Title: Generation to Generation II: A Bonding of Three Caines

Author: Alisa Joaquin

Special Credit: This story was inspired by Jeanne DeVore who wrote Generation to Generation. May this sequel do the original justice. I also give credit to my beta reader for giving me excellent suggestions and helping to clean up any errors in grammar, punctuation, and spelling.

Characters: Peter, Kwai Chang Caine, Matthew Caine, Lo Si, Strenlich, and a few guest apearances, the community of Chinatwon

Story: Kwai Chang Caine returns home bringing Matthew Caine for a visit. Caine is severely injured trying to protect his son and Matthew Caine relearns what it means to have a family and the bonds of love.

Warnings: None worth mentioning.

Disclaimer: Kung Fu: The Legend Continues is a creation by Michael Sloan and distributed by Warner Brothers. This piece of fiction is based on KF:TLC. No copyright infringement is intended or implied. This work is available to the public for reading. Permission for reproducing this story in another form must be aquired from the author. All rights revert back to the author after one year.

Peter returned from France only to find his desk piled with files. It looked like they gave him a year's worth of work. Captain Simms spotted him and waved Peter into her office with just one finger. Peter suddenly felt like he was about to receive a lecture from his mother for some unknown offense, like not cleaning his room. Sheepishly he bowed his head and entered her office. All eyes were on him and each person knew, without thinking it out loud, that Peter Caine was in trouble, again.

"Where have you been? You were suppose to be back from your vacation two days ago."

"Well, huh, we had to take a couple of extra days. I have a very good reason."

"What reason is that?"

Peter started grinning from ear to ear.

"Well, I'm waiting."

"My grandfather's alive."

"What?"

"My grandfather, Matthew Caine, is alive."

"I wasn't even aware you had a grandfather. I just assumed he was dead since you never mentioned him."

"My father thought he was dead, too, but now. . ."

"Where is he?"

"He's been living in France. We couldn't come back so soon after discovering he was alive, so we stayed a couple more days. I came back, though a bit late, my father stayed with him to get to know him, again."

"I'm happy for you, detective, but you see that pile of files on your desk? You are to go through them and make sure they are complete. Every case needs closing out, updated, forms signed in triplicate, you get the picture? Every file has a note on it that states what needs doing on it. You are to follow it to the letter. I want those files cleaned up and out of here ASAP. To make it easier for you, I am reassigning you to desk duty until they're done. Got that?"

Peter was about to open his mouth and protest until he saw the look on his Captain's face that said no argument.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well hop to it, detective. The paperwork isn't going to finish itself."

A week went by and Peter was still wading through files. It seemed each time he tried to make any headway, someone would stack another 20 files on his desk. He was beginning to wonder if everyone had hidden their paperwork so he would have to do it all. When he looked around the room, he saw that some of the other detectives had almost just as much work.

"What's going on? Why so much paperwork?"

"The DA decided that all paperwork from six months ago had to be redone and guess whose precinct they decided to look at first. We're short handed as it is. Some of us had to be assigned to desk duty just to clear up this mess." Strenlich said.

"How long is this going to go on? There must be hundreds of files from the past six months."

"Tell me about it," said Mary-Margaret.

"Why does there appear to be more on my desk than the others?"

"Take a look. Every detective that was on each case has to look at each file. That means, if there were three detectives on one case, statements from each detective have to be written up plus the accompanying forms, in triplicate. You were involved with a great number of these cases, Peter."

"At this rate, the worse injury I'll ever see will be too many paper cuts. I haven't even been here six months and I'm already doing desk duty." That was Thompson.

"You should be so lucky. I've been in and out of the hospital so many times they were thinking of putting in a revolving door just for me. Don't worry about it," said Peter. "As my father would say, take each problem one at a time, and your accomplishment will grow accordingly. Don't do any of it, and your homework will grow accordingly."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"Just keep plugging along until it's done."

"Great, the shaolin cop strikes, again."

There was a ripple of laughter from the area as people continued to go over their files.

Peter left the precinct and instead of going home to his apartment, he had been staying at his father's place. He made sure that his cellphone was fully charged just in case anyone called. Peter entered his father's place and lit the candles. The warm comforting glow greeted him. For some reason, knowing where his father was helped to make these rooms feel less empty. As Peter began to prepare a light supper for himself, his eye fell upon a white envelope on the workbench. Peter picked it up and discovered who had sent the letter. He could not tear into it fast enough to get at its' contents.

My Son,

All is going well. Father and I are talking more each day. You were right. This time together has helped in closing old wounds. I have learned much from you, including just how much pain you must have endured during my absence. I am helping father prepare his herbs for winter and I am also trying to see if I can help in giving him some relief from his arthritis. He seems to be improving each day. He does, however, frustrate me when he insists on walking to the village to visit his patients when he should be resting, but I am getting use to it. I will close this letter for now. Father wants to add that he misses you, especially your strong back. He has more chores that could be done, such as chopping wood. I told him the next time we visit, I will see that you take care of it. But next time, wear gloves. I love you my son. I will be home very soon.

Your father.

Peter cherished every word and laughed at the part about the wood needing to be chopped. At least he didn't say anything about the roof needing more repairs. The next day found Peter in better spirits. He had a spring in his step that had been lacking the last couple of days. Peter attacked his stack of files and by the end of the day, his desk had been cleared by nearly two thirds. When Strenlich added another couple dozen files, Peter did not complain, but attacked them greedily. All he needed was to receive another letter like the last one and the work would go quickly.

Another two weeks went by and everyone at the precinct was getting back to normal. All the paperwork that the DA had sent had been submitted except for a mixup with about 5 boxes that should have gone to the 52nd. Those were sent over and the squadroom again had the normal hustle and bustle of cops, criminals, phones, and shouting.

"Hey, Peter! You've got a phone call, long distance," said Broderick.

Peter picked up the phone with a puzzled look, then a big smile crossed his face.

"Yeah! My Pop's coming home!" Oh man, Peter thought. I've got to get his place ready. He'll kill me if he sees how I left it.

