IT IS TIME

by Kerry Lindemann-Schaefer


"Jeremy, are you reading those infernal want ads again?"

At the sound of Kevin's voice, I glanced up from the pages of the Radiology Advance and smiled rather shame-facedly. "I'm afraid so, boss. After all, my job here at County General doesn't seem to be going anywhere. It's been two years and I'm still only a part-time MRI tech."

He turned most of his attention back to the computer screen, setting up the last in a series of scans of our patient's lower back. "There just isn't a slot open and administration isn't willing to create a new position, although we're certainly busy enough to need another tech. I don't know what we would do without you to fill in when people are sick or on vacation. If it were up to me, you'd have been full-time long ago."

"I know. And I appreciate that, really I do." I laid the paper aside and began filming the scan that had just finished. "But I'm not getting any younger, and I've got to consider my financial situation. Another 15 years or so and I'll be facing retirement. Part-time doesn't come with a pension plan."

Kevin looked at me from the corners of his eyes without turning his head away from what he was doing. (Whenever I try that, it doesn't work. Watching the screen through bifocals is hard enough; peripheral vision just isn't possible.) He inquired, "So do you see anything tempting in the Advance?"

"Well, there's a hospital in Alaska that needs an MRI tech. Relocation bonus, all kinds of benefits."

"All kinds of snow and cold," he put in wryly.

"Yeah, there's that. But we've got snow and cold here too," I countered, "or haven't you looked outside lately? Then again, they always want people in Saudi Arabia."

Kevin laughed. Saudi Arabia is kind of a standing joke among x-ray techs, since there are always ads running and rumor has it you can make big bucks by going. But who wants to live in a place where women are treated so badly? I may not be a woman, but I certainly consider myself a feminist.

"Seriously, Jeremy, do you really want to leave? I thought you liked it here in Sloan City," Kevin persisted.

I just shrugged.

He stood up. The exam was finished and he had to get the patient out of the scanner and send her on her way. Kevin had asked me the one question I really couldn't answer, although I'd been debating it in my mind for the last few weeks.

Did I truly wish to leave? Well, the idea was sounding better all the time. Goodness knows, I've picked up and left often enough during my life. It seems to be my way of solving problems, whenever they get to be too much for me. Besides, what did I have to hold me here? A modest apartment on the edge of Chinatown that I had shared for a few brief months with my lover before he died of AIDS almost a year ago. A job I enjoyed with co-workers I liked, even if that job didn't seem to hold much promise for the future. A small but steadily-growing circle of friends.

And Kwai Chang Caine.

Unfortunately, Caine was something of a mixed blessing. I'd known him for quite a long time, ever since I'd offered him a ride in Massachusetts and then ended up driving all the way across the country with him until we parted company at his Temple. After that, I had never expected to see him again. But, by some strange quirk of fate, we both ended up here a few years later and ran across each other at the hospital, when Peter had been brought in for an MRI.

I owed a lot to Caine. At various times and in several different places, he'd saved my life, my sanity, and my soul. (I'd like to think that I may have helped him out now and then also.)

At any rate, we were friends. And for the last nine months or so, he'd also been my T'ai Chi Ch'uan instructor. (There's a story behind that, but I won't go into it here.)

Only trouble with all this is that I'm gay. (Sorry. Maybe I should have mentioned that fact sooner. I tend to take it for granted that everyone knows.) I've always found Caine extremely attractive, although I'm well aware he's not gay and not interested in me in that respect. I've tried very hard to keep that sort of thing out of our friendship, but it hasn't been easy. In fact, it's only become harder lately, since I see him on a regular basis for lessons. The Master/student relationship is a bit deeper than simple friendship, so it's just that much more difficult to keep my emotional distance. And of course, seeing him with Mary Margaret Skalany doesn't help any, although I love her to death and certainly wish them both all the happiness in the world.

It's just that, like my job, my relationship with Caine seemed to be going nowhere, since there was really nowhere I could dare to let it go.

Maybe I should just call the whole thing quits. Move on. Forget the T'ai Chi and the Chinese philosophy. Leave the apartment, with its memories of Bobbie. And let Kwai Chang Caine become part of my past, since he couldn't very well be my future.

At least that's what I told myself as I finished up the filming and prepared for our next patient. I resolved to send out resumes to the most promising-looking ads, just to see if I got any nibbles. It couldn't hurt, right?

A few weeks passed. I actually got replies to a couple of the resumes, plus a request for a phone interview. (Wouldn't you know, it was the place in Alaska? We talked for almost an hour.)

Christmas came and went. I don't do much for Christmas, since I really don't consider myself a Christian. As a result, I generally offer to work over the holidays, so other people can have the time off. There was a bit of excitement up on the pediatric ward on Christmas Eve, but I didn't hear about it until it was all over. Caine and Cheryl took on a bunch of bad guys without too much of a problem.

It was mid-January when I got the letter. Alaska wanted me. Although they realized it would take a little time for me to actually move up there to start the new job, they requested a definite reply to their offer within a week.

Although I was greatly flattered to be chosen, that still left open the question of whether or not I wanted Alaska.

I didn't sleep well that night. I would have liked to have talked the situation over with Caine, but he had cancelled our T'ai Chi class that evening, pleading some personal business he'd had to attend to.

