This is a long story I posted on the Kung Fu-The Legend Continues fan site back in 1996. I have not changed anything but the mark-up. I did not save the original posting data. I had not seen any of the episodes at this time and was using the info I got from other authors on the site. Kwai Chang Caine(the original, 1880's) changed my life. There is adult content and language and if it's not your thing, you've been warned. Somewhere in the ether of cyberspace, these stories are still floating around.......mhm

Just FYI...at this time, November 10, 2009; I am still coding this story. It is a bitch to read, I will finish as soon as possible

When It Rains...ONE

I woke this morning and yawned, I could hear the wind outside my window. Damn, my plants'll be in the next county. I'm not real crazy about windy days, but living as I have in this city for the last twenty-five years, you get used to it. Stumbling to the computer, I punched a key and went to get a cup of coffee, thank god for single bags. "Good Morning" purred the machine, "You have four new messages."

"Good Morning PC, Read please." I wondered who had called. Mom of course....bingo...first call.

"Call me. Please. I worry. We can have lunch." I love my mother, but she calls every other day or so. To remind me that I have no business doing what I do. Sorry mom, it's what I do."

"Sure Mom," I said to the machine, "on Thursday, at Alexandre's. We'll have lunch."

"send!"

"Message sent, second message."

This one is from my sister "You promised you'd come to John's graduation....remember....four weeks..on the eighth....will you be there?"

"Sure will sis. Give my love to everyone...love you."

"send!"

"Message sent., third message"

"Rowan, it's Bill..I have tickets for Kenny G's concert, a week from Friday...can you go? Starts at eight, call me."

"Have no plans. Meet you at seven at The Silver Gate "

"send!"

"Message sent, fourth message."

"Rowan..this is Vincent...I need to see you today. Two o'clock, St. John's"

"No reply" I told PC, "Delete all messages"

"Messages deleted. Have a nice day, Rowan"

You do know, it can get downright depressing when a computer is the only one who says good morning everyday. Maybe mom is right. Maybe I need to quit this shit and settle down. I rubbed my hands through my hair and taking my cup of coffee to the bathroom, looked in the mirror.

Gently I touched the black and blue mark on my chin. I'm either going to have to learn to duck...or hit harder.......images flashed through my mind of the night before. I should have seen the guy.

I shook my head. Guess I'm getting old. I washed my face and drank my coffee. Still looking at myself in the mirror, I took off my shirt and looked at the bandage on my side. Carefully peeling off the tape, I looked at it in the mirror. Wasn't too bad. Joe did a good job, four staples, in a day or two I'd be good as new.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I turned this way and that. Looking all the scars. If I had to make a living stripping, I would starve. I sighed and drained my cup.

Turning on the shower, I stepped in. When the water hit my face, I just sighed. Damn this feels good. Maybe I can just stay here all day. I leaned against the wall and let the water run. My head was still pounding from the night before...I'd been set up....I was sure of it. I just wasn't sure who or why, but I promised myself that I'd find out.

I grabbed the bottle from the shelf and started to wash my hair. The speaker on the wall softly announced; "Rowan, there is an unauthorized person on the balcony"

Flipping off the water, I wiped the soap from my eyes and grabbed the shirt from the floor. Punching the button I told her. "Dark!Identify!"

Back came the reply. "Intruder is male..six foot two inches...two hundred and sixty-one pounds...Armed..Luger 9mm auto...left shoulder...Colt...45...Back belt.....knife..left boot...knife....right sleeve....Bad s.o.b...Rowan."

"And fat...Thanks PC.." Great, just fucking great. It's pretty bad when a girl can't even take a bath in private anymore."

The apartment was dark. Kneeling down, I looked around the edge of the door. The bedroom was clear, but keeping low I started for the door of the living room. I closed my eyes and let myself focus. The living room came into mind...sharply; lights were an option.

Crawling out the door to the rear of the couch, the only light in the room came from the drapes at the window.

To the left I could feel more than see a presence. Wonder whose toes I tromped on now, I thought. Damn I'm just going to have to learn to step softer.

The guy didn't move, but he breathed like a whale. Great gulps of air.....eecchh garlic...don't these assholes ever brush...and he stunk. I shook my head in the darkness, that's it. I've had it. I stood up from behind the couch. I could see him. But he couldn't see me.

"Hey asshole," I said."I think you're in the wrong apartment."

His heartbeat went up the wall and he started to move back towards the balcony. Over the couch and right in the gut. I felt my right shin connect with his stomach, but he didn' 't go down.

"I said..you have the wrong apartment." I told him, again.

He gasped for breath but straightened up and pulled his gun. Damn I thought, and moved. He shot at where I'd been. Luger, I thought, 9mm. Nine in the clip. One in the chamber. Now eight. Oh fuck. Here we go again. He pulled the trigger again and hit the lamp on the table. This is ridiculous I thought.

"Hey creep," I asked."Where do ya what your body sent?"

Another shot...ricocheted off the fridge and lodged in the kitchen wall. Seven, this idiot is ruining my apartment. Great. Another damn eviction. I was starting to get damned good and mad. I am getting sick and tired of this shit. I could end this now, but I let him move until he's standing in front of the balcony door.

Across the floor. Low. Then rising up in front of him. I let him have it. Both feet right in the face. He tried to bring up the gun, but the shot went wild, into the ceiling. He turned, and trying to keep his balance, went through the glass door.

Oh boy. Wonder what this is going to cost me. On the balcony, I could see his face. I know this man. A street punk, named, something Larson. Yeh Larson.

"Whatcha doing here Larson?" I asked him.

"Fuck you." he spat at me.

I hate people that come unannounced to my home. "I don't think so." I answered and kicked him in the nuts as hard as I could.I am six feet tall and have a hell of a front kick. "Ooohh...Bet that hurts."

"You bitch...aaaaggghhhhh...fuck me." he groaned.

"THAT is no way to talk to a lady." and I punched him in the jaw. "Why are you here Larson?" I asked again.

He stood there doubled over. His left hand going to his boot. As he lashed out with the knife. I caught his wrist with my left foot. Hard. He straightened just a bit and went for the Colt at his back. "Bye, bye," I said and gave him my best side kick; right under his chin. It threw him just enough, he lost his balance and went over the rail.

He screamed alot going down.

By the time I got to the railing, he was laying on the roof of the lobby, nine floors down. Maintanence has got to hate my ass, I thought

Going back into the room I said "Lights!"

"Congratulations,Rowan for eliminating the intruder." purred the computer I call Pc.

"Thanks." I answered, "And get my boss on the line,"

"Capt. Leland is standing by as is the clean-up crew. I will patch you through." the voice purred.

Captain Gerald F. Leland, was not happy. "What the hell is going on Michaels. Calling me at 6a.m. Then putting me on hold. Is that that damn computer's idea of a joke?" he growled at me.

"Calm down, boss, PC was just following her program. I had an univited guest." I told him.