"When's he coming home?" Skalany perked up at the news.

"I do not know. He said he was at the airport, but he didn't say which one. It could be tonight if he's here, or sometime tomorrow if he's still in Paris. Book me off, will yah?"

Peter went back to his father's place and cleaned it from top to bottom. He threw out all the fast food containers from pizza to Chinese. He washed his clothes and packed them neatly in his suitcase, becoming a little misty eyed in the process. He had enjoyed staying here. The place was so much more peaceful than his own apartment. Although he always went by to check his mail and phone messages, his place just did not have the added warmth.

Peter had been grateful, however, during the three weeks when Lo Si would visit. He was not very good at tending herbs, but with Lo Si's help, Peter learned how much water they needed, which ones needed harvesting, and even how to dry them. In fact, Peter found out that he liked doing it. He felt closer to his father that way. Peter was just getting the finishing touches done on the room when someone cleared their throat. How long that person had been standing there was any ones guess. Peter looked up and a smile beamed across his face. His father gave him an approving look that spoke volumes. Then his father stepped aside and Peter could not believe his eyes, grandpa Matthew Caine had also come home. Peter rushed to them both, hugging his father first, than his grandfather.

"How long will you be staying?"

"I do not know." The classic trademark statement of the Caines. Peter had been surprised at himself on occasion when he would utter those same words and in the same manner.

"I thought I would visit at least as long as your father did and get to meet some of his friends and to get to know my grandson." Matthew Caine smiled. "May I sit down? It was a long walk from the airport."

"You walked? I could have come to pick you up."

"And miss walking and seeing this?" Peter's father indicated the nicely cleaned rooms, right down to the wooden floor. "Thank you, my son for taking care of my place. It looks wonderful. It has never looked so clean."

Peter smiled and blushed from the compliment. Momentarily, he was taken back to the Temple and remembered the day he had washed the stones in the great hall. Peter had learned a valuable lesson about revenge and his father also gave him a compliment about the cleanliness of the floor.

"Where should I put my bag?" Peter was brought back with his grandfather's words.

"I'll show you."

"Don't you have any furniture? I cannot sit on the floor the way I use to, but I'm getting there, again."

"I did notice you didn't have your cane."

"Your father has helped in relieving some of my arthritis. I am doing Tai Chi, again. It has been very helpful."

Peter led his grandfather to one of the back rooms. Caine had provided extra sleeping pallets for guests. Peter had added a futon for those not wanting to sleep close to the floor. Matthew was grateful for that. At least he would not be forced to sit on the floor all the time.

"There are some chairs on the balcony. I can bring them inside. What would you like to do first, now that you're here?"

"First, I would like to unpack, then take a siesta."

Peter laughed at that, remembering the time his grandfather kicked him and his father out of his cottage so he could be alone and take a nap.

"I'll let Pop know. He's probably making some tea."

"That sounds good. Maybe I will join you, then take a nap."

Peter went to check on his father and found him checking on his herbs. Caine was surprised how healthy and alive they looked. After being away for a few weeks, Caine thought his own herb garden would suffer.

"I kept them watered for you. Lo Si helped me to know how much they needed."

"Thank you, Peter." Surprise showed in Kwai Chang's voice. He was not aware that Peter had taken an interest. There was hope for him yet. Then Kwai Chang spotted something that did not belong among his beloved plants. It was a small box from one of the fast food places. Kwai Chang picked it up and handed it to his son.

"Sorry about that, Pop." Peter took the box and placed it in the trash. "I guess I missed one. I stayed here while you were . . ."

"I hope you did not have any 'wild parties' while I was gone?" Peter almost missed the twinkle in his father's eye at the attempt at humor. Just then Peter's cellphone rang.

"Yeah, Peter Caine here. What's up? I'll be right there. Gotta go, Pop. There's trouble at a stake out."

"Is there anything I might do?"

"Things should be okay. You'll know if I'm in trouble. Besides, someone should stay with grandpa and show him around Chinatown. I'll see you later. We'll go out to dinner tonight, my treat." Peter kissed his father's forehead and ran out the door.

As Peter left, an uneasiness came over Kwai Chang. He knew Peter was walking into danger but he could not stop him. Peter had a job to do.

"My son, are you alright?" Concern showed in Matthew's eyes. Concern that Kwai Chang thought he would never see. Their time together had helped to bring much of the pain that each felt to a close, but Kwai Chang still did not know how to approach his father with what he was feeling. The bond that he had with Peter had time to reestablish itself over the years they had together. The bond that he had with his own father was just reemerging. Not since Kwai Chang had been a child had that bond been there. Now, Kwai Chang wondered if they would even have enough time for that bond to grow. Should he even tell him of his fear? What could he do if something did happen? Kwai Chang looked into his father's eyes and saw the need that his father had to be there for him. It did not matter whether Matthew Caine could do something, all that mattered was being in his son's presence and helping him through the fear. Kwai Chang took a deep breath.

"I am concerned for Peter. He will rush headlong into danger without seeing the consequences."

Matthew nodded in understanding. Sounds like me at a much younger age, he thought. "You're grandfather said the same thing about me when I was young. There were many times he would have to rescue me because I did not see what I was heading into either. Do not worry my son. Peter should be fine. It is his job."

"You do not know Peter, father."

"Perhaps not, but I trust that you do. If you are needed, you will know."

Peter Caine arrived on the scene and found chaos. The suspects seemed to be carrying quite a bit of firepower. Three officers were down, but no one could get to them because of the gunfire. Where the shooting was coming from was not clear. It seemed like it was coming from several directions, yet all eyes were focused on one particular building.

"What have we got, Chief?"

"The stake out team was discovered. They're being held at gunpoint," said Strenlich.

"Is there any other way into the building where we can surprise them?"

"Nope. We looked. It was built before building codes required they have a fire escape or any other exit out of the place. Not only that, it's considered an historical landmark."

"What was the team doing in there in the first place?"

"It was the best vantage point the stake out team had."

"So, how did the suspects find out about the team and get inside?"

