A Father's Place

by Kelly Wood

*Part 20*

"Peter?" Ayaas cautiously approached the man discarded on the floor. Sophie watched from her place in the shadows.

Peter sighed, or tried to. Pain stabbed his lungs as cracked ribs protested. He struggled to breathe in shallow gasps. He was way too tired for this. "Yeah?"

"Are you all right?"

Several answers passed through Peter's mind. 'Yes' was a lie, 'no' too scary for the kids, no matter how true..."I've been worse," he finally answered, opening his eyes to find Ayaas crouched beside him.

"You look awful," the boy said, sounding scared and impressed at the same time. "Do you want me to help you up?"

Peter thought about how much it would hurt to raise his body to a sitting position, but staying sprawled on the floor didn't give him or the kids much confidence. Besides, the hard wood was uncomfortable. "Okay," he said finally, "If you can help me sit up, I think I'll feel better."

Ayaas had a lot more strength in his wiry little body than Peter would have thought possible. Following Peter's directions, he soon had the detective propped up against a wall, one knee bent. Peter was sweating heavily, and spots were dancing before his eyes, but he was sitting.

Brown eyes wide with dismay; Ayaas squatted in front of him. "Peter? Did I make it worse?" He placed one hand on the detective's propped up knee and shook. "Peter? Don't leave us."

Peter struggled to remain conscious. He opened his eyes to see Ayaas holding Sophie by the hand. "She's scared," the boy said.

Sophie shook her head. "That's not it," she said, not looking at Peter.

<I am really too tired for this,> Peter thought wearily. Wishing his hands were free, he nodded for Sophie to sit. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.

Sophie mumbled something. Peter couldn't hear it, but he understood anyway. "You're a little girl," he said softly, "There was absolutely nothing you could have done."

"Ayaas went for help!" she said, tears glittering on her lashes.

"They couldn't see Ayaas. If you'd been on that side of the attic, I'm sure you would have gone for help too."

"You think I would have?"

Peter nodded. The movement made his head swim. He closed his eyes.

Sophie smiled at him, then scrambled to her feet. When Peter opened his eyes a few moments later, she was standing behind Ayaas, a towel in her hand. "Your face is all...bloody," she said, her voice catching. "Can I wash it off?" Peter inclined his head, using the minimum amount of energy to answer. Carefully, the girl brushed the cloth over his face, taking away blood and grime. Ayaas watched, pointing out spots Sophie missed.

Both children were yawning, despite their fears. Peter realized that it must be well past midnight; at a guess, he would put their regular bedtime at eight, nine at the latest. "Why don't you two get some sleep?" he suggested, thinking they would go nap on one of the abandoned mattresses. Instead, they curled up, one on either side of him. They were asleep in minutes.

Peter sat in the silent attic and waited.

***********************

Dave found them that way in the morning. All three were asleep; the young man still propped up against a wall, the children half on him, half on the floor. Peter's face, under a variety of bruises and cuts, was drawn with pain, his breathing ragged. Ayaas and Sophie had their heads resting in his lap; their bodies curled up against him like puppies trying to stay warm. Dave snapped two polaroids before the sound of the camera shutter woke the detective.

Peter's first instinct was to lunge at the stranger snapping his picture, but the kids were still laying across his lower body, and his bound arms protested the involuntary tensing of muscles. He gritted his teeth as a wave of agony swept over him, his body's reaction to the restricted movement and treatment it had received yesterday.

Ayaas yawned and stretched, oblivious to Dave, still holding the camera. Sophie froze, her opening eyes taking in Peter's expression. Quickly rolling to her hands and knees, she scooted around to face the danger across the room.

Dave laughed and snapped another picture. He picked up the three developing prints and waved them in the air. "Proof you're still alive," he explained, "for the ransom demand."

Ayaas stopped in mid-stretch, finally realizing the bodyguard was in the attic with them. "Are you going to get us some breakfast?" he asked, yawning. "Because I'm hungry. I usually like cereal, but bagels would be okay."

Dave's eyebrows rose as he stared at the boy. Ayaas stood and put his fists on his hips. "I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday," he reminded the burly man, "and neither has Sophie. You made us miss dinner."

"I'll see what I can do," Dave said, shaking his head at the kid's audacity. He snapped one more picture and left.

Peter looked in amazement at the boy standing in front of him. "I'm going to hire you for all my hostage negotiations," he said, suddenly feeling more optimistic. Ayaas just grinned.

