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Subject: Connected (Part 4)
Date: Mon, 3 Mar 1997 02:19:25 -0600
Message-ID: <19970303081907343.AAB174@denp1-29.iglobal.net>

CONNECTED (Sequel to Third Time's a Charm) - Part 4
by Deb Parizek and Rhonda Hallstrom

Bright sunlight streaming in the window pulled Peter out of deep slumber.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. "Overslept....Why didn't Pop wake me?"
Throwing off the covers, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His
feet touched carpet, then, glancing around, he recognized his surroundings.
"Home....Oh, yeah, we got back last night," he reminded himself.

Reaching out, he picked up his watch from the nightstand. It read 7:10 a.m.
Since it was a rare treat, given his rigorous training schedule at the
temple, to relax in bed in the morning, Peter sank back onto the mattress
and settled the covers over himself. Gazing at the ceiling, his mind
automatically
cleared and his eyes closed. He easily attained a meditative state.

Then, the psychic residue in his environment began to trickle into his
awareness.

The bed was not the peaceful place of rest it should be. A great deal of
physical pain was trapped within the mattress and his body responded. Both
shoulders, his right side and his head began to throb in sympathy for the
work-related injuries which had forced him to recuperate here in the past.

Sinking deeper into the trance, going beyond the physical, brought a dark
void to his attention. As he learned at the temple, Peter explored the
darkness. It swallowed him up and deposited him back at the temple where he
spent the early part of his life... and into the firey hell it had become
one fateful night....

     Explosions rocked the floor. Brick and mortar rained down from above.
     Smoke blackened the air. Men shouted. Men fought all around him.

     His friend, Dennis, lay unmoving at his feet. Coughing, he squatted down
     and maneuvered the unconscious boy onto his own adult shoulder.

     Rising with his burden, Peter surveyed the area for an escape route.
     He spied several of the other students running for the exit leading to
     the garden. He decided to follow.

     Fate had other plans.

     A powerful explosion shook the foundation. Peter fell, dropping Dennis
     beside him. A beam pinned him in place...

     He looked up into Pin Hi's skeletal face, his question obvious to the
     old man. "I am sorry, young Peter. Your father did not survive. Neither
     did any of the other boys."

     He rolled onto his side, back to the ancient one, chastizing himself.
     "I couldn't save my father...I couldn't save Dennis...I couldn't save
      any of them....

With a jolt, Peter returned to the present. *Guess I still have some things
to work out there.* He breathed deeply to calm his racing heart. *Time to
get up.*

Fate had other plans for him on this day as well.

A subconscious shift put his awareness outside his body and he stood looking
down at his stationary form lying on the bed. A silver cord extended from
the body's navel to his spirit back. As long as he was attached thusly to
his body, he knew he could return safely.

"You just don't GET it, do you, Peter?!"

Peter oriented on the voice. It came from a semi-transparent Kelly, who was
standing beside the open closet door, clothes draped over her arm.

"We agreed to an open relationship. What are you so pissed about?"

Peter looked to his left and saw himself, also semi-transparent, standing
about two feet in from the bedroom door.

"NO! You AGREED. I DIDN'T!" Kelly spat at him. "I've HAD it and I'm LEAVING!"

"FINE!" Peter yelled back at her. "Don't be here when I get back!"

Peter watched himself turn and stride out of the room. A slam of the front
door, five seconds later, punctuated his relationship with Kelly Blake.

*Whew!* Peter sighed. *Nice vibes in here!* He stepped away from the bed,
before becoming consciously aware of it, and discovered he was curious about
what he would find in the rest of his apartment. He stepped across the
bedroom threshold....

And into gunfire.

He reacted by jumping back into the bedroom, putting his back against the
wall and grabbing for the gun that used to be holstered on the right side of
his belt. Not finding his weapon gave him pause -  enough for it to sink in
that he was witnessing an event from the past. Amused, he moved forward
and viewed the action from the bedroom doorway.