Strenlich was a little embarrassed to even mention it. "Obviously, someone blew their cover. When the suspects discovered our team, they must have called someone on the outside."

"Oh great."

Just then another round of machine gun fire could be heard. The cops scattered for cover. Some of it had come from the building, but there appeared to be more than one source. Peter reacted as gunfire from another direction ricochetted off one of the cars.

"That didn't come from the building. There's a sniper out there."

"No kidding, detective. We've been trying to spot him but he seems to be moving around."

"There may be more than one."

"We thought of that, too. No one's been able to get out far enough to check. The minute one of us shows our head, they start firing. By the way, how did you get through without getting hit?"

"It's a Shaolin thing. Sometimes I get lucky."

"Must run in the family."

"Have they made any demands?"

"No, and I don't know why."

Peter bowed his head to think. There had to be a reason. It didn't make any sense. Maybe they were waiting for someone in particular.

"Chief, I have an idea."

Peter pulled out his gun and placed it on the ground next to the vehicle that he and Strenlich were hiding behind. The chief watched and shook his head that Peter would do something so foolish. Peter then pulled out a white handkerchief, tied it to a stick that he found, and proceeded to wave the handkerchief in the air. The gunfire ceased. Peter then did what he thought was the most obvious of moves. He walked out into the street carrying his white flag. The chief tried to pull him back but he was too late.

"That kid is going to get himself killed one of these days for pulling stunts like that."

Peter steped out into the street waving his makeshift flag of truce.

"I'm unarmed! Let's talk! What is it that you want?"

Silence followed for a brief instant, then Peter was shoved aside as shots again rang out. Peter turned to see who pushed him and was stricken with horror. His father lay on the ground. Blood seeped through his clothing from at least three different wounds that Peter could see.

"Pop! No!" Peter screamed out his fear and frustration. Peter rushed to his side, picked him up, and quickly took him to safety. Shots continued to rain out, this time from the police. They were protecting their own. Peter laid his father on the ground behind the barricade of cars.

"Get an ambulance!" Peter tried to stop the bleeding but there were too many wounds. "Pop, please don't die. Grandpa needs you. I need you!"

While the police were firing, paramedics took the advantage and ran up on the scene.

"We've got to get those cops out of there as well," one of them said.

"It's too late for them." said Strenlich. "Concentrate on him. God I wish I knew why this is happening. It's as if these guys don't care whether they live or die. They must hate us so much that they're trying to take as many of us with them as they can. Pete, you better go with your father. There's nothing you can do here. Besided, I'm sure the Captain has called in the S.W.A.T. team by now."

The paramedics placed Caine on the stretcher. They continued to work to see how many wounds he had and to try to stop the bleeding. An IV was started to stem off the loss of fluids. Soon the medics were rushing to the ambulance under the cover of police gunfire. Peter tried to climb in the back but the medics insisted he sit up front. Peter refused. He was not going to let go of his father's hand until the last moment. The medics didn't argue. What mattered was the patient.

As they made their way to County General Hospital, Peter thought of his grandfather and what he was going to say. He came all the way from France to visit only to have to face this. "Grandpa, I wish you were here," Peter cried, holding his father's limp hand in his own.

Kwai Chang had left suddenly, leaving Matthew Caine alone. A look of puzzlement was on his face. Though Matthew was a Shaolin, he was not practiced at sensing others. The bond that he should have had with his own son was just reemerging and the emotions that he felt from his son were of confusion and danger, especially for another. As Kwai Chang rushed to his son's aid, Matthew settled down in a chair that had been brought from the balcony. It had been a long time since he had been involved with something dangerous. His work as an apothecary in St. Adele had not changed much for at least 25 years. There were the occasional squabbles between people, but not like what was happening here. Usually Matthew would do his best to act as counselor, but now days, there seemed to be no need. More people were seeking out psychologists for the same kind of help. Those in the village still consulted him on medicinal help. Not all of the villagers trusted doctors, especially the older residents.

Matthew sat back and waited for his son and grandson to reappear. He did not know how long to wait, but it did not matter. A Shaolin was patient, especially one at his age. As Matthew waited, an old Chinese man came into Kwai Chang's rooms.

"Kwai Chang. I brought some herbs for . . ." Lo Si stopped and stared. This was not his friend, though he recognized him right away. He had not seen this man for a long time. Not since a few days after the Temple's destruction. Lo Si, however, could not give away what he knew, not at this time. "Do I know you? You have such a familiar face."

"I am Caine. Matthew Caine."

"Ah, you must be Kwai Chang Caine's father. I see where he gets his looks," Lo Si smiled.

Suddenly Matthew Caine doubled over. A look of horror, pain, and confusion crossed his face. "My son?"

"Matthew Caine, what is the matter?" Lo Si rushed to the old man and helped support him as best he could.

"Something has happened to my son."

"How do you know this?"

"I am Shaolin and a link seems to be developing between us. I do not know how that is possible. We only just discovered each other again after 40 years."

"What else do you sense? Concentrate, it may be very important."

"I sense fear and apprehension from . . . Peter? My grandson?" Matthew Caine marveled at this new development. It would seem the link also included Peter. Matthew knew this was no the time for exploration. He would have to tend to it later. He had to find out what happened to Kwai Chang. "Where might they have gone if my son has been hurt?"

"They may go to County General Hospital. It is the closest to Chinatown."

"Then we must hurry. My son and grandson need me."

"We will need herbs to strengthen his chi."

"Of course. Where might my son keep them?"

"I will show you."

Lo Si led Matthew to one of the areas where Kwai Chang stored his herbs. Matthew was surprised at just how many varieties his son had. There were herbs that even he did not have available through his local herbalist. He would have to speak to Kwai Chang at a later time about acquiring some. Right now, Kwai Chang needed him for other reasons. Matthew read the labels and carefully placed some in a small pouch. He then grabbed his satchel that he brought with him from France, and he and Lo Si left to find his son and grandson. He hoped they would get there in time.

Matthew Caine and Lo Si found their way to the emergency room. Peter was arguing with Doctor Sabourin.

"Please, I've got to be with him. He needs my strength."

