Thursday morning was busy and probably the liveliest day of the week in Pineridge. Some of the kids were in the class rooms, others were amidst phys. ed. class in the big gym; but few of them were gathered in the small living room where some man was giving a talk. Few social workers were hanging around, too.

The principal was always present at those talks. At the end of the day the programme with calling established professionals to talk about their work to the orphans was all his idea. And it was failing beautifully. An officer approached Mr Bine who had taken a seat at the back of the room.

'Mr Bine, you need police assistance, I hear.'

'Nothing so serious, Brodercik.'

The two men smiled and shook hands.

'So, things here are going well, I see. How's my new friend doing?'

The principal got visibly annoyed. 'You know, he has a name; it's Peter', said he aggressively.

'All right, all right, man, don't go medieval on me. Peter it is.'

'Sorry; it's just that this boy has been through so much...'

'They all have, Bine.'

'Yes, of course. I guess this one… he touched something…'

'You're getting old, Andrew, you know that?'

'Well, maybe I'm not the shark I used to be ten years ago but I still hold the front line. Speaking of which, I was meaning to ask you a little favour.'

'Sure, who do you want me to cuff? It's Resnoff, isn't it? The little rascal will end up like his old man…'

'No, no, the kids are fine. It's this.'

The principal pointed at the room. About ten kids were sitting, obviously bored, listening to Dr David Hanemann, professor in Archaeology from the University of Sloanville.

'Aha, I see. Let me guess: all those children have insomnia and you've brought the geek to cure it? I think it's working.'

The principal massaged his forehead and sighed.

'He's an archaeologist. Thought they might get interested if I brought…'

'…Allan Quatermain?'

'K-kind of... I've had teachers, Broderick, artists, even a politician. I just want to show those orphans how many options they have, to inspire them…'

'It's a good cause, principal; it's fine…'

'Perhaps I need to spice things up a little, don't you think?'

'Well…' The officer was trying to be polite but yes, Bine definitely needed to liven up the atmosphere.

'I spoke to a chief from the fire brigade. I could set him as a regular for a few months, starting December.'

'Perhaps a fire fighter would be a little bitmore interesting than a book worm, yeah; and, I'm flattered you're so kindly asking my opinion…'

The director smiled wryly. There was nothing wrong with book worms.

'You said they were moving you to a new precinct, right?'

'Yes, 101st. Not my delight but hey, if it's by personal request from Captain Blaisdell himself, who am I to say no?'

'What, Blaisdell? Paul Blaisdell?'

'Yes.'

'I'll be damned… Ha!'

The principal was pleasantly surprised. He had meant to ask Broderick's assistance to set him a meeting with some of his new colleagues, should they agree to come to the orphanage and talk about police work. He had not expected to bump into an old friend, least of all Paul Blaisdell.

'Why, do you know him?'

'As a lawyer I put behind bars some pretty big fish, all hand delivered by Blaisdell.'

'Hey, the man is a legend.' Broderick lowered his voice. 'Nobody really knows his background but since he took over 101st two years ago, the squad doesn't come off the headlines.'

'He's quite something, isn't he?'

'He picks nothing but the best for his team. You can understand my excitement, even if I'm not the biggest fan of Chinese food.'

'Over the years I lost track of Blaisdell and it's a wonderful coincidence that you should be transferred to his precinct. Look, Broderick, when you get there, could you tell your new Captain that Andrew Bine sends his regards?'

'Well, I guess… But it may take some time. Why, what's on your mind?'

'I was meaning to get some detective to come over for a visit but I know Blaisdell, he's a decent man; and I also know that in a child's eyes police captains are way more intriguing than simple detectives…'

'I get you. Sure, principal, I'll see what I can do. I've got your card here so we'll set something up, right?'

'Yes, please, it would mean a lot to me… and to them.'

'But it can take a while; I'm not going there before February…'

'It's OK, I'm good. The kids won't run away. Take your time.'

Andrew Bine was more than happy to get back in touch with Paul Blaisdell. His intuition was telling him that the captain would gladly do this for the orphanage. Bine could barely wait for the winter.

XXX

By the end of that week Peter was transferred to one of the main dormitories. The principal took the chance to put him together with Max, and the worst that came from this experiment was a bunch of annoyed children, regularly disturbed by the late-night chats and giggling of the two boys.

Max had remained reserved, though better behaved, towards the other orphans. To Peter, however, he was an open book; or at least he thought he was. For the first time in his short life he started sharing about his dreams and fears, about his nightmares. He even started remembering his mother, the only human being that had ever been kind to him.

On the Sunday evening, a week after their fight, Peter and Max were using the last minutes before the lights went off to talk about the latest episode of 'Hill Street Blues'.

'Man, those guys are so cool', said Peter with dreamy eyes.

'How come that on TV cops always win?' Max found it hard to share the sentiments.

Peter understood. 'Not all cops are bad, Max.'

'Well, to me they're always gonna be the freaks that…' The boy paused abruptly.

'…That took your mother away from you?'

