Always Another Way
Part 2
"So, did you and your father do anything special on your days off?" Mary Margaret Skalany asked as Peter walked through the squadroom, balancing a coffee cup with a donut on top in one hand and two case files in the other.
Peter had to bite his tongue to keep from grinning. For once, he had successfully kept a secret from the inquisitive brunette. He sat the coffee cup and donut down on the corner of his desk and tossed the files into the center. "Nah," he answered as he sat down in his chair. We just went up north to visit an old buddy of mine from the orphanage."
Skalany's face was full of doubt. "That's funny. I really figured something bad must've been going on, since the captain disappeared as well."
Peter shrugged his shoulders. "That's not all that unusual."
Mary Margaret rose from her chair, grabbed the newspaper from the top of a stack of files and handed it to Peter. "Interesting story isn't it."
"What's that?" Peter glanced at the lead article on the front page. The headline read 'Marauders Captured by Good Samaritans.' "Huh. . .interesting."
"Interesting? That's all you have to say?"
Peter tilted his head. "I guess it's a good thing there are people in the world who are still willing to stand up to evil."
His partner shook her head and returned to her chair. "You know something about that, I know it."
"Hey, I was with my father."
"Oh, right, so that means you stayed out of trouble. Give me a break," she scoffed.
Peter laughed at the woman's reaction. "Would I lie to you?"
Mary Margaret huffed and leaned back in her chair. "No. . .you wouldn't lie. You just wouldn't tell me the whole truth." As if suddenly inspired, she leaned forward. "Do you know what your father's doing tonight?"
"Nope."
"I thought maybe I'd go over and see how he liked his trip."
Peter nodded his approval. "I think he'd like that. He seemed kind of down last night. I'm not sure why."
A worried look crossed her face. "Something happen while you were gone?"
Peter shrugged his shoulders. A lot had happened while they were gone, but nothing he could talk about with his friend. "Nothing too out of the ordinary," he finally answered. That really wasn't a lie when you were the son of Kwai Chang Caine. . . or Paul Blaisdell for that matter.
'When had it all started?' Kwai Chang Caine asked himself as he lit the final candle on the alter. 'Had it really been over thirty years ago?' He shook his head and lowered himself onto the floor in a half-lotus position. It seemed like the memories that were plaguing him, once again, had happened only yesterday. But no, these nightmares were three decades old. Caine shuddered slightly. Emotions, which had been long suppressed, fought to live again.
He closed his eyes and straightened his back. He had to accept what had happened. The mistakes that had been made were the errors of judgment caused by rebellious youth. Yes, he had stepped off his path, but he had found it once again.
But the images of that night would not give him peace. The sound of the weapon's discharge. . .the heaviness of its weight in his hand. . .the smell of the blood from Rykker's wound. . .the intermixed feelings of relief and shame at having relied on the gun for salvation. . .all of these assaulted him and now prevented him from attaining the serenity he so desperately needed.
"May I join you?" Lo Si asked politely, the voice so quiet that Caine barely heard it over the memories replaying themselves in his mind. Not waiting for a response, the old man had already taken a step forward and was settling his frail body next to Caine's.
"You are troubled, Kwai Chang Caine."
The younger priest opened his eyes and swallowed down the surging emotions. "Yes, Master."
"You are bothered by what happened in Mansfield?"
Caine gave no answer to the question. Lo Si nodded. "I, too, am disturbed that such action was necessary." The Ancient examined his friend's features and then shook his head. "But that is not all. Something else haunts you."
Caine sat silently. Lo Si's gentle brown eyes fixed on his anguished face. "Please, my friend, tell me what disturbs you so."
Finally Caine gave a quick shake of his head. "It is in the past and can not be changed."
"Ah. . .memories of the past can be very powerful."
"I have not acknowledged them for many years," Caine continued. "I thought. . .I thought I had succeeded at letting them go."
"Why do they live again?" the old man asked bluntly, already knowing the answer.
Caine closed his eyes and immediately saw Rykker's wounded body lying at his feet. "I have known Rykker for many years," he finally whispered.
"And the man's return has caused these memories to return as well," Lo Si concluded.
"Yes."
"Do you wish to speak of them?" Lo Si offered and then smiled. "I am a very good listener."
Caine turned to the old man. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "You sound like old Ping Hai. He made the same offer many years ago."
"He was your friend. . .as am I. It is our place to help you if we can."
Caine considered the offer. He opened his mouth, truly believing that he could share the nightmare and then stopped. The words would not come. "I. . .I can't." He swallowed down the surging emotions. "I am. . .I am. . ." he stuttered.
Lo Si placed a gentle hand on his friend's knee. "You are afraid that if you say the words, allow the emotions of the past to live in your mind again, that you will be unable to control them." The withered man smiled and nodded. "I do understand. We all have our demons. When you are ready, I will be here for you."
Caine breathed an inward sigh of relief and closed his eyes, taking comfort in the words.
The two priests sat silently. The older one was in meditation. The younger one, however, was not to be rewarded with serenity. Instead his mind ricocheted off the nightmares like one of the bullets from the weapon he had fired.
He fought to put the images in order. If he was going to be tormented by the sights and sounds then at the very least he should have the control to put the events in some rational sequence.
He swallowed and could once again taste the whiskey as it burned a path down his throat. The sights, sounds and smells of the San Francisco wharf returned, as did the feelings. He had been so young. . .so foolish. . .so angry. . .
He couldn't remember how he had stumbled upon the smoke-filled bar. All he could recall was the feeling of loneliness which had accompanied him since his father had disappeared in the Himalayas. He had no home. . .no family. . .no where he belonged. . .no where he wanted to be. To be fair, others had tried to comfort him when word of his father's disappearance had found him, but he would have none of it. He would not forgive his father that easily.
"What can I get ya," the overweight bartender growled from behind the counter.
Caine looked blankly at the line of liquor bottles filling the cabinet behind the man. Before he could answer, a young man sitting on a barstool at his right side spoke up. "My friend here will have a beer."
Caine was startled by the man's sudden offer and was at a loss for words. Before he could find his voice, a frosted beer mug had been placed on the counter in front of him. Politely, Caine shook his head. "Thank you for this, but I am sorry. . .I do not drink beer."
"Everyone drinks beer. . .especially in a place like this," the young man said. "In fact that's the only reason to come to a place like this," the man joked. "Drink up. . .it'll dull the pain."
Caine frowned at the words. "I am not. . ."
"If you're here, you're in pain," the man interrupted.
Caine considered the words. He realized that the man was right, for while he was not in any physical pain, the pain of loneliness overwhelmed him. He reached for the cold brew and took a tentative sip. This was not his first taste of beer, but never before had it tasted so good. Settling into the stool next to the young man, he took a second gulp from the mug.
"Hits the spot, doesn't it." Caine nodded his agreement. The man extended his right hand towards him. "Name's Rykker. . .Thomas Rykker."
End Part 2
To Part 3