, and it might take a while."

Peter shrugged. "I have to talk to the captain about something anyway."

She watched him begin to walk away, then returned to her search. She seemed oblivious to Kermit as he watched her, and didn't even glance in his direction.

"Tonya," he said suddenly.

She stopped and looked up. "Hmm?"

He paused before answering. "They'll catch him," he said slowly. "We'll get some of our own in there to make sure of it."

Tonya gave him a slight smile. "Thanks, Kermit. For everything." Her expression returned to its somber quality. "This past week. . . You didn't have to."

Kermit mentally withdrew as he spoke. "You're welcome."

"Listen," she said, "I have to go. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

He nodded. "I'll call you when I get off."

Peter and Tonya had spent the rest of the day together, then had returned to her house to wait for Kermit to call. He eventually had 'phoned, and arrived soon after, releasing Peter of his unofficial watch.

Now, it was night as Tonya looked out her window. A dark, clear sky shone above her, stars hardly visible in the city lights.

Something teared inside of her, and she wanted to let everything out right there, to cry again, to maybe die and not have the world to wake up to in the morning.

She had thought that after that one good cry she would have felt better: it always worked that way before. But the depression was like a cloud surrounding her, distorting reality and masking everything real. All that she knew was fear and sadness, and a strange sense of shame for not being braver than she believed she was.

Kermit was asleep when Tonya softly stepped out of her room. She quickly dried her tears before they began, and walked by him carefully. As she passed, she paused to watch him sleep.

His glasses were off, sitting on the coffee table to the side. He looked very different with them off, looked less threatening. {Probably because he's asleep,} she thought, {and the tension that comes with being a cop is gone.} He slept facing her right, his arm pulled up under the pillow, head resting on it. His hair was rumpled and mussed, making him look almost like a different person.

She shivered in the cold room, and noticed the single sheet pulled up around Kermit's shoulders. She walked over to the thermostat and turned the air conditioning down a few notches. She had a bad habit of worrying about people, and the habit was not improving. {At least it's not getting any worse,} she told herself.

Tonya walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She tried to contain a sudden rush of negative emotion, and took in a quick breath. She bit back tears and bent down, pushing through the food to the back of the 'fridge. She reached the hidden beer, and grabbed a can as she began to quietly cry again.

She opened it, cringing at the cracking noise, and pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. She angrily willed the tears to stop, and after a moment, they did. As she was sitting down at the table, she casually glanced around the darkened apartment. Her eyes fell on the man sleeping in her living room.

She looked away and sighed, pushing the beer away with shaky hands. [This time,} she told herself, as she stood, the can in her hands, {I'm not getting drunk. Kermit doesn't deserve an alcoholic partner. And I don't deserve the journey downhill that this could cause. I just overcame it. I don't think I can do it again.}

Tonya's hands shook as she poured the beer down the drain, and she almost broke down to drink the last vestiges. But she continued to poor it down, then shakily crept past Kermit, on to her room

. The door closed behind her and she dropped herself onto her bed. She stared at the ceiling. {Someone gets me out of this,} she called out silently. {Please.}

Then next day was the most tireless and unending period of time in Tonya's memory. She spent the entire day doing the last of the paperwork, and waiting on and off with Kermit, and occasionally Peter, for the drug bust to be over.

Tonya sat down at the desk and sighed. "Peter, if they don't catch Canada. . ."

"I know. Don't worry, we'll-"

"-Give me police protection, yeah, I know," she said, her face amused.

Peter smiled at her expression. "You're not falling back, are you?"

"Maybe."

"Only a few minutes now. It should be over."

"Don't remind me. . ."

"I won't," Peter said, looking back as footsteps approached, "but THEY will. . ."

Tonya followed his gaze, and saw the two FBI agents walking towards her. The man stood tall and looked down at her. "I'm sorry to inform you, Detective Scott. . ."

"Inform me what?"

"We got Monteruebeau, but Canada wasn't there."

A muffled squawk traveled through the walls of Kermit's office. His head popped up from his computer and his fingers paused above the keyboard. He slowly turned around in the chair, stood up and opened the door.

"Oh no," Kermit muttered to himself.

Tonya was quietly chewing out the FBI. Kermit couldn't hear the words, or see her face, but he COULD see Peter's expression. His was a mix of "She's right," and "I've never met this woman in my life, I swear!" Hard to do, but Kermit had seen Peter do some pretty unimaginable things.

Tonya's face was the worst, though. {If looks could kill, those agents would be smoking ash.} But looks couldn't kill, and he wasn't the least surprised that the agents weren't reacting. Instead, they looked at her with complete disbelief and disgust.

{She's not acting wisely,} he thought as he walked up to the circle and listened as she spoke.

"You're telling me that the guy YOU wanted in the first place WASN'T there but the guy who just happened to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time, WAS arrested? The guy we've been trying to nail and had just gotten a lead on?" She shook her head and began to walk away.

When Kermit began to follow her, Tonya calmed down, looking anywhere but to someone's eyes. Usually, that meant watching the wall. She was trying as best as she could to stare at it without showing any further emotion.

Kermit was very aware of the feelings carefully held in check beneath her cold exterior. He stepped in front of her, making her stop walking, and waited. Nothing. She just looked over his shoulder. {Okay . . .} "Well?"

She just glared at him dryly, her mouth tight but her eyebrows raised smugly. It was as if saying, {"What did you expect?"} Kermit shook his head. The situation was so bizarre already that it seemed hysterically funny that she had such a range of emotions all at one time. Anger, fear, humor, and irrationality. . . He could see her, right there, fighting depression, fighting fear that she had just compromised her safety for nothing, yet accepting the humor in the situation she had now gotten herself into by loosing her temper. The humor was probably better; it led her thoughts away from her impending future with Canada.

Kermit shrugged his shoulders, and said softly, "Maybe you should apologize."

She mouthed, "Perhaps," with a smile, then grew serious. "We lost him," she said in a normal tone. "They got our man. . ." She broke off, troubled.

"But they lost YOUR man."

Peter, who had followed after them, finally caught up. "Tony. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I think I just got conned. Canada must have known our exact plans. He set up Monteruebeau. He also set up me. And now I yelled at those two, I acted so childish-"

Peter stared at her. "Wait wait. Start over. What did you say about getting conned?"

"He's been playing me ever since he sent me the first threat. He knew I was working on Monteruebeau. In fact, he probably made sure I was."

Peter shook his head. "That's not possible."

Tonya shook her head. "It's only logical," she said softly, her face clouding. "And now he's in for the kill."

Kermit frowned. "Tonya. . ."

She took a deep breath. "I'm fine. God, I can't believe I blew up like that. I'll tell the two agents that I'm sorry for my outburst. I was wrong about that. I. . . am wrong." She shook her head. "This isn't making much sense. . ."

"No," Kermit said, "it makes perfect sense. Listen, why don't you go take a few minutes time off. I'll tell them."

Tonya nodded and gave him a weak smile. "Thanks. I need to get some fresh air away from this."

End part 8/11

 "Lost in Chinatown pt9"
Lost In Chinatown By Dana K-part 9/11

"There is neither darkness nor death. . .
Darkness is only in the mortal eye,
that thinks it sees, but sees not."
----Ursula K. Le Guin

(Historian's note: this takes place after "Prism" but before "Black Widow".)

