February 3rd
Peter ran to catch up with his father, as he stood speaking to The Ancient. The air was chilled, but not so cold as the feeling Peter had in the pit of his stomach. Especially when he saw how his father was dressed, with both of his flutes in the carrying tube, a pair of shoes tied together by the laces and slung over his shoulder.
"Hey, hey what are you two scheming up?" He asked when he caught up to them, touching both of them on the arm. The looks on their faces confirmed what he had suspected. They both looked guilty, and uncomfortable with his presence.
"I have been meaning to talk to you." Caine said, "I know you have many questions."
"Well, you've done some very curious things, I'll give ya that." How was he going to deal with this without coming off as a needy spoiled child? He didn't want his last words with his father to be angry.
"In order to help the Emperor, I had to -"
"You don't have to explain, Pop, not to me." He didn't want to hear about how he wasn't the reason his father was there. He knew that already. He had hoped that he could be the reason the man stayed. But apparently, he couldn't be that either. He sighed a little, pulling himself together and pushing his hurt to the background where it had always resided in the past. "We've come a long way, you've taught me a lot." He'd chosen the high road, he was going to stay on it even if it did feel like he was eating ground glass. Besides, it wasn't like it would do him any good not to. This was going to happen no matter what he said or did.
"As you have me," Caine told his son.
"So the only responsibility you have to me is what's in your heart." He was a grown man after all. He'd spent 15 years without his father in his life. He could face it again, even if he didn't want to, he didn't have a choice. What responsibility did fathers have to their adult children anyway?
Caine hesitated. "I must leave. My path that once seemed so clear is now obscure."
"Then- then - then" Spit it out, Peter, he thought. "you must find your path," he said, although his sadness was written on his face.
Caine reached out to cup his son's face, in great affection, wishing there was more he could do to ease this moment for both of them.
"Hey, stop by sometime, We'll catch a ball game or something, " Peter said, not wanting that moment to end. He didn't want to go back to a life without his father. If they made plans then he had to come back, right?
Caine didn't answer his son. He instead looked to Lo Si "I will be close."
The Ancient said, "I understand."
Peter wished he did.
Kwai Chang Caine began to walk away, then turned to look over his shoulder "Goodbye, my son." He said, then continued to walk away, not realizing how it looked like an afterthought to his son.
Peter watched until his father disappeared into the crowd, then he gave a sigh. Well that was that, wasn't it?
"What are your thoughts, young Caine? That you will never see your father again?"
"No," He said, although he wasn't truly certain of it. " He'll be back. I'm not going anywhere. Haven't ya heard? If you stay in one place long enough the world comes to you. It doesn't have a choice. He'll be back." But it wouldn't be for him, would it?
"You are learning." The Ancient said, with an enigmatic smile.
Peter put his arm around The Ancient's shoulder and they walked together for a time before Peter changed directions in order to return to his car. He was due to be on duty soon, and even if it was the last thing he wanted to do, it was probably the best thing for him. He needed to get his mind off of his father's departure.
Neither man noticed they were being followed. They didn't notice the man veered off just as Peter did. Chinatown was a crowded place, filled with nearly as many tourists as locals. No one noticed a stranger's face in the crowd.
Peter's car was parked off the beaten path. Even with all the enemies he and his father had faced in the confines of Chinatown, Peter had never felt unsafe there. Not truly. It didn't occur to him to park in a more public location. He had only thought about the difficulties of parking or pulling away in the more crowded streets.
He jogged the last half block to his car and fished in his jacket pocket for his keys. He slid one into the lock on the driver's side door and then flinched "Ow" He said feeling a sharp sting at the back of his neck. He reached back to search for the stinger he was certain was still there, and instead brought away a small dart.
His vision swam almost instantly and he slumped against his car. If he could just get inside he could lock the doors and call for backup. He couldn't grip the key firmly and his hand fell away.
"Easy Mate." It was a man's voice, the accent was either Australian or New Zealander. Peter wasn't sure which from those few words." He was a little taller than Peter, with blond hair and brown eyes. "You shouldn't be driving in your condition, my Friend." He pushed Peter's hands out of the way then turned the key once, then a second time to unlock all the doors.
Peter couldn't put a coherent thought together, much less speak. He struggled to keep his eyelids open, and when he did he felt his eyes roll back. His limbs felt heavy, too heavy to move. He wasn't able to resist as he was forced into the backseat of his own car. He felt disconnected from himself, and from his connection with his father.
"One last thing." The man said. He fished Peter's gun from its holster and tossed it onto the floorboards. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself after all." He closed the door then got into the front seat and adjusted it before starting the car and driving away.
