Paul Blaisdell rushed in and was quickly approached by Strenlich. They spoke in whispers and glanced over at one of the officers. A surprised look followed by deep anger came over the Captain's face. The Captain gave Strenlich a reassuring pat on the back as if to say, I'll take care of it, then walked deeper into the squadroom.

"Caine! In my office, now."

Peter Caine was startled out of his reflection. He had not seen the Captain come in. He entered Blaisdell's office rather slowly and meekly, which wasn't his usual style. Thoughts of being called into his dad's den for a stern lecture came to mind. Peter closed the door and Paul indicated to him that he should sit. The look on his face told Peter that he was in trouble, again. Paul sat and stared at his son waiting for the other shoe to drop, hiding the smoldering emotions a best he could.

"You going to tell me what's going on?"

Peter stared wide eyed not sure what Paul was referring to, but certain that it was because he had just been caught napping at his desk.

"I . . ." For the first time, Peter was at a loss for words.

"You come in and I learned from Strenlich that you requested to be assigned to desk duty for a week or two. You told him it was to catch up on paperwork. You usually hate paperwork. Not only that, you disappeared from an investigation. I had half the city looking for you yesterday and last night. I want to know what happened before I suspend you for dereliction of duty. You should have at least called in to let someone know you were all right."

Peter's face flushed as he gave a deep sigh then lowered his head. Shame filled him as he realized Paul was right. He should have called in as soon as that whole business with Tan was over with, but he had no way to communicate with the precinct. His car had been left somewhere else in Chinatown at the time he had been grabbed, plus his father had insisted he . . . Peter hesitated on the thought. How was Paul going to react when he learned the truth? The best thing to do was to forge ahead.

"My father doesn't have a phone. I stayed with him and the Ancient after he . . ." Peter did not have the chance to finish his sentence.

"Father?!? I thought you said your father was dead?"

"I did, that is, I believed he was dead."

"You mean to tell me that your father is alive?"

"Yeah," Peter gave a short laugh. "He was the man who carried the old apothecary out of the burning building."

Paul tried to hide the astonishment he was feeling. "Where's he been all these years?" Instead, unexpected anger filled him as thoughts of an abandonded child came to him.

"He said he was searching."

"Searching?!? For what?"

Peter almost laughed at the identical response that he had had to that same answer. Instead, the strong emotion of overwhelming joy rose to cloud his eyes.

"Me, or at least my essence." Tears could be seen glistening in the young detectives eyes as his voice became a whisper. "He believed I was dead, too."

Paul's anger suddenly dissipated when he saw the emotions of pain, relief, joy, and even confusion cross the young man's face within an instant. Suddenly, Peter rose and he rubbed the moisture away from his eyes. He turned away, trying to regain control. He then returned, sat back down, and leaned toward the Captain's desk and looked down at his exposed wrists. He quickly pulled down the sleeves of his shirt to hide the new bandages. What little good it did, Peter was sure to be questioned on it. Paul would have noticed a fly's wing was broken, even if the fly was sitting half way across the room.

"Paul, you don't know what this means. I did everything to wipe what memories I had of him and the Temple out of my mind. But I could not erase him from my heart. When I saw him in that hospital room, it was like he fell out of my dreams and became real. I didn't want to believe it at first, but seeing his eyes then . . ." Peter could not finish the words.

Paul rose from his desk, closed the blinds that looked out into the squadroom to add more privacy, and turned back to his son . . . his foster son. Peter continued, not taking his eyes off the desk.

"It wasn't until I actually touched him did it become real to me. My father's alive."

Paul walked behind Peter and gave his right shoulder a squeeze and Peter suddenly winced from the pain shooting through his body. Paul reacted the way any concerned father would.

"What happened?"

"I was shot by Chan," Peter said through clenched teeth. "He tried to kill my dad while he was fighting Tan."

"What? When were you going to tell me this, after I learned it from your police report?" Real anger rose this time. Paul did his best not to raise his voice. "You better tell me what happened and why your father was there. Then I'm taking you to a hospital to get checked out." Paul's voice had the forcefulness of command. "That's an order, detective, not a request."

Peter messaged his shoulder to relieve what pain he was feeling as he explained. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and he quickly wiped them away. He wasn't about to show weakness. He had no intension of going to the hospital when he felt he didn't need to. There had to be a way out of it.