(These are not my characters, except for Tonya and Dezzee. All others belong to Micheal Slone and the gang. Thanks! Enjoy . . .)

Tonya was sitting at the top precinct steps when Peter found her. He sat down next to her and waited as she toyed with a silver ring that she wore on her right ring finger.

Tonya continued to watch the world around her, only acknowledging Peter's presence by speaking. "I acted so badly. Like a child."

"You were scared," he offered.

"Yeah. I was so sure it would work. And now, after exposing myself to him, it's so easy for him to come in and do what he wants. He knows more from this than ever."

Peter didn't respond. There was nothing he could think of to say.

Tonya shook her head. "And tomorrow. . ."

"We'll have the entire precinct there if that's what it takes."

She shook her head again. "No. It won't matter how many are there. He got through the security for the other three. And I'm the most important, so he can't afford to mess up."

She sat in silence, then sprang up. She began angrily running up the stairs, Peter quickly getting to his feet and following. She stormed into the precinct as Peter caught up with her, then she headed for her desk.

"Tony. . ." Peter said, watching her.

She plopped into her chair, then stood up with agitation to lean her arms on the desk. "This is not going well."

The night and the next day passed uneventful for all, except a slight lack of sleep on Tonya's part.

As the hours into the day passed, the time that Canada had given grew closer. The day turned into night again, and Tonya finally relented to waiting with the required police protection.

Her apartment, though only filled with six other people, seemed very crowded. The atmosphere was dark and dismal, and her only real companions were Kermit and Peter. The long silences were filled with quiet muttered whispers. Tonya punctured them with bouts of nervous singing that lightened the room for the few minutes she continued; yet other than that, it was a lonely night.

A few hours through, and Kermit had to leave to do something or another, an important task that he never specified. Tonya, Peter, and the squadron of "protectors" spent the last hours up to 8:00 in a mostly silent room. A lengthy solitude among many, it gave Tonya the feeling that she wasn't quite as alive as she thought she was.

When the time came for the expected tragedy, the air of the room intensified. It was the pressure of everyone waiting for the climax to happen. The mental pressure that she shouldn't have been able to feel.

But it was all for naught. The hour came and passed without any incident at all, save that of a single phone call, made just one hour later. When Tonya answered, all she heard was a soft, familiar male voice that said, "I'm taking a rain-check." And that was all.

Tonya slowly walked into Caine's small apartment the next day. Caine sensed the presence behind him, and turned from his book to look at her.

Her eyes forlorn, she stood silent, seeming to wait for something.

Caine understood this want of acknowledgment. "Tonya. I feel that something is unsettling you."

She didn't respond to this opening, but switched to something else. This unexpected turn puzzled the priest, who could feel her need to talk. But he knew that many people found roundabout ways of talking about their problems.

"Caine, I need you to do a favor for me." She took a few steps closer. "I need to disappear."

Caine wondered whether she meant literally or figuratively. {Either way,} he thought calmly, as he looked into her eyes, {we will be able to manage.}

"Come," he said, using mental encouragement to draw her towards the side of the room, hoping she would sense it. He gave a small smile as she sat with a sigh into the chair he had placed there. It was a comfortable chair put in a soothing spot, under some of his collection of musty herbs.

"Now," he said as the soft smells and the quiet of the room calmed her nerves. "Tell me of this problem."

"I. . . I really don't know how. . . There's been so much stress in my life. . ." She looked around the room slowly. "Caine, do you know what it's like to die?"

He thought for a moment. "I have had notions whispered to me from beyond the grave of that experience. But I do not know, nor have all these whispers ever been the same. As far as I have discerned, it is different for each person."

"Well. . . lately I've been thinking a lot about finding out. And, if things don't get much better. . . I don't think I could stand knowing what it's like to live."

It was Saturday again, and Kermit was alone and thinking. For three days Tonya had not gone to work. No one knew where she was, and no one had heard of her since Tuesday. The threat from Canada seemed years away, though it had only been a week. It was strange that Captain Simms had not mentioned Tonya; if not for the harried look on Peter's face and the constant complaining about her disappearance from the Chief, Kermit would have almost been able to forget about her. But he was too worried to do that.

With his glasses off, Kermit lay resting on the couch, studying his living room. The cat sat on the arm of the sofa near his head, chewing on his hair. He pushed the cat away when he heard the doorbell ring, and went to answer it, running a hand through his hair on the way.

As he opened the front door, his eyes widened in surprise.

Tonya smiled, a backpack holstered across her back. "It's me." She shrugged and looked into his eyes.

He looked her over, assessing damages. He took in her formfitting blouse and jeans, her hair loose around her shoulders, everything normal about her exterior. "Come in," he finally said, swinging the door open wide. She walked in and waited as he closed the door behind her.

"To be quite frank," he started, then paused, changing his mind. " . . . what the hell are you doing here, and where the hell have you been?"

Her eyebrows rose, and her mouth tightened. "I quit," she said primly. "I didn't know I had to have PERMISSION--" She stopped as Kermit bore into her with his don't-give-me-that look, and sighed. "Okay, so I could have TOLD you guys. But I had a lot of thinking to do, and I needed some time. I still need some time." She cocked her head and looked at him with concern. "I DID finish all my paperwork on the case, didn't I?"

"Yes. You didn't forget anything."

"So why are you so. . ." She blinked, realization coming to her face.

"I was worried," he explained.

She smiled softly, her eyes sad as they gazed into his. "Unexpected. But nice to know." She suddenly reddened, her eyes leaving his nervously. She turned away and slowly began drifting down the entryway.

Kermit caught up and walked next to her. "This isn't a social call, I take it."

She laughed weakly. "I wish. No, I'm here because you're the only one I can tell this to. The only one I know well enough that ISN'T Peter."

"And what is it you can't tell Peter?" he stated. {What is it now?}

"Well. . . I can't tell him that I'm not coming back. I'm going to leave town, think about my life. Do some 'soul searching'."

He thought about that for a moment. "Hm. Sounds serious." He showed her to the couch. "Here, si'down."

She sat at the couch and placed her bag beside her. "Do you think I could have a glass of water?"

"Sure." He walked into the kitchen and got out a glass, listening as the black cat entered the room and called out her discovery of the new guest.

Tonya's voice lightened as she spoke to the cat. "Hello kit, whatcha doin'?" she said, a grin in her voice. The cat meowed back at her, and he could hear Tonya whispering softly at the feline in reply.

As Kermit finished filling the glass with water, he heard Tonya giggle. "Your cat is trying to eat my buttons," she said behind him, laughing. Kermit turned, water in hand, to see his cat's head nuzzled against the spot at Tonya's bosom. The cat was attempting to chew away the little white buttons of her blouse. The feline seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. The only obstacles for the cat were Tonya's hands, patting the feline gently but firmly on the head in an attempt to dissuade her. But it was to no avail, for the cat merely stopped for a moment to stare intently at the buttons, then continued her attempt. The woman giggled again, squeezing the cat fondly in a final attempt. "Ew, stop it, that tickles!" she laughed. Her eyes met his, and she looked down again with a blush that Kermit ignored politely. The cat purred her comment and gnawed again on the buttons, this time starting on a bottom one near Tonya's stomach.