Kwai Chang Caine paused. There was the sensation that Peter was in danger, but then it was gone as quickly as it came. He waited at the crosswalk for several minutes waiting to see if the sensation returned. It did not. Peter had proven himself capable of taking care of himself, and the sensation had passed so quickly that he began to wonder if he had imagined it because he did not truly wish to leave his son. Had he not postponed speaking to him about leaving until he was forced to do so by fate?
His heart was heavy as began to walk once more. He knew how Peter must be feeling. There were things about his son that had not changed since he had been a boy in the temple. The loss of his mother had made him fear that others would leave him as well, even though it had not been Laura's choice to leave them it had still left their son with many insecurities. He knew he was adding to that insecurity and there may be no recovery from his leaving, but he truly felt he had no other choice. He would have to trust that Lo Si and Paul Blaisdell would protect Peter and help him through this separation.
February 6th
Frank Strenlich rapped on Paul Blaisdell's office door, then walked in without waiting for an invitation. Things had been tense around the office since the first night that Peter hadn't shown up for work. Everyone was in agreement about Peter Caine. He drove them all up a wall and they all loved him anyway. The disappearance of one of their own would be worrying, the disappearance of one they loved was heartbreaking.
"Yes, Frank?" He asked, looking up from his paperwork. If one more person asked him how he was holding up he was going to bust them back to the traffic division. As much as the rest of the detectives in the precinct loved his foster son, Paul Blaisdell loved him more. He had prepared himself for Peter's death since he became a detective because of his bravery almost to the point of foolishness. But this purgatory of not knowing was driving his family mad.
Frank closed the door behind him. He didn't want to deliver this bit of news. It left more questions than it answered, although in his own mind it told him a great deal. It told him Peter was dead. "They found Peter's car." He said quietly.
"Where?" Peter's car but not Peter? Paul didn't know whether to take hope from that or to give up hope entirely.
"Under one of the piers near Chinatown," Frank said. "His firearm and wallet were on the floorboards of the back seat. Forensics is going over it with a fine toothcomb. If there is anything in that car to be found they'll find it." He had personally lit a fire under their asses about it.
Paul ran a hand through his hair. "Peter would never just leave his firearm in the back seat, not even if he thought it was unwise to take it with him. and he would definitely never park That car where it could be immersed in Salt Water. What the hell has he gotten himself into? You know I was actually hoping he'd decided to leave with his father. It would be a kick in the teeth, but at least he would be alive and safe."
"I've put Skalany to work on his backlog of cases and Kermit is checking to see if anyone he put away has gotten out with a bone to pick." He had his detectives on high alert. Even though this was likely personal to Peter Caine, it was possible that they had a cop killer out there and he would be damned if he lost another detective on his watch.
"Keep me informed." He said getting up and putting on his suit jacket. "I need to go tell Annie "
"Tell her what, Captain? We don't know anything more than we did yesterday."
"Yes, we do. We know that my son is either captive somewhere or he's dead. The fact that he hasn't contacted someone by now, tells us he can't."
"That isn't exactly comforting, Sir."
"Nothing about this is comforting. She's a strong woman. She'd rather have the truth. Annie spends her life in the dark. She doesn't need me to add another layer to it." Horrific possibilities were worse somehow than horrific facts.
Peter didn't know how long he'd been there. The room he was in didn't have a window and if there was a light he didn't have control of it. He estimated two days, maybe three based on how often food was shoved through a slot at the bottom of the door.
Sandwiches. Peanut butter on cheap white bread. Sometimes bologna and American cheese also on cheap white bread. Three times a day he estimated. It was like lunch every day in the orphanage. All that was missing were overcooked canned green beans and a carton of stale skim milk. He'd learned to hate those sandwiches with a passion and now here he was eating them again. Well, at least there weren't any green beans. He shuddered at the thought.
He had paced out the room on what he assumed was the first day. He'd been hoping to find a light switch but it wasn't to be found. He estimated it to be 6x9 feet. The size of a prison cell left him to wonder initially if he was being held by someone that he'd put in prison. There was a thin twin-sized mattress on the floor without a pillow or blanket. He had found a sink and toilet on one end of his cell. The walls felt like a painted cinder block and the floor was concrete, The door was thick and solid. There was no knob or hinges on his side of the door. The only opening was the slot at the bottom.
No one had spoken to him since he'd arrived. He figured he was wrong about it being someone he'd arrested. If that was the case they would have gloated about the role reversal by now. He didn't know why he was there, or what they wanted. Which probably meant that he wasn't the one that had what they wanted. He was a hostage to make someone else do what they needed to be done. Probably one of his fathers. He wished them luck in either case. Neither was likely to give them what they wanted. Unless what they wanted was jail time or an ass-kicking. He'd like to see that happen. He really would. Hell, right now he'd like to see just about anything. Was this what his mother went through every day?