I went to work the next morning with the letter of acceptance in my pocket, intending to stop by and talk to Caine after I got off. Maybe he'd be able to help me sort out my feelings on the subject.

All during my shift, I functioned in a distracted haze. I just couldn't stop thinking about whether or not I wanted to leave. I said nothing to Kevin, although I was sorely tempted. After all, if I chose to turn down that job in Alaska, I wasn't real sure I wanted Kevin to know I had seriously considered taking it. Time enough to tell him after I had made up my mind one way or the other.

I seemed to see everything with new eyes, as I considered that I might not be here much longer. One thing I knew: I'd miss Kevin. His constant encouragement meant a lot to me. And he really knew MRI. Whenever I worked with him, I learned something new. We had gotten to be pretty good friends.

(Only friends, mind you. Kevin was married with two children. Yeah, he was kind of cute, but he was definitely off limits for anything more. Even I have my principles, and Jeremy's Second Rule of Sexual Conduct was very simple: never screw around with someone you work with. Rule Three was to steer clear of anyone in a marriage or other committed monogamous relationship. So what's Rule One, you may ask? Never come on to straight folks, no matter how much you may want them. While that certainly applied to Kevin also, it was sticking to this one where Caine was concerned that was driving me up the wall. But I digress.)

By the time I got off from work, it was beginning to snow. Since it was also getting on towards suppertime, I went in one of my favorite Chinatown grocery stores, planning to buy something to make a contribution toward the meal Caine would be likely to offer me if I stayed for any length of time.

Imagine my astonishment when I caught sight of Caine with Mrs. Liu, the shopkeeper, and heard him telling her she should do what Bon Bon Hai said or she'd be sorry. When she dared to object, I was even more shocked to see Caine pull back one hand as if he meant to strike her!

As Mrs. Liu cowered back against a row of shelves, I came up behind him and asked uncertainly, "Uh -- what are you doing? Why the devil would you want anyone to obey Bon Bon Hai?"

As he spun around to confront me, I saw the look on his face and automatically stepped backwards. I had only seen Caine angry once before, but on that memorable occasion he had almost killed me.

"What business is it of yours?" he demanded, glaring at me as if he didn't recognize me at first. Then he kind of narrowed his eyes as if he'd just remembered something and wasn't especially pleased with it. "Ah! The annoying little faggot."

Now, Caine had never -- ever -- said anything the least bit derogatory about my sexual orientation, so I had no clue as to what was going on here. I only knew I didn't like it and I wasn't going to put up with it. No, not even from him.

"What gives you the right to call me names?" I replied, my temper rapidly getting the best of my common sense. "And what gives you the right to threaten innocent women? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

He glared at me even harder and said something in Chinese. I had no idea what it meant, but it sure didn't sound like a compliment. All he did was push me a little, but I stumbled backwards half the length of the store until my heels hit a sack of rice. I landed unceremoniously on the floor behind the rice, while my glasses went skittering off under a shelf.

"Do not interfere in what you do not understand," Caine said contemptuously. Then he turned and strode out the door, pushing aside an incoming customer who got in his way.

Mrs. Liu retrieved my glasses and helped me to my feet, mumbling polite apologies.

"It's okay. Nothing hurt but my dignity," I assured her. "I just can't figure what's gotten into Caine."

She shook her head, looking as confused as I was, as I headed for the door. Something wasn't kosher and I was determined to find out what it was.

By the time I reached the sidewalk, Caine was gone. I thought I had seen him turn to his right when he left the grocery, so I hurried in that direction, glancing into shops and alleyways as I passed. The snow was falling harder now.

It wasn't long before I found him, but when I did, I was in for yet another surprise.

He was at the far end of a deserted sidestreet, being beaten up by a couple of punks, who were pretty much pushing him back and forth between them. I faded back and peeked around the corner of the building at the unlikely scene. Caine seemed as if he could barely stay on his feet. He made no effort whatsoever to defend himself. Shit, I could have put up a better fight than that!

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind and I was about to go to his assistance than a second Kwai Chang Caine stepped into the fray, pulling the two young men off of the other Caine, who collapsed onto the slushy street. This new and more aggressive Caine proceeded to knock down the punks as I stared in astonishment. Then he went over to the fallen Caine and laughed. Raising one leg, he made as if to kick the man on the ground, then stopped and merely said, "Our time -- is not yet."

He turned on his heel and walked away, as the other Caine rose shakily to his feet and called after him to wait.

I was now completely blown away as I continued to watch from my more or less hidden vantage point. Either Caine had an identical twin who was a genuine S.O.B., or I had lost my marbles. But I didn't feel crazy, and the Caine who had been left behind looked all too real to me. He stumbled over to the wall of a building and leaned against it as if he were about to fall.

That was too much for me. Throwing caution to the wind, I raced down the street and put one arm around his waist.

"You okay?"

He turned and regarded me groggily. "Jeremy?"

"In the flesh. I don't know what's going on here, but you don't look so good." In fact, I could feel him shivering in the cold, something he never does. I pulled his arm over my shoulder and got a better grip around him with my other hand. Even so, he's quite a bit bigger than I am and I've manhandled enough patients in my time to know I couldn't hold him up if he collapsed.