Tonya put her hands onto the cat's head and gently pried open her jaws, releasing the button from becoming devoured. She put her finger in the cat's mouth sideways, between the two spaces between the cat's four pointed teeth. The cat gnawed helplessly on her finger for a moment then gave up. "That's it, Kitty. No more will I allow this. And you slobber." The cat looked up, mildly offended, then rubbed against Tonya's arm. "Merow?"

Kermit smiled and watched Tonya shake her head at the cat. "No," she said, "No more buttons for you. Not-a-one. I NEED these buttons." She looked up at Kermit in mock-reproach. "You DID feed her today?"

He handed her the glass of water and sat down in the chair across from her. "She has food," he answered, his eyebrows rising. "She's never DONE that before, though she likes to chew on things. Shoes, fake plants, feathers, necklaces. . . hair. I'm usually the victim of that one. If I had known, I would have warned you against wearing buttons."

She grinned and sipped the water. "If I had called ahead of time."

Kermit shrugged as the feline began to chew on Tonya's shoelaces, and put on his sunglasses. "Tonya. If you need to talk. . ."

She sighed. "Time. That's all I need. And solitude."

"As in, 'No return address'."

"Righty'o, you got it," she said with forced joviality, and didn't meet his eyes. "And that's why I can't tell Peter. He'd look for me until doomsday and back if he had to."

"You're sure you don't need to talk."

"Yes," she said quickly.

{Really,} he thought. "So why'd you come over here instead of calling me on the phone?"

"I don't know." She sighed and picked up her backpack. "Listen, I have to go. I just wanted you to know."

"Why are you going?" Kermit asked pointedly. No more beating around the bush. She had successfully evaded probing questions up until then, but he wasn't going to let her go so easily.

"I'm not so sure. Just to get away and think."

He watched her carefully. "You're going to move again?"

"No. I'm leaving all my stuff in a storage locker."

He raised his eyebrows. "A little impulsive."

"I know," she said, giving him an unexpected smile. She shook her head and the serious expression returned. "But I need to get away from this. I need to find out who I am. Or who I'm supposed to be. Cop work seems too scary right now." She stood up and hitched her backpack onto her shoulders. "Thanks, Kermit. It's been great."

He stood with her, trying not to sound hasty with his questions. "How will you get where you're going without your car?"

"It's at Dezzee's. I won't need it. I'm just going to walk." She smiled up at him and said, "Say 'goodbye' to Peter for me, and give him this, will you?" She put an envelope on the coffee table.

Kermit looked at her. "You're not coming back."

Tonya smiled wanly. "That's the point!" She squeezed his hand, then gently let go, her ersatz smile slipping once into her true sadness. "New life, new friends. . . hell," she said, and the next statement made Kermit wince inside, "maybe even a new name. I feel I need a big change right now."

{God, don't loose yourself that way,} he thought painfully. " . . . I don't know what to say." It was a direct lie, but everything he had to say wouldn't have worked. For some reason, they wouldn't have sounded right.

Tonya looked at him gravely. "You don't have to say anything. Just say 'goodbye'." She paused, then awkwardly hugged him and began to walk away.

"Tonya." {You're in too deep,} he wanted to say. {You can't shut yourself away from society forever. And you can't run away from yourself, either.}

She turned around and looked back.

But he found himself saying something else. "You're going to be all right, aren't you?"

She grinned. "Of course. Don't worry about me. Maybe someday . . ." She stopped with a sad smile. "Someday I might get back. I just can't promise you anything." She paused and smiled sadly. "Goodbye, Kermit. See you at the end of the world." She turned around and walked out the front door.

Kermit watched, stunned, as she disappeared. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. {Why is she doing this?} he thought. {And can I do anything to stop it?}

End part 9/11

"Lost in Chinatown pt10"
Lost In Chinatown By Dana K-part 10

"There is neither darkness nor death . . .
Darkness is only in the mortal eye,
that thinks it sees, but sees not."
----Ursula K. Le Guin

(Historian's note: this takes place after "Prism" but before "Black Widow".)

(These are not my characters, except for Tonya and Dezzee. All others belong to Micheal Slone and the gang. Thanks! enjoy . . .)

"She told me to give you this letter," Kermit said, handing Peter the envelope.

It was Saturday at the precinct, and Peter Caine was not happy. He opened the letter with a frown and leaned against the wall in Kermit's office. He scanned the single page and looked up at Kermit. "Looks like she wrote it quickly. No address, nothing." He read more of it, then paused with a glance to his friend. "Listen to this, Kermit: 'I'm searching for some sort of enlightenment. I don't think I had much in the beginning. 'Every person is like an animal from lack of knowledge.'--Hmm. Quoting the bible? Doesn't sound like her."

Kermit's face was unreadable as his friend looked at him. "Isn't she Jewish?"

"I thought so. But she never read the bible much. She doesn't even go to church."

"Hmph. Maybe she decided to change that too."

Peter spoke again. "At the the end, she says, 'Apokalypsis may come and go before I get to see you again. I must find . . .'" he stumbled over the next word, "'Yahweh'? 'I must find Yahweh'." He shook his head and sighed.

"How did she spell that last word?"

Peter answered slowly. "She spelled it . . . Y-H-W-H."

Kermit nodded but didn't say anything. {Very interesting . . .}

"What does it all mean?"

"It means . . . she doesn't expect to be back any time soon."

Peter's eyes widened. "How can you tell?"

Kermit softly snapped his fingers a couple times, thinking about the correlation. "That word . . . It's pronounced 'Addannoy', and it's pronunciation is written A-D-O-N-A-I. It means 'Lord' or 'God' in Hebrew. You don't pronounce it the way it's spelled because that's considered sacrilegious."

"Oops."

"Don't worry, I didn't know it either, until I looked it up."

Peter shrugged, then paused to think for a moment. "-But 'Adonai' IS what she's always saying . . . It makes sense."

Kermit nodded silently, and sat down at his computer. {But it should mean something more. It should.}

Peter held his hands out, palms up. "'I must find God'?"

"Yes." {But it must mean something less obvious. } Kermit steepled his fingers and bent his head. {Or it could be that I'm just fooling myself. } "'Apokalypsis'. Greek for 'revelation'."

"She knows her stuff."

"Or she knows SOME 'stuff'." He closed his eyes for a moment. "She said to me when she left, 'See you at the end of the world.' Revelations again?"

"Yeah, I guess.--How did she act around you? Was there anything different?"

Kermit thought for a second. "She was very jumpy and grinned a lot more than she usually does. But then, she always smiled a lot."

"That's not good."

"Why?"

Peter looked at his friend. "When she gets really hyper because she's happy, she smiles a lot. But when she's really upset, she gets nervous and smiles even more. It's a weird way of covering it up, but it works on people who don't know her." He was quiet for a moment, then continued. "Do you think she was betting that we'd talk together about this? She told each of us the same kind of things."

"I wouldn't put it past her. She probably wants us to know that she's safe."

Peter set his jaw and said firmly, "Well I want to know where she is."

"You know her best. Where would she go?"

Peter shrugged. "Relatives, friends . . ."

"She told me her car was at Dezzee's. She said she didn't need a car, and was going to walk to wherever she was going."