"Peter, the best thing you can do to help your father is to keep calm and let the team do their work. They'll be taking him to surgery and you can't go with him there."

"But. . ."

"Peter?"

The younger Caine turned his head at the voice that was so much like his father's.

"What has happened?" Fear and concern were mirrored in his eyes.

"Pop tried to save me and . . ." Peter tried not to choke on the words. "He got sh-shot. . . Oh grandpa, it's bad. I'm afraid he's dying."

Peter let the tears come and Matthew Caine pulled his grandson in his arms. It was Peter's fear that he felt, and Kwai Chang's injuries that assaulted the rest of his awareness. How it was possible Matthew Caine did not know. Right now, he had to concentrate on the needs of his grandson. Matthew held Peter and let him cry out what emotions were there. When Peter was finished, Matthew led him to a row of chairs where they both could sit down. Lo Si had settled down next to them but did not say a word. He could tell that this was a time where these two needed each other. It would be best to set his energies in meditating and give as much strength as he could to his friend, Kwai Chang Caine. If anyone else were to arrive, he would see that they were given any news.

The elder Caine took Peter's chin in his hand and raised his head to see his water filled eyes and tear stained face and spoke to him as a father would to his small son.

"You must be brave. Your father will not die. His spirit is strong. Even though you are not with him, I believe he still feels your strength." Matthew Caine let out a sigh. "When your father was a little boy and we were in China, there had been an accident. Your father had been badly injured. I, too felt like you. Afraid that I would loose him, but he did not die. I do not know why I know this, but something tells me even now that he will survive, even though there still remains some doubt."

"Could it be from your shaolin background, I mean if you can tell that he'll survive, than how can you doubt?"

"I do not know if my shaolin background tells me this. Maybe it is the wishes of a father. But I am also human and I have fears as well."

"This is just so unfair. He's not suppose to get hurt. I've only seen him in the hospital once and that was when I discovered he was alive. I should be the one in there." Peter's tears threatened to fall again.

"And have your father be the one to worry?"

"You're right. He's done it enough times already. Grandpa, I'm so sorry. I've been so wrapped up in my own fears that I forgot to ask about you. How are you holding up?"

"I, too want to go to him, but I must trust in the doctors to do their job. I know I do not have the skills to help him. He needs blood and the bullets must be removed. The best we can do is wait."

"Well that's one thing I could do for him. I could give him some of my blood. We're the same blood type."

"That would be a good idea. While you are doing that, we can both meditate to remain calm when the Doctor comes with news."

Peter and his grandfather walked up to the nurse's station and continued their conversation.

"You seem pretty calm to me right now."

"Do not let that fool you. I am as fearful as you. I just do not let it show. It serves no purpose and only makes others worry more. Peter, can you tell me one thing?"

"Just one minute Grandpa. Nurse?"

"May I help you?"

"Where do I go to give blood? My father's in surgery and I want to help by giving him a pint."

"Who Is your father?" the Nurse asked pulling out a chart.

"Kwai Chang Caine. He was brought in here with mutiple gunshot wounds?"

"Oh, yes. Right this way. I will see to it that your chart is marked accordingly so your father will receive it."

"Thank you."

"You know, I wish more people would do that. Give blood to their loved ones when they need it. Will you be giving blood too, sir? And who are you?

"He's my grandfather, Matthew Caine."

"What blood type is my son?"

"A positive."

"Yes, I will give as well. It has been a long time since I have given blood."

"You both will need to fill out these forms."

"In my day, there was no need."

"Well, things have gotten more strict. With HIV and other blood related disorders, we have to be more careful at screening those that can give."

The nurse lead Peter and his grandfather to a room with two reclining chairs. Peter and his grandfather filled out the forms and the attending nurse set them up so they could continue talking.

"What's your question grandpa?"

"How is it that your father knew that you were in trouble?" Matthew Caine was asking to try and understand why he also had those same feelings.

Peter was grateful for the distraction. The question, though still about his father, served to take his mind off what was happening at that moment.

"We've seemed to have developed this bond between us. He always seems to know when I'm in trouble. There have been a few times I'd been able to sense him, too. It's funny but every once in a while, I feel as if my chi has been strengthened and I can almost grasp what my father knows and can do. It's as if the universe wants to open up to me, and yet, I'm not sure I really want it or not. Plus, I feel like I'm being pulled in two directions. Part of me wants to remain a cop while another part of me wants to be more like my father. Does that sound crazy?"

"No. Let me tell you something that my father told me. It came from his Master Po. Master Po had told him that he was impressed with my father's spirit. It would take some many more years to become Shaolin because their own spirits identified being Shaolin as only the yang. Master Po could see that my father's spirit not only held the yang, but the yin as well. He was able to advance faster in his studies because he did it with the whole of his being. That kind of spirit is within each of us. It is why I am Shaolin and why your father is Shaolin. You must bring your two halves together if you are to know your destiny, my grandson."

"But my father can do so much more. He's a Shambhala Master."

"Really? I am pleased."

"But he should have been able to avoid getting hurt."

"He is still human, Peter. And I can see that he loves you very much. Otherwise, he may not have risked his own life so needlessly. He may have helped others, but his spirit drives him to do much more than that. I am so sorry though that I could not have been there to guide him. I am afraid I have been neglectful in my duties as a shaolin and father. The time we had together is not enough to erase the pain of that loss. Though we understand each other better, there is still feelings that need to be dealt with. I fear, we may not have the time if he does not survive. See, even I still worry that I might loose him, but I must have hope that he will survive." Matthew Caine drew in a deep breath and the emotions that he felt treatened to escape.

Peter reached for his grandfather and grabbed his hand, being careful not to move his other arm and disturb the needle that was drawing the life giving fluid that could make a difference in saving his father. In these hours of waiting, they tried to comfort each other as best they could.

Kwai Chang Caine drifted. He was aware that he had been injured severely trying to save his son. It had been quick and sudden. There was no time to react. He could hear the doctor's voices as they worked on him. One bullet had entered his thigh. Another was lodged in his ribs, a mirror image of the bullet from years ago. A third had entered his upper right arm near his shoulder. A fourth was near his solar plexus and had surprisingly missed hitting his stomach. And a fifth was dangerously near his heart. Only once before had his injuries been so severe and that was when he was a child back in China.