All his anger evaporated and the Captain got real serious. "You alright?"he asked.

"Sure, but I'm afraid I made a mess again." I looked around, and shrugged.

"Christ, Rowan. How about for once you arrest 'em? You know, bring them in and book 'em?" he moaned.

"Geez, and ruin my reputation. Besides I cna never emember that Miranda thingie." I laughed at him.

I could just see the Captain. Putting his pants on and bitching at me over the phone. I never seem to call at decent hours.

"Yeh, right and I believe that too. I'll send Brown over. Have him do all the paperwork."he said.

PC made a rude comment in the background. Something to do with Brown's parentage.

"Send Murphy, boss. PC doesn't like Brown." and neither do I, I thought silently.

"PC....That damned machine. You need a vacation, Michaels. That damned computer is not. I repeat, not human." He was starting to raise his voice.

"Yeh, Capt'n, I know. I"ll see ya later." I soothed.

"An hour, Michaels. You be in my office in an hour." he reminded me.

"Sure boss......PC, disconnect."

Looking around the apartment I saw the mess. Not as bad as last time. I am going to have to quit pissing people off, or get better security

What the hell was Larson doing here anyway? In fact how did he get here? I eased out over the broken glass, onto the balcony. There was no rope. Nothing. Well he either climbed up ten floors or down two, I thought. I leaned over the side and looked. Down and then up. Nothing. Beam me up, Scotty, I thought. How the hell did you get in here? Well I'll just let Pc take care of it.

"Pc?" I talked to her, "Run me a scenario. How many ways to access this apartment from the balcony? I'm going to finish washing and get dressed."

"Of course...Detective...I'll be done when you are." she whined back.

Oh great, now she's pissed. You know I guess I'm probably the only one around with a computer that gets pms. At the most inconvient times, of course. Going back to the bathroom, I stripped off the shirt and rinsed.

I just knew Murphy was going to get there before I was done. I was right. The speaker chimed. "Murphy is here."

Punching the button I told her. "Let him in and PC?"

"Yes, Rowan?"

"Be nice. He's only human." I asked.

"Of course, Rowan. Always."

I thought about PC as I finished. I could erase her and start all over, but she was so damned efficient. Besides I like her. We share a lot of the same personality traits. I could just imagine. Poor Murphy, although not quite my type. Apparently he was Pc's type. The machine did not quite understand that cybersex did NOT mean she could seduce humans....sometimes.... it's embarrassing. I would be relieved when she finally got over her "sex" phase.

I found Murphy in the kitchen. Making himself a cup of coffee. "That machine of yours, Michaels. It gets on my nerves." he sighed. Looking at the speaker on the wall.

I laughed at him. "Your nerves are safe, Murphy but," I added. "If I were you I'd watch my pants."

"Oh real funny, Michaels." He said, "Now can we get down to business?"

"I would love to get down with you, Murph." PC purred.

"Stop it PC; or so help me I' ll yank your plug." I yelled at the speaker.

"Yes, De-tec-tive, but you never let me." she moaned.

"No, and I'm not going to! Be good."

Who needs kids, I thought. Just plug into your friendly neighborhood computer...and wham-o cyber personality.

Murphy just stared. "This is ridiculous. Come on Rowan. Give me the facts, so I can file this thing."

I told Murphy all the details then we went and looked out the door, "PC? PC?" she was ignoring me. "Dammit PC, I need that scenario."

A very monotone voice came over the speaker. "There is a ninety-eight per cent probability that the assailant came from the roof."

Murphy looked at me, so I just shrugged. He looked down at the coroner and his team on the lower roof. "Couldn't you just shoot them, Michaels? Like everyone else?" he asked.

"But Murph." I said as I walked him to the door."You know I hate guns."

"Yeh, right." he said, as he stepped into the hall. "See you at the office."

"Sure Murphy." I told him, "In about an hour."

As I shut the door. PC purred."You now have twenty-one minutes to get to Capt. Lelan's office, or would you like me to call, and tell him you'll be late?"

"I'll be on time...and PC.....stay off line today. Those cybersex lines are beginning to warp your circuits and screw with my bank account."

"As you wish." pouted the machine.

I am going to have a shitty day. I know I am. I found myself yelling at the monitor. "Dammit PC. You cannot. I repeat. You CANNOT screw human men."

"They don't know that Rowan." I swear, I could feel her grinning at me.

I leaned my head against the wall and mumbled to myself "fuck...fuck...fuck." First some asshole trys to kill me. Before I'm even good and awake. My landlord is gonna shit. The boss is pissed at me and now; my goddamned computer has developed an x-rated personality, to top it all off; it's freaking Monday. Gotta love it.

Maybe I should let some idiot shoot me so I can get a vacation in the hospital. On second thought maybe I can shoot myself. The Psych ward is a lot quieter. Oh shit!

Thinking I'd better get my ass downtown, I headed to the door. "Rowan?" she called to me.

"Yes, PC..What?" I snapped back.

"Take the comlink." I grabbed it from the table and strapped it on. I should know better. Guess I'm stuck with her.

Walking down the hall to the elevator Mr. Johnson, the building manager. Stopped me. "Ms. Michaels." Damn,here it comes. If this keeps up I'm going to run out of places to live. I guess I better get this over with. As I turned to face him, I noticed he never really looked at me but around the lobby. He's afraid of me, I thought.

"Yes, Mr. Johnson. What can I do for you?" I looked at my reflection in the mirror on the wall. I don't think I look that scary. Of course I got this huge black and blue mark on my face and my hair is sort of a punky spike. But the purple is almost gone. I looked down at my shirtfont. Boobs would help I thought, but no such luck. My sister got them all. So here I am. Ol' 36B in a world where a D cup can get a woman almost anything. Oh well, I thought good thing I've got at least half a brain.

My daydreaming was rudely interrupted by Mr. Johnson ".......thirty days......tenants....lease....Ms Michaels, are you listening to me?"

"Yes," I answered, "Thirty days, Mr Johnson..I understand."

"That old prune, Johnson evicted us didn't he?" she came back.

"Yep," I told her, "So find us something. Private and reasonable."

"By reasonable, Rowan, you mean cheap; on your salary, I'll be lucky to find a trailer in a uuuggghhh, trailer park. On second thought, the warehouse sounds really good. Living with Vince would be interesting"

"Quit your bitching, and keep your circuits out of my sex life " I told her. "I'm the one that goes out and risks my ass to make a living."

"But Rowan, you don't have to. I can solve all our financial worries. If you'd let me."

"No, Dammit I told you. NO 900 numbers." I almost yelled into the comlink.

"Ok , Rowan I'll set up something. You do know that R&V makes good money, right?"

I wondered what she'd come up with. Oh well, like I have a lot of choices.

Stepping out nto the garage. I looked around. I could see the coroners van still out in the street, but everything looked ok here. I checked out my jeep and then my bike. Didn't look like anyone had been around.