Peter paused, and muttered, "Sounds like my father." He shook his head. "So, she's close by. That helps. With all of the talk about revelations and God, maybe she went to a synagogue."

"Speaking of your father . . ." Kermit's eyebrows rose.

"You're right. She might have gone to my dad's. She talked to him a lot the past week." Peter sighed. "I wish we could search now . . ."

"Not a chance they'd let you outta' here alive, my friend. Your 'in' box is quite full. And you're scheduled to work tomorrow."

"And you're not. Dually noted."

"That's not quite what I ment." {No, I'm not working tomorrow, kid. But you can't find someone who really doesn't want to be found. And I won't do that.}

"Kermit . . . I'm really worried about her. This isn't like her at all."

Kermit sat down at his computer. "Maybe," he said tiredly, "that's the point. It's NOT like her. You know, Peter, all of this talk doesn't help much in the end. I really don't think you should go looking for her if she doesn't want you to."

Peter walk around the office, trying not to pace. "Are YOU going to look for her?"

Kermit watched him calmly. "No. She's all right. It would be better to wait for her to come back."

"But she's not all right, I know it. Something's wrong."

Kermit shook his head slowly as he turned back to his computer. {It may be wrong, but there's nothing anyone can do about it.} "Peter, she's trying to find herself. That's something that friends just can't

help with."

Caine sensed someone behind him. "Tonya."

There was a pause. "How did you know . . . ? Forget it." She stood nervously at the front of his apartment, waiting.

He slowly turned around. "Are you . . . all right?"

She shrugged. "I guess."

"Did you speak to Peter?" Caine asked as he began to walk up to her.

She shook her head. "Oh, no, I couldn't have. I just told Kermit to tell him. It would have broken Peter's heart. And . . . I don't think I could have left with him there. It would have been too hard."

Caine spoke carefully. "He will look for you . . ."

"I know. But he won't find me."

"Kermit, please help me search for Tony," Peter asked, ignoring Kermit's attempts to end the conversation. {He has to agree,} Peter thought. {I know he cares about her too. Maybe even more than "care".}

"It's not my concern. When she's ready, she'll come back."

"I thought . . ." He broke off desperately. {Don't you . . .}

Kermit's voice turned hard and glacial. "Then you thought wrong. It's my day off. I'll do what I want to do. And you will do what you HAVE to do. Work."

It was as if Peter had been punched. He watched, shocked, as Kermit started the shut down of his computer. Peter turned away before Kermit finished, not wanting to be there when he left. He began walking back to his desk, fists clenched. {Dammit, I was sure there was something under his mask,} Peter thought angrily. {Doesn't he think about Tony at all? Doesn't he care?}

When Monday came around, Peter continued his search for Tonya at his father's, on a wild hunch that she might be there. If she felt she was in trouble, she might have done what many already had: gone to China Town and asked for Caine.

"Hey Dad. I need to know if you've seen Tony lately."

Caine paused as he looked closely at his son. "I have seen her, yes."

"Can you tell me where she is?"

"She has asked me not to tell anyone that. I cannot say."

Peter nodded and said quickly, "I'm sure she did, but this is important. I have to be sure she's not in trouble."

"She is not."

Peter jumped at the lead. "She's nearby then."

Caine gave a small sigh. "She is not nearby either. But she is safe."

Peter groaned. "Dad. Please." {This conversation is going nowhere.}

"I cannot tell you where she is, my son. You must let her go."

"Let her go. Where? Where does she have to go, what is making her do this? WHY is she doing this?"

"She will tell you in time. But she does not feel ready."

Peter scowled, and gave an exaggerated sigh. He felt that maybe if he had just asked the right questions, he would have found out. "I have to get home. It's late. Can you tell her . . . when, or at least IF you next see her . . . that we care about her and miss her? A lot of people at the precinct are worried. I just think she should know. Maybe she'll come back."

Caine smiled softly at his son. "She knows that you care. But I will tell her that you have said so."

Two days later . . .

Skalany walked up to Peter as he sat at his desk. She watched him as he stared off into space. "Pete?" He didn't answer. "Peter . . ." {Hello, Earth calling detective Caine . . .}

"Huh?" Peter looked up after a few seconds. "Oh, hi, Skalany."

"What's wrong?" {He won't tell me, I bet.}

"Nothing," he said quickly, "Nothing's wrong."

{I knew it. And I also know that's definitely a lie. He's not very good at deception today.} She looked at him with a small smile. "Then why aren't you working?"

"I AM working," he said, suddenly defensive. "Just leave me alone."

Skalany ignored the angry outburst. "Well, if you ever want to tell me anything . . ." She gave him a concerned glance and slowly walked down the aisle of desks. {Peter, what is it? Why are you so upset?} She could tell that her sometimes-partner and alltimes-friend was in deep distress.

Skalany headed towards Strenlich and stopped next to him. "Do you have any idea what's up with Peter?"

He shrugged. "He's been like this since Saturday."

"Well, what happened on Saturday?"

"I donno'. A lot of things happen in one day. Kermit's been upset, too, starting Monday. And you should see the way they act around one another. Cats an' dogs."

Skalany looked at him with disbelief. "Kermit and Peter in a fight? But they're good friends . . ."

Strenlich shrugged again. "I just call 'em like I see 'em."

"Hmm. Didn't Peter's friend quit? What's her name . . . Tonya . . ."

"Tonya Scott. Yeah. She quit." His expression hardened. "Makes me really mad too. She was a good detective."

"And she was working with Kermit. Hmm," she said again. "Thanks, Chief." {Everyone's edgy today. I wonder . . . Let's find out if Tonya Scott has anything to do with it.}

As she walked off to her desk, she shook her head with rueful good humor. {I think I just found myself another case!}

"Kermit?" Skalany peeked into the office.

"Yeah," he said boredly, not looking up from his computer.

"What's going on?"

The only sign of acknowledgement was the slight tilt of his head. "The end of a case."

She studied his turned face. "Is that all?"

He glanced at her with an expression of distaste. "I know what you're up to, Mary Margaret."

She held her hands up innocently. "What?"

"Peter, me, Detective Scott . . . I know you've been snooping around."

"And . . . ?"

Kermit just looked at her.

"All right, all right," she sighed, "I know this is probably none of my business . . ." {Don't you comment, either! } she thought at him, but his expression was all he needed for a comeback. "You're just so pissed OFF at each other."

"And you want to know why."

She shrugged. "Everyone does. We're all a little concerned. And Peter's not talking . . ." {Jeeze, I sound like some gossiping townie.}

He gave her a small ironic smile, as if he had read her mind. "Peter's worried about Tonya-Detective Scott." Skalany nodded that she knew this, and Kermit continued. "She disappeared, and told us not to look for her. Peter has looked, I won't, and he wants me to. That's it."

{That's really it, huh?} She watched him as he returned to typing. "Thanks, Kermit. We'll all sleep easier."

He shook his head with exasperation, and Skalany slowly made her way out of the office.

Kermit knew Peter was feeling desperate. The ex-mercenary was worried about Tonya as much as his friend was. But he didn't think it was right to get involved.

From the way Peter had acted that day, Kermit took it that Peter had talked to Caine and had failed at finding the missing woman.