********

Dave threw the photos on the table in front of Pearce and Chan. Vito was across the kitchen frying bacon. "The little squirt asked for breakfast," he said with amusement.

"They don't get breakfast," Pearce said immediately.

The other three men looked at him. "They're just little kids," Vito said, "They need to eat."

Pearce scowled as he picked up the pictures. "Oh, all right," he said withirritation, "go ahead and bring them something to eat." He threw the photos one by one on the table. "These are fine. Deliver them to the station this morning. Do you have the ransom note?" he asked Chan.

"Right here," Chan pulled an envelope out of his inside suit pocket. He picked up the photos and dropped them in with the note. "I'll see that it gets on the right desk personally."

Pearce grunted. "No, I want you to stay here and watch our guests. Dave will deliver the envelope."

Chan's face tightened momentarily, then relaxed. "I have some errands to run," he stated, "I don't mind going."

Pouring his third cup of coffee, Pearce glared at the taller man. "I want you here. I need to go out, and I don't want Vito here alone."

"Hey, I don't mind staying boss," Dave said, looking up from the bagels he was slicing. "Do you think kids like peanut butter or cream cheese?" he asked the room in general.

"I mind." Pearce said through clenched teeth. "I am the person who hired you, and you will follow my orders. Dave is delivering the note; Chan and Vito will stay here. I will be gone for a couple hours. Is this clear?" Vito and Dave shrugged. "Okay with me," Vito said.

Chan lifted his hands. "You're the boss," he said easily. "I can do my errands later."

************

*Part 21*

"Chief, Sandra Mason wants to talk to you." Sergeant Broderick said, interrupting Strenlich's meeting with Kermit, Caine and Skalany. Maps were spread out on the table, along with printouts about the properties Pearce had owned.

Strenlich looked disgusted. "I don't want to talk to that..." he looked over at Caine and finished, "...vulture. Send her downtown for the official press release with the rest of the reporters. We're busy here."

Broderick held his ground. "Uh, Chief, I think you're gonna want to see what she's got."

Sandra Mason looked uncomfortable perched on the edge of a chair in the interrogation room. From their positions around the table, Peter's colleagues studied her. "The envelope was left at the reception desk. Nobody saw who left it. It sat on the desk for an hour before anyone gave it to me. When I opened it..." she shrugged, "I knew I couldn't just put it on the air. I brought it over here."

"I bet it had nothing to do with the fact that the city would sue the pants off her for printing an inaccurate story," Kermit said sarcastically, in an aside to Skalany. "Especially after the last little fiasco, when she got that warning from the legal department."

"Not to mention the lawsuit the kids' parents would hit her with," she whispered back, crossing her arms.

"Thank you, Ms. Mason," Strenlich said, dismissively. "We'll handle it from here."

The reporter bristled. "Now listen, detective. I could have put the ransom note and the pictures on the air without telling you. I think I deserve to get this story." Pulling out a tape recorder, the woman pressed 'record' and looked expectantly at the detectives surrounding her. "What is Detective Caine mixed up in this time? Does this have anything to do with the kidnapping in Rosedale yesterday? Do you know..."

She broke off as the Chief's finger hit the 'stop' button. With a toss of her well-coifed head, she looked around the ring of studiously blank faces. "If you don't want to give me any information, I will bring the photos and the ransom note to the public with our next broadcast."

"Ms. Mason," Kermit said smoothly, "We're a little pressed for time right now. When the department is able to release information, we will let you know." His voice rose, "Until then, you can take your tape recorder back to Channel 3 and..."

"Wait to hear from us," Skalany said, jumping in to finish Kermit's sentence, if not his thought. "We really do appreciate your help." Mary Margaret smiled with fake sincerity at the reporter as she lead her to the door and pushed her out of the room. After the other woman was gone, Skalany locked the door and returned to the table.

"You do know she has copies," Skalany said. "Even if her motives were altruistic, which I very much doubt, she is a reporter. There is no way she handed over the photos or the note without making backups for her next Action Newsbreak."

"Already on it," Kermit said, on the phone. "Broderick? See that Ms. Mason is detained for a couple hours....I don't know, public nuisance is probably too accurate...parking tickets?....Thanks." With a grin, Kermit hung up. "Sandra won't be sharing anything with the city for a couple hours."

