Title: accidentally in love

Author: Lady Charena

Fandom: Kung Fu – the legend continues

Codes: R, KFF/f, [P/P indicated]

Sum: “the tide” from KF-TOS is one of my favourite eps. Watching it I started to think about letting “our” Caine from TLC meet a descendant from Su Yen could prove a… fascinating… experience. Well, maybe Peter’s is going to throttle me…<g>

Disclaimer: This story’s mine, but I do not intend to touch the rights of the owner of the characters from KF-TLC I’ve used. No moneymaking, no offence meant. Lyrics from “Counting Crows”.

“…what's the problem I don't know
Well maybe I'm in love
Think about it every time
I think about it
Can't stop thinking 'bout it

How much longer will it take to cure this
Just to cure it cause I can't ignore it if it's love
Makes me wanna turn around and face me but I don't know nothing 'bout love…”

“Pop, you there?” I cheerfully bounce into the room, half expecting to see Pop sit on the floor in meditation or at the workbench, grinding herb into one of his awfully tasting remedies. But he’s not in here. Okay, think again, Caine. My dad’s near, this much I can feel. Maybe he’s in the attic crawlspace or out at the balcony, tending his plants. Christ, I ‘should’ be able to tell it, Pop’s been teaching me to use our connection. Why can’t I… maybe I’m just damn too dumb to…

“You are not dumb, my son.”

Startled I jerk around to face my father. Obviously he appeared out of thin air. Hands neatly folded at the waist, he looks at me with that non-expression expression of his and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. I silently count to ten, willing my heartbeat to slow down. Will I ever get used to this?

My father shrugs. “I must apologize, I did not meant to startle you.”

“I’m not…” Lifting my hands in frustration, I stop myself. He’ll never understand why his words sometimes drive me mad. Neither do I. “Okay, just don’t do it again, Pop.”

I never see him move just feel the sting of the non-too-gentle slap.

“Do not call me ‘Pop’.” His long finger pointes accusingly at me, but he can’t trick me – I see the amused twinkle in his eyes as he runs his knuckles along my cheek, soothing the smarting skin.

I can’t help myself but grin madly. That’s my Pop - from stern master to loving father in one second. I love him so much. “Pushing the lesson in?” I ask innocently and grab his hand to kiss palm before he can retreat it.

He shakes his head, giving a mock sound of despair. “With little effect, my son, or am I amiss?”

His eyes soften and he smiles openly at me. I haul him into a fierce hug, closing my lids I bury my face in his neck, to breath deep his unique scent. After a second of hesitation - maybe I startled him – Pop’s arms come around me, pulling me even closer to him. I could stay this way a very long time. One of his hands travels along my back, rubbing little soothing circles, massaging a tension away I hadn’t been aware of till now. As his gentle fingers reach my neck I feel his breath at the side of my face, his mouth is close to my ear, as he softly says my name. “Peter.”

There’s an edge of something in it, I can’t identify. An underlying tone vibrates in Pop’s voice. Maybe he just wants me to let him go. With a sigh, I lift my head and wait for his arms to release me. Instead he pushes my face gently back to his shoulder and continues to caress my neck. I relax against him and let his strength support me. Warmth encloses my whole being and penetrates even the little icy block of nightmares in my soul, hidden in a dark recess along with memories, many of them even worse than the nightmares, because they really happened.

I wish I could stay in his arms forever. To feel his hands, his fingers on my skin, every angle, and plane of his body pressed to mine. Granted one wish I would transport us to a faraway planet, to a world for only the two of us, with the freedom to… I stop it and feel a twinge of panic. He reads my thoughts so easily – even at a distance – I wonder what he picks up from me now?

I grit my teeth, gently slip out of his arms and hastily retreat a step. Pop watches me, head bent to one side like a listening bird, his eyes puzzled. A shadow crosses his features and I have to look away. As my eyes return to his face, his expression is back to normal. But I feel like I disappointed him somehow. I wish I could reach for him, take him back in my arms, and tell him that I… love him. Christ, what’s happening to me? He is my FATHER, for heavens sake! I shouldn’t even think about wanting more from him.