Kwai Chang could sense sorrow and fear from two sources, and yet, there was strength there that called to him to stay. A third source also radiated strength, helping him to stay and not leave this world too soon. However, a fourth beckoned him to go. To find that world of total peace and become one again with all things. Kwai Chang was torn between both. The pull to either side was in equal balance. How could he find the strength to choose?

Suddenly another was there, blocking his path. This soul was gentle and filled with peace and love.

"I feel your pain, my grandson. Do what you know is in your heart. Do not let others sway you from your path. Find that which you know to be true and the choice will be yours. I am proud of you, your father, and your son. Let your father know that he is loved. I fear he has many doubts still."

Kwai Chang listened to his grandfather. This was the second time he had met him. The first was when he had stopped the australian aborigine assassins from killing a young woman and returning their land. He had died long before his namesake was born. He remembered his father telling stories of his exploits in the old west. Memories aside, he thought about what his grandfather had said. I must choose, no one else may choose for me. Kwai Chang looked within himself. He was not ready to go. There were still things that needed doing. Peter had not yet found his place in the larger world. He still had not fully reconciled is feelings toward his father. And there were many in Chinatown who needed him. Kwai Chang looked inside himself and chose.

Peter fell asleep with his head on his grandfather's lap. There were no real comfortable couches in ICU. They moved there when they got the word that his father was out of surgery. Matthew had insisted that they meditate and rebuild their energy after giving blood. It was going to be several hours before Kwai Chang would be waking up from the anesthetic. Even then, visiting hours would be limited. The staff in ICU was very strict about having their patients get plenty of rest.

Matthew Caine touched his grandson's sleeping head. Having him here made waiting seem easier. It was as if he had a piece of his own son close to him. At this moment, his heart felt full. He was glad to know that the line of Caine had not ended with him. This young man held all the promise of tomorrow while his son held the hopes of today. Matthew turned his thoughts to his son and said a silent prayer to the One to help his son heal and to keep him safe. Having found each other after 40 years just a few short weeks ago, it was not right that this should happen. Kwai Chang had to live. If not for him, then for the sake of his own son. Matthew knew he would never be the father that his son has been. He did hope that he could at least be a friend to both.

Matthew marveled at the bond between this young man and his son. If only that bond could be there for him as well. There was something developing that he could not put his finger on. Could his Shaolin abilities be telling him that the bond was still there even after all this time? He dared not to hope that it was so. With Peter so close, he could feel the love that his grandson had for both him and Kwai Chang. How Peter could love him was beyond his understanding right now. Peter did not know him, and yet he dared to love him just the same. Matthew stroked the unruly hair and watched over his grandson as he slept.

Lo Si had stayed in the larger waiting area and had informed the rest of the 101st gang as they came in what had happened. Chief Strenlich wanted to inform Peter that after the suspects ran out of ammunition, they surrendered, but the stake out team had paid with their lives, along with the three police officers.

"You can bet that the suspects aren't going to be elegible for parole any time soon. We never did find out the reason for all the firepower. For all we know, it was an elaborate trap by some cop hating punks that wanted to just make a name for themselves, " Strenlich added. "How's Peter's father?"

"He is out of surgery but not quite out of danger. He will recover."

"How bad is he, Lo Si?" asked Mary-Margaret.

Just then the doctor came by carrying a small plastic bag.

"Chief Strenlich?"

The Chief turned toward the doctor.

"Here, we took these out of Mr. Caine. He's lucky to be alive. One of them was close to the heart and another close to his solar plexus. If they had been any closer, either of those alone could have killed him."

Strenlich took the bag from the doctor. A stunned look was on his face. The man had taken five bullets to save his son and not one of them killed him. The men who did this certainly would get more than life sentences after this. Strenlich handed the bag to Kermit, who had just come in. Kermit looked at the bag curiously.

"I heard Caine got shot. Is Peter okay? Whose are these?" Kermit held up the bag.

"Peter's fine. It was his father. They took those out of him."

"My, god! Is he . . . .?" letting Strenlich continue afraid of what he might hear.

"Don't look so grim, Kermit. He's going to live."

"Where is he now?"

"He's in ICU. Only family members are allowed to see him."

"What do you mean, we're as much his family as Peter. He shouldn't be alone at a time like this."

"That may be so, but Peter is not alone," a pleased look was on Lo Si's face.

"What do you mean Lo Si?"

"Peter's grandfather is with him."

"His grandfather?"

"Yes. Kwai Chang Caine's father, Matthew, is here."

"Three Caines under one roof. This is going to interesting" Kermit said.

"You may go in now."

Both Peter and Matthew entered Kwai Chang's room. Peter was shocked at how pale his father looked. The sound of the machines was a constant reminder of what they could have lost. Peter took a chair and pulled it up to his father's bed, close to his head. Matthew pulled up another chair on the other side. The space was cramped, but both wanted to be close. Peter took his father's right hand and held it close to his heart. He was careful not to pull the IV out and also not to disturb his father's injured shoulder.

"Pop, can you here me?"

Kwai Chang's eyes remained closed, even though the monitor indicated he would be waking soon.

"My son, can you hear me?"

Both Peter and Matthew looked at each other. Concern and fear were mirrored in both their eyes. The surgery had gone well, but Kwai Chang was still within a coma.

"Please, Pop. Come back to us."

Kwai Chang still did not respond to Peter's pleas.

"Grandpa, isn't there anything you can do? You're an apothecary."

"I cannot. My skills are not as great as your father's. All I can do is strengthen his chi so that his own body may be able to heal."

"Please, Grandpa. Do what you must."

Matthew Caine pulled out a small bowl, a pouch of herbs, and what looked like a small container of some creamy substance.

"I recognize those herbs. Pop asked me to go outside the Temple one time to collect some. I remember there was a woman with him. Come to think of it, she looked a lot like Captain Simms."