He returned to the table, where Strenlich and Caine were staring at the photos, spread out on the table. "Damn it," Strenlich said heavily. "Peter looks like hell--and although the kids don't look hurt, who knows what this is doing to them." It was obvious from his expression he was thinking of his own daughters.

Mary Margaret sighed. "At least we know they're alive."

There was an awkward moment of silence. "Caine, you've been very quiet," Strenlich said gruffly. "Do these pictures or the ransom demand tell you anything?"

The priest closed his eyes. One hand hovered over the surface of a photo, almost touching it. "I still cannot contact my son. These pictures tell me only that Peter is...hurt." Worry and fear glimmered deep in the father's being.

"Yeah, they definitely tell us that," Kermit said, scowling at the tight mouth and expressive eyes. "And yes, they also tell us he's alive, and so are the kids. They just don't say where."

Skalany picked up a photo and studied it. "You know, this background looks like an attic. See how the roof slopes over Peter's head? And all the beams are still exposed, but they don't look new; they're dusty. I think we're looking for something residential."

"I think you're right," Strenlich said after a minute. "Kermit, how many of those places on your list are homes?"

"Twelve," Kermit answered, already pulling those information sheets. "If we split up, we can cover them faster." He handed six of the sheets to Skalany. "Frank, you take Mary Margaret, I'll take Caine." Before he had finished the sentence, he was out the door, followed by the troubled father.

Strenlich looked after the departing detective. "I'll get right on that, chief," he said sarcastically.

"He's just worried, Chief," Mary Margaret said, grabbing her jacket. "Don't take it personally."

"We're all worried, Detective Skalany." Strenlich scowled as he got his own jacket. "Somehow, that seems to be a side effect of working with Peter Caine."

*****************

*Part 22*

Chan looked at Vito. "Are you going to bring them breakfast, or not?" he asked, nodding towards the sliced bagels lying on the counter. Dave had finished spreading the bagels with peanut butter and cream cheese prior to his abrupt departure with Pearce. Chan had waited for Vito to deliver the food, but the other man had decided to wash dishes and then sat down to read the newspaper.

Vito dragged his attention away from the sports section. "What?"

"Breakfast. Are you going to bring it up?" Chan repeated. Talking to Vito was frequently like talking to a particularly thick brick wall.

"Oh. I forgot."

Chan raised one eyebrow. "Yes, it can be difficult to think about more than one thing at a time." Vito muttered agreement and returned to his newspaper. Chan waited. Vito turned to the comics section.

"I'll do it," Chan finally offered, rising lazily to his feet. Vito grunted, not looking up. Taking this as agreement, Chan tucked some bananas under one arm, picked up the plate of bagels, and pulled a container of milk out of the refrigerator. Vito read.

After one brief stop, Chan headed upstairs. At the attic door, he stopped to listen. He could hear voices, but not words. Unlocking the deadbolt, he set the food on the stairs and stepped in. The voices stopped. He locked the door behind him and climbed.

Reaching the top, he was greeted by three silent figures. Peter was on his feet, standing in front of the children. The heroic gesture was slightly marred by Peter's inability to stand steady. Ayaas was trying to get around him; Sophie was bracing him from behind. All three glared at the new arrival. "Oh, it's you." Sophie said flatly, moving to Peter's side.

For what may have been the first time in his life, Chan didn't know what to say. "Sophie..." Regret and worry and fear were all in the name. He put down the food and reached out one hand.

"What? Are you going to say you're sorry?" Sophie asked, backing away, her voice shaking. Turning her back on her uncle she wrapped her arms around her stomach and leaned into Peter, who staggered a bit then regained his balance. If he had a hand free, he would have wrapped it around the girl's shoulders.

Ayaas took a bagel off the plate and offered it to Peter, who shook his head. The boy took a bite and started chewing, looking from one man to the other. He looked like a spectator at a tennis match.

Peter had relaxed when he realized their visitor wasn't Pearce. He was almost positive that Chan wouldn't do anything too nasty in front of his niece. He was even starting to hope that the other man might be on their side. Something had certainly caused him to interfere in the beating earlier.

"Sophie, I *am* sorry." Chan offered gently, touching her hair. She pulled her head away. Chan sighed. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

Peter looked at the girl, stubbornly ignoring her uncle, and decided to jump in. "But it did happen," he said, anger coloring his voice. "So, what are you going to do about it, Chan?"

