Interludes: Grace Redeemed

The place hadn't changed in over a decade. It still looked like some huge hulking monstrosity, rising out of the forest to devour the unworthy and unwanted. Winter-bare trees, a dull gravel driveway, and an old faded sign proclaiming the site as Rock Creek Boy's Home only added to the gloom.

It gave Peter Caine the creeps. He imagined that somehow the imposing structure had leeched the life out of everything it touched, including the heavy gray clouds overhead that spoke eloquently of the winter storm that the weather announcers had been boasting about.

He shuddered, just as he had so many years ago when the well-intentioned social worker had delivered him with nothing more than two changes of clothing and an attitude to his name. It had been dark and gloomy that day, too. He remembered the pain, the anger and the confusion just like it was yesterday. Childish, impotent rage that he couldn't do something to change things. So many memories. So much loneliness for a kid who was different but wanted nothing more than to be accepted.

Again he approached this place. Again, he had lost a father; a different one this time. He almost laughed at the irony. He'd been taken to the orphanage just weeks after Kwai Chang Caine supposedly died at the temple. And now, just weeks after Paul departed for parts unknown, he was back here again. But this time was different. This time it was on his own terms. And he had back up.

Glancing into the passenger seat, he wondered that his father hadn't spoken. Not that Kwai Chang Caine was exactly what one would call talkative, but Peter would have expected him to have at least a few words of wisdom on approaching the orphanage that his kid had been sent to after the greatly exaggerated news of his death.

Then he caught the look on his father's face and knew differently. Caine stared resolutely forward, as if preparing himself for what lay ahead.

"Starting to wonder if ignorance is bliss?" Peter asked, smiling slightly at the look his father gave him in response. Either the mood had seriously needed lightening, or his father was beginning to appreciate his sense of humor. The fact that Caine had invited himself along, to the point of actually waiting outside of the precinct near his car, was another oddity. Peter figured that Skalany was probably the one who'd ratted on him. But he still wasn't clear on how Mary Margaret might have found out. Strenlich wasn't exactly gossip central.

Peter had happened to be walking past the Chief's partially closed door when the older man had taken the call from Rock Creek Boy's Home confirming Blaisdell's annual appointment. Frank had been in the midst of explaining that he was sorry but Blaisdell would not be able to make it this year, when Peter had burst in and volunteered. He still didn't know what had come over him, only that something had pushed him in that direction.

Unfazed by Frank's harsh look, he'd waited around while the older man relayed the information that another officer would be taking Paul's place this year. After Frank had jotted the information down, Peter had quickly snatched it up and with a quick thanks exited the office. He still wasn't sure he'd actually heard the words he thought Frank had whispered before he pulled the door closed.

Do him proud, kid.

Peter didn't know how he felt about the fact that Paul had continued to visit the boy's home every year without ever letting on to him. Obviously Frank knew. Annie probably knew. Either way, it felt right that he should be the one here doing this in Paul's place.

"This is an honorable thing that you are doing, my son." Caine spoke, breaking into his thoughts. "It is a worthy legacy to seek to assist others."

"You really didn't have to come along, you know," Peter responded as he pulled the car to a halt near the front of the main building. "I mean, it is a little creepy seeing this place again, but the nightmare isn't so big as when I was twelve and alone. I could have handled it."

"I know. I wanted to come, and besides, I did not want you to have to face the memories alone."

Peter thought about that. Even though he remembered vividly his time at this place, the memory was different. It wasn't a living, breathing thing that he feared would choke the life out of him. His raised his brows in surprise.

"I'm starting to realize something. Those memories don't have the power to hurt me any longer. I still don't like that it happened, but I'm okay. And I guess I realize, too, that a few good things happened here."

Caine smiled one of his 'I am proud of you, my son' smiles and patted the arm nearest him. "Tell me of these 'good things'".

"Well." Peter grinned over at him. "I learned how to play basketball."

"Ah." Caine's eyes twinkled. "Sports."

"Yeah, sports," Peter chuckled, remembering that organized physical activity had been both his downfall and his salvation. It was truly amazing the number of fights that could get started over a game. But then his smile faded slightly. "I met Paul here." His gazed drifted out of the window as the first pinging sounds of the promised snow and ice tingled against the roof. "I still miss him."

"Yet he remains with you. In your heart."

"Yeah." Peter nodded. In the past weeks he'd wondered often where Paul was, what he was doing, if he was okay. There had been no word. Sometimes the thought of him out there, fighting, on his own or even with a group, filled him with panic. What if something happened to him? How would they get word?