Maybe she really was at Caine's. The more Kermit thought about it, the more logical it became, in a strange sort of way. Tonya could have grown comfortable with Caine during the past week. When she felt the growing pressure she was being put under, she went to Caine. Yet, logically, he was the least likely person to go to, being Peter's own father. {That must have been her thinking exactly,} he thought. She thought that they wouldn't think of asking Caine for that very reason. {So, though Caine's would be the place to go, she knows we know that, so she would want to go somewhere else. But if she knows that WE know that she would want to go somewhere else, she could stay there and never think we would consider it.}

He pulled away from the chain of thought, his mind reeling. {If she knows that we know, that she knows, that we know . . . blah, blah, blah.} He sighed, agitated at his own muddled thoughts, and returned his attention to the files of paperwork he had to finish from their old case. He looked at the computer, noticing that the screen saver had began to play, and woke it, trying to concentrate.

{What if she thought she could hide right in front of our noses and be safe from intrusion?} The thought pushed itself easily to the forefront of his mind, blocking his attempts at work.

It made him jumpy, agitated, not knowing where she was. He disliked being kept in the dark, even if it was for his own good.

Kermit saved the file and stood up, deciding to go to Caine's on his own. {It might not be polite to want to know where she's hidden herself,} he thought, grabbing his gun, {and it might be just as selfish . . . } But he was a friend, even if he didn't have a better excuse. {And maybe,} he thought as he headed out the door, {she doesn't know how much she needs her friends just yet.}

"Caine," Kermit said as he walked through the doorway.

Caine calmly looked up from his herbal mixture. "Kermit. What is the problem?"

Kermit neared the table that the priest was working on. "You know where she is. I have to see her."

"Who are you referring to?" Caine responded innocently.

Kermit looked at him, feeling uncomfortably like a humored child. "You know who I'm talking about."

Caine nodded. "So I do." He paused, watching Kermit. "Tonya."

"Yes."

Caine put the apothecary bowl onto the table, and slowly began to walk around, finally coming to stand in front of his son's friend. "She does not wish to talk to you. She is not ready."

"But you know where she is, don't you?"

Caine placed his hands on Kermit's shoulders. "I know this causes you great pain. But she cannot talk to you. It must be her decision as to when she is ready." He walked back around the table and continued with mixing herbs.

The door to Caine's apartment began to open. Kermit watched as Cheryl walked in, carrying a large bowl. The door swung closed behind her. Kermit turned back to Caine as the door opened again. {No doubt another friend to help Caine with medicine.} Cheryl, herself, was one of the people who was helping Caine and in turn being helped. She was staying with Caine until she could find her own apartment.

{Well,} Kermit thought, as he heard soft footsteps approaching behind him, {if Caine won't help me now, I'll wait here until he does.} He wondered if Caine would actually go days without answering if Kermit happened to stay. Would Caine even care if he DID stay there until the priest answered his question? {Probably not, but it's worth a try.}

He heard a familiar female voice call out from behind him. "The Ancient said that the herbs-" It stopped abruptly, and Kermit turned around, having matched the voice with an identity.

Dark brown eyes stared into his, framed by curly black hair.

"Tonya?"

She stared at him, and fumbled with the two jars of herbs she was carrying. She quickly turned away, rushing over to Caine and Cheryl. Her back was to him as she spoke to the Shaolin. "He said that they might be too old to use," she finished quietly, placing the jars near Caine.

Kermit felt like he no longer existed. No one looked at him, just minded something else. Cheryl watched Caine, who, in turn, watched his herbs and Tonya, while Tonya completely blocked Kermit away by keeping her back to him.

She was so different, now. She wore a long, white T-shirt and billowing black pants, strange when she had always been in style. Her attitude was so lacking in self confidence. He had so many questions to ask her about, but no one to ask. He was invisible to the three others in the room.

Caine abruptly stopped adding powder to his mixture. As if by some unspoken request by Tonya, he motioned to Cheryl and began walking towards the door. Cheryl followed him, looking straight ahead, ignoring Kermit as she passed.

When they had gone, the room seemed even quieter. It was unnatural, stiff, and much too silent.

"Tonya." Kermit took off his glasses and put them in his pocket.

She didn't turn around, just looked down at the bowl in front of her. "How'd you find me?"

He shrugged. {Not like she can see me, standing like that.} "Lucky guess."

He watched as her hands clenched the edge of the table. "Why?"

He took a few steps closer. "Why do you think?"

"I don't know," she said bitterly. "Kermit, you shouldn't have gone looking for me."

"Why not?-"

"Because I told you not to. It was 'goodbye, it's over'. And that is that. I don't need this."

"Then what do you need?" he said, walking up to her. "Peter has been looking for you all over the city-"

"You shouldn't have!" she said, turning. "Either of you! That's all there is to it!" Her voice changed then, now quiet and cold. "I'm not going back."

"You . . . don't have to go back."

It was silent in the room.

He blinked. "We were worried."

Tonya sighed, all the wind blown out of her sails. "I know that, Kermit. But I had to do this. I'm still not sure it even worked." She stopped for a moment. "After Bobby Canada, I felt like I'd lost something that I had before. I thought this might help me find it."

"How long were you planning on not coming back?"

She looked into his eyes, and spoke softly. "Forever. If that's how long it took."

Kermit listened to the quiet of the room. "And now?" He paused, watching her. "Did I come a day too soon during forever?"

She didn't answer, only turned and began slowly walking around the room. "Master Caine said that I felt empty because I thought I had lost something. It's true, I think. He said that what I thought was lost was really hidden inside of me. And though I felt as if it would never return, it would, eventually. It doesn't make much sense, I guess, but . . ."

"Has it? Returned, I mean?"

She looked at him from her spot at the far side of the room. "I don't know. I'm not sure what it was, really. Maybe trust. Maybe the power to accept all of the things that go wrong, and to be able to live with them. I think that's it. But I don't know if I have anything back the way it was."

"It can't be exactly as it was. Nothing ever is, anyway."

Tonya nodded. "I know. Believe ME, I do." She walked back towards him and looked into his eyes. "Please, Kermit. Know that I'll be all right, and let me go. I may discover something on the way, but there's nothing you or Peter can do to help it along."

"And you're sure of this?"

Her shoulders tensed. "I'm not sure of anything anymore. But that's why I need this time. What I had is what made me a cop. I need it back to be who I am. Maybe that's NOT who I am anymore, but I still have to try."

Kermit nodded, and glanced at her.

"Please go. It'll be all right."

He sighed softly, and slipped on his sunglasses. He wanted to say something, anything else, but he found that once again words failed him. He shook his head sadly, and walked out the door.

Tonya flinched, and turned away from the door. Seconds passed. Then she listened to the soft whisper of footsteps as Cheryl and Caine returned into the room.

She turned around to see Caine looking at her intensely. "So . . ." he said, "how did it go?"

She shook her head and gave him a little smile. "You set me up for that, didn't you?"

"I . . . was not aware that he would come at this time. But, it is true that I could have asked him to leave before you returned, or that I could have motioned to Cheryl to take you away." He paused and smiled sheepishly. "It was worth," he thought for a second, "a 'try'?, was it not?"

She grinned. "It was. And I think it just might have worked."