"Tan set up a test target for me. Turns out he wanted me to shoot both my father and the apothecary. Only someone tried to beat me to it. They weren't successful either. They didn't know who they were dealing with. I learned he had taken the old man to the owner of the meat market and he had gone back to the burned out building to try and recover what had been lost. While we talked, that ex-reporter showed up. Turns out she was the one that blew my cover. After I told you where the hit was being made, Chan and Wong nabbed me. I woke up tied to a rope hanging in a shooting range somewhere. They were planning on using me for target practice."

"So, what else happened? Obviously you succeeded in escaping."

"My father showed up. He found me. Don't ask me how he did it I don't know. He told me something that I should have realized. Tan was the renegade priest that destroyed our Temple. He fought him to keep him from killing me and to get back at him for destroying our home, I guess. It was a matter of honor."

Paul swallowed a lump in his throat that he did not realize he was holding. "Where is he now, Tan that is?" He still kept a close eye on Peter seeing the beads of sweat poring down his son's face but continued to listen to Peter's part in the investigation.

"He disappeared."

"We'll put an APB out on him and pick him up."

"You won't find him. Tan was Shaolin. He's got skills that would make him hard to track down."

"And I suppose you'd know about that?"

"No, but my father would." A hint of pride, admiration, and even love came through.

"I'm glad to see that you haven't lost that love for him." Paul smiled. At that moment, he was genuinely happy for Peter. Too many times during the first few years Peter had lived with his family, he would hear Peter crying in the night for a father that he thought would never return. The past 10 years, Peter had stopped talking about the man all together. It was as if he never existed. Now . . .

"I . . ." It was Peter's second time to be at a loss for words. Feelings of confusion rose within him. He loved Paul like a father, but having his own father back was a joy that could not be described, And yet, a feeling of disloyalty toward Paul and everything he had done for him came to the surface. He didn't want their relationship to end. Paul could not help but notice Peter's apprehension.

"I know it's going to be very difficult getting used to the idea that you have a father again." It's going to be difficult for me as well, Paul thought without voicing the words. "Come on, I'll take you to the hospital to have you checked out."

Peter fussed and the little boy that refused to clean his room came out, "Awe Paul, do I have to? The bullet went clean through and my dad applied a poultice of herbs to stop the bleeding. It wasn't as bad as he feared. He said it had gone through the fleshy part of my shoulder. It missed the bone. I've had a lot worse. He just thought it might be a good idea if I took a few days off at least until it healed."

"And you listened to him?" Surprise registered on Paul's face.

"Why not? It sounded reasonable and at least I didn't have to go to the hospital. This way I can catch up on paperwork and still be where the action is. It's really not that bad. If I develop a fever or an infection, I promise I'll go see a doctor and get something for it. C'mon Paul, it's not that bad. I can handle it."

I wonder what excuse Peter gave his father, too, so he wouldn't have to go, Paul thought. "What about those wrists?"

"Their not bad. He rubbed an oinment on them. Actually, they feel pretty good."

Paul shook his head.

"Come on Paul, it really wasn't that bad. The Ancient checked me out as well. He's the old apothecary. He knows what herbs work to heal wounds."

"I don't care if he uses voodoo. You're getting checked out over lunch. I'll make the appointment and take you there myself. Now get back to your desk."

Peter left with a wounded look on his face. It looked like he wasn't about to get out of going to the hospital this time. In truth, his father had insisted he go, but Peter had managed to talk him out of it. Now Paul was insisting and there was no way he could get out of this one so easily.

'Children!' Paul thought. 'No matter how hard you tried they still manage to get under your skin with some kind of excuse.' Paul turned back to his desk and was about to sit down but opt to staring out the window. Peter's father was alive. He never even bothered to ask his name. It was obvious it was Caine but what was his first name? A shudder ran through Paul as suddenly he realized that his relationship with Peter would be changing. He would have to back off in playing the father role, be more of a friend. Then Paul wondered just how this new person in Peter's life was going to react to him. Would he approve how his son had been raised? Then a new thought entered. He was going to have to tell Annie and the girls of this new development. How would they take it knowing that Peter's father was alive? Paul did not know right now. One question though still remained. Did he even have the right to call Peter 'son' anymore? The thought brought tears to Paul's eyes. He did not know what the future would bring. He only knew that he had to face it head on, and with that thought, Paul returned to his desk and began to face it one moment at a time.

End