Two men in suits stood at the end of the short hallway into his apartment.
They fired .45 automatics at his tipped-over dining room table. Kelly was
sobbing as she endeavored to melt into the couch.

*Some cop she was....* he scoffed.

The men ceased fire and relaxed. Peter felt their confidence, certain that
their target had been killed. So did his other self, who had been waiting
for an opportunity to return fire from behind the table. He watched as the
other Peter broke over and fired. The man closest to Peter the observer was
thrown back against the wall, a crimson stain spreading across his chest.
The other bad guy turned and high-tailed it out of the apartment. Peter
watched himself comfort Kelly as their images faded away.

A click to his right caught Peter's attention. While he watched, his front
door opened. Through it, he could see the real door was still closed. A
see-through Patrick Michael Epstein peeked in then entered, putting his
lockpick back into its case.

*Eppy? When did he break in here?*

Eppy walked in, obviously checking the abode for the one who paid the rent.
"Peter? Yo-hoo?" Eppy looked into the bedroom, right through Peter of the
future. Peter suppressed an urge to speak to his former partner.

Not finding whom he sought, Eppy crossed to the living room chair, picked up
the newspaper and sat down. A second later, a knock sounded on the door.

"It's open," Eppy called as he turned the page of the paper.

Peter, from his position in the bedroom doorway, saw the see-through door
open again. A ghostly image of his father walked in and closed the door
behind himself. As Caine strode slowly down the hallway, he stopped and
looked the disembodied Peter in the eye. Peter smiled. After his Pop turned
away, Peter thought, *I'm finally going to see what went down between these
two.* Neither of them had been willing to share details of the incident with
him when he had questioned them about it.

Eppy spoke. "I didn't want to wait in the hall. You and I gotta talk,
Partner." Looking over his shoulder, Eppy saw Caine and rose quickly from
the comfort of the chair. "Who the HELL are you?" He challenged the man
unknown to him. Peter could feel Eppy's cop instincts kicking in, especially
the one about protecting your partner.

Caine stepped closer, bowed and said softly, "I am Caine."

Eppy looked confused and shrugged. "Caine what?" After a short pause, he
made the connection. "Caine? You related to Petey?"

Caine bowed again and replied, "I am his father."

"Ah ha, so you're the guy, huh? The one who walked out on him," Eppy accused
as he turned away and moved to the nearby model train layout.

Eppy's sudden dislike and suspicion regarding Cine filled the room. Those
feelings washed over Peter, prompting him to speak. "Eppy, NO. It wasn't
like that. I was-" Neither of his 'guests' acknowledged his words.

Caine joined Epstein at the train set as he explained. "We were separated. I
thought he was dead."

"Yeah? Well, Eppy's law number three....Excuses are like butts. Everybody's
got one and they all stink," Epstein informed him. Then, angry, he told
Caine, "Some kids you leave. I know I got three of 'em in Baltimore and
they're all scum."

Peter saw his father, head down, idly right an upset Amoco sign on the train
set. The pain his father felt reached him and he felt guilt well up inside
his chest. The things he had told Eppy of his past - clouded with his
childhood impressions - caused Eppy's strong reaction to his father. "Cool
it, Eppy," he suggested.

Eppy paid him no heed and continued on his tirade. "Peter's a good kid. Him,
you shouldn't have left."

A third time, the see-through door opened. This time, Peter watched as he,
looking mighty depressed, entered. His own emotions -  anger, self-loathing
and fear - pelted him. He had just shot the innocent bystander in the
supermarket while attempting to nab Stella and the Green Hornet and he had
been questioning his ability to be a cop.

Eppy, happy to get away from Caine, pounced on the upset and now, startled,
young detective. "Where you been? I been lookin' for you." He grabbed Peter
and continued, encouraging Peter to the door, "You got what I need. You saw
Stella and the Green Hornet so it's you and me, kid, back out on the street.
C'mon, let's go."