"Come on. We're going someplace warm," I said decisively. "And you're going to explain all this to me. I think you owe me that, after throwing me clear across Mrs. Liu's store."

"I -- did that?"

"Well, if you didn't, you're going to tell me who did."

He sort of nodded, so I took that to indicate acquiescence and started along the street.


A short time later, we sat at a corner booth in the Golden Dragon with a pot of hot tea steaming on the table. His hands were shaking, so I poured the tea for both of us. Curbing my curiosity, I waited for him to finish his cup before asking, "Well?"

"You -- should not have seen that."

"Seen what? Why not? Tell me what's going on before I die of terminal curiosity. First you call me names and push me around, and then I find you saving yourself from a beating. I don't expect a logical explanation because I doubt there is one, but at least give me a hint, will you?" I pleaded.

"What you -- saw -- and what you see now -- is not me. It is only -- part -- of me." The hesitations were longer and more frequent than usual, as if it took great effort just for him to speak.

"You're not making a whole lot of sense. How can you only be part of you?"

So he told me about the Kuan La, the deliberate separation of the good and evil parts of the self. If I hadn't already had a run-in with that other extremely un-Caine-like Caine, I might well have thought he wasn't playing with a full deck this time. Granted, Caine does some pretty weird stuff, but this pretty well took the cake. (Then again, didn't I see something rather similar happen on STAR TREK, on one of those endless series of re-runs they're always showing at odd hours? But that was just a TV show. This was for real. Well, as real as things get when Caine's around, I reminded myself.)

Caine recalled me from my reveries by placing his teacup firmly on the table and looking me squarely in the eyes.

"Jeremy, -- I must ask you to promise me something."

"What?" I said warily, not willing to commit myself to anything without hearing what it was.

"You must -- promise." His eyes bored into me.

Shit, I'd promise the man the moon and the stars if he asked for them, and try my best to deliver, so why play word games now?

"Yeah. Okay. Whatever you want."

"I do not wish you to get hurt. You must -- stay away from me -- until this is over."

Damn! That was the one thing I really didn't want to do.

"How will I know when it's over?" I asked unhappily.

"You -- will know."

"But I want to help --"

"You -- cannot. I must go. Please stay here."

Without looking at him, I put my hand on top of his. "All right. I'll leave you alone. But be careful, huh?" I said softly.

"Yes," he agreed. Then the hand was gone, and so was he.

I sat there for a while. When the waiter appeared, I ordered something to eat. I suppose it was good, but I don't think I even tasted it as I chewed and swallowed.

It occurred to me as I sat there eating that I never had gotten around to asking Caine's advice about that job offer. Oh well, I had more important things to worry about now, didn't I?


I went home and tried to relax. That proved to be impossible. I picked up a book, then set it aside. There was nothing on television worth watching. (So what else is new?) I even tried cleaning house. Whatever I did, I kept getting this sick feeling in my heart that Caine was in trouble. Bad trouble.

As the evening wore on, the feeling only got worse. Finally I reached the point where I couldn't stand it any longer. I might have promised Caine to stay out of his way, but that didn't mean I couldn't go talk to the Ancient, did it? Maybe Lo Si would be able to tell me more about this Kuan La business, and why Caine was doing it at this particular point in time.

By now it was fairly late, but surely Lo Si wouldn't be asleep if there were some danger to his friend. In fact, he might not even be at home, but I had to try.

As I pulled into a parking spot just down the street from the Ancient's place, I noticed Peter's fancy blue sports car at the curb. Phooey. I had hoped to catch the old man alone. Besides, I never felt as if Peter liked me all that much. The idea of his father hanging out with a gay guy always seemed to make him uncomfortable, although he hadn't ever been actually nasty to me or anything like that.

However, I had come to see the Ancient and see the Ancient I would, Peter's presence notwithstanding. I got out of my car and headed down the street, my shoulders hunched into my jacket against the chill wind. No one answered my knock, but the door wasn't locked, so I pushed it open and went inside, calling, "Lo Si? Hello? Anyone home?"

Still no reaction, but I could see the flickering light of candles from the living room up ahead so I walked down the short hallway in that direction. I had almost reached the door when I narrowly missed colliding with Peter, who came hurrying in the other direction.

Although he had his overcoat slung over his shoulders, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, which was rather strange, considering he was heading for the outside door and the cold. Then I noticed something even stranger: he had some rather nasty-looking burns on his forearms, burns which looked suspiciously like those tiger and dragon Shaolin brands that both Caine and Lo Si had. I might almost have thought I was imagining things in the rather dim light of the hall, except that he stepped backwards for a moment into the living room to allow me to enter before dodging around me, mumbling something about being in a hurry.

Lo Si was hot on Peter's heels, but he didn't even come close to running me down. He had stopped and was looking at me with a peculiar expression on his face.

"Lo Si, come on," Peter called impatiently from the hallway.

"One moment," the Ancient replied.

"Oh, jeez, come on! We've got to --"

"There is time, Peter," the old man said sternly. "Go out to your car. I will join you in a moment." He was still gazing at me, seeming somewhat perplexed. "Jeremy, what are you doing here?"