Cheryl glanced at her. "You feeling better?"

"A little." She suddenly beamed at Cheryl. "Hell, maybe a lot."

Kermit walked up to Peter's desk and said, "We have to talk." He walked past Peter into his office, not looking back to see if the young man was following. Peter was, though. {Good,} Kermit thought. {Now maybe we can get back to 'communications level'.}

Kermit shut the door softly and sat in front of the computer, turning to look at Peter.

Peter glared at him. "Okay. Talk."

"I found Tonya," Kermit said, ignoring Peter's sharpness.

Peter stared at him. "Where?"

"She was with your father, like you thought."

"But you said you weren't going to look for her."

Kermit paused before answering. "I wasn't planning on it. At the time, I thought maybe I'd just go over to your father's and ask him." {Or threaten him,} he thought ruefully.

Peter nodded. "And she was there."

"Yes." He paused, thinking about the strange confrontation. "You should have seen her, Peter. She's really changed. Her clothes look like hand-me-downs, and she acts like she's being followed around by a ghost."

Peter's eyes widened. "What's happened to her?"

Kermit answered slowly. "I don't know. She wasn't very happy. She won't leave, though. But at least we know she's all right."

Peter watched him, distrust and anger still on his face. "Why'd you go to my father's in the first place when you told me it was wrong to look for her?"

Kermit stood up and faced him. "It WAS wrong. I shouldn't have gone. But I did." He paused. {I have to tell him the truth.} "I was more worried about her than I wanted to admit. To myself, or to you."

Peter grinned. "The truth will out in the end."

It was another two nights later that Peter found himself sitting at his desk, his mind on Tonya and not on the report he had to write.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts when the phone began to ring, and picked it up. "Detective Caine, here."

A male voice spoke on the other line. "Guess what, Detective."

Peter scowled. "Who is this?" {No one in there right mind prank-calls a cop!}

"Why, it's me, your good friend Bobby Canada." {Oh great,} Peter thought, and listened angrily as Canada continued. "Are you shocked? I'd be. This is just a little call to tell you that Detective Scott is going to die tonight. In about 40 minutes, to be exact. That makes it . . . hmm. nine o'clock? Anyway, I thought you might want to make the odds a little more even. You know what they say: killing two birds with one stone. How many of you cops do you think I can kill in one night?"

The line went dead, and Peter hung the phone up furiously. {We have got to find her,} he said to himself as he headed for Kermit's office.

Peter walked through the door. "Kermit, we have a problem. I just got a call from Bobby Canada. He says he's gonna kill Tony TONIGHT. Less than an hour from now!"

"It's him?"

Peter nodded. "It's him all right."

"Wonderful," Kermit said, standing up. "We'd better get to her before he does." He went to his desk and took his gun from it's usual drawer.

Peter held up his hands as his friend started for the door. "Wait. Just us? What about backup?" {We'll HAVE to have backup with THAT wacko,} he told himself, thinking of the man on the phone.

"WHAT backup?" Kermit said, stopping to look at him. "We're basing this on a phone call."

"But he WILL carry through with it," Peter countered dourly.

"We can't be certain. Remember what happened last time." He paused. "We can call for backup if anything looks suspicious or if something happens. Anyway," he said, starting out the door with Peter following, "aren't you the one who likes rescuing damsels in distress? PERSONALLY?"

Peter tilted his head, an amused expression on his face. "I wouldn't necessarily call Tony a damsel in distress . . ."

Kermit smiled grimly. "Not if you've grown fond of breathing, you wouldn't. At least, not to her face. I suggest not telling her we planned on the 'rescuing' part of this, either."

"Good idea. She'll be happy rescuing herself."

 "Lost in Chinatown pt11"
Lost In Chinatown By Dana K-part 11

"There is neither darkness nor death . . .
Darkness is only in the mortal eye,
that thinks it sees, but sees not."
----Ursula K. Le Guin

(Historian's note: this takes place after "Prism" but before "Black Widow".)

(These are not my characters, except for Tonya and Dezzee. All others belong to Micheal Slone and the gang. Thanks! enjoy . . .)

Tonya looked out on China Town from Caine's balcony, and ran her fingers through her hair. Her thoughts went to the world around her. The sun had just set, and the sky was pink and purple and orange, with a bright jungle green mixing hues with blue; it was a strange and exotic sunset, one she had never seen the likes of before in a big city. Though the sunsets were always beautiful in large cities, because of the strange mixes the light caused with the polluted air, this one seemed different. In an abstract way, it didn't really belong there. As if it was from somewhere else.

Quiet surrounded her as well, with crickets and akadis chirping. It was a quiet that she liked, when thinking of the aesthetic aspects. But unconsciously, from her police detective's eyes, she saw a usually noisy neighborhood go softly on it's way; she saw something wrong.

There were too many cars on the street. There was a car parked in almost every space, and they were nice cars, too. There were many good quality new vehicles that had not been there during the past days. The people who lived in that part of China Town didn't have enough money to afford those types of cars. They owned old, used cars, not these new, flashy variety. They had kids. Who needed flashy?

But Tonya had to remind herself of the possibilities: it could be a family reunion. Or just a happenstance. But it didn't matter, because she was no longer a cop. It didn't matter.

{I wonder how Peter is taking this change?}

Caine had told her of his conversation with his son, but she had felt that he was leaving something out. He had merely stated what had been asked about, not whether Peter had been upset. {But maybe he wasn't upset.} No. Peter would have been hurt, and Kermit HAD said that Peter had looked for her everywhere.

Kermit. He was a strange one, that was for sure. He'd been through something terrible, she could tell, but who KNEW what THAT was. His file was gone and had probably BEEN gone for quite a while, and the subject seemed to be too touchy with the other officers to bring it up. She hadn't even dared to bring up the subject at all; all one had to do was to listen to the things said about him between other cops, mostly the rookies, to know that it wasn't something one did. From what they had spoken of, she knew they were uncomfortable around him. The things they had said weren't very bad, most being just the same as one would say of a spooky teacher, but then again, she hadn't heard all of it, she was sure.

They said Kermit was a loner, and some of the rookies were scared to death of him just with the way he acted. Kermit was the precinct mystery man, not good, not evil, not otherwise. No one knew anything of worth about him or his past, and if they did, they wouldn't tell a soul. >From what she had witnessed, the REASON they wouldn't tell a soul was because Kermit might take THEIR soul soon afterwards! This had brought a private chuckle to Tonya, but along with it, an admittance to herself that had to be made: Kermit WAS frightening. Undeniably frightening. It appeared that more than one rookie thought so: One male had grinned sadistically and said quietly, "Do you know why Griffin always wears sunglasses? He doesn't have any eyes! They're just empty sockets where the eyes used to be!"

Needless to say, that had been unexpected. Thankfully, none of the rookies really gave a care about the rumors, and none believed them. If they did, they had a desperate need to see a psychiatrist. {Especially that "eyes" one. } She shuddered to think if it HAD been real, the night darkness having an affect on her. {Thank God it only happens in the movies.}

She knew enough now to see who he was, if not what he was. She had seen his eyes, and they were normal, deep and brown and strong. And though he may have been strange at times, he was kind at heart.