The old, cynical Chan took over from the worried uncle, as Chan looked Peter over from the battered face to the cuffed hands. "You don't appear to be in any condition to challenge me, Peter," he said, raising one eyebrow.

Peter snorted. "And whose fault is that?" No, there was no time for trading barbs. He pushed his anger down and concentrated on the worried look the other had when he had first seen Sophie. "Look Chan, you have to get the kids out of here." Desperately, he turned over arguments in his mind; there had to be something he could say that would convince Chan to turn on his employer and get the kids out of here...but his mind was blank. What could he possibly say that Chan would hear?

In the end, he resorted to the truth. "You know Pearce is crazy...obsessed," he pointed out, his voice intense. "He wants me to pay for taking his daughter away from him. Even if he asks for a ransom, once he figures out he can use the kids to get to me, he'll do that...and he will figure it out. When that happens, he won't let them walk out of here."

Peter felt Sophie's entire body tense. Ayaas stopped eating his second bagel and turned worried eyes to Peter. Immediately, the detective regretted the words that had just spilled from his mouth. <Shit, I must be in worse shape than I thought,> he thought wearily, <to make such a stupid mistake.>

"I'm sorry," he said, speaking to Ayaas and Sophie, ignoring Chan. "It's not...you shouldn't...I didn't mean...." He couldn't look at either child. His stammered words trailed off. Sophie squeezed one numb hand as he closed his eyes.

Ayaas turned to Chan. "Is Peter right?" he demanded. "He's not going to let us go?" Sophie reached out her other hand to him, presenting her uncle with a united group.

Chan stood silent, ignoring the boy, ignoring his niece, focused on Peter. "So what do you want me to do?" he asked in his normal sardonic manner.

"Get the kids out of here." Peter said, his opened eyes filling with renewed hope. Chan blinked at the full force of his gaze. "I want them safe, away from Pearce."

"Don't you want to get out of here as well?" Chan asked after a moment's silence.

Peter shrugged. "I didn't think you cared, Chan" he said sarcastically. Thinking he had nothing to lose, he continued. "But since you ask, yeah, I'd love to get out of here too."

Chan grinned, making him look years younger. "Good, because there's a three-for-one hostage sale today." He pulled a handcuff key out of his pocket and motioned for Peter to turn around.

"All right!" Ayaas cheered. Sophie turned to watch her uncle; her eyes lighting up with renewed faith.

Peter winced as his hands were freed, rubbing his wrists and slowly moving his arms around, working out the kinks. "Why?" he asked, studying Chan's face.

The other man shrugged. "Why not? I don't believe in torture, and Pearce ...does. I'm a little tired of all my employers turning out to be certifiable. Besides," he nodded towards Sophie. "I think it may be time for a new outlook on life."

*********************

*Part 23*

"So, what's next?" Ayaas asked, watching impatiently as Peter stretched, gingerly trying relieve pained muscles. He was ready for some action-his stomach wasn't growling anymore, Peter was free, Sophie was...well, she wasn't smiling, but she didn't look like she was going to burst into tears anymore...and he really wanted to get out of this place.

Chan cocked his head. "We run like hell?"

All three former captives looked at their rescuer with various degrees of disbelief and disappointment. "You don't have a plan?" Peter demanded, putting all their thoughts into words.

Chan studied their faces. "This was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision," he explained with exaggerated patience. "I didn't really have time yet to come up with a plan."

"Chan..." Peter's voice trailed off as he ran a hand through his hair.

"How many people downstairs?"

"Just one. Pearce and Dave left to deliver the ransom note." Chan pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. "Pearce said something about an errand, but I'm not sure if they were doing anything else. That was about an hour ago..."

"So they could be back any minute." Peter's voice was sharp. He tried to relax as he caught the worried look that passed between Sophie and Ayaas, silently watching the interaction between two adults.

"Or not until tonight," Chan said, oblivious to the children's nervousness. "Either way, the sooner we get moving, the better. Oh, I suppose you might like this." He pulled a bulky shape out of his pocket, and then handed Peter his Baretta, butt first.

There was a tense moment as Peter's hand wrapped around the grip. The gun was pointed directly at Chan; their eyes met. Memories flashed through Peter's mind--Chan standing beside Tan as he dangled helplessly in front of them. Chan shooting him in the shoulder. Chan saving Maya. Chan slipping away on Li Sung's island with a quick 'thanks bro'.