Peter knew how the rest of this scenario played out so, concentrating, he
cut off the images. *This place needs an exorcism...definitely!*

Retracing his steps, Peter returned to the side of his unmoving body.
Calming himself, he sat down on the bed then shifted to lay down.
Superimposing his soul on top of his body would allow him to reinhabit the
earthly form. As seconds passed in silent darkness, he began to experience
physical sensations.

A panicked scream shattered the silence and, in the blink of an eye, Peter
was at the woman's side to assist.

He surveyed the surroundings. The woman, about his age, had been forced into
an alley. Peter thought the alley seemed familiar. A young man carrying a
purse was running away from her.

Peter recognized the purse snatcher. *Well, well, if it isn't Jimmy Johnson.
Still a petty thief, I see.*

Jimmy halted ten yards from his victim, and looked, awestruck, back. "Huh?"

*I'll see you later, kid,* Peter told him, then turned his attention back to
the woman.

Jimmy glared at her, long enough for his face to be imprinted on her mind.
Deciding she was not the one who threatened him, he ran off.

*Now, calm down,* Peter advised the frightened woman. *Take a deep breath.*

The woman looked towards him, though unable to see him, and inhaled. She
exhaled slowly, then repeated the process.

In the meantime, Peter checked out the street. People hustled to and fro.
Cars zoomed by. He recognized one car parked in front of a nearby shop. He
returned to the woman.

*Okay, now go back to the street. To the right is the Bun King Bakery. Go
inside and ask to call the police.* Peter instructed.

She took another deep breath then walked in the indicated direction. Peter
followed. After reaching the alley's mouth, she turned right, as she had
been told, and entered the bakery. Inside, she walked up to the counter. A
woman in a navy suit was placing an order.

"Two of the double chocolate and..."

"M-may I use the ph-phone?" She inquired, interrupting.

The customer put down her coffee and turned her attention to the obviously
frightened woman. "Are you alright, ma'am?"

"M-my purse...stolen...." She pointed at the bakery door. "H-have to call
the police."

"Consider them called, ma'am," the woman said as she reached into a jacket
pocket. She pulled out a wallet, which she opened to reveal a badge.
"Detective Jody Powell, 101st precinct."

Peter smiled as he watched from a position just inside the door.
The woman was in good hands. *Thanks, Jody.*

Jody swung her gaze toward the shop entrance, thinking she had heard her
name spoken. Seeing no one standing there, Jody, with a slight shake of her
blond curls, focused again on the victim. "Did you get a good look at the
person who stole your purse?"

As he was about to leave the confines of the bakery, movement in the back by
the rows of freshly baked bread caught Peter's eye. He relocated to that
area. There stood his father and himself. He was pressing his lips to his
father's forehead after their discussion of his Persian Flaw.

*Why did I fight everything my father stood for so hard?* Peter, the spirit,
asked himself. A few seconds passed as he pondered the question. *I was
afraid...* He realized.

With a sudden laugh, the memory of how he had distracted the bad guys in the
back room surfaced in Peter's mind. *This I GOTTA see... * He thought as he
shifted his location to the storage area, where he found himself naked but
(or butt) for cowboy boots, hanging on a stand holding trays of bread. He
could taste the bread his previous self munched upon.

As he watched, the baddies pushed Eppy, Skalany and his father into the
room. Everyone froze at the sight of him unclothed.

"Ya gotta help me, man," past-Peter mumbled. "It's freezin' out there!" He
pointed to the outside.

"Get him outta here!" Stella screamed.

Two of her accomplices moved forward to carry out her instructions. Caine
went on the offensive, knocking the rifle from the hands of the one holding
his arm. Eppy socked a couple of the bad guys while Skalany flipped one over
her hip and disarmed him.

Peter saw himself step away from tray holder, fire twice then duck behind
the rows of freshly-baked bread for cover. A second later, rounds shot from
the uzi Stella carried, pinged off the tray holders behind him.

The melee continued until Caine, using his Qi Gong technique, took Stella
out of action and Peter, using a little brute force, took out the Green Hornet.

