Characters: Kwai Chang Cane and Peter Caine

Warnings: None

Short Story: A conversation between the Ancient and the new Shaolin Priest leads to discovery.

Author: Alisa Joaquin

Disclaimer: All characters are borrowed except those created by me. All other characters (from KF:TLC and we know who they are) are property of Warner Brothers. I promise to give them back when I am done with them (of course I do not know how long that will be.) I give permission to archive.

Timeline: This story takes place just a few days after Caine left in Requiem

Peter sat on the mat in the meditation space and looked at the brands now adorning his forearms. He really had not realized just what would have happen if he had taken the brands earlier at the Tao Temple. All the brands had meant for him, at that time, was an indication that person was Shaolin. In truth, he had feared what might happen if he had. He'd had no idea just what happened during a branding. Seeing those red hot images on the sides of the charcoal filled cauldron had only fueled his fear; reminding him of the flames that had destroyed his temple home so many years ago. He now knew his decision not to take the brands then had been right. He had not been ready. Now, once done, it had been so easy, but why had he not understood this before? Because he had been too stubborn to listen. His father had always said he would know what his destiny was, and he had been right. Still, something puzzled him.

"You are troubled, young Shaolin."

Peter looked up to see Lo Si enter with a tray. He placed the tray down in front of the young Shaolin and sat on the floor next to him.

"You wish to know why I could not help your father."

"Yes," Peter said, no longer surprised that the older priest could read him so well.

"I, myself, had gone through what your father initiated. To renew his chi, he would need the assistance of a newly made priest. Only you could have done that."

"But why?" Peter asked, his brow wrinkling in consternation.

"When a priest is newly made from taking the brands, his chi is at its most potent. In truth, it does not matter if you are the son or even the father. What matters is that your chi was at its highest level of awareness."

"I still don't understand why it had to be me and not you," Peter stated.

"Because I am dying, Peter."

Peter Caine stared at the old priest stunned. No, it just couldn't be true. He shut his eyes tight and shook his head to dispell the disbelief and the rising emotions.

Lo Si lifted the young priest's head and stared deeply into his friend's eyes and sorrow filled his soul. How could he explain to the boy without hurting him further. He knew, however, that there would be no other time.

"Peter, you must listen. What I am about to say will be difficult. I do not have much time, perhaps a few months as best. I cannot leave from this earth without your forgiveness, knowing what I did to hurt you. You must believe me when I tell you that it was the only way."

"Hurt me, Lo Si? You never hurt me."

"Yes, I did. Many years ago," Lo Si's voice fell to a whisper.

"What are you talking about? I've only known you for about four years."

"You have known me longer than that, young Caine. Reach out with your chi and you will know the truth."

Peter did as the old priest instructed and was suddenly aware of just who sat next to him. 'No, it can't be. Ping Hai?'

The Ancient could sense the rising confusion and anger taking over the young priest's emotions. He knew this was a possibility, but he had had to take the risk. He knew that he would not have been able to remain hidden from the newly-made Shaolin for long. Eventually, Peter would have discovered the truth. This way, Ping Hai, once Lo Si, could now die in peace, but he was not prepared for the sudden onslaught of emotions that now faced him.

"Why!?!" Peter bursted, his emotions a torrential flood.

"You know why," Ping Hai said calmly. "To protect you and your father from Tan's retribution. And to protect myself."

"Yourself?!"

"Tan knew that I was alive along with the other priests who had survived the destruction. If there was any chance that he could discover that you or your father still lived, he would have found a way. The other priests scattered, hiding themselves. Some went to the Tao Temple, taking what students remained to protect them as well. A few remained in California. Only one other came with me here, to this city, bringing what artifacts we could for protection."

"Master Kahn," Peter replied.

"Yes."

Peter listened, but the ache in his heart at the deception threatened to blacken his world.

"Peter, remember that I told you that one day, father and son would reunite?"

"Yeah, I remember. I thought you meant after I died."

"I did not. I knew there were others who were watching the grave site. When I said that many monks were buried in that place, your father included, it was only so that whoever was listening would believe that your father was gone. When I also placed you in that orphange, it was to keep Tan from finding you. They knew you lived. If you had resumed your training, you would have been seen as a threat. I knew there would be someone who could help you when the time was right. Your father also lived, but I could not risk taking you to him. By his own accord, he decided to leave, thinking there was nothing for him there. I told him things would work out, though I knew that he did not believe me. For many years, I had heard rumors of your father's wanderings. I knew he was near from another and hoped that he would come, but I did not know if he would stay. When I saw him come to Chinatown, I knew it was time to reunite father and son. The business with Tan was merely coincidental in helping to bring both of you back together. If it had not been Tan, it would have been someone else. Please believe me. I did not wish to hurt you."

"Yeah, right," Peter said. "Well it did hurt. You lied to me. You left me in an orphanage. You could have sent me to the Tao Temple, too. The students and the other monks were the only other "family" I had. You took that away from me just as much as Tan had taken my father. And I don't believe it for one moment that you're dying. That's probably a lie as well."

Suddenly, Ping Hai cried out and grabbed his chest. He slumped to the floor, his face a mask of pain. Alarmed, Peter was quickly by his side. No! Maybe Ping Hai was telling the truth. Maybe he was dying. He cannot die. Not now.

"No!. Please, don't die. Ping Hai, I'm sorry. Please." Peter pleaded, believing what he had said had brought on the attack.

"Peter," Ping Hai reached for Peter's hand. "Please, forgive." Then Ping Hai's hand went limp.

Peter was stricken with grief. "No!" Without realizing it, he had grown to love the old priest like a grandfather. He could not face losing him a second time. Peter lifted the still form into his arms and rushed to the back of the apartment. He placed the Ancient on the raised platform, placed a pillow under his head, and covered him with a blanket. Then he ran to the shelves containing his father's herbs and scanned them urgently. Without knowing how or where it came from, Peter grabbed the proper herbs and roots that were needed and began mixing them. After he was through, he went over to the Ancient, checked his pulse and found it thready and weak. He opened the Ancient's mouth and, with his free hand, grabbed a pinch of the mixture and placed it under Ping Hai's tongue. All that was now needed was to wait. He only hoped that he had acted in time.

Peter sat by the Ancient for what seemed like hours. He had nearly fallen asleep when he became aware that the old apothecary was finally stirring.

"Lo Si . . . ugh . . . Ping Hai? Please be all right. I'm sorry."

Ping Hai turned his head and saw the stricken look in the young Shaolin's eyes.

"Does this mean I am forgiven?"

"Yeah. I . . . can't lose you, too. I need you to teach me how to be an apothecary."

A single tear fell from the Ancient's old eyes as the weight of so many years of guilt and pain lifted from his heart. He would heal now. The danger was passed. The young Shaolin had passed this test and would soon pass many more. Like so many before him, he would prove to be a very worthy priest, and someday, like his father, a Shambhala Master as well. When that day would come, Ping Hai hoped he would be there to see it.

End