"Caine's in trouble," I blurted out.

"Yes. But how do you know?"

"I just feel it. I want to help. I came to you to ask how."

Lo Si shook his head. "You cannot."

I jumped to an obvious conclusion. "But you and Peter are going to him. Let me come. There must be something I can do."

Lo Si shook his head. "You must not interfere. Peter is the only one who can help Kwai Chang Caine now."

"Peter? Why only him?"

"Peter has reached a level in his training where he can transfer his chi to his father to give him the energy he will need in the upcoming confrontation."

Something clicked into place in my mind. "The brands, right?"

"Yes. It is his destiny. But you must stay here."

"What good is that? What can I do from here?"

I could have sworn something clicked into place in Lo Si's mind at that point also. He got that "Aha!" look on his face. Good. Now maybe I'd be able to get in on the action, whatever it was.

"What can I do?" I prompted.

"Meditate."

"Oh yeah, sure. That will be a big help."

"I am serious, Jeremy. Do as I say. You will remain here. You must promise me this."

Shit, it seemed like everyone wanted me to promise stuff today. And it was always something I definitely did not want to do.

"You sure about this?" I asked. "After all, meditation isn't exactly my strong point."

He smiled slightly. "I know."

The honk of a car horn sounded from outside.

"I must go. You will do this?"

"Yeah," I agreed unwillingly. "If you say so."

With a satisfied nod, Lo Si left. A moment later, I heard tires screeching. (That boy's driving would make me crazy if he were my son.)

Okay, so I was supposed to sit tight and meditate, huh? What a drag. I glanced idly around the familiar living room.

Wait a minute. Where'd that photo on the table come from? It had never been there before.

Okay, so I'm nosey. When I picked it up and held it near one of the brighter candles, I could make out an attractive young woman with long dark hair holding a cup and sitting in what was probably a restaurant in Paris, judging by the Eiffel Tower in the background. At first I thought it might be Lo Si's long-estranged daughter, but I knew her casually and a closer inspection revealed that it definitely wasn't Danielle, although there was a slight resemblance.

So who the dickens was it then?

With a shrug, I put the photo back in its place. I'd ask about it later. I had other things to do. (Important things, like meditate. Yeah. But I had promised Lo Si.)

With a sigh that might have done justice to Caine, I settled down cross-legged on the couch. At least I could be comfortable, until my legs fell asleep. Closing my eyes, I tried to concentrate.

As usual, I had trouble getting my mind to settle down and shut up. It kept prattling on, asking me why I was just sitting here when Caine was in danger. Then it decided to wonder about the brands on Peter's arms. I couldn't get the image of this urn full of hot coals out of my mind.

Would I have had the courage to do that? Maybe. If it were Caine who told me to. But I'm no Shaolin priest, nor am I ever likely to be, so I don't guess I'll ever be in that position.

Strangely enough, I almost regretted it. While some part of me shrank away from inviting such pain, another part would like to have found out if I had the nerve to go through with it.

Since getting involved with Caine, I've done a bit of research into Shaolin stuff. In the old days, it wasn't just a case of picking up an urn full of hot coals. That was the more or less easy part. Prior to that, the candidate would have to successfully negotiate a long tunnel full of lethal booby traps. Needless to say, not everyone made it far enough to lift the urn and move it aside in order to go through the door and into the outside world as a Shaolin monk.

But lots of things have changed since then. No reason why the Shaolin wouldn't have modified a few of their practices too.

But this wasn't getting me anywhere, meditation-wise.

Okay, I told myself, you want to think about the Shaolin brands? So go ahead. Focus on those two images, the dragon and the tiger. The yin and the yang, the hard and the soft, the light and the dark, the good --

-- and the evil.

All of a sudden, in the dark place behind my eyelids, I saw Caine and Mary Margaret standing close together, face to face. I found this rather startling, but strange things have been happening to me since I got to know Caine, so it wasn't enough to seriously disrupt my concentration.

What was startling was that Caine abruptly grabbed Mary Margaret and pulled her into an embrace, over her protests, judging by the expression on her face.

(For some reason, I couldn't hear what they were saying. The effect was rather like watching a TV show with the volume turned off.)

This was the "bad" Caine. There was no one else it could possibly be, judging by his actions.

Almost as if to prove my conclusion, another Caine came through the doorway to the balcony and got Mary Margaret out of her predicament.

The nasty Caine went into the other room, tying his hair back into a ponytail as he did so. (Good. That would make it easier to tell them apart if things got confusing, since the nice Caine's hair was just hanging down straight.)

With Mary Margaret's help, the good Caine followed his alter ego across the hall. When he got into the room, he stepped forward to face the other man, who now had his back turned. Just then, Peter and Lo Si arrived on the scene.

Although I still couldn't hear what went on, I could see Peter hold out his forearms to his father's better self. As Caine grasped the young man's wrists, he threw his head back with an expression that seemed to fall somewhere between relief and ecstasy. When he turned to once again face the negative incarnation of himself, he seemed stronger and more sure. Whatever Peter did, it must have worked.

