The Road Ahead

It was shortly past rush hour, and the traffic was bearable. Back in 'civil' clothes Peter was concentrating on the road and his task. Two years later and he could manage nearly a whole drive without noticing the trespassers – it made him feel almost normal.

Riverton was two-hour drive from Sloanville's Chinatown; amidst winter – almost three. Not too far, yet not too close for comfort, either. The stretch left the young priest with too much time to think. Since his return he had been even more obsessed with his schedule – with barely 4-5 hours of sleep and food on the go, he really made it impossible for his thoughts to stray to… her …or worse – to France. The most he allowed himself were thoughts of his foster family, whom he was more than ever eager to take care of.

Very few of Peter's kids had ended up in foster care. He made sure that whatever family his wards had would stick together and offer them as normal and uneventful childhood as possible. His current drive to Riverton was an urgent one. He couldn't postpone it because the ten-year old Melissa Winch had been fostered there. She had to, after her grand-mother, only relative and legal guardian, died of stroke in late December. The girl had not called Peter for 17 days, way more than what they had agreed, and every fibre of his body was telling him something was wrong.

This, and the condition of his own life, contributed to the young master's serious eyes. Ever since his comeback he had face of stone, and in two months Chinatown had come up with tens of versions of what had caused this condition. Peter only wondered whether the curious community would have allowed itself such freedom of imagination if it was his father and not him. For his own sake he left that question unanswered.

Annoyed for not driving fast enough Peter had to stop at the lights of some small town right outside Sloanville. The so uncommon for a Shaolin nervousness made him check something hanging around his neck; it appeared there shortly after his return in December and nobody, not even Master Khan, knew where it came from.

Inevitably his thoughts travelled to that fateful December two months ago. He thought of the Blaisdells, the only proper family he ever had. Before leaving he had paid one of his regular visits like a devoted son should, completely disregarding the fact that those visits were now more frequent than even when Paul was still the only father he had.

Paul…

The car moved on and so did Peter's memories. It took him back to the day he returned, and as usual the memory invaded his heart along with that little voice whispering 'Was there any point?''. Then he'd answer himself with an 'Of course there was, you dope', and the moment of self-pity would be over for a few more hours, a day tops.

Nervously Peter made sure, again, that the pendant around his neck was still there and kissed it. A deep sigh indicated that there was no avoiding the flashback this time.

X

December 9, 1998

. Frantically the two men rushed in the car and left. Stuck in traffic two minutes later, Kermit was still hesitating if he should do it, when Peter solved the moral dilemma himself. A steady hand reached and turned the siren on; they were at County General four minutes later.

'This is where you talk...again..,' spoke Peter, blankly staring ahead, with a voice that made the snow outside look warm.

'When Paul returned, which was earlier than he had intended… there was a reason.'

'His family?'

'His cancer.'

Peter was still; only the apples of his eyes had doubled their size.

'How long have you known?'

'I learned the day we left, Pete. He made me swear not to tell you… or Annie…'

No response came from the younger man. He was observing a little boy playing with a small dog and for a second he genuinely wanted to be in that boy's place.

'Has it progressed so fast?'

'No, but it can't be moved either. He has a brain tumour.'

Peter felt a new sensation in his body; this time it was the urge to start banging his head on the nearest hard surface. Tumour! All those months Paul fooled him with migraine talk and he believed him.

No wonder his father was ashamed of him.

'You have every right to be angry.'

'It's not your fault, Kermit.'

Slightly surprised the older man made few quick moves to check on Peter. The kid not only looked different, he sounded different.

At first Kermit hadn't been terribly enthusiastic when Peter called to let him know he was going to spend some time at the temple where he had delivered safe and sound Sun Wei's wife. But it was turning out to be a good idea after all. Peter was not only calmer than ever, he demonstrated control over his emotions that only one other Caine had done before him.

As for Paul Blaisdell, whatever his condition, his health had mysteriously deteriorated two days ago and prognosis was that his wife would serve one plate less at the Christmas table.