I can’t… I close my eyes to avoid his gaze, can’t stand the raw tenderness in the hazel orbs no longer. I desire him with every fibre of my body and soul. Kwai Chang Caine. My father. I want him to touch me like I never allowed any other man to touch me. I want to take him to bed and never let go of him ago. I want to taste his skin and I want to feel his body writhe in ecstasy beneath mine. I want to unleash that passion I know he hides deep inside. Want to break his amazing control of his, until he begs and cries my name…

“Peter.”

Startled I snap out of my thoughts. Pop’s watching me and I blush furiously. “Äh, sorry. Got carried away,” I mumble.

“So I see,” he says, his voice filled with something I cannot identify. Again. “Is there a special reason you did seek me out, my son?”

I bite down onto my lower lip and run my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, actually there is. I wanted to… invite you to go with me to a reading.”

“A... reading?”

“Yes. A Chinese writer is in town to present her newest book. It’s a translation of old Chinese poems. They’re from her great-grandfather, or so. Must have been pretty famous around your grandfather’s time. I’m assigned to security and I thought you might enjoy to come along.”

“I am honoured to accompany you.” Pop bows his head, but I can see in his eyes I pleased him.

“Good.” I take a deep breath. “I’ll pick you up, tomorrow night at six.”

“I will be ready.”

“I know you will.” With a smile, I take Pop’s face in my hands and drop a kiss to his forehead.

I turn to go and feel his eyes burn holes in my back. Must be my imagination…

* * *

“…so I said I'm a snowball running
Running down into the spring that's coming all this love
Melting under blue skies
Belting out sunlight
Shimmering love

Well baby I surrender
To the strawberry ice cream
Never ever end of all this love
Well I didn't mean to do it
But there's no escaping your love

These lines of lightning
Mean we're never alone,
Never alone, no, no

Come on, Come on
Move a little closer
Come on, Come on
I want to hear you whisper
Come on, Come on
Settle down inside my love…”

Shortly after five I’m standing in front of the building my father lives. Bit early, but I know he won’t mind. Pop’s might even be ready and waiting for me – but I hesitate to leave the car. Leaning my forehead against the steering wheel, I close my eyes to concentrate on my breath. I’m way to nervous and I’m sure my dad’s going to sense it, if I don’t cool down a bit.

“Peter? You are very tense.”

I gasp, jerking my head away from my father’s hand, gently massaging my neck. “Damn, P…Dad. Don’t do this!” I laugh nervously and run my finger trough my hair. “One day you’ll give me… never mind.” I’ll never understand how he does this, I didn’t hear him open the door nor see him slip in. I turn to look through the windshield, avoiding the too-much-seeing eyes of my Dad. “I’m a bit early I know – you ready to go?”

Form the corner of my eyes I see Pop lift his hand as if to touch me – but then he drops it. He turns half to fasten his seat belt. “Yes, my son.”

I bite my lower lip, both relieved and embarrassed. I know I’ve hurt him somehow. Pop doesn’t say word during the ride and as I look at him, he’s relaxed in his seat, eyes closed.

* * *

The reading takes place in a hotel and for a second I’m remembering Carolyn’s wedding… Flashing my badge to the guard at the entrance, I steer Pop inside. Spotting Jody across the room I hurl a: “Just wait here for me, Pop, will you?” to my father before I make my way through the gathered crowed. Suddenly someone steps in my way and I react too late, knocking the young woman over. A bundle of loose sheets goes flying in a flurry of white.

“Sorry… I didn’t see you.” I reach for her, but she refuses to take my hand and comes elegantly to her feet. Embarrassed I bent and start to pick up the papers.

“Who would have guessed you did.” Her sarcastic replay doesn’t surprise me at all…

I press the bundle papers in her arms. “Look; I already said I’m sorry. I’m in a hurry.”