{It's like he's in pain.} The thought was strange, coming out of the blue. It didn't really fit, because he didn't seem to be in pain. But he was distant and cold most times, she reminded herself. It caused her to change her mind: it DID made sense. Whatever he had gone through before, it had left it's mark.

She wished she knew what it was that had hurt him, wished she knew why he was so withdrawn and seemingly unfeeling. {You don't get that way from just sitting in front of a computer. }

And, he KNEW something. Something important about Bobby Canada. She had never asked, had just seen it his stance when Kermit heard Canada's name, in the way Kermit talked about him. On that first night, in his car, there had been something different in the way he spoke to her about her stalker. He seemed to know Canada much better than any average cop would know a criminal.

Or, she was very tired and had started imagining things. {Quite possible.}

She gave a final gaze to the last of the colors as they slipped over the horizon, then slowly turned around to walk inside.

When she heard the front door open and bang against the wall, she stopped walking. She listened as a voice said, "Where's Tonya." {Kermit's voice! } She hurried into the apartment without a second thought, not liking the tone. "Kermit! What are you doing here? Peter?" She watched as Peter rushed up to her and closed the balcony doors behind her. "What is going on?" she demanded.

Peter stared at her, then pulled her down and away from the garden. He glanced around suspiciously as he answered. "Canada's gonna attack you in around 16 minutes."

"What?!"

"He called me and TOLD me," Peter said with disgust. Kermit spoke up. "Everyone, we don't have time for this: we have to get this place ready. Peter and I called for backup when we saw that Canada had his people surrounding this place. But we can't rely on backup," he said bluntly. "Canada has killed people with far more protection. We're on our own." He seemed to aim a pause at Tonya then, but she wasn't sure. "And he's planning an easy slaughter, so he's not letting us go."

Caine looked at him. "Even if we are trapped, we still have advantages."

Kermit shook his head. "This room could be bugged. They could know every word as we say it."

Peter sighed. "Come on, we have to make some sort of plan before he attacks. We only have one chance."

Tonya nodded. "Let's decide and act. Peter's right, we have no more time. If this is going to happen, it will be now."

Caine thought for a moment, then held his forefinger up to his lips in a gesture of silence. He quickly walked around the room, blowing out every candle until it was pitch black in the room. The only light was from the moon coming out of the windows.

Tonya peered through the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Caine walked back to them and stopped just as he was coming out of the moonlight. "Hide and seek," he whispered. "Peter, do you remember?" Immediately, his presence was gone. Tonya looked around, but she couldn't see anything. The tables and other furniture were slight shadows, hardly recognizable as anything at all. She tried to remember the layout of the room. {Kermit was on my right, with Peter on HIS right.} She hesitantly reached a hand out to the left, where a bookcase should have been. It was there, and she lowered herself to the floor. "Kermit," she whispered.

"Right here," came the soft answer.

She turned to the right, and saw the impression of a face. "Thank God," she said with relief. "If I understand this correctly, we'd better find a good hiding place."

"That sounds about right to me. Before he disappeared, Peter whispered about the same to me."

"What time was it before Caine doused the lights?"

"8:46. We don't have much time left."

Tonya couldn't agree more. "Peter went off on his own. I'd rather not do the same: I don't have a gun. You agree we should stick together?"

"All the way," he said immediately, with an undercurrent of some hidden emotion.

{Thank you, my friend.} "All right," she whispered. "So where are we going to hide?"

He paused again before answering. "I would say 'follow me', but I don't think either one of us can see that well. So," he said wryly, "just follow my voice."

She smiled. "Whatever you say."

There was a pause, and then, "We should stay away from all of the windows and entrances." As he spoke, Tonya could hear a quiet movement next to her, and she knew it must have been Kermit beginning to crawl away. She followed him as he continued. "He will probably shoot out all of the windows and doors, any open spots that might hold a potential victim."

Tonya quelled an involuntary shiver as he spoke. The way he had said "victim" unnerved her. SHE was the target. She was the main "potential victim."

Kermit's voice went on ahead of her. "He won't come at the time he said he would. He'll be early, I guarantee it."

{You guarantee it? } she thought. {How is it that you know so much? I'M the one that sent him to jail.} She didn't long to voice these questions out of jealously or malice, but actually out of interest. It sounded like he DID know her stalker. And knew him very well. {So if Kermit DOES know him, why didn't he tell me before?}

Kermit stopped. "We're here."

{Wherever "here" is.} She attempted to look around, ignoring the slight pain that lack of light caused, and concentrated on seeing where they were.

From her surroundings, Tonya guessed that they must have gone into the front room. There was a little moonlight drifting in from the paper windows, but not enough to allow visibility. It was enough, though, to let Tonya barely see where they were finding cover: she and Kermit were crouched behind a table, in the slight shadow of it that the moonlight cast.

She could also see her partner just barely. {EX-partner,} she corrected herself. {You aren't a cop anymore, just because someone's trying to kill you. And he's not your partner.} But her cop instincts were full blown, and she was grimly waiting for the sound of bullets to echo through the apartment. {Bullets with your name on it. } Now she was endangering others. It wasn't a good feeling.

She shook her head grimly and looked back to Kermit, wondering what he was thinking about. He wasn't in the shadow of the table, so Tonya had enough light to see him by. His glasses were off, and had probably been so ever since Caine sent them into darkness. His face was impassive and calm, waiting for something, whatever it was, to happen.

Kermit noticed her gaze almost immediately, and returned it with a quick smile. "Very soon," he whispered, then moved to the darkness of the shadow, invisible again.

As if on cue, gunshots rang out across the apartment, causing Tonya to cringe in surprise, being unprepared. The sound of broken glass filled the room, the noise deafening compared to the silence that had been before. When the shots finally stopped, Tonya's ears rang with the loudness. As sudden as they had started, the shots had ended and quiet filled the room. The attackers were most likely waiting, probably wondering why no one had shot back in defense. Or to see if they were all dead.

Seconds passed, then four dark figures carefully slipped into the room through the demolished windows. Tonya stood motionless as she watched the unknowing men come closer. Her heart beat loud in her ears and she could feel the adrenaline soar through her body.

She hoped that everyone's idea of how they were going to win was the same. {We could be in a lot of trouble if someone decides to strike too soon. Or too late.}

Tonya wished she could have looked at Kermit, but she didn't dare turn her head for fear of someone seeing the movement. If she could know what he was thinking, they would have more leverage by acting simultaneously. Yet it never occurred to her that perhaps he wasn't planning anything at all: he was the type who always had a plan.

{If only I knew what that was, we could get going here.}

Caine watched the men wandering around the darkened room near the garden. He knew they would soon relax, and think no one was there. By now, he guessed that the reinforcements Peter had called would be there.

Peter stiffened as one of the three attackers slowly walked towards their hiding place. {Wait, my son,} Caine spoke to him with his mind, touching his arm. Peter relaxed slightly and waited for a sign from his father.