Shaking the thoughts off, he glanced up at the building through his windshield and then looked toward his father. "We should probably go inside before they think we're casing the joint."

Caine, having followed his gaze out of the window, nodded toward the building. "Or before she feels it necessary to call the cops."

Peter turned sharply back toward the heavy gray door at the top of a flight of stone steps. A short, red-haired woman with cherubic features stood watching out of the doorway. "Good point," he said as he climbed out of the vehicle and headed alongside his father, through the freezing rain toward the stone steps.

The woman, evidently not fearing that they were up to no good, pulled the door open wider so that they could escape the growing force of the frozen precipitation. Peter's gaze was captured by the many colorful murals that decorated the once drab walls of the open foyer.

"I hope we're not late," he said just as he noticed the large banner draped near the ceiling of the high foyer that proclaimed it career week at Rock Creek Boy's Home. The banner was the only familiar point of reference about the room -- appearing to be the same one that had hung in that very spot so many years before.

Immediately, Peter's mind took him back to another career week. The memory was so vivid, he could still smell the perspiration and hear the sound of sneakers squeaking on the gymnasium floor. He remembered looking back up toward the observation deck after having uttered some smart-mouthed comment about getting out of math class. Paul had still been standing there and he was still smiling.

Most of the time comments like the ones he'd given Paul either got him psycho-analyzed or reprimanded. Being accepted, or just simply heard was a different experience than he had expected from the majority of the adult population at Rock Creek. There had to be an angle -- there usually was. Peter had shaken his head in confusion and gone back to his game, thinking that he'd have to really pay attention in the lecture. He might even have to hit Blaisdell with some really tough questions until he could figure out what that angle was.

"Peter." A hand on his arm drew him out of his reverie.

He blinked and glanced toward his father who made a gesture in the direction of the redhead. "I'm sorry. . . I was gone for a minute there."

"Oh, it's quite all right." The woman smiled knowingly up at him with a twinkle in the palest blue eyes Peter had ever seen. "It happens to the best of us. I'm Angela Raybern, Youth Acclimator is the official title. You must be Detective Peter Caine."

Peter took the hand she extended in his direction, finding something comforting in the warmth of her manner. He had no doubt that she was a natural when it came to dealing with the youth who graced the interior of the facility. She might have been able to punch through his twelve-year-old walls in no time flat if she'd been around when he'd been there.

"Yes, I am Peter Caine, from the 101st precinct." Peter gestured toward his father. "And this is my father, Kwai Chang Caine."

"And you represent the 101st as well?"

"No." Caine bowed slightly with a smile and pointed in Peter's direction. "I represent him."

Peter couldn't resist a chuckle at the woman's look of charmed confusion. "He's here for moral support. He'll just be an observer if that's okay."

"It's perfectly fine with me. They can be a tough crowd."

"Don't I know it," Peter murmured, then quickly changed the subject. "Listen, I'd like to apologize that Captain Blaisdell couldn't make it, and that this switch happened on such short notice."

Angela frowned slightly and gestured that they follow her along the corridor. "Would you like the fifty cent tour? You still have another three quarters of an hour until your lecture is due to began."

Peter glanced toward his father, who bore an expression of intense concentration. He paused. "Something wrong?"

Caine's expression cleared and he smiled. "I would like to remain here, if I may?"

Peter cast a quick apologetic smile toward Angela Raybern and pulled his father to the side. "What's going on, Pop?," he murmured. "Do you sense something I should know about? I thought you didn't want me to face these memories alone?"

"Of course, your pain is my pain, my son," Caine replied somewhat cryptically. "And your joy, my joy. My heart goes with you. Please, enjoy your tour. Everything will be fine."

Peter eyed him intently, trying to figure out what his father was up to and why. But Angela was waiting for him, and his father could be tight-lipped. "You're going to explain this to me later," he pointed a finger at him.

Caine bowed slightly.

Having no choice but to take that as a yes, Peter turned back toward Angela and followed her along the corridor. As they continued along, he wondered if he should come clean about his past history with the place. Just as he opened his mouth to 'fess up, Angela spoke.

"I've been here for five years," she confided. "In that time, Paul Blaisdell has come on Wednesday of every career week without fail. He's never missed once. Staff legend has it that he came for years before that. When he came, it wasn't about career options, it was about the fact that each and every kid in the room, regardless of his background, could become anything that he wanted. I've always admired him for that."

Peter smiled faintly, suddenly missing Paul all the more. "Yeah, he's one of the good guys."