Peter watched as his grandfather mixed the herbs with the creamy substance. Matthew then placed some on a leaf and proceeded to feed it to his son.

"What do you think you're doing?" The nurse had come in, having watched what transpired on the monitor.

"It's alright. My grandfather is an apothecary, like my father. It will strengthen his chi."

"I cannot allow this. He may cause the patient to choke. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Just then, a sound came from the bed and Peter turned.

"Uh, no, please. Let them stay." Although his voice was weak, it was music to Peter's ears.

"Pop!" Peter breathed a sigh of relief. His father was awake. Peter reached over and tried to hug his grandfather. "Thank you." Tears of joy threatened to spill.

Satisfied that her patient was in no danger from these two men, the nurse left them alone.

"Peter, you are unharmed?"

Peter gave a small laugh mixed with his tears of joy. "Yeah, Pop. You saved me, again. Only next time, be sure you duck, okay?"

Kwai Chang turned to look at his father. He was surprised to see tears in his eyes as well.

"Father?"

"It is alright, my son. I am glad you are still with us. I feared you would not stay."

Kwai Chang was stunned at this father's words. How was it that he knew? Could the bond be stronger than he thought?

"I almost did not."

"Pop, what are you talking about?"

"Peter, could you ask the nurse to bring me some water?"

"Sure, Pop. Anything you say."

Kwai Chang watched his son leave. They would not have much time, and Kwai Chang needed to ask his father some questions before he grew too tired.

"Father. How is it that you knew?"

"I do not know." For once it was Kwai Chang who felt annoyed at those same words that he would utter to Peter. Matthew could see that his son was not satisfied.

"I felt your pain and Peter's fear. It has been many years since you and I have had such a bond. I am beginning to realize that bond is part of who we are. I had such a bond with my father. We had such a bond when you were little and living at the Temple in China. When I left, I did not realize what that would mean for us. When I returned, the bond had been weakened. I did not try to strengthen it by being there for you when you needed me. Instead, I pursued other interests."

"Father, there is no need . . ."

"Please Kwai Chang. Let me finish. I must."

Kwai Chang continued to listen as his father confessed much.

"I still loved you, although I could not be with you. I knew that you also had the gifts that would make you a Shaolin. So I took you to the Temple in America so you could continue in your lessons. China was falling and the Shaolin were falling with it. I needed to know you would be safe. I tried to stay but I learned there were treasures belonging to the Shaolin and to China that needed to be recovered and protected. In my pursuit of this, I neglected my duties as a Shaolin, teacher, and father. I tried to find you many times in my travels, but there was always something that got in the way. I learned you married and had a son. I was proud that the line of Caine was continuing and that you had become the life force of the Temple that I had sent you to, and someday I'd hoped to find you, again. Finally, too many years went by. Father Vachon asked me to help him protect the Chalice of I Ching. It seemed a worthy cause. I set up my apothecary in St. Adele in order to do this. Then I learned of the destruction of your Temple. I had hoped to find you, but I was told that you and Peter had both died. By then the bond that we had was nearly nonexistant. It did not even occur to me to use my Shaolin abilities to search for your essence. I grieved your loss for many months. Father Vachon gave me a purpose and I pursued it. Of course when the Chalice became threated years later, I asked Father Vachon to send for a younger Shaolin priest that would be able to protect the Chalice since I could not. I had grown too old. To my surprise, it was you and Peter that came. I asked Father Vachon to take me to you when all was safe. When I saw you again, that bond that had died to a flicker once again started to grow into a flame of hope and light. I do not know if this bond will grow further, but if it does, I will no longer let it die. I cannot. You are my son and I love you."

Matthew Caine turned toward his son, only to find that he had fallen asleep. Matthew smiled and shook his head. He should have known better than to say so much so soon. It had always been that way. He remembered reading a story to his son only to find that he had fallen asleep in the middle of it. That wasn't such a bad thing back then. It made bedtime easier. The energy that Kwai Chang had back then reminded him of Peter now. Just then Peter came back. Even though Matthew had talked for what seemed like a long time, it had only been about five minutes. Matthew placed his finger on his lips to indicate silence. Peter saw that his father was asleep so he placed the pitcher of water on a nearby table. Peter walked over to his father and kissed his forehead. He then led his grandfather back to the waiting area to give the good news to the rest of his extended family.

As Matthew and Peter entered the larger waiting area, Peter was struck by the number of people that waited there for news of his father's condition. His friends from the 101st were there, as well as many from the Chinese community who had heard about the priest being shot. Peter's eyes, however, fell on Lo Si. Although he waited patiently, there was a pained look to his eyes. Peter went to the old man and hugged him, feeling ashamed that he had forgotten the one person who had been like a grandfather to him.

"Lo Si, I . . . Forgive me. I was wrapped up in my own pain that . . ." Tears of shame and sadness at having forgot his friend were clear on his face.

"There is nothing to forgive, young Caine. You were distraught, and you needed to be with your grandfather." Lo Si indicated the elder Caine by placing his hand on Matthew Caine's arm.

"I should have at least acknowledged your presence. You've done so much. You've been like a grandfather to me."

"I am honored. But you should know by now that a Shaolin's job is often a thankless one." A twinkle shown in the old man's eyes and Peter laughed, dispelling the sorrow and shame that he felt earlier.

As Lo Si consoled Peter, many in the crowd whispered to themselves, surprised at having learned just who the older man was that shared Caine's face.

"Are you really Master Caine's father?" A young Chinese girl came forward, her eyes wide as saucers. She had come with Master Lee, the local herbalist.

"Yes," Matthew stroked the young girl's hair.

"Could you give this to him when he is better?" The young girl gave Matthew a small lacquered box. Inside a cricket chirped.

Matthew took the box and held it to his ear and smiled.

"I would be honored to give him your gift."

Peter and his grandfather were led to an area where they could sit down. The crowd had grown since they came out and the hospital staff were getting worried. The halls were not meant to handle so many. Though the crowd was large, they remained orderly. Soon everyone was lining up to offer Peter and his grandfather gifts and prayers of get well for his father.