The good Caine held out his arms to his other self, in an obvious invitation to merge with him. The evil Caine apparently didn't care for this idea and proceeded to kick his twin. Thus began the fight I had been expecting all along. I watched the action, wondering how on earth either one of them could possibly win, since they were so evenly matched. At one point, they bowed to each other. I almost thought it was over, until the nasty Caine hit his rival a sneaky blow in the face and the battle began once again.

With no warning, everything seemed to slow down. I've had this sort of thing happen before, but it's usually at a time of personal danger, so I had always figured it was some kind of adrenaline effect. But I wasn't in danger now. I was just an observer. So why the slow motion?

At this leisurely pace, the fight seemed almost like a dance. I had an urge to try to tell the good Caine what to do, to get him to hit harder, move faster, somehow beat the stuffing out of his opponent, who had callously insulted and humiliated me not so very long ago. My anger grew in direct proportion to the stretching out of the time frame. I found myself fervently hating this other side of my respected mentor and friend, even as I reminded myself you cannot truly separate a person in this manner. The bad Caine was, after all, still part of the totality of the man.

I knew full well that Caine had a dark side. I'd seen it before, at the ruins of his Temple. We had both fought a demon then, a demon compounded of our own personal evils. But this was different. It wasn't a demon he was fighting now -- it was him, his own self. Good or evil, how could you defeat yourself? How could anyone possibly win that battle?

But win he must, if he were to emerge whole.

The all-too-even combat went on, at that frustratingly slow speed. In my mind, I struck out at the evil Caine, wishing him sprawled on the floor, beaten to a pulp, knocked through the window to fall to his death. A murderous rage settled on my soul. I was delighted at the viciousness of my thoughts, as if they might somehow serve to strengthen my good Caine's determination to overcome his adversary.

Finally, Caine knocked his alter ego to the floor with a kick to the head.

Good! I cheered. Now's your chance! Kick him again! Stomp him into defeat!
But he didn't. Instead he came forward with his arms outstretched again, pleading with his other self.

And I realized with a flood of shame that I'd been going about this all wrong and ass-backwards. You could not possibly win by defeating yourself. In fact, defeat and victory both were meaningless in this context. What mattered was harmony, wholeness -- and love.

Love, and acceptance of that vicious, hateful monster that yet lives inside even the gentlest of souls. For in no other way will it be tamed.

However, only the good half of Caine seemed to realize what was needed, as he continued to stand there offering his embrace. Weakened he might be, vulnerable he certainly was, but he knew what must be done.

Just as I knew, now.

Unfortunately, the expression on the face of the fallen Caine didn't seem to bode well for any sort of unity. And more than just his expression told me that. In some strange manner, I felt his gloating satisfaction. Far from being defeated, he seemed ready to spring to his feet and go at it once more. And maybe this time, the other Caine wouldn't see it coming.

I shrank from the hatred I could feel all too clearly now, the fierce resentment that condemned everything, not least of all itself. Try as I might, I couldn't escape. Maybe my previous rage had established a connection between me and this Caine, in the same way that I had occasionally seemed to sense Caine's thoughts and memories in moments of strong emotion. Whatever caused it, it was awful! I did not want to experience such hatred, not as part of anyone, and most especially not as part of the Caine I knew and loved.

But shrinking aside was not the way. It must be faced, and seen, and known, no matter how much that would hurt.

I truly saw inside that other Caine then; saw the various hurts and hates that had made it what it was, and recognized them as not so very different from my own. Across this common bond of recognition, I felt I could almost reach out to its mind. If I was to have just this one chance, this one split second of contact in which to touch this tortured piece of a soul, what could I do to lessen its pain and show it where peace could be found?

That other Caine seemed a poor pathetic creature now, made up of fear, and loneliness, and despair. All it could do was lash out and destroy, for it knew nothing else.

But did it truly know nothing else? For this too was Caine, with all his memories and knowledge, however twisted. And in those memories lay the key, for this Caine too would know the symbols and the meanings.

The evil Caine was on his feet now, regarding his other half with a slightly freaked expression. Maybe he was picking up on my feelings also, as I could somehow feel his. If so, this was my chance. Carefully, deliberately, I set my mind to picture the yin-yang symbol and nothing else. The black and white, the dark and light, the weak and strong -- and the dot of each inside its opposite. No one side is all, nor may they exist separately, for they are two sides of the same coin, and folds of the same garment.

("Folds of the same garment"? Where'd I get that from? Damned if I knew.)

I set the circle turning, until the colors blended into gray and the whole thing became a solid sphere, fairly dancing with its own vitality and life.

A burning pain lanced through my head and my vision wavered. Despite my best efforts, my lovely sphere shattered. I didn't have the mental strength or training for this sort of endeavor. What had ever made me think I could do it?

Once again, I saw the two Caines confronting each other. But now the scene seemed to be bathed in a terrible light, far too bright for me to look upon. I knew I was losing this peculiar vision, if vision it was.

Tears leaked from my eyes even as I strained to see without them. My head hurt so badly I wanted to beat it against the wall. I knew the pain would ease off if I just let the whole thing drop, but I had to find out what was going to happen.

I held out long enough to see the evil half sigh. Then the images began to blur, as if my glasses were sliding out of focus. But suddenly I was able to hear, as the bad Caine said resignedly, "Yes. It must be so."