Then I went to my car. My car is my favorite. Candy apple red...It's a '57 Jag-XKE....Ragtop....I checked the security system. It checked fine. So I got in, started the motor, and listened. It purred like a big cat. A hungry big cat.

I just couldn't help myself, the devil made me do it, I beeped at Enstead as I left. He's a dick, but we have respect for each other. He flipped me off in return. As I said, he's a dick, but if I need something from forensics. He's the only one, barring myself, I'd want on it.

Pulling out on the street, I headed for the interstate on ramp. I flipped on the scanner and checked for radar. Nothing, clear, and the traffic was nada. Too early for the white collar crowd. So I put in a cd. Cranked up the volume and opened her up, 130 and she cruised like a dream. Anyone who really loves cars should drive one of these. At least once. I had six minutes left. Well I'm not sure I'd want to be on time anyway. The old man will probably have a heart attack. That got me smiling, Gerald Leland was two years younger than me, but he would always be the old man, to me.

I found a place to park and got out. Looking at my watch I thought. Damn. Pc was right, I'm late. Again!

As I entered the front door Bob the desk Sargent yelled at me "Hey! Michaels. Why don't you arrest them once in a while? The cells aren't that full yet."

"Yeh, fuck you too." I told him. This is going to be fun. I am going to get shit from everyone. Going to the office I could just imagine. I didn't have to wait long.

Steve walked up to me and asked. "Jeez, Michaels. You can bring 'em in. I':ll do your paperwork for you."

"Damn, Steve." I answered, "Everyone knows, you can't read."

Joe asked. "How'd you play last night?"

"I played great Joe. I always play great." Joe likes my music. He actually comes to see me and the band once in a while. My being in the band is a big joke to a lot of people, but Morgan's Folly is a good band and good cover. I get into a lot of places with them.That I couldn't without them.

"Yeh, so I heard," said Lou. "Quit throwing your critics out the window."

"Bite me, Lou." I laughed.

I was almost to the Captain's door when Tom Beilman stepped in front of me. Tom doesn't like female cops and he purely hates the idea of a female detective. The fact that he tried to hit on me and I said no. Doesn't help much. "Throwing your pimps out the window, again." he asked.

"Nope! " I answered, "You're still here." I could see his mouth working, but before he could get out an answer.The door opened and the Captain screamed at me."

"Michaels, get your ass in here!"

"Back on the streets, Detective?" Tom asked sarcastically.

I slid past him and into the office. I really hate to be such a shit. I like Capt. Leland and he's been good to me. He gave me a chance when a lot of others wouldn't.

"Care to explain that bullshit, this morning," he asked.

"I can't Capt. He's a punk. Runs numbers, down on the docks. I busted him once....oh, about two years ago. He beat up a hooker. I don't think that's why he was at my place this morning, though." I told him.

"You've been made Michaels. I want you out" he said. "....now."

He tossed a handful of papers across the desk at me. As I picked them up, I was getting an idea of what he meant by out. Really out. There was a plane ticket in there.

"Boss you can not do this to me. I've been working on this case for six months. Christ it took me two months to get inside." I pleaded with him.

"Not only can I, but I already have.....you're being temporally reassigned." he told me.

"You're kidding," I asked him, "Right?"

"Not only do I want you off this case, I want you out of this precinct, the city...the whole damn state." I could hear the tension in his voice.

I looked down at the papers in my hands. "But..Where?...How long?"

Oh shit, now what? I've got to move. The fucking plane leaves at midnight....and I've got to explain this shit to my mom.

"Capt'n I can't leave now. I've got to find a place to move. That crap, this morning. I've been evicted." I told him. "Again." I added under my breath

"I'll take care of that. You're a good cop and one of the best female operatives I've ever known....but I want your ass on that plane." he sighed.

"I don't like it...but I'll go." I looked down at the papers and then looked across the desk at him. "Vancouver? You are sending me to fricking Canada?"

"Yes, I am and you be nice. Don't pull none of your bullshit up there. Strenlich is an old friend of mine. I'm not sure he'll cut you the same slack I do." he told me sternly.

Great, I thought, fucking Canada....and Pc hates the laptop. She says it makes her feel cramped. I had my hand on the door knob when he dropped the last bombshell on me.

"Oh, and Michaels?" he said.

"Yeh?" I answered.

"Take the jeep." he told me.

"The jeep?....Why?"

"The Jag and the Indian are too distinct. I'd like you on the plane in one piece." he smiled.

"Ok....But have someone pick it up at the airport..and Capt...Don't let anyone drive my vehicles, move my shit, except Vince or mess with my computer. Please?" I pleaded.

Last time I was out of town, one of the boys from the motor pool had put a dent in the Jag. Only the Capt'n between me and him, had kept me from kicking him right in the ass. I was furious. They don't like me much down there... anymore.

"Ok. No one drives, no one touches, and like I want to get sued for cyber rape. Just get your ass out of my office...and be on that plane." he ordered me.

When It Rains...TWO

Five in the morning, the plane sat down in Vancouver. From the air, I could tell it was a nice size city, not as big as L.A. But then what is? I knew that I didn't have to report to....uh..Strenlich, till 9a.m.. So I rented a car and with the help of a map. Found the Ramada about five blocks from my new tempory home...the 101st.

The room wasn't bad It had a fridge, coffee pot, microwave. The boss must have called ahead.

I took out my portable sensors, set them up, and turned PC on. "Get up....PC......wakey, wakey."

"Rowan, I really hate this thing. When do I get my home back?" she started whining immediately. PC's idea of home was seven tons of server in my warehouse basement, plus a few smaller outfits scattered around in convenient places. Looks like we'd be moving into the warehouse and though it was perfect for PC, it lacked a few human luxuries.

"Not for at least a month....enjoy." I told her.

"Do I at least get a phone line?" she sniffed. I thought, How the hell does she do that?

"Come on PC. This ain't my idea. I didn't want to come either. We'll just have to manage and yes you get a phone line. But no phone sex. Please." I asked her.

"You DO ruin all my fun." she pouted.

Well at least she's talking to me again. That's something. I put everything away, and took a shower. God it felt so good. Seeing as how the one I took yesterday was so rudely interrupted....I took a long time.

Taking the comlink with me, I went downstairs for breakfast. The Perkins has a pretty good menu. I think I ate like a pig. I have this thing about food. Eat when you can. It may be your last meal. Besides I get so wrapped up when I'm on a case, I forget to eat. Lost thirty pounds once, on a narc case. I had most the station believing I really was a junkie. Truth is, I just kept forgetting to eat.

After breakfast, I went for a walk. It was almost eight o'clock and I figured I'd just waste some time. About six blocks past the station I found Chinatown. The streets were alive already. I made note of a grocery. (fresh vegtables, for a change) , an apothecary, and a martial arts school. Maybe I can work out there. Although the way I'm feeling. A heavy bag would be better. I definitely wouldn't want to take this shitty attitude out on another human being.

