The room was dark and foreboding, swaying, and spinning like a haunted house ride gone haywire. But this was no ride. This was Peter Caine's world - the world inside his soul. One filled with anger, confusion, and abandonment.

Sweat poured down Peter's face and soaked his clothing as he desperately clutched Robert Donaldson's dead body close to him. His heart was racing. His thoughts were scattered, banging wildly against the far reaches of his mind. Peter did not want to let go of his friend. Not again. He could not stand to lose another so close to his heart.

"When will it end, dammit?!" he shouted viciously, crying uncontrollably. "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!"

Caine entered the room and stood by the doorway. "You were too late to help your friend," he said as calmly as he could without startling his son.

Peter stood, swaying to the whirling discord around him. His form trembled with the emotion that surrounded him. He turned angrily at Caine, recognizing him, finally, as his father. The one who started it all. The one who caused him all this pain.

"You did this to me!" Peter shouted between sobs. "You abandoned me! After fifteen years of believing you were dead you left me!"

The words stung Caine like a knife to the heart. Guilt washed over him. However, despite his own fears and concerns, Caine tried hard to follow the rules of the Bardo. He had to hide his emotions if he wanted to save his son. Any feelings he would express would only get swallowed up into Peter's own coursing emotions.

During his journey within his son's Bardo, Caine had observed the many conversations Peter had with others who had hurt him. Angry conversations, where the object of his anger fought back. Caine knew the only way to conquer Peter was not to fight. Help him to understand. It was the only way.

There would be much healing to be done, but Caine did not have time. All that mattered was saving Peter's soul before it was too late. He sensed his son's heart rate quicken, and realized he had to act fast. He clutched his son's trembling hands and tried one last time to reach out.

"Yes. I abandoned you. Accept it...Let the rage out...Embrace it...And...let it go." He released Peter's hands to for effect, hoping that his son would see the truth and understand.

Peter stared quizzically at Caine, confused by the response. The fact that the source of his pain was not fighting back annoyed him, as did the cryptic comments his father always managed to say in every situation.

"You never show any anger!" Peter spat viciously. "You never show any real emotion! Life to you is nothing more than some stupid lesson for me to learn! You don't care about me! You never did!"

"That is not true," Caine replied. "I love you very much."

Caine realized too late that the words he used would only feed Peter's pain. He had broken the rule again, and Peter's anger increased. Caine noticed that - this time - he was not kicked out of Peter's Bardo. He hoped that this was a sign that he was making progress.

Peter glared at the cause of his pain, concluding that there was only one thing to do. His heart raced as his intent became clear to him. The room weaved like a tree in a windstorm. The hurting had to stop.

He grabbed Caine by the arm in one swift motion and hissed, "I will kill you."

Startled, Caine was not prepared for the force his son used against him that propelled him into the wall, but he was able to react quickly to what he realized was a determined attack. Peter lashed out with his left leg, but Caine deflected it in time. Peter kept attacking, kick after kick, but Caine deftly blocked each one without striking back. He tried to push Peter away several times, giving himself a chance to think of a way to restrain his son without doing harm, but Peter always came back with rapid force.

With one last push Caine managed to propel Peter several feet away from him. The force of the blow, caused Peter to lose his balance, falling backward against the railing of the fateful stairway that had started this journey into his soul. In an instant he was over the edge, headfirst.

In that same instant, Caine caught up to Peter and grabbed his leg, struggling desperately to hold on. He glanced down in horror to what awaited his son below. A dark abyss threatened to seize Peter and swallow him up. Death was clinging to Peter, and Caine was his last link to life.

"NO!" Peter screamed hysterically, dangling over the black hole beneath him. "Help me! I don't want to die, father! Please help me!"

Caine's body shook as he grasped Peter's ankle tightly. The Shaolin priest took a deep breath and focused all his strength on pulling Peter up over the railing. With one hand still holding on to the ankle, he reached down with the other and grabbed Peter's waist, lifting him up towards him. "Grab on to me," he gasped.

Peter fearfully reached up his hand and grabbed Caine's arm as his father raised him to safety.

Both men sank to the floor. Peter collapsed into his father's arms, clutching him tightly and sobbing freely. Caine sensed his son's heart rate slowing. He pulled Peter close into a warm embrace.

"I want to be with you, father," Peter cried. "I don't want to be alone anymore. I'm sorry father. I love you."

Caine rocked Peter in his arms, relieved by the knowledge that Peter's soul would be free. "It is all right, my son. I will help you ease your pain. I will never leave you. I love you very much."