'She hadn't done anything wrong, Pete. It was my ol' man they were after. They thought she knew where he was; and we hadn't heard from him in a month. I remember it like it was yesterday'

Max was becoming emotional and Peter tried to change the subject.

'It's OK, Max', he gently pushed his arm, 'It's over now.'

'Yeah…'

'Hey, you on my team for tomorrow's game?'

'Get out of here, punk, I don't play with twelve-year olds.' They laughed at the memory from the first days of their acquaintance. They seemed almost like from another life. To Peter it somehow was another life because at that point he had still not accepted. Now he was learning.

'And I'll be 13 in two weeks, remember?'

'Ha, old man…' They giggled. Then Max continued.

'Yo, I… I was meaning to ask you something.'

'Shoot.'

'Those moves you got are pretty neat.'

'Yeah, I guess.'

'Well, perhaps you could teach me... s-something?' Max looked Peter insecure; his face had an almost innocent expression.

'Ha, look at him.' They smiled again. 'Well, to tell you the truth, I don't think I'll be using much kung-fu in the future.'

This time it was Max's turn to read Peter's mind. 'Because of your father?'

'Yeah.' Peter looked around. The others were preparing for bed, engaged in lively conversations about TV shows and who in Pineridge fancied who.

'Sorry, man, I didn't mean to…'

'That's OK. Just… You see, my father was… my hero. He was wise, and strong, and good… All my life, until… few months ago, I knew I wanted to be like him, to be a priest. And now…' He looked down. 'You get me?'

'Think so.'

'I always knew I'd be a Shaolin priest, help people and teach, like my father did. Everything I've learned I learned from him. And now that he's not here anymore I've got nobody to learn from.'

'You need a model… No, wait, how was it… a role model.'

Peter grinned. 'Who's the shrink now?'

'No, wait, Dr Anne said that some time ago; that we need role models. You know, people to copy and to wanna be like.'

'Like I wanted to be like my father?'

'Yeah.'

'Guess I'll have to find a new… role model.' The boy imitated Max and chuckled.

'Or a new father?'

Peter looked horrified at Max.

'No way!' He said that in a loud voice and for a moment silence fell over the room. When the kids got convinced that Max and Peter won't end up fighting again, they went on with their gossips.

'No way, man; there can never be another father, ever!'

'Don't you wanna find a new home? Somebody might take you in.'

'Why should they?'

'Don't know; there are people who do that. And if there's a reason why I'm trying to be decent, other than you beating the hell out of me, is to try and get out of here, find a place...permanently'

'How is it?'

'You know, they'll send you to normal school, buy Christmas presents, stuff like that. Life's better on the outside.'

'I've never been on the outside really. I was at the temple my whole life.'

'Hey, you never know.'

'But I shouldn't raise my expectations too high, right?'

'No, the truth is most of us never get adopted, or even fostered. But you're a nice kid, Pete, you should find a place.'

'I should?'

'If there's any good out there', now Max really sounded like a young adult, 'or any justice, as you call it, you have to get a place; you deserve it.'

'And you should get back with your mom…'

'I don't know. Do you think I deserve it?'

'Everybody does.'

At the moment John Hill, a young supervisor doing an internship at Pineridge, came to turn the lights off.

'OK, everybody, that was it for today, everyone in bed!'

The kids had just thirty seconds to go to their places before the lights went off. The supervisor stayed another minute to make sure everything was in order, and then left. It got quiet. The only light was coming from the lamp in the yard outside; it entered the room through the tall windows. The shadows of their bars were taking shape on the floor and some of the beds. Then the shadows began dancing, as the light was blurred by the sudden heavy rain.

XXX

It was about five o'clock in the afternoon. In the warm summer evening the temple was basking in the beams of the setting sun. Peter was in the main room, practicing with the help of young Master Kahn the weapon form he had learned a week ago. Another master then called the other junior students for a group practice. Peter joined the group but only minutes later the lesson was interrupted.

Many men with bandannas around the faces rushed into the hall. Peter stepped back anxiously and then he sensed a presence. He turned and at the mezzanine he saw a tall man standing, dressed in black vest and dark-blue shirt, with long silver hair. But… that was his father! Peter was ready to shout at him when master Laury quickly made him a sign to go upstairs where was safe. Peter obeyed and on his way up he saw his father jumping from the high balcony straight down to the main hall.

The boy was running; his heart was going to burst. He heard a female voice shouting 'Caine, be careful!' On the balcony he found a pretty blond woman in her 40s, only slightly taller than himself. When Peter approached her she welcomed him with a soft smile, like she already knew him.

'That's my father down there.' He was proud. 'Don't worry, he's the best!'

'Oh, I know that. … I'm Karen.' She stretched her hand, her smile broadened.

'Hi, I'm Peter. Are you going to stay for long?'

'I don't know, Peter.'

Then the two observed the fight for a while but then Karen left the mezzanine and ran downstairs. Even though he was convinced in his father's skills, Peter was always anxious when he was seeing him fighting enemies. And those men were strange, they each had a tear-like tattoos right below the right eye. Peter remained up until the fight was over. He admired his father's sleek moves, his devastating strikes. At that moment the boy wanted more than anything to be like his father, his hero.