I got to the station at almost exactly nine o'clock. First time in eleven years, I'm on time.....for a stranger...oh hell...I asked directions and eventually ended up in a chair outside an office. A young man came by arguing with a woman. I took to be either his partner, or a very close friend.

"I don't like it Skalany. Why did the chief pick on me?" he asked. The young woman called Skalany put her arm on the man's shoulder.

"Beats me Peter, but you're it." she told him.

The man, Peter, went into Strenlich's office. Skalany went to her desk. I haven't spent much time in a station. Not since I made Detective, years and years ago. All of a sudden I feel old. I am in a new town, I don't know from shit, with people I don't know, laws that I am sure are different and that can be dangerous. I wondered exactly what Leland owed Strenlich. I wouldn't wish someone like me on my worse enemy

Maybe they'll have me doing paperwork and I can treat this as a vacation thing. Yeh, right. That would be nice for a change. Nobody shooting at me. Although my typing sucks. Oh well, maybe I can get PC to help me on that.

I was slouched down in the chair, just daydreaming. My head is killing me, I think I have a slight case of jet lag and if I didn't know better, I'd swear I had pms. In another words. I felt like shit.

Peter wasn't too happy with the situation either. "What do you mean? I have a new partner for a while. Who?"

"A Detective from LA. Name of Michaels." Strenlich told him.

"But why me, chief?" Peter paced the small room.

"Look, Peter. This person is only on temporary assignment. Do us all a favor and make the best of it. Ok?

Strenlich came to the door and called me in. The first impression I got of Strenlich was that..no..he probably wouldn't take the shit, I was used to dishing out. The second impression I got was that I liked him and so did his people. "Michaels, I want you to meet Peter Caine....Peter, Rowan Michaels."

The first impression I got of Peter Caine was, nice, good looking. Probably a hot shot and I don't think he likes me.

All Peter could think of, was that god awful purple tint in her hair and if she really was any kind of cop. "Michaels, you'll be working with Caine while you're here. In homicide." Strenlich said.

"That's fine with me." I answered. I was determined to be good. How much trouble can I get into on a homicide investigation?

"Go to work people." said Strenlich, waving us out the door.

Leaving the office Caine turned to me and asked. "Ever worked in homicide before?"

"Not in a while." I answered, he didn't seem to know I usually worked undercover. So I just let it go. Besides I'm gonna have to be careful. It's been, oh, Christ. Almost five years since I've worked with a real partner. Not since Carolyn had been killed...yeh...this was going to be a real experience.

Out in the outer office, Caine introduced me to Skalany. "Skalany, meet...ummm...Michaels."

"It's Rowan, detective...Rowan Michaels. It's nice to meet you, Skalany." I told her."

The dark haired woman looked me over, "The name's Margaret, but I prefer Skalany"

As we shook hands I decided I liked this woman, she was a nice and very efficient. I'll bet Caine gets her to do most of the paperwork.

Skalany filled me in on the case they had been working on, while Caine went to get some printouts from someone named Mallory.

I was starting to get that cold feeling right at the base of my spine. The one I always get, just before the shit hits the fan. As I listened to her, I thought, yeh, some vacation.

It was a series of murders. A serial killer. Three women so far. All early twenties. Black hair..medium build. All housewife types. No pros or working women among them. Last night had been number three. Damn, I thought, vacation my ass. Just what I need a fucking wack-o. Who likes brunettes. I can be brunette. Maybe they'll let me be a decoy. I looked at the descriptions again..they were all 5'3" to 5'6". Oh well maybe not. Don't think I can disguise this six foot frame of mine that much...shit.

I was sitting there talking over the facts with Skalany when the comlink buzzed. Most people assume it's just a beeper. Which works for me. I read the message. "Homebase 1a off line." Damn it to hell, the boss said no one would touch my computer while I was gone.

I turned to Skalany and asked what phone I could use. She pointed me to one on a desk. I dialed an outside line and in two minutes had Leland on the phone. "Boss, someone's screwing around with my computer." I told him.

"What the hell, Rowan, you got esp, or something? I know! Johnson, the building super shut off the ultilities. He figured, you know, seeing as how you're going to be gone for a while. I'm already on it. It should be restored anytime..now." he answered.

Damn I was so pissed, that little weasel, I ought to hang him out a window on the twelfth floor...the little shit. "Ok boss, please, get it on. All my work files are on there and tell that little creep if he fucks with my shit again. I'll have his heart for breakfast." Leland made some rude comment about my eating habits, but agreed to make sure Johnson didn't mess with me again.

When I hung up, I noticed it was quiet in the room. As I turned around I saw Caine, Skalany, and another woman staring at me. I indicated the phone and shrugged. "Difference of opinion." I said lamely. My comlink buzzed again, looking down I saw the message. "Home 1a restored"

Damn. Even Leland had no idea of the kind of shit I had on that computer. Where or who it was linked to.They would all be better off if they'd just leave it alone.

Caine introduced me to the other woman....Mallory...and we went over the facts of the case. There were too many coincidences. This was definitely the same guy. No prints. No real evidence, but the victims, they had all been sexually assaulted, brutally. This guy was not nice. The victims had all been strangled. Slowly. They'd been tortured first. Mallory gave me the printouts and the photos from the lab. He'd used a knife. I could tell, it had taken a long time for them to die. This creep liked to kill. He enjoyed it.

I laid the photos out on the desk, so I could look at them together. One was found in an alley, by a drunk. Who stumbled over her on his way home. One over in the industrial park, in a dumpster. An employee, dumping some trash..found her. The third one was just dumped on the freeway. Three cars had hit her, before someone stopped and called it in. She was hardly recognizable. I was reading the details on #2 when Caine came over. "Let's go. Someone called in a real bad odor over on 23rd. Black says it looks like our guy."

On the way over, Caine turned to me and asked. "What do you usually do, Michaels?"

"Anything, I have to. It's your town, Caine, you call the shots." I told him.

Peter looked sideways at her. It struck him that he knew damned little about her. He wouldn't even hazard a guess as to her age. He thought maybe forty, but it was really hard to tell. He knew she was at least six feet tall and really slender, almost gaunt and she was probably as dangerous as she looked. She sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window. Peter continued with his examination. Her hair was short in the front. Kind of punky spike with a grape-purple tint. While it really brought out the purple of her eyes, it confused him...Purple? He could see that at the back, she had a braid of hair hanging down her back. It was almost as big as his wrist and it disappeared into the top of her jacket. For a second he wondered how long it was. She turned to look at him and Peter decided, purple hair or no. He'd rather work with her than against her.

Finally, his couriosity got the better of him, "Mind if I ask?" he started.

"No, what do you want to know, Caine?" I had to admit, most people ask sooner or later, Caine had been pretty patient. Compared to most.

"The hair," he asked, "Why purple?"

I ran my fingers through my hair, then looked at him. "Look, it's kind of a long story. How about I give you the condensed version?"