I did the mental equivalent of squinting and could just make out both Caines stepping together. Flashes of static lightning seemed to encircle them and then only one Caine was left. He stood, head back and arms outstretched, with peace and ecstasy on his face.

That was enough for me. Exhausted, I gave it up and let the darkness close around me, neither knowing nor caring whether I would wake up again.


I came to with a truly major headache driving a spike between my eyes. I didn't dare open them right away, since I was sure that would only drive the spike deeper. Only partly awake, I had that feeling you get when you wake up in a strange place but don't quite remember why you're not in your own bed.

Someone laid a hand on my forehead. The pain eased off a bit, which gave my brain enough working space to pull up a few memories and tell me I was most likely on Lo Si's couch. In fact, it was probably his hand on my head. I slitted my eyes to confirm my speculation, then closed them again when I saw that he was holding a cup, which was undoubtedly filled with a noxious concoction he'd expect me to drink. Maybe if I just pretended to be asleep, he'd get bored and go away?

Nah. Bad idea. Then he might take his hand away and my head would hurt worse. Besides, I had a few questions that needed answers.

Resigned to my fate, I opened my eyes and held out my hand for the cup. I was right. The stuff tasted like a handful of dirt mixed with hot water.

"He's okay, isn't he?" I asked while trying not to gag.

The Ancient nodded. "Kwai Chang Caine is fine."

Taking the empty cup and setting it aside, he slid his other hand under the back of my neck, which turned the headache down another couple of notches.

"Do you know what happened?" he asked.

"Yeah. I saw it all."

Lo Si took my statement at face value, saying only, "Tell me."

I did, with several long pauses as I tried to put the strange experience into words that would do it justice. The Ancient asked me a few questions, but he seemed not the least bit skeptical. The whole thing sounded totally incredible to me even as I said it. By the time I had finished, I had almost convinced myself that I had imagined the entire episode.

Lo Si blew that theory out of the water with a few words.

"It was not your imagination. Everything took place exactly as you described."

"But how is that possible? I wasn't there. How could I --?

"I do not know."

"But you're supposed to know about all this weird stuff," I protested.

"It happened, so it must be accepted, even if it cannot be explained."

"Yeah. I guess," I admitted grudgingly. I'd been hoping for a logical explanation. "Lo Si? Could I really have done anything to influence what the evil version of Caine did? Or was at least that much of it just in my own head?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"But you're the one who insisted that I meditate. Did you know I was going to do all that?"

He smiled that neat smile that lights up his face. "Even a Shambhallah Master cannot know the future before it happens."

"Come on, Lo Si. You seem to know damn near everything else. You must have had some idea."

"No. I only felt that you would do something. I could not be certain of what it would be."

Okay. I guessed I'd have to settle for that, since I wasn't going to get any more out of him. I sighed. My headache had diminished to more or less normal dimensions, but I still felt weak as a kitten and severely in need of a good night's sleep, despite the early morning light at the window. Fortunately, I didn't have to be at work that day. I don't think I would have been able to make it.

"Rest now," the old man said gently.

Sounded like a good idea to me.


When I woke up again later on, I was in much better shape. Lo Si sent me on my way, with a small bottle of concentrated stuff to mix with water and the admonition to go home and take it easy for the rest of the day.

I didn't quite follow his orders. Slipping the bottle into my coat pocket, I headed over to Caine's place. Maybe he'd be willing to give me a better explanation of what had gone on. Even if he knew nothing more about it than the Ancient did, I still wanted to talk to him about that job offer in Alaska.

Climbing the stairs took more out of me than usual, but I made it to the top floor without being seriously out of breath. I heard someone moving around in the work room, so I barged right in, knowing he would have heard me coming anyway. He always does.

I stopped dead in my tracks halfway across the room. Caine was there all right, tidying up the things on one of the tables. A small wastebasket nearby was about half full of broken jars and other bits and pieces of things, doubtless stuff that had been broken during last night's fight.

But I noticed all of that only marginally. Mostly what I noticed was that he had no hair.

He looked up at me as I continued to stand just inside the door. No, I wasn't even going to ask. He had the right to wear his hair any way he damn well pleased. I thought he looked much better with it long, but if he wanted to shave it all off, that was his business.

Nevertheless, his unexpected appearance threw me off balance. I didn't quite know how to bring up the subject I had come to talk about.

Maybe he sensed my uncertainty, because he smiled a little. Dumping the broken plate he had been holding into the trash, he came over and stood before me.

"Jeremy, -- I -- am leaving," he said gently. "It is good that you have come -- in time to say good-bye."

It was a moment before I could take in the full impact of that statement. I had been so concerned lately over whether or not I should leave that it had never occurred to me that he might be about to do so.

"But -- why?" I finally had the presence of mind to ask.

As usual, he shrugged. "There are -- several reasons. Laura -- my wife -- may be alive, and I must look for her. The Ancient showed me -- a photo --"

"Yeah. I know the one you mean," I interrupted, recalling the woman with the Eiffel Tower. "But what makes you think that means she's alive? Couldn't it have been taken before her death?"

"Perhaps. But Laura was never -- in Europe."