“So am I, Mr…?” She shifts the sheets to get them back in order.

“Detective Peter Caine, 101^st precinct. I’m here for security.”

She looks at me and for a moment, I think I can read surprise in her cool, grey eyes. “Caine?” she repeats with an odd tone. “I am Su Clary. And I suppose I am late for the presentation of my own book.” With this, she slips around me and vanishes in the crowd.

Well, writer’s probably all the same! At least her book will not draw assassins. Or so I hope. I catch Jody giving me signs to come over to her and continue my way – more carefully now.

* * *

Caine:

After the reading, I find myself away from the admirers gathering in front of the table where the author signs her books. I politely decline the offer of something to drink from a servant and look for my son. Two men in police uniforms corner Peter, who wears a consenting smile on his face. Obviously, he sees no way to stop the endless stream of words from one of the man. I hide my amusement. My impatient son will find it very hard to resign himself to simply listen. I feel his strong desire to get away and to return to my side. It pleasures me beyond measurement that he rather chooses to be with me than with his colleagues. As he feels my eyes on him, Peter looks into my direction – and for a second there is naked longing and love in his gaze, quickly covered. He is ashamed by what he feels. My sweet, fragile boy… he does not know he is not alone in his desire. The time has not yet arrived for me to let my heart speak to him, there is so much we both have to learn first. Yes, I am quite aware of the depth of his feelings for me. Peter is frightened and insecure and any encouragement from my side would be wrong. He does not know how hard he tries my control…

I return my attention to the people surrounding me, most of them carrying a copy of Su Clary’s book. How many of them will be able to look beyond the beauty of the words and discover the deep wisdom behind them? It must be interesting to read the original manuscript, not the obviously modernized version.

Suddenly I feel a surge of energy coming across the room and into my direction. Slowly I turn and face a young woman I recognize as the writer Su Clary. Cool grey eyes meet mine with an interest I find slightly disturbing. Her short, deep black, glossy hair and the shape of her eyes speak of Chinese ancestry. There is a familiarity in her features I cannot identify. Did we meet before? However, I cannot recall when or where. I politely bow to her.

“Did you enjoy the reading?” she asks, her voice strangely devoid of any feeling. Tension is only shown in the setting of her shoulders. Before the morning, she will suffer of a sore neck because of her cramped muscles.

“The poems of your ancestor are rich of beauty and wisdom,” I answer slowly. “However I believe they lose in translation.”

Su Clary smiles. “I know, but the poems were originally written in an old, these days little known dialect. It took me years to find someone to teach me to read them so I could translate them.” Her intense, grey eyes shift, she glances around the room and seems to reach a decision. “If you are interested I can show you a copy of the originals I have taken with me from Belgium, where I live. They are in my room.” Her eyes return to me, now warmed by a smile. “And I could really need a break.”

“I would be honoured,” I answer. “As a child and youth I lived in China and came across some old dialects. But I am here with my son, first I must inform him that I leave or he will worry.”

She follows my eyes and looks sharply at Peter. “Detective Caine is your son?” she asks with a hint of disbelief in her voice.

Puzzled I turn to face her once more. “Yes.”

“So your name is Caine also?”

I nod and wonder why she almost seems startled.

“Caine as in Kwai Chang Caine?”

Again, I nod. “Yes, this is my name.”

She shakes her head as if to get free from an unwanted thought. “Please, tell your son where you will go. I think we need to talk.”

With a bow to her, I cross the room to inform Peter. I see relief mingled with joy in his eyes as I join him and his colleagues. Maybe he hopes I will ‘free’ him but I have no such intention. I apologize for the interruption and tell Peter that I will talk with Su Clary, then I leave him to his colleagues and friends. The arrival of Jody Powell and Thomas Jefferson Kincaid giving me the opportunity to leave Peter without an argument. I recognize Peter’s disappointment - I know he planned to have my attention all to himself the whole evening – and silently promise not to spent too much time with the writer, before returning to Peter.