"Sure," he said. "Whatever."

"I play in a band. It's just for.....you know....effect."

"In a band, huh? I'll bet it's rock and roll." he grinned at me.

"Sorta.. We play all sorts of things. A little jazz, a little new wave. A lot of good ol' rock." I smiled back at him.

"Sounds like fun," he mused. "Undercover?"

"Yeh," I answered. "And yeh...it was fun."

"You've worked homicide before. Haven't you?" he asked.

"I never lie, Caine...as I said, it's been a while."

He told me more about the case. Mostly feelings and hunches, but they matched my own and I hadn't even been here a day yet. My opinion of Peter Caine was changing...minute by minute.

The comlink buzzed again. I looked at Caine, then thought, Ah shit, what the hell, he's going to find out sooner or later. I punched the audio button. "What PC?" I asked her. Caine looked at me, but to give him credit, he didn't say a word.

"Rowan, someone has tried to access home base." Damn, I thought, just what I need...some hacker in my apartment.

"Can you uplink?" I asked her.

"Yes, Rowan, I can." she replied.

"You have enough memory to download?" I asked.

"Enough for important files..I will have to compress and encript. " she answered.

"Good..do it. Transmit anything we don't need to Vince. He'll take care of it.....and PC?"

"Yes, Rowan?"

"When you're done...terminate." I told her.

"You owe me for this one, Rowan...you know I hate this thing. It is crowded and noisy" she was starting to whine again.

"Yes I know....do it!" I was starting to get pissed.

"In progress...4 minutes to completion..Are you sure you want to terminate?" she asked, one last time.

"Yes dammit." I told her. "And PC..Identify...Then, make it noisy."

"Thanks, Rowan..at least you let me have SOME fun."

"You staying offline?" I asked.

"Of course...download complete..intruder is not...I repeat..not company..I can overload." she said.

"Good girl...do it." I smiled at myself. I sure pitied whoever was there. They were in for one hell of a surprise.

"My pleasure Rowan...will you be home soon?" I looked at Caine...but he shook his head.."No, not soon. disconnect."

"Bye" she said, in a soulful voice. Wonder where in the hell she gets these damn voices I thought. Oh well, I looked at Caine. I could see the questions in his experssion.

"Ok," he asked. "I'll bite, who's PC?"

I looked at him for a moment. I usually get good impressions of people. Mom says it's a gift and to tell the truth, being a cop, it really helps. Of course it's hell on the private life, which Vince reminds me from time to time. My "feelings" said I could trust this man, so I sighed and leaned back in the seat.

"PC, stands for personal computer. Not very imaginiative..huh?" I told him.

"Really? A computer. Sounds human. Female human." he answered.

At home, PC and I are a standing joke. Everyone knows the programming is me.Vince and I built her together. Everyone just accepts the two of us, even though it creeps some people out. She just sounds so damn human, when Vince gets done with the hologram program, she'll have form too. The three of us make a good team.

"Yeh, she does, doesn't she. There's a new learning chip in her. A type of artificial intelligence." I told him.

I breathed a sigh of release when he didn't ask "where" I got the chip from. I really didn't want to tell him. People get funky on me when they find out I not only programmed her, but Vince and I had developed the intelligence that ran her.

As luck would have it, he didn't have time to ask me anything else. Pulling up behind the coroner's wagon, he got out.

I watched as Caine went over and started talking to another detective. The guy looked about thirty-five or so. Rugged build. Just kept shaking his head.

I figured Caine didn't need me, so I pulled my shield out of my shirt and let it hang out side my jacket. I walked around the cruiser, and I could smell it....death....old death.

Ducking under the yellow tape, I walked over to the shape on the ground. Even through the thick plastic of the bag. The smell hung in the air. She'd been dead a while.

As I started to squat down, a hand grabbed my arm, I turned to see Caine looking at me. "I'm not sure you want to do that Michaels. The boys say it's pretty bad."

I know he's just trying to be nice, but I took his hand off my arm. "It's ok, Peter."

I squatted down, and taking a deep breath, opened the bag. I was right, she'd been dead a long time. The flesh was bloated, and swollen. Kind of bluish black. Putting on a pair of gloves I reached out my fingers to touch her. Caine grabbed my arm, for a second we just stared at each other, then he backed off. and went to stand with the others. I could hear comments in the background. Nice things. About my looks and all. Caine was really catching it.

I reached out again, and touched her. A drying brittle feeling under my hand. I looked closer. It was dried blood. Looking even closer, I saw she'd been filleted, the skin peeled from her body. From the colorations and different states of composition; I knew he'd done it slowly, very slowly. I touched her throat and felt the crushed larynx beneath my fingers. In the end he'd strangled her, but not soon enough. I opened the bag a little more and looked. Damn, I wanted this guy, wanted a piece of his ass. Right now, at this moment I didn't want to be a cop.

I closed the bag, stood and pushed my feelings into the background. Walking over to the car, I could hear Caine talking to the coroner. I could hear some of the comments. "Could be the same guy....after autopsy...call you." So I just leaned against the car and waited.

I looked around the alley as I waited. There were no bars here. No night life. Lots of apartments uptop. But I was willing to bet, no one saw anything. From the look and smell, I was guessing she'd been in the dumpster maybe six days. I think the killer dumped her the day after it was picked up the last time. Yeh, maybe six days. That made this one, number three, instead of number four.

Christ, I could feel the hate in him. He was obcessed with it. He loved to hear the screams. It turned him on. So when they screamed. He raped. Over and over and over and when they couldn't or wouldn't scream anymore. He killed them.

Caine came over, and opening his door looked across the roof of the car at me. "You ok, Michaels?" he asked.

I didn't know how to tell him how I felt so I just mumbled. "Yeh" and got in the car.

Riding along I leaned my head against the window. I like my bad guys nice and visible. I was beginning to miss my junkies, pimps, prostitutes and drug dealers. At least they were out in the open, the monsters I knew. They were easy to deal with.This guy. This creep was gonna mess with my head... and I knew it.

Peter looked at her and thought maybe he should have stopped her from opening the body bag. Even with all his experience, it had been hard for him to see. Although he hadn't got up close and personal, the decay had brought his breakfast to the back of his throat. He wondered how she did it. She had examined the body closely, but Peter didn't see any revulsion in her. Just a quiet calm. He'd met people like that before. When the calm broke. It was like a tidal wave. Drowning everything and everyone in it's path.

I could feel Caine's eyes on me. I know a lot of people don't understand how I do what I do. I don't expect them too.

"Don't get weird on me...Caine." I told him, "I studied forensics in college. Wanted to be a pathologist, you know, the Quincy syndrome?"

He looked back at me and asked. "So why are you a cop?"

I probably could have told him the whole story, but then people get kind of mushy on you when they find out you were a victim. "Just thought I could do more good on the streets" I answered.

I looked back out the window. I knew I had to keep myself separate. Son of a bitch. When I get home I'm going to castrate the bastard that blew my cover....and then, I'm gonna hurt 'em...alot.