Caine heard the soft sounds of automobiles outside, and watched as the men turned to the windows in surprise. The flashing of the blue and red lights was all the distraction they needed: Caine pulled at his son's arm, and they jumped up to attack. The three men turned, caught off guard, and tried to fight hand to hand. Caine blocked a punch to the side, then kicked him in his now unguarded stomach while Peter dealt with another. Caine's man dropped to the floor just as the priest spotted the third attacker raising his gun to Peter. Caine swiftly appeared behind the attacker, pulling the gun from his hand and applying pressure to his neck. The man dropped, unconscious, as Peter ran up to his father. "I'll check on Tony 'n Kermit," his son said, and rushed from the room towards sounds of fighting. Caine turned as two other would-be assassins entered from the window. He hoped Peter would find Tonya and Kermit unharmed.

Tonya turned to see a new attacker raising a gun as Peter entered the room. She tried to fight through her opponent to reach the gunman, knowing she may be the only one to notice him. {If someone doesn't stop him now, he could shoot someone without them even being able to try to find cover.} She kicked the man she was fighting to the ground and turned to find the gunman and Peter fighting over the possession of the weapon. He knocked Peter away, and Tonya grabbed the gun from a fallen attacker as Caine entered. Ker-mit was still fighting his ass-assin, who had now gotten a knife from somewhere. Two more men entered now, while the man with a gun, oblivious to the weapon in Tonya's hands, aimed at Kermit. He fired, but not before Tonya. Two cries called over all the noise of fighting and sirens, and she turned to see who had been shot besides her victim.

Kermit's view of things had been different. He had leaped to the side, avoiding a kick, and twisted to launch his own kick at the attacker. The man doubled over, and Kermit punched him in the face, then turned a split second to see how they were doing. Tonya was holding strongly, and Peter had just joined them, with Caine following a few seconds behind. Kermit turned back around, trying to keep his three allies in his line of sight. The punch hadn't phased Kermit's attacker, and he was very strong, making it hard for Kermit to stay in control. Suddenly the man pulled out a knife, and Kermit jumped back as he swung at him. Kermit then struggled to pull the knife away from the man. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Peter was down on the other side of the room. The attacker used this distraction to swing at him with a fist, and Kermit tried to duck it unsuccessfully. Pain exploded in his head, and he felt dizzy. He lost his grip on the knife, and blocked another attempt to stab him. He heard a gunshot, and then another, and terrible pain filled his side. {What's going on?} he thought. {I must have been shot . . .}

He cried out into the approaching darkness, his last thought to wonder if anyone heard him scream.

[[[|]]] The police and ambulance sirens wailed as the last of the attackers lay on the floor, un-conscious and wounded. Tonya and Caine hurried to Kermit's side as Peter ran down the stairs to get the emergency crew. Ton-ya watched as Caine put his hand to the wound and closed his eyes. "Caine. Can you help him?"

"A little, to stop the loss of blood. But that is all." He sighed painfully. "With the extent of this damage, there is not much I can do."

Just then, the crew ar-rived, and carefully placed Ker-mit and the wounded attackers onto stretchers. Captain Simms and the chief were behind them, with Peter sadly following. Caine and Tonya followed as the crew took the two injured men down the stairs, leaving Peter up stairs.

Tonya followed Caine closely. She didn't know what he intended to do, but had a feeling he was going to help Kermit. Out of guilt and extreme fear for her ex-partner, she kept near the priest, and walked with him to the ambulance.

"Sir, Ma'am," one of the ambulance crew said when he tried to enter, "Only relatives can ride."

Caine was determined. "I am a priest, and an apothecary."

"And I'm a detective who works with him," Tonya added urgently.

"All right," the woman said unhappily, and hurried them into the van, not wanting to waste time. Tonya sat down close to Kermit, laying her hand over his, and trying not to cry. She bent her head, then felt a soft touch on her shoulder.

She turned to see Caine gazing at her from his seat nearby. "Keep your hope," he said, pain evident in his voice. "He is quite strong. He will survive this, I am certain."

Tears began to fall from her eyes. She turned to him and found in Caine's eyes the same sadness in herself. She looked down again at her friend and closed her eyes. Softly, she said, "I wish I could be as certain as you."

Kermit awoke slowly, fighting to gain consciousness for as long as he could. He saw Captain Simms looking down at him with concern. "Well," he said with effort, "I'm not dead, right?"

She smiled. "No. The doctors removed the bullet without a problem."

"And everyone else is okay? Peter, Tonya, Caine . . ."

"Yes, everyone is fine." She touched his hand. "Now go back to sleep. You need rest, and time to heal."

He tried to nod his head, but he was too tired for even that. Reassured, he slipped back into sleep, knowing everything would be all right.

Simms wished she could have been so sure. Before the surgery, many hours before now, she hadn't had time to see how he was. She wished that she could have gotten the chance to ride in the ambulance with him, to have spent a little time with him before he had to go into surgery. She had worried that that would have been their last time together. But now she knew he would survive, she knew he was out of harm's way for a time. She just wished she had some time to enjoy that feeling of happiness.

"Oh well," she said softly, and smiled at Kermit as he slept. "A captain's work is never done."

[[[|]]] "Hey," Tonya's voice said softly above him. "Are you awake?"

Kermit opened his eyes to the light touch of skin on his wrist. His face impassive, he looked to his left at the smiling brunette sitting next to the bed. She took his hand in hers, and Kermit decided to permit the personal gesture. He wrapped his fingers around her hand and smiled.

Two days had passed while he had been cooped up in the hospital room. Many people had come by to see him, all from the precinct. But of all his visitors, this was the first time Tonya had come to call.

"I was really worried about you," she said. "They weren't sure you'd pull through. It's good to see that you're all right."

He shrugged. "Only a bullet wound."

"'ONLY'." she shook her head with a grin.

He shrugged again, a smile on his face. "I've had worse." He paused, then said, "But one would think with all of that worry you had over me, that you would have been here two days ago."

"Ah," she smiled coyly. "Well, I was rather busy down at Central Booking, what with all those guys we clobbered--"

"What?" His eyes widened. "You--how did you do that? How did you get your badge back so quickly?"

"Well," she said with a little smile, "I had made a little prearranged agreement with Captain Simms and Captain Mendelez, from my old precinct. Captain Mendelez understood that I needed some time, and Simms was willing to let me off for a leave of absence. At that point I was sure that if I returned at all, I would want to transfer away from both precincts."

Kermit gazed at her intently. "So you really were going to leave for good. Cut all ties with everyone."

"Yes."

But the paperwork on that whole thing should be mine and Peters, not yours. Unless . . ." he left off hesitantly.

She grinned. "Unless I was coming back to your precinct, not just the force. Well I am. And you'd better be thankful, because there's a lot of paperwork on the shootout, and there's still more coming in."

"You're kidding. Why?"

"Well, we DID catch at least ten of Canada's guys, plus Canada himself. Add that on to the fact that I almost killed someone with a stolen gun, and the people at the top were a little upset . . ." she smiled. "But that's MY paper work. And I'm going to be working on it for quite some time."

"It sounds like you're going to be spending a few more days at Central Booking."

She sighed wearily. "Yes."

He squeezed her hand and shook his head ruefully. "Two days processing criminals and here I thought you were hiding from me."

She grinned. "Does that mean you missed me while I was gone?"

He gave her a slow, easy smile as he looked into her eyes. "Oh yeah."

"Of the chief Parts
of the ruling Passion,
only this can be truly said:
Hate has a reason for everything.
But love is unreasonable."
-------Diane Duane

The End

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