"There is something else Blaisdell did every time he came," Angela directed him down another corridor that Peter remembered leading to the cafeteria and the recreation room. "There is a marking wall. I'm not quite sure how it got started, but every kid who has been in and out of this place in probably the past twenty years has his name scratched or written up there. He always visits that wall."

Peter remembered the wall. There had been quite a few names on it during his time at Rock Creek. He had refused to sign it, even though Kyle had squared off a space with permanent marker and labeled it 'reserved for Peter Caine'. When he'd left, he'd vowed never to return. Leaving some mark on a stupid wall had been the last thing he wanted.

"That marking wall is through here," Angela was speaking again as she directed his attention toward the door that he knew well. The marking wall was in the very back of the room.

Angela stood back and allowed him to enter first.

Peter stepped into the room, noticing first off that the decor had changed drastically to more modern furnishings than those that he remembered. But then, before he could focus on specifics, his attention was caught by a form at the back of the room.

Paul.

His vision tunneled to that one spot. He didn't hear Angela quietly leave, or the door softly shut. He didn't even remember weaving his way across the room. He only knew that his next conscious thought was when he had his arms wrapped around his foster father, squeezing him tightly.

"Paul, what are you doing here? I thought. . . I mean. . . I. . . " He pulled back and grasped his shoulders, assuring himself that he was really there.

"One word at a time," Paul said, chuckling.

Peter choked back a laugh and just looked at him. There was still a tenseness about him, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. His smile faded. "You're not back to stay are you?"

Paul shook his head. "No, I'm not, son. This is simply an appointment I've kept for eighteen years, although it's not common knowledge. But I see that it's in good hands now."

"I didn't come here to take over your job," Peter said quickly. "I just talked to one of the . . . the. . . to Angela, and she talks about how much she admires what you've done with the kids here. No one can do this like you can Paul. You even got through to me, and I've been told that I'm pretty hard-headed."

"Yeah you are pretty hard-headed," Paul chuckled as he reached up and ruffled his hair. "But you'll do fine, Peter. You don't need me for this."

"But I do need you, Dad. I've missed you these past weeks."

"No." Paul shook his head, smiling a sad sweet smile. "No you don't. You'll do wonderful, kid. You're going to leave your mark on this place and do your old foster dad proud."

Peter sighed and smiled at the man he loved like a father. He wouldn't push anymore. "So what do you come to this wall for anyway?"

Paul turned toward the wall. "I see how many of the names I recognize, try to remember some of them."

"There sure are a lot names," Peter murmured, reaching for a black permanent marker than was hung from the wall by a string. "But I think one is missing." After several moments of scribbling he turned from the wall. "Now, I have to give this lecture on police work in about a half hour. Can you stay? Maybe talk for a little while before you go?"

"I wouldn't miss it."

Peter moved to the back of the meeting room as the crowd began to break up. For the most part, the entire program had gone much more smoothly than he'd expected. Of course, there were a few smart mouths in the group, but fortunately, he'd had a lot of experience with smart mouths. The fact that his father and Paul were standing at the back of the class should have made him nervous, but oddly, it hadn't. The one rough spot had been when he was wrapping things up and Paul had mouthed the words 'I love you, son' before turning toward the exit. Peter had lost his train of thought then. If his voice wavered slightly after that, he hoped that the quick clearing of his throat was cover enough.

"You knew he was here, didn't you?" he asked as he approached his father.

"I may have suspected," Caine shrugged.

"But. . . how. . ?" Peter shook his head. "Nevermind. So what were you two whispering about back here?"

Caine smiled. "Merely words of encouragement for a man who has a difficult journey ahead. And perhaps a few proud boastings between fathers."

Peter felt warmed by the words. "He's gone?" He had to ask the question, though he knew it was so.

"You will see him again, my son."

"I know," he said, hearing the hope in his own voice. Then turning to look about the room, he drew in a deep breath and released it. "I guess we'd better get out of here or we're going to be snowed in for the night."

Minutes later, he pulled carefully away from the building. The snow was falling in earnest now, but he was sure he could make it home before things got too much worse.

As he made his final turn out onto the narrow lane that had led to Rock Creek Boy's Home, he looked into the rear view mirror. Nope, the big hulking monstrosity hadn't changed over the years, but he had. It no longer gave him the creeps. It gave him hope. Hope that he could help someone else the way that he'd been helped. It also made him thankful to have been blessed with two such fathers as Kwai Chang Caine and Paul Blaisdell.