Kermit's trouble to locate Peter also reminded the young priest that it was time to invest in a new cell phone…

X

Walking down the long corridors smelling of anti-bacterial cleaner was something that later Peter barely remembered. The first thing he remembered was the room and the small crowd outside; Paul's brother, Simon, was there, a sign that things weren't going well. Simon was talking to Todd, Caroline's for-the-time-being husband. Next thing was Kelly. The youngest Blaisdell, who had suddenly turned into this stunner-of-a-woman, jumped off her seat and with teary face ran to Peter.

'Where have you been!' she screamed and started hitting his chest. 'He's dying!' she cried and kept hitting while Peter just closed eyes and left her do whatever she wanted.

'Where were you?' cried Kelly at last and finally succumbed to her grief, exhaustedly hiding face in Peter's arms. He wanted to say he was sorry but it was not the time; his sister knew he was.

Finally making it to the room, Peter found a pale, weak man, the same who pulled him out of the gutter and gave him new life 20 years ago. Annie was sitting on the other side of the bed, her hands clutching Paul's dry wrist as if that would stop him from leaving her.

Paul was delirious. He was mumbling gibberish when he saw the young man by his side.

'Paul?' Annie stirred. 'Honey?'

'It's me, Mom. Hey…'

Peter sat and bravely suppressing his tears kissed and caressed the wrinkled forehead.

'Paul? Paul, it's me, Peter, I'm back.'

'Peter? Son, is that really you?'

Peter grabbed the trembling hand.

'It's me… Dad, it's me, I'm here, I'm back.'

Tears ran down the well-aged face. Paul cupped the young face and attempted to kiss it. Peter leaned and rested head on his foster-father's shoulder.

'God, it's really you!' Paul smiled. 'And I thought I was hallucinating again.'

'No, no, I'm really here, Paul… Dad, I'm here. …Forgive me!'

'For what?'

'For not being here earlier.'

'You were doing your... job, you were… helping,' said Paul with a hoarse voice.

Paul was holding Peter's hand tightly and repeated perpetually, 'You're here, son... You're back…'

'Mom?'

Annie didn't respond.

'Mom, it's OK, I'm here now,' he said and stretched hand to cup Annie's. She pulled nervously.

'So what? What difference does it make? There's nothing you or any of us can do.'

Annie had never been so cross with her son, not once. Peter came to the horrible conclusion that despite his attempts, after taking the brands an invisible wall had grown between him and his 'normal' family, and only now had this wall got to take shape and matter.

Silently he removed his hand and concentrated on Paul. Caroline had nested next to her mother while Kelly still wouldn't dare come in. Kermit was next to her at the door, stoically hiding behind his green shades. Peter had never been more jealous of the pair of plastic accessories that so successfully managed to conceal the ex-mercenary's emotions.

Paul's steel-blue eyes were wide open, firmly fixated on the young man next to him; Peter caressed him. In that moment the young Shaolin didn't need to turn to know that another person entered the room.

'Peter… Welcome back.'

'Thank you, Dr Saburin.' After few seconds silence he continued. 'What's the verdict?'

'We're losing him very quickly…' Annie sobbed. 'There's nothing else we can do but reduce his pain.'

Peter granted the woman who had saved his own life more than once a desperate look, silently apologising for not being more courteous.

'Where is the tumour?' The big hazel eyes returned to Paul.

'Inside the brain. The position is very delicate and that makes it inoperable.'

'Has it progressed that fast?'

'Peter, leave it,' insisted Caroline.

'That's the problem, it doesn't seem to be the tumour. Yet… we've been unable to find any other cause of his condition. …I'm sorry.'

Helplessly at first Peter slid hand down Paul's chest. This was when his shaken chi finally detected it.

Heat! Everywhere….

Down the neck, the torso, the legs… Paul's life force had been totally affected, it wasn't just the head.

Peter livened up. He stood to his feet and began working with both hands, carefully exploring Paul's chi, sliding hands up and down the body without touching it.

'What are you doing?' asked Carol in a slightly annoyed manner. She was holding Annie and until that point had wisely preferred to keep distance from her brother.

'It's everywhere…'

'What?!'

'Whatever is killing him… it's all… over the body… not just the head…'

'Mr Caine…'

Dr Sabourin would gladly hear Caine's opinion on any of her cases, but Peter was not that Caine.