The good guys - Eppy, Skalany, Caine and past-Peter - gathered around the
fallen criminals. After checking for a pulse on one of the down men, Eppy
exited to call an ambulance. Skalany cuffed Stella.

Standing next to Peter, who still wore nothing but boots and a smile but
held a strategically positioned apron in front of himself, Caine said,
"Perhaps the Persian Flaw in your character has something to do with
exhibitionism?"

The ghostly Peter replied with a question and a smirk. "Well, it worked,
didn't it?"

Skalany put an end to the debate. Looking up at the two Caines, she joked,
"Put your apron on or you'll scare the horses."

*What the hell was I thinkin'?* current-Peter asked himself, rhetorically,
as the vision ceased. Fatigued but feeling good about his experiences, he
willed himself back to his apartment. Just as he was about to re-enter his
body, he sensed danger. Focusing on the feeling, he let it carry him to its
location and found himself in the backseat of Mary Margaret Skalany's car.
She was driving. TJ sat in the passenger seat.

"We're gonna be late for the meet, Mary Margaret," TJ remarked, anxious.

"I know, I know," Skalany replied, applying more pressure to the gas pedal.
"How was I supposed to predict there would be a traffic accident on our route?"

"I'm sorry," TJ said. "Just hurry it up a bit. We can't afford to let this
informant slip through our fingers."

As she stepped down on the accelerator, Peter's sense of danger increased. A
picture of the car blackened and burning formed in his mind's eye. *Damn!
There's a bomb...probably rigged to explode at a certain speed.* He checked
the speedometer - fifty-four - then leaned close to his former co-worker's
ear. *Mary Margaret, slow down. The car is rigged to explode.*

Fifty-five.

*Mary Margaret, listen to me...SLOW DOWN!*

Fifty-seven.

*Damnit, Skalany, SLOW DOWN NOW!!*

Fifty-nine.

*POP!! HELP ME!*

Peter felt his father's gentle touch on his mind and telepathically
explained the situation in less than a heartbeat. Caine joined his chi to
Peter's and Peter spoke again. *MARY MARGARET, PULL OVER AND STOP!*

Sixty.

Mary Margaret blinked and removed her foot from the pedal. As the car
slowed, she pulled off the road.

"What the HELL are you doing?" TJ asked angrily.

Skalany looked confusedly at TJ once the car stopped rolling. "Something's
wrong...I-"

Peter still felt the danger. *SHIT! The bomb's on a timer. Skalany, get out
of the car! DO IT!!! RUN!!!*

"Get out of the car, TJ. NOW!" Skalany told her partner, opening her door.

The expression she wore told TJ she was not kidding so he swung open the
door and jumped out. Instinct prompted both of them to run away from the car
on a perpendicular courses.

*Son, we must go also....*

Peter focused on Skalany, then found himself at her side.

Three seconds later, the car was a smoking, burning hunk of junk.

TJ, skirting the car after the flames had died down a bit, joined Mary
Margaret. "How did you know?"

A shocked Skalany replied, "I do not know...."

Disaster avoided, a relieved Peter felt a pull toward his body. He relaxed
and let himself reinhabited his body. Still in the meditative state, he felt
his father's presence.

*You have done well, my son.* Caine told him, his happiness at the safety of
Mary Margaret obvious to Peter.

*Thanks for your help, Pop!*

*The outcome is thanks enough. You should rest now.*

*I will take it easy.*

*What are your plans for the day, son?*

*I am going to see Mom, then go to the precinct.*

*Ah....Please give my regards to your family.*

*I will.*

Caine slipped out of Peter's mind and the intensity of their contact
diminished, back to a state where Peter could tell his father was alive and
well. Now, he knew how his Pop had kept tabs on him all that time.

Despite a slight weariness upon coming out of the trance, Peter rose,
showered, shaved and dressed. It felt great to have a hot shower, then slide
into REAL clothes. For old times' sake, he even donned his cowboy boots.

*****
TO BE CONTINUED!