Caine's voice brought me out of my daydreaming....I was cheerfully dismembering a faceless somebody that had screwed up my life. "Excuse me?" I asked.

"Michaels, would you pluu..lease come back to planet Earth." he chided me.

I couldn't help it I smiled. "Sorry."

"I was asking if you minded if we stopped my dad's, I'm supposed to meet him for lunch."

"Sure Caine, whatever." I told him.

As we drove, I looked around the city. I watched as we passed my hotel, and headed into China Town. People kept waving at him and calling out to him. "I take it you're known here?" I asked him.

Stopping at a red light a teenager came up and stuck his head in the window."Hey, Pete, going to your ol' man's?" he asked.

"Yes, Tony," Caine answered. "What you been up to?"

The boy smiled and tilting his head said. "You know, about five-ten." then he laughed. "Same ol'..... school and stuff."

"Staying out of trouble?" Peter asked him.

"With you and your Dad keeping an eye on me....gimme a break, Pete. Who has time for trouble? Tell your dad I'll be by later. Ok?" he grinned. "I am going to teach the baby class." He swiped his hands across his body in an exaggerated karate move.

"Sure, Tony," Caine smiled at him, "I'll tell him...see ya later."

The light turned green and we drove off. Caine turned to me and smiled. "Actually, it's not so much me. My dad's the local priest here. You know how it is when, everyone and I mean... everyone... knows your father?"

I suddenly got this picture of my mom. Yeh I could see his point. Laughing I turned and said.."And I thought I had it rough, my mom's an ambassador."

He laughed then, and looked at me. "Guess you got some idea what is like, huh?"

"Maybe," I answered him, "My mom hates me being a cop. She would like to see me get married, have a bunch of kids, and quit chasing the bad guys. How about you?"

Peter was absorbed for a moment, trying to find the best way to explain his father to her. "My dad, understands my need to be what I am. But I'm sure he'd rather I do something else."

I looked out the window as we stopped at the curb. It was the same martial arts school, I'd seen this morning. I wondered if his father worked here. As we got out and stood on the sidewalk, I looked at him, questioningly. He shrugged his shoulders, and nodded towards the building.

"My dad also teaches Kung Fu," he said.

I smiled to myself, this is going to be interesting. I could picture the older Caine as being a stooped old man, the kind that looked totally harmless, just before he kicked the shit out of you.

Inside the building, I looked around. The room was large, a mirror covered one wall. The other walls were covered with weapons and paintings. Against one wall sat a Buddhist shrine, several candles burning in front of it. It had a feeling of peace about it. Caine went to the stairs at the rear of the room, and called me. "You coming?"

I stood, looking my reflection in the mirror, "Na," I told him, "I'll wait down here."

I watched him, in the mirror, go up the stairs. Turning, I looked at myself again. The image shifted, and swirled. I saw myself as I was, twenty-five years ago. A happy young woman of nineteen, going off to college...again. I was really pretty then, not hard, like I am now. I loved school and I still do. The image changed, and eight years had gone by. I had graduated med school, picked up another degree in anthropology and two more in linguistics and was doing some reseach for grad school . I had just come back from Paris, Vince and I were considering getting married. I loved my life. Working with the lab at the police station. Being with Vince on the weekends. I was learning so much, felt I was making a difference and then it all changed...... forever.

Unconsciously, I touched the place between my breasts. Through the fabric, I could feel the ridge of the scar. Maybe I shouldn't have been out walking so late; thinking about the new music I had played that night; dancing with Vince till the bar had closed. Maybe I shouldn't have been so engrossed in the case I was working on. Maybe, maybe, maybe.....but I had, and John White had been waiting for me when I'd gotten home..

Four days, he had kept me and my room mate Amanda in the old house. Four days. Kept us drugged just enough I was helpless, for the first time in my life, I was completely helpless. At first I just wanted to die. Everytime he came near me, everytime he put his hands on me, I prayed it'd be over. I listened to my friend's tears and screams and I was helpless. I just wanted it to be over. But it wasn't. Then I knew I wouldn't die. On the fourth day, Vince found us. His was the most beautiful face I have ever seen. The pain had kept me alive, and functioning; my nature had pissed me off for being useless. All the skills I had, all the learning, it was useless. After it was over, I left the lab; spent three weeks in the Canadian backwoods with Vince and then entered the police academy.

Looking in the mirror, I shook my head, trying to clear the images from my mind. That son of a bitch would have ruined my life. The year after, Amanda commited suicide. She never really left that room. If it wasn't for Vince, it could have been me. Here, now, these murders were bringing up the old memories, the old feelings. I felt a churning in my stomach, as I struggled to keep myself apart.

I walked around and looked at the weapons on the wall, Caine had quite a collection. Mostly Chinese, but I also saw some Korean, Japanese, and Phillipino items. Over in one corner, was a wooden man. I stepped over, and looked at it. It looked really old. The wood was worn from the passage of time, and countless days of practice. I stood there, then adopting a stance, went through a few moves. But my heart wasn't in it, so I walked away. Under the stairs, was a heavy bag. I walked up to it and punched it, then punched it again. I saw the face of the young woman today, and I hit it again. I took off my jacket, and threw it on the floor. Standing in front of the bag, I slammed my fist into it. As it swung around and came back at me, I spun to the left and caught it with a spinning kick. I dodged the swinging bag and putting an anonymous face on it. I jumped up and kicked it again. I let the feelings carry me, punching and blocking the unknown enemy. Letting go of the frustration and pain.

My anger was interrupted by voices, and footsteps on the stairs. I leaned over, and putting my hands on my knees, I breathed. Picking up my jacket, I walked to the foot of the stairs.

Peter came down the stairs and looked at Rowan. Her hair was plastered around her face, and she was drenched in sweat. He looked around, then back at her.

"I hope you don't mind?" I asked him."I used the bag." I nodded under the stairs.

Peter looked at her, then looked at the bag, it was still in one piece. He half expected it to be in shambles. "No...uh...that's ok. Rowan Michaels, I'd like you to meet my father, Kwai Chang Caine." he said.

I looked behind Caine, and focused on his dad. Boy was I wrong. This was no frail old man. As he stepped over to me and reached out his hand, I almost flinched, but that little feeling I have, that part of my second nature, wouldn't let me. I looked at his eyes, and he smiled. "I am pleased to meet you, Rowan Michaels." he said. I felt my insides go straight to mush, as I gave him my hand. I didn't even know this man, but if he'd of asked, I would have told him anything, anything at all.

Shaking my head, I smiled at him, "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Caine."

What the hell is the matter with me, I thought. I looked at the older Caine again. He was tall, slightly taller than me. I guessed he was in his fifties, but he held his age well. Long graying hair, hung down past his shoulders. I watched as he and Peter talked. He had a softness about him, a quietness. It radiated around him. He reminded me of Shigeta my sensei, the reason behind my survival, but Shigeta was far away on a tiny island in the China sea with a class of up and coming young monks. Maybe I needed to visit him....soon.