Peter blinked and saw his memories reflected back at him. Chan's face was unreadable. With a grunt, the detective dropped his gaze to the Baretta; he checked the clip. "I thought this was spur-of-the-moment?" he asked, tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans.

"It was a long moment," Chan explained, turning away.

He took out a pencil and a scrap of paper from a different pocket, and started drawing a map. "Okay, Vito was settled in the kitchen when I came up here, I don't think he'll be moving for awhile. The best way out of here is to take the stairs down two flights to the front door." Reaching over to Ayaas, he tapped his shoulder. "Your little friend here knows the way. We'll go left after we get outside and head for the garage. There's a blue van in the first bay, the doors should be unlocked."

Looking Peter over, he grimaced. "You're still in pretty bad shape, Caine. I'll go first, the kids will follow me, and you'll bring up the rear. Think you can keep up?"

"Just try to stop me," Peter said grimly.

"If anything happens, I'll help you," Ayaas volunteered. "I'm strong." His dark eyes shone with excitement.

Peter reflected that, despite what they had seen in the past 24 hours, the kids had no idea of how bad things could get. He reached over and shook Ayaas gently. "If anything happens to me," he said sternly, "You just follow Chan and get out of here. I can take care of myself." He looked at Sophie. "That goes for you, too."

Ayaas rolled his eyes at Sophie. "Okay, okay, we'll get out."

Peter didn't trust the boy's too-innocent expression. He'd seen it too often...in the mirror. "Promise me."

With a sigh, Ayaas promised.

"You promise too," Peter demanded, turning to Sophie.

"I promise," Sophie said softly. Peter nodded, satisfied.

"I guess I don't have to worry about you coming back for me," he said lightly, looking at Chan. He almost missed the flicker of regret that passed over the other man's face.

"No." Chan agreed with only the slightest hesitation, "I'm not one for risking my neck. Besides, you're going to keep up, remember?"

"Right." Peter agreed. Gun in hand, he nodded to Chan. "Ready?"

"I need a minute," Chan stated abruptly, "with my niece."

Sophie appeared uncomfortable as Peter and Ayaas looked at her. "Okay," she agreed, ducking her head. Peter and Ayaas moved away to give them a bit of privacy, but Peter strained to hear the conversation, still not...quite...trusting his old enemy.

Chan crouched down to her level. "Sophie..." he hesitated, then put one hand under her chin, raising her face until he could see her eyes. "Sophie, I hope you know that I would never deliberately hurt you."

"You do hurt other people though," she said, meeting his eyes.

He shook his head, wondering why he was trying to justify himself. "I try not to. I just do my job."

Sophie pushed his hand away and glared at him. "Your *job* hurts people," she stated, pointing out what was, to her, so obvious. "Peter said you shot him. You work with that ugly man who kidnaps kids and beats up guys and you think you're not hurting people?" Her voice shook. "Do Momma and Daddy know what your job is?"

"No." Chan said, knowing that his sister wouldn't let him near her children if she had any idea what he did.

"You can't tell them what you do, can you?" Sophie asked, studying him. The look on his face may have been enough of an answer, because Sophie didn't wait. "I'm going to tell them," she announced. "because I think you need to find a better job. Maybe they can help you."

"Maybe they can," Chan said, reaching out to brush back her hair. "But for now, I need you to believe that I will get you back home."

Tilting her head, she looked at him somberly. "I already knew that," she said, "But you need to promise you'll get Ayaas and Peter out, too."

Chan looked at the determined face. "I will, I promise." The beaming smile that spread across her face made him feel almost as good as the arms suddenly wrapped around his neck in a fierce hug.

"Uncle," she whispered in his ear. "I want to go home now."

He hugged her back wordlessly, amazed at the trust she still placed in him.

"Let's go." Chan unlocked the door and peeked into the hall.

Ayaas stifled a nervous giggle as he remembered doing the same thing hours before. Sophie was clutching his arm tightly as they followed her uncle down the stairs. "Let go," he whispered, pointing to her hands. When she shook her head, he sighed and took her hand instead. "It'll make it easier to move around," he said.

"Shhh." Peter's hushed voice was barely audible.

Chan turned back. "Come on," he said, slipping out through the door. Sophie followed, pulling Ayaas. Peter was last, carefully closing the door without a sound. They made it down the first flight of stairs and were in the middle of the second flight, when there was the sound of key in a lock, and the front door began to open.

****************