The flap at the slot in the door opened and another paper plate was shoved into the room.
"You could at least turn on a light so I can see what I'm eating." He yelled at the door. He could hear a laugh on the other side, it faded as they walked away. "Well, at least I know they hear me." He said taking the paper plate back to his mattress on the floor. He took a bite of the sandwich and wrinkled his nose. "Peanut butter."
He put the sandwich back on the plate. "I am not hungry enough for this yet." He put the paper plate on the floor next to the bed. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, whether he could see it or not.
Surely his father would have sensed he was in danger. He'd be looking for him. Wouldn't he? Maybe? Peter had doubts. He'd have never voiced those doubts aloud. But there were inconsistencies that had eaten at him from the beginning. He had written those off as his natural insecurity. It had taken him months to trust that the Blaisdells had actually wanted him, so how much more likely was it that he would have doubts about his father? Doubts that had come to the surface again once he'd learned the real reason his father had stayed in Bayview. Doubts that now screamed at him no matter what he told Lo Si. Sure he believed that his father would return. He just didn't think it would have anything to do with him. He would be a… wonderful coincidence.
He wondered if he could remember how to meditate. It always helped his father to cope. He had learned how as a boy, but he had stopped when the other boys in the orphanage tried to beat him up for it. They had failed of course. Young Peter had always wanted to fight and the early days in the orphanage had given him the perfect excuse. They had attacked him because of his bald head, the unusual cadence of his speech, and the fact that at first, he had refused to eat meat. Any difference (And there were many) had to lead to an attempted beatdown. Until he'd proven to all comers that it was a bad idea to try. Each time he fought back he got in trouble with the orphanage staff. They had believed because he could give better than he got that he was not supposed to fight back at all. It didn't stop him. He fought to protect himself, he fought because he ached inside, and truth be told he fought because they told him not to fight.
Eventually he had wanted the fighting to stop. So he gave everything up that had made him different, everything that made him who and what Peter Matthew Caine was. His Buddhist beliefs, his meditation, his Kung Fu, everything he had been in the temple he gave up to become someone that could survive the orphanage. He was no one there and every one from the head master to the youngest inmate (as he thought of them) made sure to reinforced it . After a while he grew to think that his memories of the temple were more dream than reality. He let his hair grow, learned to play foot ball and ice hockey. He also learned not to let any one close. Not truly close because he didn't want to go through that loss again.
He sat up and sat in the lotus position and tried to clear his thoughts, but he couldn't do it, he wasn't certain that he knew how anymore. Hi thoughts kept churning and tumbling in the darkness. His fear and loneliness kept creeping in. Fear that he was going to slowly die alone and forgotten in the dark.
The one constant in Peter's life was that he was alone, even in a crowded room, in bed with the woman that he thought he loved. He was alone in the Blaisdell house, and he was alone with his father. There was an emptiness inside him created when the temple had been destroyed and reinforced by the orphanage that he'd never figured out how to fill. He thought it might be fitting that he died the way he had lived. Alone and full of unanswered questions.
If this had happened a few days earlier his father would still be in town and he could find him. He always knew how to find him when he was in trouble. Did he know now? Hadn't he been in danger many times in the past before Kwai Chang Caine had arrived in Bayview? He hadn't known then… had he? Would he come back now or would he ignore his son's existence until he was ready to come back? Would he be dead before that happened?
His father had come to town for one thing, and with that completed he simply left. He (They) had redeemed the family's honor and it was time to leave, good to see ya kid, catcha on the flip side. I had been meaning to talk to you about this whole leaving thing but you know how it is, I just never got around to it.
"We'll catch a ball game or something... Did I actually say that?" He said aloud. "Yeah. Way to come off insecure and needy." He pressed his palms to his eyes to prevent the tears that had been threatening to fall since he'd said good bye to his father, and took deep breaths. "I have to get myself out this. I can't wait on anyone else...
They watched their captive through a video feed. The camera was set in the corner next to the high ceiling of Peter's cell. "The cracks are beginning to form," Miranda said, with a faint smile. Human beings were not designed to withstand forced solitude and darkness. It had been known to drive even the most hardened men mad within days.
"He's weak. There are better choices for recruitment." Kline said with a sneer. "He was easy to capture. Not what you would expect from a man of his lineage."
Miranda laughed. "He isn't here because of his strengths or weaknesses. He is here because of that lineage. You are to leave him alone Kline. Any interaction at all will give him hope and that is the one thing he must not be allowed to have if I am going to be able to break him.