Strenlich and the 101st gang held back, watching with amusement and awe. They had not realized just how fond this community had grown of Kwai Chang Caine and his son. There was an old Chinese saying: Where ever there was a Shaolin, surely prosperity and luck followed. They were grateful that he lived. They would not want to know what would have happened if Peter's father had died. Strenlich thought of the many gang members and Tong leaders that would move in if that happened. Having Caine in the community seemed to keep such scum at bay. It was going to be tough enough keeping them from taking over while Caine was recovering. Soon the crowd began to disperse. Strenlich was the first to step forward.

"Peter, I'm glad to hear that your father is going to be okay. Taking five bullets and surviving in my book, constitutes a miracle. That man should be granted sainthood."

Peter was stunned at what the Chief had said. He had not heard just how bad his father had been hurt. He knew it was severe, but five bullets? Peter shook his head and the cop in him took over wanting to know more.

"What happened after we left?"

"The suspects killed the stakeout team. Then they surrendered after they ran out of ammunition. They're going to be facing the death penalty with what they've done."

"Why did it happen in the first place?"

"Who knows. Maybe someone was having a bad hair day."

Peter could not help but stifle a laugh at the Chief's remark.

"Peter, I'll see about getting some protection for your father while he's recovering. With him in here, Bon Bon Hai may try to press his advantage."

"He's right, kid. Your father will be in no shape to deal with him," Kermit spoke up. "I'll see what I can do to set it up. Something that will be less intrusive. I'll have Blake install a couple of minicams, microphones, you know, the works. Your father maybe in here for a while. If anyone tries anything, we'll be sure to nail them before it happens."

"I will see to it that my son is safe." Matthew Caine spoke up.

"No offence, but you don't look . . ."

Suddenly Kermit found himself on the floor.

"You were saying?"

Peter was stunned at the way his grandfather handled himself. He certainly had changed since they last met.

"I may be old, but I still know kung fu. And there are moves that do not require a great deal of effort. Peter, we should be going back to your father. Lo Si, are there any herbs that my son might have that can assist in the healing process?"

"Yes, I will bring them to you."

"Thank you." Matthew bowed and headed back to his son's room with Peter in tow.

"Grandpa, I . . . I didn't know you could . . ."

"I am Shaolin Peter. Just because I have arthritis does not mean I cannot do kung fu anymore. I need to keep my body in some kind of shape." Matthew smiled at his grandson as they continued into the ICU unit where Kwai Chang rested and waited.

Three days later Caine was found trying to perform some kung fu exercises to stimulate the healing process.

"What do you think your doing? Do you want to open up those wounds? Get back into bed." Dr. Sabourin was standing in the doorway.

"I feel fine."

"Let me be the judge of that. If you've injured yourself further, I will sedate you so you'll stay in bed. I came to change your bandages anyway."

Doctor Sabourin looked at each of the wounds and was shocked to see that three of them were nearly healed. It was as if they never existed. Only a small bruising showed where the bullets had entered. She then checked the more severe wounds and also found that they appeared to be healed. She touched the skin and Caine reacted. There must be some pain still. The areas near his solar plexus and his heart must still be damaged at some level. Doctor Sabourin had a puzzled look on her face.

"I'm taking you down to x-ray. I have to know how these wounds could heal so quickly."

The doctor waved to a nurse to bring a wheelchair. Caine looked at the contraption as if to question, is it really necessary?

"I can walk."

"You may be able to, but I'm not taking any chances. You're still sore from two of the bullets. Get in."

Caine looked at the chair again then looked at the doctor. He decided that it was best not to argue and he sat in the wheelchair. A few minutes went by and they entered the x-ray department. The doctor gave the technician Caine's chart and told him what she needed. Caine sat silently watching the exchange, amused at all the attention he was receiving for something as simple as chi healing. The doctor could have asked him how, but she seemed bent on discovering for herself the nature of the healing process. Caine shook his head at the futility of it all and gave in.

Soon he was back in his room to find Peter and his father waiting for him. A look of concern was on Peter's face.

"Pop, are you alright? We came in to find you gone."

"Peter, you are not using your Shaolin abilities. How are you going to grow if you don't. Now, how would you find out if I was alright?"

Peter bit his lip and sighed. "You're right, Pop. I've been so worried though. I've not had the time to practice."

"There is always time." said Matthew Caine.

"What is this? You two ganging up on me?"

While Kwai Chang was in the hospital, Matthew had taken over some of Peter's training. It had been slow and laborious. The old man, though not able to spar with Peter, he tried to help him in his lessons and keep him calm by meditation and doing simple exercises that did not require a partner. Peter could remember a time when he had thought there was no point to medication but still found an interest in kung fu. Since then, he realized that maditation was far more beneficial than he thought. With this latest exchange, Peter did not know whether to feel blessed or harassed at having two masters to teach him.

"No." said Kwai Chang. "But if you are going to grow and discover your destiny, you must continue your training. Your abilities are increasing and you will need to make a decision soon."

Matthew Caine watched the exchange between father and son. He remembered when his own father had given him that same speech but at a younger age. Matthew had been 18 when he entered a Temple back in China. His father, also named Kwai Chang, had taught him much, but he did not have the necessary items to challenge his son and to teach him the skills of an apothecary. There were no temples in American during that time. In order for Matthew to continue his training, he would have to enter a Shaolin temple. That had been a very difficult time. Matthew's father had been told that all the Shaolin Masters had been killed, however, there existed a Temple in another part of Hunan province that was hidden from the rest of the world. It was this Temple that Matthew entered. Matthew was brought out of his thoughts when the doctor spoke up.

"Since it seems you are healing so quickly, I'll see about getting you released in a couple of days. I want to be sure there is no infection. I also want to go over your x-rays and ask a few questions. If you feel inclined to do any more exercising, don't. At least not until you get home."

Peter gave the doctor a questioning look then turned to his father.

"Do you not remember when we rescued Lo Si from Tan, my son?"