"Then maybe it's just someone who looks like her. Seems a pretty distant chance to me."

"That is so," Caine admitted. "In my heart -- I do not feel that she still lives. But I must be sure."

Despite the pain that was just beginning to invade my soul, I couldn't help thinking of someone else who would feel much as I did. (And no, it wasn't Peter. For some reason, he didn't enter my mind until later.)

"Have you told Mary Margaret?"

Caine looked away from me briefly, as if he might feel a bit guilty. "Yes. And she knows I will return -- someday -- whether or not I find Laura."

Okay, he didn't plan to be gone forever. That was a little less awful. But it was still a flimsy reason for leaving, considering the damage he'd do to the people who cared for him.

"There's more to it than that, isn't there?" I hazarded.

"Yes. But that is what I will tell Peter. He -- is not ready to hear my other reason."

"Okay. So tell me. I promise not to breathe a word of it to him."

Caine didn't answer right away. When he did, his words explained his hesitation. "I am -- not sure you are ready to hear it either."

Uh-oh. This sounded ominous. But I wasn't about to give up now.

"Try me."

"Very well. The time has come -- when my son must find his own way. If I am always -- here -- for him, he will not be able to do so."

"From what the Ancient told me, I gather he's already made his choice. He's decided to be Shaolin, hasn't he?"

"Yes. And his decision fills me with joy. However, to be Shaolin -- does not mean to be exactly like me."

"So? There's no way he could hope to do that anyway. Peter would never be able to take your place in this community."

"I -- know. But he thinks this is what I expect of him, -- so he must try, -- before he will be free to seek his own path."

"Why don't you just tell him that?" I suggested.

"I -- cannot always say to Peter what I wish to say. It is -- difficult. We are so close, -- and yet so far apart. Besides, -- it is a lesson he must learn for himself, -- before he will truly know it."

Caine's eyes glistened with what might have been unshed tears and his voice shook as he went on, "Unless a thing grows, it will stagnate and die. Now, Peter must grow, -- and he must do it without me. I must -- allow him the space he needs. But this is a -- hard lesson for a parent to learn."

I could understand that.

"I see what you mean. Beyond a certain point, you do someone no favor by helping them too much."

Caine nodded, but looked far from happy.

Well, I wasn't exactly happy about all this either. While I could understand his reasons, I wished desperately for something to say that would keep him here.

"So what about me? Who's going to teach me T'ai Chi, if you leave?"

I was grasping at straws, and I knew it.

"I am sure the Ancient will teach you." Caine studied me for a moment, in that intense way he has. "There is -- much he can teach you, if you are truly ready to learn."

He put his hand on my shoulder before saying gently, "Perhaps -- it would also be best for you to find your way -- without me -- for a time."

Ouch! That was obviously the part he wasn't sure I was ready to hear. Well, I had asked for it, hadn't I?

I lowered my head to hide the tears in my eyes. "Where exactly will you be then? Paris?"

"It is a -- destination and a starting point, but not an ending. Whether or not I find Laura, I also wish to see my father for a time at St. Adele. He is -- not getting any younger -- and there is much we should -- talk -- about."

I thought I detected a note of uncertainty as he said that, as if there were something between him and this father I had heard of but never met that made him uncomfortable.

On an impulse, I pulled out my wallet and grabbed a handful of bills. Holding them out to Caine, I said, "Here, take this. France is a long way off, and you can't walk across the Atlantic Ocean. This will at least get you started."

"I -- do not need -- money."

"I know. But take it anyway. This is the only thing I've got to give you."

Caine shook his head slowly, as if I should have known better. "It is not the -- only thing you have given me, Jeremy. You have taught me about being -- different -- in a way I had not thought about before."

He had to mean being gay, and all it entailed. Yeah, I guess I had taught him a little about that, hadn't I? But I couldn't help thinking that I hadn't taught him half as much about it as I'd have liked to. I'd have liked to --

No, forget it, you idiot. Don't even think it. You never told him how very much you wanted to screw him, and you never will.

"Jeremy, -- I -- know," Caine said softly, scaring the living daylights out of me by answering my unspoken thought. I pulled away from him in startlement, turning aside and carefully studying one of the scrolls on the wall.

Oh shit! Here it comes. He's going to tell me off for wanting him. After all, his evil half had had nothing but contempt for me, and that had to have come from some part of Caine's being. Now I've blown it completely.

I'm afraid I winced when he put his hand back on my shoulder and forced me to face him. "I have -- always known."

Worse and worse!

"I'm sorry," I apologized hastily, still not looking at him. "I never meant to offend you --"

"Why should I be offended by your desire for me?" I dared to look at him then. All I saw in his eyes was a hint of gentle amusement. "You have never -- come on to me, nor have you done anything to make me feel -- uncomfortable."

"It's okay, then?"

He shrugged. "Of course."

A huge weight fell off my soul and landed with an almost audible thump on the floor.

"Now, I must get some of my things from the attic," he went on, doing a quick change of subject as he indicated the ladder against the far wall. (Attic, huh? I had always wondered where that ladder went.) "My son -- will be here soon. I would like to speak with him -- alone."

I did my best to pull myself together.

"Okay. I can dig that. But you will come back, someday?"