Peter turned to me and broke into my thoughts, "We're going to the "Garden" for lunch. Care to join us, Michaels?"

For a moment I considered it, but shaking my head, I answered "No. I don't think so. I still have a bit of jet lag. If you'll excuse me." I turned and headed for the door. I felt uncomfortable. The older man had seen intimately into my heart, and I knew it. I needed to get away, to think.

"Hey, Michaels!" yelled Peter.

I turned and looked at him, "Yes?"

He tossed me the keys to the car, "See you later." he said, "Back at the station?"

I caught the keys, and looked at them, then I mumbled "Sure." and walked out the door.

Peter stood and watched her go. He felt something wasn't quite right. "Pop?" he questioned, "What just happened?"

The priest stood and stared after the woman. The feeling of her mind in his had left him stunned. She carried so much rage, so much anger. He turned to his son and smiled, "Peter, pop is a carbonated soft drink and I don't think your new partner really wants to be here."

As they left the building and walked down the sidewalk, Peter smiled at his father's reply and asked, "Did you get any strong impressions from her dad?"

Caine walked along and considered his son's question. "Yes, I did. She is a very angry person."

Peter shook his head. "I got the impression she was more than she seems. Like she's wearing a mask."

When It Rains..THREE

While Peter and his father were going to lunch, I went back to the police station. After getting directions from the desk Sargent, I found my way to the morgue.

Walking into the theatre, I stood off to the side, watching the doctors perform the autopsy on the victim. I listened to the description being recorded. "Female, about 26. Five feet and five inches tall. One hundred and fifteen pounds. Black hair. Blue eyes. No distinguishing scars due to removal of upper epidermal layer. Cause of death, strangulation." The coroner's assistant looked up from the table, "May I help, you?" he asked.

I walked over and showed Dr. Kelly Brown my badge. Standing there, I watched as the two continued their examination of the corpse. Bending down I looked at the victims left hand. Kelly reached across the table and handed me a pair of gloves."Find something, Detective?" he asked.

I looked at the young man. I judged him to be about ten years younger than me, and probably just fresh out of med school. By his tone of voice, I reckoned he didn't like cops very much. I smiled at him, "Maybe Dr. Brown." I showed him her hand. There was the mark of a ring on her third finger. Looking closer at the hand I noticed deep gashes in her palms and marks on the wrists that said she'd been tied. The skin around her mouth was peeling off and I figured he'd gagged her. The eyes were puffy and swollen, totally devoid of lids. As I looked at her, I hoped her mind had gone swiftly, but from my own experience, I knew it hadn't.

"Excuse me, Detective. I'm going to open the cavity now. You might want to leave." I heard the doctor ask.

"That's ok," I told him, "I'll stay."

While Brown and his assistant went into the abdominal cavity, I walked around and looked. Even the soles of her feet had been peeled of their skin. "Excuse me, Dr. Brown," I asked "What would someone use to do this, other than a scapel?" I asked.

He looked at me really strange, "I'm not even sure they could do it with a scapel, Michaels. This guy was real precise, look here." he walked over and showed me a spot, high on her thigh. I was sure he was trying to embarrass me, but he was trying with the wrong person. I leaned over and looked. "Never entered the muscle." he said. "Only the upper layer of the skin."

I straightened up and looked him right in the eye. "Painful," I said, "But not fatal."

He chuckled and walked away from me. "I like you, Michaels. Been to a few of these things, huh?"

"Just a few," I told him.

"I'll have the whole report in about two hours, toxicology in about six." he told me.

"You won't find any drugs." I said to him as I headed to the door.

"Oh, yeh, Why not?" he asked.

With my hand on the door, I turned and looked at him, "Cause he wanted her to be conscious. He wanted her to feel."

"Jesus," he said and went back to his work.

Yeh, I thought, Jesus.

Earlier in the day, talking to the sargent, I'd gotten directions to the gym. I went to the locker room, changed into some shorts, and headed there. I really needed to work off some steam.

The gym was almost empty. A couple of guys over in the corner, working on the weights. I needed something to pound on. I started out with the bag. It's the easiest way I know to settle down when a case has me all in knots. I beat on a bag, till I can't raise my fists anymore. Damn good thing it can't hit back.

I didn't have my gloves, but at that point I didn't care. No one should die that way. At the whim of a mad man. And that's what he was, a psychopath. I beat the hell out of that bag. Using every variation of kicks and strikes I knew. When I ran out, I started mixing them up. I was drenched with sweat. It could have been me, I thought. that's how close I had come. That's how manical John White had been. But he'd been caught and a policeman's bullet had ended his reign. But not for me. In the rage I was feeling, I let the bag be John White and every other killer that had crossed my path in the recent years.

I let all the rage I'd kept inside for seventeen years out. I hit that bag with all my hate, all my rage.The chain broke with a snap, and it flew against the wall. Landing on the floor with a thud.

I stood there breathing heavily. My sides hurt. My knuckles were bloody, and my head pounded. Feeling a wetness at my side I looked down. Dammit, I pulled a staple. The whole side of my shirt was covered in blood, damn it to hell. Now I'll have to go to the ER and have another staple put in. Ah, shit. Like I really need this. I looked around the gym. The men standing on the other side of the room, stayed there. I couldn't blame them. I must've looked like some kind of a freak. I shrugged at them and went to the showers.

I was leaning against the shower wall, watching the blood run down the drain, when I heard Caine's voice. "Michaels" he yelled, "Are you in here?"

I poked my head out of the shower and yelled back, "Yeh, Caine. Whatcha want?"

He leaned against the outside wall, "Some of the guys said you're hurt."

"Just popped a staple Caine," I told him, "A quick trip to the ER, and I'll be fine." I managed to get dressed, and still holding a towel to my side walked out to the locker room, "Care to drive me?" I asked.

Caine took one look at me and hurried me out the door. All the way to the hospital, he kept looking at me. "You sure you're ok?" he asked.

"I'm fine, just tired." I knew I probably looked like hell. But it was the truth, I'd used all my energy on the bag. I was just really damned tired.

When we got to the ER, I expected to wait a while. So I took the floppy disk out of my jacket and handed it to the nurse. The doctor came out and got me after just a few minutes. Caine came in with me, while the doctor replaced the staple I'd popped. He checked the others, and looked at the bruise on my chin. "Tell me Detective Michaels, do you always carry your medical records with you?" he asked.

I smiled at Caine over his head, "Yes, I do. It saves time."

"Well, I'm going to update this for you." he said, indicating the disc in the terminal. "I want you back here on Monday and I'll take them all out for you. And Detective? " he said.

"Yes?" I answered.

"No bullets, fights, or sharp objects, at least for the next three days." he smiled at me.

I couldn't help it, I smiled. I got off the table and grabbed my shirt. Caine helped me get it back on, then he asked me, "What happened, Michaels? Back there, at the station, I mean."