Peter turned his thoughts inward. As usual Peter had not listened and rushed into trouble. He tripped a wire that caused the "earth" to rain down hitting both him and his father. Kwai Chang had tried to push his son out of danger and in the process, his right wrist had been badly gashed. Peter had been shocked by the injury. Kwai Chang pulled a cloth out of his satchel and proceeded to clean the wound and to concentrate. Peter watched in fascination as his father healed before his eyes.

"Yeah, I remember. You did the same thing here, I take it." It was a statement of fact.

"Yes."

Just then Peter's cell phone rang.

"Caine here." Peter listened intently, holding his hand up to say that the conversation with his father had not ended. "Sure Kermit, I'll be right there."

"What is it, my son?"

"There's trouble. The leader of one of the Tongs just heard about your injuries and he's flexing his muscles, so to speak. He called in a hit. Kermit called from your rooms. They took advantage while we were here to trash the place."

Peter and Matthew walked into chaos. The police were taking prints and trying to find any clues to the identities of the vandals. Peter walked around and viewed the devastation while Matthew stood and watched. He saw that the small shrine had been smashed. The pots that contained the many varieties of herbs had been broken and trampled. The workbench had been turned over and its surface had been scarred. Peter walked into the other rooms to find the same devastation. The weapons that they used in their exercises lay scattered and broken on the floor. Plus, the walls had been painted with red warnings in Chinese. Although Peter could speak Chinese, he could not read it, but he got their meaning just the same.

Peter could feel the desecration of his father's home. This place for him had become sacred, not only because it was his father's but it was also a place filled with warmth and light. To see it like this brought on all the horror that had been wrought on his Temple home. Revenge and anger rose within him. As a boy he could do nothing, but as a man he could confront those responsible. Peter was about to rush out with the fury of a storm when the solid strength of an oak held him back. Peter turned and looked into the eyes of Matthew Caine.

"Your father would not approve of what you are about to do."

"How would you know? My father would say that there is a certain logic to my actions. You don't even know what we've been through. When they destroyed the Temple, they took everything, even my father. I was lucky. I got him back. I'm not going to let them take him from me, again."

The sting of Peter's remarks washed over Matthew. He, too, was angry at what had been done but now his anger became directed at Peter. Years of pain came through and battered him with the truth.

"Do you think you are the only one they did this to?" Matthew's question had a double meaning. "Kwai Chang is my son. I named him after my father. You are my grandson. When the Temple was destroyed, I regretted never coming to see both you and your father and settling the rift that grew between us and letting him know that I still lived until I thought it was too late. I was without any family for 40 years. Now that family is restored to me. These past few weeks have taught me that I was wrong to abandon you both. Now that I have a family again, I cannot let either of you go, even if I am not with you. If you do this, you could be hurt, or worse killed. Your father will blame me if that happens. The items in these rooms can be replaced. You cannot."

Peter's anger dissipated. His grandfather was right. If he were to confront those that did this, his anger would blind him to possible attack that could get him killed.

"Why would my father blame you?"

"I no longer have the ability or strength to protect you."

"You could have fooled me," Peter said rubbing his now bruised shoulder where Matthew had grabbed him.

"Your father has the energy and the skill to know when he is needed. He has the ability to act. If you were killed, your father's anger and pain would be expanded 10 fold. He still has to deal with anger regarding me, though he would not admit to it. Come, we need to clean this place. Your police friends will handle the vandals. By not reacting, we are also giving them a message that says we will remain."

Peter sighed. The anger that had been present was gone. He looked around his father's rooms and the first thing he did was to pick up the workbench and begin rebuilding what had been destroyed. Maybe by rebuilding his father's apothecary and setting things right, he could put aside more of that pain of loss, the pain that reflected the loss of home. As Peter picked up the scattered and broken candles, he caught out of the corner of his eye, his grandfather. He had picked up a broom and was sweeping the dirt from the broken pots into a small pile. He then picked up a pot that was still whole and carefully placed the dirt in it. Each move that his grandfather made reminded him of his father and the time he spent rebuilding the burned out store and turning it into a place to live. This action got Peter thinking. If there was a way, maybe he and his father could return to the Temple some day and rebuild it. Just as they had rebuilt that other place, just as they were all rebuilding their relationships now.

Two days later, Peter went to pick up his father from the hospital and return him home. Matthew remained behind to do something special for his son. He lit a small firepot in each room and proceeded to walk to each space and tossed some incense in. Each space needed a cleansing of the negative energies present. It would not be good for Kwai Chang to come into a space filled with anger and hate. This would signify a final healing process. As Matthew performed this sacred act, he realized he could be doing this for the last time. Yesterday, he received a telegram from Father Vachon requesting that he return. Father Vachon had become ill and he needed to induct another priest into the sacred circle and required Matthew's assistance. The induction ceremony was to take place next week and Matthew was going to need time to recover from the travel time. As Matthew was finishing, Peter and Kwai Chang walked into the door. Without a word, Kwai Chang could sense that something had changed.

"You will be leaving soon." Kwai Chang said. There was a hint of suppressed anger, a feeling of being abandoned, mixed with sadness. Kwai Chang put his feelings aside when Matthew handed his son the telegram that he received. The message was cryptic but Kwai Chang was able to discern its meaning. "It is in regards to the Chalice."

"Yes."

"Let me go with you."

"No, Kwai Chang. You are needed here."

Kwai Chang started to protest but Matthew raised his hand to silence him.

"You may have touched the Chalice and therefore have just as much right to protect it, but you are not the one. That privilege is for another. The one who touches the Chalice cannot be its physical protector, but its protector of its secrets. You must hold within you the knowledge that was gained from its touching and you must be separate from it. I could not bear it if you were lost. Now, I must pack my bags."

"May we take you to the airport?" asked Peter

"No, I think I will walk. It will do this old body some good." With that, Matthew Caine left to do his duty.

Kwai Chang watched as his father left. At that moment, he understood more how his son felt at his leaving. It was a difficult road they were all on. Would they ever be together again? Kwai Chang did not know. For now, his son waited for him. It was time for a cup of tea and a sparring match.

End