Unfounded Fears
Part 31
"Peter!" Caine's eyes flew open, his sudden coherency startling Claudia.
"What's wrong?"
"They are in trouble." Caine began to push himself up off the mattress.
Claudia moved her hands to his shoulders and pushed him back down. "You shouldn't move."
"I must go to them." The priest doubled his efforts to leave the bed.
Claudia met him head on and pushed him back. "No. Lo Si said you should stay here and rest."
Sudden confusion crossed the priest's face. "He has gone," he said as if realizing it for the first time.
The park ranger nodded. "He left me here to take care of you. He said he'd be back soon."
Caine closed his eyes. Claudia frowned, fearing the man was in the process of passing out. "Hey, you okay?"
Caine didn't respond for a moment. Then he opened his eyes. "It is over," he whispered.
Paul closed his eyes, wanting to do nothing more than block out the scene in front of him. He had been the cause of the tragedy. . .he had been the instrument used to bring about his detective's. . .no, not his detective's. . .his son's death.
"Oh. . ." a quiet groan broke into Paul's mourning.
"Peter?" he whispered, afraid that he had imagined the sound.
"Oh god, that hurt," Peter moaned as he lifted his head and then let it drop back to the ground.
"Peter!" Paul repeated and struggled to rise so as to see his son.
"Paul? You okay?" Peter responded as he stiffly rolled onto his left side so that he could face his foster father. He couldn't help the groan which slipped out when his ribs were pressed into the ground.
When the young cop's eyes met his, Paul gave thanks to every deity he could think of. He saw a thin drizzle of blood trailing down the right side of his son's face. "You were shot," he exclaimed, worry in the words.
Peter raised his hand to his head and felt the small wound. "Just grazed." He pushed himself to his feet with is good arm, but found he was unable to stand upright. He could feel fresh blood soaking his already crimson-stained shirt. The fight had reopened the wound.
Ignoring his own injuries, he did a cursory examination of Paul, then stumbled over to his foster father's side and slowly dropped to his knees. "What did he do to you?" Peter asked, anxiety tainting his voice.
"It's nothing. . .just a scratch on the leg," Paul answered, not caring about his own injury. "Untie me," the captain ordered, wanting nothing more than to gather his son in his arms.
Peter obediently undid the belt securing the older man's arms. He then helped Paul to his feet, concerned when the man wavered slightly. Peter looked at the back of the captain's left leg. "It's more than a scratch, Paul. This looks serious."
Peter tore a strip of cloth off of his own shirt, folding it into a bandage and securing it to Paul's leg with the belt. "That should help stop the bleeding."
"I'll be fine. Check him out," Paul pointed to the still form on the ground.
Peter stumbled over to Jake. He cautiously felt for the man's pulse. "He's dead." Standing again, Peter turned to the captain and suddenly found himself being pulled into a bear hug.
"Oh God, Peter. . .I thought. . .I thought. . .," Paul murmured into the younger man's ear, never releasing him from his grip.
Peter bit his lip against the pain from his ribs and knife wound, instead bringing his arms around the older man and pulling him close. "It's okay. . .we're okay," Peter answered quietly.
It suddenly dawned on the captain that he had to be inflicting pain on his son with his firm grip. He released the younger man. "How bad are you hurt?" he asked as he quickly skimmed his son's disheveled form with his eyes.
"I'll be okay. . .really." Peter grinned at his foster father.
Paul's smile matched his son's. "You scared me."
Peter looked away, his eyes falling on Jake's prone form. "We'll call it even then. When I heard your scr. . ." he paused, unable to complete the word. "I. . .I," Peter stopped.
Paul didn't need to hear the rest of the sentence to know what Peter was thinking. "Guess we were both pretty lucky then."
The younger man nodded. He looked at the gray-haired man, not knowing what to say next. The awkward silence grew between the two men. Peter, not surprisingly, was the first to break it. "How's my father?"