"I will. Until then, know that I will always be with you," -- he waved one hand as if to encompass the entire community -- "with all of you. Good-bye, Jeremy."

He pulled me into a hug. I still had the money in my hand, so I slid it into his coat pocket, hoping he wouldn't notice until it was too late.

Fighting tears, I clung to him briefly, and then, as I had done once before under similar circumstances, I deliberately let him go and stepped back.

As I headed for the door, I saw Caine hop up onto the platform and start to climb the ladder in the corner. I barely made it out of the room before the tears overflowed and ran down my face. I had to stop for a moment to wipe my glasses. That's when I heard footsteps on the stairs beyond the outside door.

Shit! That had to be Peter. I really didn't want to run into him just now. I ducked quickly into Caine's meditation room, flattening myself against the wall just inside the entrance. As soon as Peter went by, I figured I could slip out and be gone.

I listened while rapid footsteps came down the short hallway. Then Peter's voice came to me clearly from the other room.

"Pop? Hey! Oh, you shaved your head."

"It was -- time. I was proud to see you -- with the brands on your arms. Do you not -- regret -- your decision?"

"Not for a minute. Why are you leaving?"

I was about to sneak around the edge of the door and make my getaway, really I was, but my curiosity got the better of me. After our discussion, I just had to see what Caine was going to say.

"Your -- mother -- may be alive."

He must have shown Peter the photo at that point because Peter said something about recognizing the cafe from a nightmare he'd had. They talked briefly about her being in the Bardo world, whatever that was. Then Caine said, "My son, -- you are the master now. I will be sitting -- at your feet."

Ha! I thought contemptuously, Not bloody likely! At least not as far as I'm concerned!

Caine went on, "Our journey together -- is ended."

Understandably, Peter objected to this abrupt dismissal. I almost thought Caine would break down and tell him more, but all he did was ask his son to take care of the place while he was gone.

Peter agreed. By now I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for the poor kid.

"But you will return?" he asked plaintively.

"I will. I will always hold you -- in my heart."

Of course, I couldn't see them but I'd lay odds Caine hugged Peter at that point.

It got quiet for a few moments. I was tempted to peek and find out what they were up to, but I didn't dare.

"Good-bye, my son," Caine said, his voice louder now, as if he'd gone over to the door. "I love you."

"I love you too."

I shrank closer to the wall, holding my breath and trying as best I could to blank my mind and erase my presence from whatever ambient mental vibrations Caine had the habit of picking up on. He moved almost soundlessly when he walked, but I knew he had to be just on the other side of the wall, maybe even taking a quick farewell glimpse into this room before he left. What if he walked in and discovered me hiding here?

He didn't. After an eternity, I heard the door at the end of the hall close softly. Caine was gone. If I got real lucky, I'd be able to leave without attracting Peter's attention.

All was quiet, so I dared a look around the door jamb. No one in sight. Good. I slipped out into the hall. Only part of the other room was visible, but it was enough for me to see that Peter had gone out on the balcony. I tiptoed rapidly down the hall and out the door, breathing a sigh of relief as I closed it behind me. I headed down the stairwell, glad to have made my escape undetected.

As I went down the first flight, I realized the dusty little window on the landing looked out on the street where Caine had to come out, if he hadn't gotten too far ahead of me.

I hurried over, leaning close against the dirty glass in order to get the right angle. Sure enough, there he was standing in the snow-covered street, his duffel bag over one shoulder and his flute on his back, wearing his familiar hat and coat. He stopped short and looked back up at his balcony. Perhaps Peter had called down to him?

He smiled and shrugged. Although I could barely hear his voice, I could see his mouth so I'm pretty sure he said, "Come to Chinatown. Ask for Caine."

"He will help you," I filled in for myself, knowing that would have to be Peter's reply.

Caine turned and began walking down the crowded street. And there was nothing I could do to call him back.

I clenched my hands into fists and jammed them into my coat pockets, in order to avoid driving them through the window glass out of sheer frustration. The feel of crushed paper beneath one hand reminded me of that job in Alaska. I didn't have to nurture this hurt. I could still put all this behind me, if I truly wanted to. I could do as Caine had done and just leave.

I shook my head slightly, my eyes never leaving Caine's back as he continued on down the street.

Perhaps some people find what they need by going and some by staying. I thought this time maybe I'd try staying.

After all, he might well come back some day. I had said good-by to him once before and never figured to see him again, so I guess you can never be certain what the future will bring. He might come back. But then again, he might not. I guess I've got to be prepared for that possibility too.

I could hardly see him now, for all the people rushing to and fro. If he hadn't been taller than most of them, I'd have lost track of him already.

With my forehead pressed against the cold windowpane, I kept watching until he disappeared from sight.


Good-bye, Kwai Chang Caine. Because of you, I learned a lot of things. Because of you, I survived depression and despair, and discovered a new path. Because of you, I regained my honor and my sense of worth. I'll hear your words in my head for the rest of my life, and I'll remember always what it felt like when you hugged me. I won't forget, not the good times or the bad. Whether or not you ever walk back into my life, I won't forget any of it. Go in peace and honor, my Master and my friend.


And come back soon. Remember, you promised.

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