Meanwhile Annie interfered, this time with significantly softer voice.

'Let it go, honey, there's nothing we can do,' she said and cupped her son's hand. Peter kissed hers and gently put it away.

'If it's his brain, then why does his whole body feel… wrong?'

'Peter, what are you talking about?' asked Annie but this time Dr Sabourin understood. Before she even managed to speak a new voice filled the room.

'What's this, what's the kid talking about? He feels nothing…'

The voice's owner resented Peter only a bit more than he resented Paul. His name was Simon Blaisdell, Paul's younger brother.

Trained in patience and stoicism, Peter suppressed the unpleasant memories from his encounters with Simon, together with the overwhelming desire to punch him, and spoke as calmly as humanly possible.

'I can feel… The same way I can feel the nurse's painful cramps…' Nurse Jones blushed. '…or Dr Sabourin's pesky tooth… or my mother's inflamated sinuses… Mom, you have to do something about this, seriously.'

Peter's sad eyes met Paul's amazed gaze.

'She's obstinate like you.'

Annie was speechless, so was everybody in the room. Peter felt guilty, he looked down. He had tried so hard to act 'normally' while being with his 'normal' family. Just like when he was a boy who badly wanted to fit in, the newly branded priest had suppressed with all his power the new skills and knowledge that set him apart from the 'hot shot' cop everybody knew. Now this was no longer possible.

Peter Caine, a Shaolin priest, put on the table all he had, and he had never been further away from his family than in that moment.

Paul mumbled.

'Is it… true? Is your… sinusitis… back?'

Annie sounded barely audible.

'How did you know?'

'I felt it,' said Peter and faced the doctor again, 'as I feel that my father is dying of something that's not in his head. It's… everywhere…'

'Everywhere?'

'Yeah, like… like the blood, the bones…' Peter froze. He and the doctor stared at each other.

'The blood!'

X

The loud interaction between Peter's car and the icy road brought the priest out of his flashback. Skilfully he manoeuvred back to the lane. His hand nervously checked the pendant round his neck while his brain was sending signals that Riverton was nearly there.

XXX

Fuming under the discomfort of the heavy box which inevitably made the squad room appear stuffier than it was, Chief Strenlich left his office. The seriousness of his decision had just hit him, the empty office laughing at him, and the former marine was only looking for a victim to unleash his frustration on.

The planned assault was postponed, however, as soon as the trained eye noticed the Captain and his stunning companion. The box landed almost immediately on the nearest available desk, Chin's in this case.

'She's gorgeous, isn't she?' stated the younger man dreamily.

'Aha…' barely uttered Strenlich and headed for the door, completely oblivious to his girlfriend's scrutinising look.

The beautiful and way-too-young woman standing next to the Captain was already heading Kelly Blake's Most Hated list.

Strenlich was refusing to believe it. He came closer and observed how the lady was introduced to Broderick and Skalany, then to Jody and Callahan, to T.J. ...

The Commissioner sneaked out of the Captain's office and cordially hugged the much-younger woman, almost as if they were old friends.

The Chief had researched his temp in depth. He knew of her skill and accomplishments, and he felt nothing but respect for a young woman who had earned more medals than he had. He knew, of course, that she was young, though he expected a woman before her 40s, not a goddess who was not in her 30s yet.

'And… that must be Chief Strenlich,' said the stunner and proudly looked at the Chief, her big, black eyes leaving him breathless.

'Pleasure to meet you at last, Lieutenant.'

They shook hands.

'Police lieutenant Frank Strenlich, at your service,' almost sang the Chief and mildly bowed. Jody was amazed, the Captain – amused, while the Commissioner was recollecting her own first meeting with Strenlich.

As for the young woman, she reacted as if this was the usual manner all men introduced themselves to her. She smiled. Her eyes were nearly at the same level with Strenlich's; her air made her look a noblewoman meeting a commoner. This was the moment when she became Public Enemy N1 amongst the entire female populace of 101st.

'The pleasure is mine, Chief Strenlich,' she said. 'Lieutenant Tara Jahn, your temp.'

XXXX