When the men were defeated Karen hugged Caine, and Peter, impatient to go and hug his father, too, heard how the other masters thanked Caine for his early arrival back from his trip. His father was introducing the beautiful stranger to them.

'This is Karen. She will be staying with us for a while.'

Peter, joined by his best friend Dennis, approached. 'For how long?'

'I do not know', said Caine.

'That's what she told me.'

'I see you have already met my son, Peter.'

'Yes, I have', said Karen. 'I think we'll get along just… fine.'

'…Eventually…' added Caine with a plotting grin.

Peter's father obviously knew the woman from before; and even she appeared to know Peter. The boy was wondering why he had never met her or heard about her.

Dennis asked indiscreetly: 'Who's the babe with your old man?'

'She's just a friend.' Peter was jealous. He did not like the idea of his father and another woman, under any circumstances.

Caine introduced the other masters to Karen and Peter found it amusing how she thought Ping Hi seemed 'ancient'. He laughed at himself. 'He's ancient, all right.'

Peter could not wait to get to know the strange woman, and offered to show her around. He was surprised how readily she accepted his offer, as if equally willing to get to know him.

As they walked away Peter suddenly found himself in the yard, looking at his father who appeared to be talking to the air. The old Shaolin approached his son and said that he was thinking about the future and the past. The boy tingled.

'…The paths that you and I have taken; that we will take…'

'When will we take those new paths?'

'Soon.' They walked some time and Caine asked: 'Have you given some thought as to what will be yours?'

'You mean when I'm older; whether I'll be a monk or a teacher?'

Caine chuckled. '…Or a cop?'

'You mean like Starsky & Hutch?' Peter felt invigorated. 'Those dudes are cool. That would be a bad kick!'

'A bad kick…' Caine paused. 'How did you find out about Starsky & Hutch?

'Uhm.., Mike Laury took us to town once. There was a TV…'

'I see.'

'Am I in trouble?'

'No.' Caine gently slapped his son on the back of the head.

'These new paths, are we going to walk them together?'

'One day, one day we will. But tonight I need you to help me.'

'With what?' Peter felt proud that his father should ask him for help.

'I need you to gather some things outside these walls.'

'What things?'

'Some herbs, some very special herbs.'

'Anything, father!'

Then Peter saw himself outside the temple gathering from the herbs that were surrounding the walls. There was so much of them that he had never thought of them as anything special.

Then again, as if time was playing tricks with him, Peter skipped another moment and found himself by the koi pond at the temple yard. He was sitting there, at the edge, in his father's company, with Karen overlooking them from afar.

'Why?' Peter was scared. 'Why can't you change that; why can't you stay?'

Caine sighed. 'I cannot change what must be. We will go through great hardships. But one thing you must believe, one day we will be together.'

'Promise?'

'I promise!' Caine nodded and looked his son lovingly. 'Now go to bed.'

Peter got up and hugged his father. Caine hugged his son so strong, like he was not to see him again. The priest held gently the boy at the back of the head.

'I love you, my son!'

'I love you, father!'

Peter prepared to leave, feeling heaviness in his stomach.

Then he turned. 'When will I see you next?'

'Tomorrow, when I return from my trip.'

Peter bowed respectfully and went to take his leave from his new friend.

'Will I ever see you again?'

'You will', answered Karen. She looked like she was hiding a secret that only Peter did not know.

The young Caine headed towards his room. He walked slowly, looking at the floor, trying to make sense of everything that had happened that evening. Suddenly he heard sound from rain. Tiny drops were knocking on the roof and on the windows. The boy felt like they were following him, getting heavier the more he approached his room. His breathing fastened, he got frightened. He turned, feeling that something was behind his back, but the hall was empty. He started running and then he slipped, fell, hurt himself…

…Peter woke up with a quiet sigh. He sat in his bed, breathing heavily, sweating. Heavy rain drops were knocking on the barred window. He looked around. The room was still; the other kids were asleep.

'It was a dream!'

The twelve-year old boy sat in the bed; then he got up and went barefoot to the window. Peter leaned on the frame and touched the glass. He stared with heavy heart at the empty back yard.

'The same dream, from the temple…' Then why did he feel warmth on the back of his head, like his father had just touched him there.

'Where are you, father?' The boy missed his father so much that it hurt.

He thought of the dream. The strange woman, the monks, his father… In his dream Kwai Chang Caine looked older, with hair. Peter had never seen his father with hair, in his entire life. Then why did he dream him looking like this? Older, too, much older than… than when he died.

A tear fell down his cheek. On a stormy night Caine would always go and check on his son, even when he no longer had nightmares of shadows and dragons under his bed. Peter felt like his father had come to check on him that night, too.

In the dream Caine was speaking of hardships and separate ways. And that they would be together again someday. A quiet voice deep inside Peter's heart whispered that it was not over, not just yet. He smiled.

'I love you, father!'

Then Peter looked at the dark dormitory behind him. He laughed quietly at a thought he had never had before.

'A cop?!'