With a flash, Caine found himself back in the brightly lit hospital room. He turned to discover that Peter's bed was empty and quickly rushed out to find him.

The surgery took several hours. Caine was used to waiting, but not when it came to his son's life. He sat in the waiting room, staring off into space, trying to recover and come to terms with the roller coaster ride in his son's soul.

He had told the doctors that he had mended Peter's spirit, but it was not over yet. There was the physical wound in Peter's skull that had to be healed. The only consolation Caine had was that Peter would be at peace. But that was not enough to ease his own discordant emotions.

He thought about what Peter had said in the Bardo. All the emotions his son had hid from him these past few months had been finally brought out into the open. He had hurt Peter far deeper than he had ever imagined. He knew his son forgave him, but he also knew that the pain still lingered.

Although he had healed the feeling of abandonment was gone, he knew that the anger still lingered. That was something that could not be cured by merely making it disappear from Peter's soul. Anger was always tied to something. The anger will remain until it is faced once and for all.

Paul Blaisdell sat down next to Caine and broke the silence. "You saved Peter's life," he said with relief and admiration. "You stabilized him. Please tell me how you did that?"

Caine shrugged, "I saved his soul. The doctors will do what they can to save his life."

Paul seemed surprised by Caine's modesty. "Dr. Sabourin told me about the Bardo. Tell me what you saw," he pleaded. "For the past few years I could see the pain in Peter's eyes, but he never shared the sadness with me. I wanted so badly to help him. As you know, I love him like my own son."

"He is your son," Caine affirmed.

Paul appeared touched by the statement. "You told the doctor that he had a lot of negative emotions stored up inside. Was that from the temple?"

Caine took in a deep breath, "There were many things inside his soul. Many things angered him and hurt him. He felt abandoned. Detective Donaldson was a close friend. His murder opened up old wounds and released that pain. He did not want anyone else to leave him - to abandon him. He could not bear the thought of losing you, his family or his friends...I was the cause of this fear, his rage."

Paul was dismayed, "You? He puts you on a pedestal. I've seen the way he looks at you. He has nothing but love and respect for his father."

"That is only part of what he is feeling in his heart. When we lose something we love, we become sad, mournful and - also - angry. The anger towards a loved one who has been involuntarily taken from you is normal. Peter knew it was irrational, but he did not realize that it was human. So, he stored it away, not realizing what hold it had on him. He did not want to face it. That is why he could not share it with either of us. His anger toward me is what has driven him all these years.

"When we were reunited. He believed that I did not feel rage and that I thought anger was a wasted emotion. So, he held it within.

"When I left him again, the anger increased. Despite everything, he felt angry, unloved, and abandoned. But this confused him."

Paul chimed in, "Because he loved you and he knew you loved him."

Caine seemed pleased by the captain's insight. "Yes."

"So, when the two of you reunited again," Paul concluded, "he bottled up that anger once more. Only this time it was stronger."

"Yes."

"And now? Did you heal his anger?"

"No. I healed his fear of abandonment, but there is much anger that still remains. That is something we must deal with when he is strong enough."

"We?"

Caine pointed to Paul and to himself. "You and me. We must help our son to heal - together."

Paul regarded Caine with pride, "That we will."

Still more time passed before Peter was out of surgery and moved into a regular room. He had spent most of the morning in recovery while the major effects of the anesthesia wore off. Once Peter was situated in a room, Dr. Hammell met with Caine and Blaisdell to inform them of the prognosis.

"He is out of danger, and he should recover nicely. However, I want to discuss a few things with you before you see him. I'm sure you are aware that his head had to be shaved for surgery. He'll have a scar, but his hair will grow over it, and no one will be the wiser. He has an oxygen tube in his nose. This is standard hospital procedure. He's breathing on his own, but we need to ensure enough oxygen is going into the brain. We still have him hooked up to some monitors, so we can keep track of his progress."

She sighed, showing signs of fatigue. She was not finished, however. "Most importantly, because of the fact that this was a head injury, several precautions need to be taken in order to ensure that he is okay."

Paul grew concerned. "What kind of precautions?"

"There is always the risk of some memory loss. To what extent, we don't know. Your foster son has suffered a serious concussion. The likelihood of amnesia, must be taken to account."

Paul took in a breath. Caine nodded his head slowly, revealing no emotion.