"I think he'll be okay. He was shot in the side, but the bullet appeared to go clean through."
Peter nodded. "I'd like to see him."
A mixture of guilt and jealousy struck Paul. Shame soon followed. Paul swallowed and then nodded. "Yeah. . .your father needs you. . .he needs to know you're okay."
Peter smiled. "He knows."
The captain grinned. "Yeah, I suppose he does."
Peter offered the man a hand. "Here, lean on me."
Paul did not move for a long while. He then shook his head. Peter started to move to his side, but instead Paul's arm shot out, holding the younger man fast. "Wait," was the only word said.
The younger man halted his movement. Paul took a hobbled step towards him. "Peter. . .Son. . .I need to. . .I mean I would like to. . ."
Peter Caine had never known Paul Blaisdell to have trouble completing a sentence. The reason why now would be an exception worried him. "Paul?"
Paul looked away for a moment and then let his eyes fall upon his son's face once again. "I need to apologize to you."
Peter shook his head in confusion. He started to speak, but the look on Paul's face stopped him. The captain shook his head. "I've behaved like a jack ass for the past few days and I'm sorry."
The words mystified Peter. "What?"
"This trip was supposed to give me a chance to make things up to you. Instead, I just screwed them up more," Paul continued.
"I don't under. . ." Paul's words cut Peter off again.
"Peter, please. I want you to hear what I have to say. . .please." Peter nodded silently. Paul smiled at the sudden obedience. "I have been so. . .blind. . .. So damn jealous of some things and I was taking it out on you." Peter opened his mouth again, but Paul's piercing gaze closed it. "When your father came back into your life I was the happiest person on the face of this earth. . .except maybe for Annie. But as time went on things started to change. . .things that I never thought would change between us were suddenly different. Caine was. . .is your father. He alone could fill that roll. It was no longer mine. I didn't. . .I didn't know how to handle it. I didn't know my place in your life. You didn't need me. I didn't know what to do. So I pushed you away.
"For fifteen years you were my son. My son. . .no one else's. And then, like that," Paul snapped his fingers for emphasis, "it was over." Ashamed, he turned away from Peter to stare into the dark green forest surrounding them. "Annie tells me I'm imagining things. . .but. . .but, it doesn't change how I felt. . .how I feel.
Paul's shoulders hunched forward, a picture of defeat. "I just want you to know that I'm sorry for how I've treated you and I understand that you need to move forward with your father. I'm willing to let go and be what you need me to be in your life. . .not what I want to be in it."
Peter had closed his eyes, trying to push down the pain in his heart, long before Paul had finished speaking. "Paul. . ." he whispered. The older man did not respond. He kept his back turned on the younger man, not wanting to face him. Peter took a step forward. "Dad?. . ."
The use of the word immediately caught Paul's attention. He couldn't help the small flinch. He felt his son's hand on his shoulder. "Please, turn around. I want to make sure that you hear what I am about to say. . .that there's no misunderstanding."
Paul turned towards Peter. His eyes, however, did not make contact. Peter placed a gentle hand on the man's chin and lifted it up so that blue eyes met hazel. "Do you remember what I told you when you were hurt in the hospital?"
Paul did not answer. Peter knew the man remembered, but wanted to make sure he had his attention. "I told you then what you meant to me. Nothing has changed."
Peter narrowed his eyes. "Do you want to know what I need you to be? Really? I need you to be exactly what you have always been. What you always will be. My dad. You have been the stabilizing force in my life. You saved me. You. No one else did that, not Lo Si, not my father, not even Annie. When no one else cared about me, you were there. You took me from that. . .orphanage. . . and gave me a home. I owe you my life. . .my soul. Nothing. . .absolutely nothing will ever change that."
Paul closed his eyes, allowing warm tears to squeeze out the corners and wet his face. He pulled the younger man into another hug, reveling in the warmth of his son's body as it was enveloped by his.
End Part 31
To Conclusion