* * *

Su Clary is waiting for me near the elevator. We ride in silence to her room, where she at once hurries to a suitcase, sitting on a table. She retrieves a folder and returns to me. Instead of handing the folder over, she looks at me. “I wonder if we have met before.”

“I can not answer to this question,” I say after some hesitation. “I also sense an air of familiarity with you, but I do not know of its origin.”

“Maybe we have met in another life.” Su Clary breaks the tension, suddenly vibrating in the silence of the room and opens the folder. Skipping through the pages, she finally selects one sheet she gives to me. “This is one of the poems my grandmother loved most,” she explains. “Her father wrote it shortly before he was imprisoned by the Emperor. I decided against publishing it too.”

Still puzzled I take the sheet. The dialect is really old and rare and it takes me some moments before I am able to read it. "To be alone, without one to love, is a waste of the body. To be not alone, without one to love, is a waste of the soul." The words sound oddly familiar and I know I have read them before – in my grandfather’s journal. I lift my eyes to meet the curious gaze of Su Clary.

“You have read this before?”

“Yes.” Involuntarily my hand reaches for the satchel I decided against to take with me tonight. However, the journals are safe in Peter’s apartment. “In a journal my grandfather left to my family. But I do not understand how this can be possible.”

“You have been named after your grandfather Kwai Chang,” Su says quietly. “As I have been named after my grandmother Su Yen. My grandmother left the West at the beginning of the new century with her husband, to live in England. The only things she took with her, were the books of her father, a journal she kept since she left China and a battered poster, a… warrant of apprehension note, stating that one Kwai Chang Caine was searched for murder.”

“My grandfather.” I blink and wonder about the meaning of this. “I remember an entry in his journal about meeting a woman Su Yen Li. She gave him shelter and tended to a wound he received in a shooting.”

“She loved him.”

“He… also felt greatly for her.” I return my eyes to the poem. “Su Yen asked him to leave without her, she feared for his safety.”

“She never forgave herself for her betray.”

“Su Yen,” I say almost without knowing it and hear a soft gasp. I look at Su Yen Clary. Her eyes are closed, her face very pale and she sways lightly. I steer her to a nearby chair and gently urge her to sit down. “You are obviously not feeling well.”

“I… do not know. I feel strange…. I am dizzy. For a moment, I thought I would lose consciousness.. “

I reach for her face, touch her temple, and then lay my fingers against her throat to check her pulse. Her skin feels unnatural cold and beat of her heart is too fast. “Look at me, Su Yen.” Taking her head in both hands I try to focus her eyes on me. “Count your breath, listen to me. One… two… three…”

Suddenly I feel a tremor running through my body and a wave of dizziness swallows me. My breath catches for a moment. A veil clouds my vision and I have to let go of Su Yen and to steady myself. My hands grasp the chair so hard my knuckles turn white. It is unlike anything I ever experienced.

My body reacts no longer to my commands. Arms – not mine even if they are attached to my body – reach for Su Yen. Fingers splayed to frame the face of the woman, fingers longer than mine, thinner and covered with fresh calluses.

My vision blurs but I feel my fingers slide up into the cool, silken hair, which is now long and hangs rich and freely around Su Yen’s thin shoulders.

She rises with me and my arms slide around her waist to pull her close to a body that feels different… strange. I feel like I have been transported into a stranger’s body and partake both at his actions and feelings.