"Because of the risk of amnesia," Dr. Hammell continued. "I need you to follow a simple procedure if he wakes up while you're in the room. By no means are you to say his name or any of your names unless he says them first. The only way we can see what memory loss there is, is by testing him. Ask him questions: 'What's your name? What's your age?' things like that.

"Understood," Paul replied nervously.

"It may be a while before he regains consciousness. Don't be alarmed if it doesn't happen today. When he does wake up, he will feel very weak. Give him time to regain his strength. He's been through an ordeal." To Caine she said, "Your son is a very lucky man."

Caine bowed.

Dr. Hammell shook Paul's hand and walked off to tend to other matters.

Caine and Paul silently entered Peter's room. Sunlight peaked through the closed curtains, draping lines of golden light across Peter's form. The young man slept quietly on the bed, no longer restless from the demons in his soul.

A large, white bandage was wrapped around his shaved head. There was a trace of color in his cheeks - something that had been lacking hours before. An air tube extended from one nostril to an oxygen tank on the floor.

The EEG and EKG machines were busily keeping track of his vital signs. The sounds were rhythmic, not the rapid beating that the two men had heard the night before.

Caine stared at Peter's face for a very long time. He grasped his son's right hand and held it tightly, relieved that all he sensed in Peter was peace. The pain had ebbed, for now.

The two men sat vigil by their son's bed for most of the day. In the afternoon Annie, Kelly and Carolyn Blaisdell stopped in to check on Peter, reassured to know that he was out of danger. Annie tried to get Paul to come home and rest, but the captain refused. He could not shake the thought of Peter with amnesia. He wondered if Caine's method of healing Peter meant erasing his memory. As soon as the thought formulated in his head, he shook it away.

"Peter will be all right, honey," Annie whispered the plea. "Come home and rest."

"I will, Annie," Paul whispered back. "I promise. But I can't leave yet."

"You should go with your family," Caine insisted softly.

"We are your family, too," Annie replied. "Come with us, Caine."

"Caine," Paul said, mirroring the sentiment, "You need the rest more than I do."

"I am honored. However, Peter needs to see a familiar face when he awakes. We will be fine. Go."

Paul was hesitant, but he could not resist when Annie stood her ground. As he rose, however, Peter stirred.

Kelly gasped with pleasure. Paul raised a silencing hand.

"Not a word," he commanded. He pointed to Carolyn and said, "Get a nurse. Everyone else, let him speak first."

Fear and apprehension filled the room as everyone watched for the half-oval shaped eyes to open. After a few seconds they did - slightly - blinking back the fatigue that still weighed them down.

Peter tried hard to focus through the haze. He saw several faces, but he could not identify them through the blur. Still weak from the concussion and the anesthesia, Peter could only utter one word. "Father?" he whispered.

"I am here," Caine replied.

Peter forced himself to speak, "What...hap...happened?...I fell...You...saved...me."

Caine sensed the conflicting thoughts in Peter's mind. "Say your name," he prompted.

Peter closed his eyes and said, "Peter Caine."

Paul exhaled a sigh of relief.

"Now," Caine continued. "What is my name?"

Peter's eyes opened as he spoke slowly. "Kwai...Chang...Caine."

"Who is at your immediate left?"

Turning his gaze in that direction, Peter forced his eyes to focus. He was growing increasingly tired. He wanted to sleep, but he felt compelled to answer, "Paul."

"Paul who?" the foster parent joked, thrilled that Peter remembered.

"Blaisdell," came the response.

The nurse entered and Paul relayed to her that Peter's memory seemed intact. After a few more questions directed at Peter, the nurse was convinced. She noted how tired he was and insisted that everyone leave the room to let him rest.

Once the family kissed, hugged, and wished him a speedy recovery, they left him alone to rest. Caine remained, however. He smiled at Peter and kissed him on the forehead.

"Rest, my son," he whispered softly.

"Pop?' Peter whispered back, his eyes drooping.

"Sleep," Caine coaxed.

"I'm sorry."

Caine smiled, noting that Peter thought that he was still living the images of the Bardo in his head. "There is nothing to forgive, Peter. You have done nothing wrong. I am proud of you, my son. Very proud. Now rest."

He watched as Peter slowly relaxed into a deep, sound sleep. Caine knew that in a few hours Peter would see his journey into the Bardo as nothing more than bad dreams. That was all Peter needed to know. Caine resolved that he would not tell his son of the journey into his soul. Not until Peter was ready to understand. Not until his son was totally at peace and all his demons had been chased away.

Not for a very long time.

The end.