I looked down at my hands, the knuckles were scraped and raw. "I just needed an outlet, Caine. My whole life has gone to shit the last forty-eight hours. I just needed to work it off."

We walked out of the examining room and I went to the front desk to pick up my records. We were headed through the door, when two uniforms came in with a man between them. The man twisted and turned yelling and screaming. Blood streamed from his right shoulder and leg. The officers fought to keep him under control, but he fought like a mad man. I looked him in the eye and felt the maddness in him. The total rage. This man had no idea where he was, or why. Another mind, lost to the world of drugs.

I got into the car with Caine, but before he could leave I was getting a real case of the icy shivers. "Wait, Caine, there's......something." I could feel a coldness in me. Something was wrong. I looked toward the ER door. Before Caine could answer, I got out and headed back.

I was looking around the corner, into the waiting room, when Caine came to my side. "Want to tell me what's going on, Michaels?" he asked.

I pointed into the building and said, "Look."

A uniformed officer laid on the floor, blood seeping out from his head. I knew he was dead, I could see the stain on the wall, mixed with hair and brains. The prisoner they'd had stood near the desk. He had a gun in one hand and in the other a nurse. The older lady was scared, but I could see she was calm. She didn't struggle or scream. The cap had fallen off her head, and her brown hair hung down around her shoulders.I could see her face, searching the room. I wondered where the second uniform was. And me without my gun, shit.

I looked at Caine, he was on the radio, calling it in. Oh, hell. Here we go again, I thought. I would just love to keep my ass out of trouble, for just a few days, Reaching in my jacket pocket, I pulled out my knife.

I had walked over to a window, and was prying it open, when Caine joined me. He looked at the knife in my hand and smiled. "Nice knife," he said.

When she turned from the window and looked at him, for a split second, Peter felt sorry for the guy inside. He had the strangest feelings about this woman. Feelings he didn't know how to put into words. She opened the window and slid inside. Like it was something she did every day. Caine followed and stood in the darkened office beside her.

I stood in the dark to get my bearings, then going to the door, flipped on the light. Looking around I saw the phone and picked it up. I asked the switchboard to get me the head of maintanence. Caine listened to what I asked for, then laid his hand on my arm. "We should wait, Backup's on it's way."

I probably should have been nicer, but that missing uniform had me worried. "Screw backup. Either help me Caine or stay the hell outta my way." As I talked to him, I went to the door and popped the lock. Easing out the door, I looked down the hall. I felt Caine come up beside me, he reached out and handed me his backup gun. I looked at the thirty eight for a second, then handed it back.

Caine watched as the emotions played across her face. She took off her jacket, tore her shirt,and made her side bleed again. "Count to 300, then come out." She reached into her pocket, she took out a bandana and tied it around her hair.

She looked at Caine real hard, "Trust me." she said and dissappeared back into the office.

The man we had seen was holding onto a nurse standing there waving the gun around, yelling. I was pretty sure he had no idea where he was or why. I grabbed my side, bent over, and stumbled in the door. He raised the gun, and screamed at me to stop, so I raised my bloody hands. Standing there, I looked around the room. A woman with a small boy were off to the left, out of range, IF he fired at me. I could see down the hall, a pair of legs, clad in white, on the floor in a doorway. The nurse in his arms looked directly at me, fear in her eyes, but she recognized me. She blinked her eyes and smiled. "Smart lady." I thought. Then I just waited. At exactly the count of three hundred, the lights went out. I grabbed the knife from my back and threw it. A count of ten, and the lights came back on.

Caine had a hard time getting his eyes to believe what he was seeing. Michaels stood in the doorway looking for all the world like she'd just been in a war. Her clothes torn and bloody. Then the lights went out. Peter listened for a shot. All he heard was a soft pffft and a thud. When the lights came on. He looked at Michaels, still standing in the same spot. The assailant was on the floor, the switchblade he'd seen her with, imbeded in his right eye.

Later, in the examinig room, the same doctor, Dr. J.A. Brown looked at her. "I told you to stay out of fights." he smiled as he put the staple back, she'd pulled out. He handed her a packet of pain relievers. "Take two of these, every four hours, "

I looked down at the medication, then handed it back. "No thanks, Doc. I'll be fine." I told him. I could see the look on his face. But, Christ, I really hate not being totally alert. I have also been told I'm the worst patient that ever lived, and a ER doctor's worst nightmare.

Caine leaned against the wall and watched as the doctor put the staple back in. No lidacane, either time. Yet she didn't flinch. Just held up her shirt and looked at a spot on the ceiling. He wondered how she did it. His dad was like that sometimes. He said he "went" to another place when the pain came. So far Peter hadn't been successful at it.

I got down off the table and looked at Caine, "Maybe I ought to go to my hotel for a while." I could see the look on Caine's face. I knew it puzzled him. How I went without the drugs. Maybe later, I'd try to explain it. "Care to drive me back, Caine?"

We were met in the waiting room by Strenlich and a half a dozen other police officers. And boy was he pissed. "Caine, you want to explain this mess.?"

I stepped up in front of him, "Sir it was my fault."

"Michaels, I've read your jacket. I know what you can do. But hear me. One more stunt like that and your outta here. Do you understand me?"

I looked at Caine and then at some of the others, "Yes, sir" I said, "I understand."

"Caine," he yelled.

"Yes, sir?"

"Take Detective Michaels back to her hotel. And see if you can keep her out of trouble." he told Peter.

When we arrived at the hotel, Caine rode with me up the elevator.I opened the door to my room, and Caine followed me in.

PC buzzed immediately. "You have company? Rowan."

"Yes, PC, this is Detective Peter Caine, of the 101st precinct."

"I am pleased to meet you, Det. Caine. Rowan how shall I classify the Detective?"

I looked at Caine, as I dropped my jacket on the chair. Stepping into the bathroom, I told her. "Priority One. Partner."

I closed the bathroom door and leaned against it. Priority One would keep PC from embarrassing me, I hoped. It also gave Caine access to my files, if anything happened to me. I had a gut feeling, that it would be better to be prepared.

Peter sat on the end of the bed and waited for Michaels to come back out of the bathroom. A disembodied voice asked him. "Detective Caine, How may I access you in an emergency?"

Peter calmed himself, and spoke to the emptiness. "Emergency?" he asked.

"It's alright Detective, I don't bite." PC purred.

Peter had the damnest feeling. It wasn't like talking to a machine at all. "OK, PC, is it? What would you like to know?"

"Just the usual, phone numbers, beeper, anything you think I should know." she told him.

"Why?" he asked her.

"Rowan has listed you as Priority One. That means I call you in an emergency, and it gives you complete access to her files, if she is incapacitated."

"Complete access?" he asked the machine.

"Complete. You are the one, Detective."

"Look, PC." he spoke to her, "Could you call me Caine, or Peter or something besides Detective."