…every coherent thought seems to vanish as I feel Su Yen’s lips pressed against mine. Her hands brush my neck and I cannot suppress another shiver. Gentleness with an underlying passion shows in our kiss, but it rapidly turns into a hungry caress…

…I hear Su Yen whisper words, but I cannot understand their meaning. Her hands travel down my back, sending trails of fire through the rough fabric of the unbuttoned shirt I wear. She reaches up to push it over my shoulders, careful not to touch the bandage at my right side. The wound is still sore but I cannot feel any pain as she touches my bare skin. An intoxicating smell of Arabian jasmine and sandalwood fill my senses as I bury my face in Su Yen’s smooth, cool hair…

….I take her down with me on the floor as my knees give in. We kneel on the soft carpet… no… there is soft sand beneath my palms as I touch the floor. I can taste salt on my tongue as I draw in a deep breath. From far away I hear the gentle lapping of waves against a strange shore…

…the air on our naked skin is cold but the nearby fire and even more the passion burning in our veins prevent us from feeling its sting. My hands tremble as I caress her breasts and I delight in her soft cry as my mouth follows the path of my fingers down her body …

…soft lips cover my brands, a cool tongue laps at the sensible flesh and I cry out in surprise. I lift her head to cover again her mouth with mine…

…I pull Su Yen down on me as we stretch on the coarse blanket that covers the sand in the cavern. Her hairs falls down on my chest, tiny little caresses that set my skin on fire as she bends her head to kiss me. Gently I roll us around until my body covers hers. She writhes and trashes beneath me, our moans mingle and fill the cavern. Pulling myself up to knees and hands, I hesitate a moment to look down on her. Su Yen’s eyes open, fire dances in the depths of her dark orbs, luring me closer and I bent again to take her lips. Nails rake down my spine, make me shiver and fuel my fire…

…never leaving her eyes, I slip into the hot wetness of her body to join us as close as humanly possible…

* * *

I have never experienced that illness after consuming too much alcohol, Peter calls `hangover’ but I know its symptoms. There is a dull throb in my temples, my mouth feels swollen and dry, my throat sore. I gently entangle me from the body of the woman cuddled up to mine, leave the bed as quietly as possible and dress.

I turn and find Su Yen’s eyes on me. It is disquieting I could not feel her waking up. She runs a hand trough her tousled hair, which reminds me of my Peter. Peter! He still waits for me, I sense his presence.

“I will not ask what happened,” she says, her voice hoarse and insecure.

“I fear I am not able to answer this question.”

Su Yen pulls the sheet up to her chin. “They were here… somehow they were here. Your grandfather and my grandmother.”

“I do not know.”

Obviously, she is not listening to my words. “Their love… transcends time and space. And we… we…” As she looks at me, a small smile plays around her lips. It only increases my confusion. She rises and takes a robe from a nearby chair to cover her naked body.

I pick up the single sheet with the poem and smooth it, it slipped somehow from my hands, but I have no recollection of this. Taking the folder again from the suitcase, she gives it to me. I return the page, but she refuses to take back the folder. “Please… take it.” She smiles. “I am sure you understand if I ask you to leave me now. I feel… like I need some time alone.”

At a loss of words, I simply nod and turn to go. As I close the door of the suite behind me, I hear a whisper from the shadows… “Remember me, Kwai Chang Caine.”

* * *

I leave the elevator, the folder in my hand, my face showing no sign of the confusion I still feel strongly inside me.

Peter and Jody Powell sit at the bar at the other side of the hotel hall, but before I can cross the room, Peter senses my closeness and leaves his partner with a few words. He approaches me, but stops in a steps distance.

“Pop? Are you alright?” His eyes fall onto the folder in my hands. “What’s that?”

I smile and give him the folder. Peter takes out a single sheet, slightly crumbled. “What’s this? I can’t read a word.” I take it from his hands and look down. "To be alone, without one to love, is a waste of the body. To be not alone, without one to love, is a waste of the soul." I read for him, and then put the poem back into the folder. I slip an arm around his waist and pull him close to me. “I want us to go home,” I whisper in his ear. “There is much we have to discuss, my love.”

Shock flashes in Peter’s eyes – but only for a second, then a smile spreads over his features. “Yes.”

Come on, come on
Turn a little faster
Come on, come on
The world will follow after
Come on, come on
Cause everybody's after love…

We're accidentally in love

Come on, come on
Spin a little tighter
Come on, come on
And the world's a little brighter…”

The end…