Knowing the White,
Keep the Black
Part 3
The next afternoon, the doctor released Kermit from the hospital's care, as promised, bringing a collective calm over the hospital staff. Paul pushed the wheelchair to the hospital entrance. As soon as the automatic doors slid closed behind the men, Kermit pushed himself out of the chair and started walking down the sidewalk towards Paul's car. The older man shook his head in disbelief. On the other hand, however, Paul couldn't believe he had been able to get Kermit into the chair in the first place; but Kermit seemed to be on his best behavior. Paul was suspicious.
Paul unlocked the passenger side door and held it open for his friend. Once inside the car, Kermit struggled with the seatbelt, but refused to ask for assistance. Paul walked around to the driver's side and took a seat inside. Kermit had been very quiet since the Captain's arrival at the hospital, and Paul didn't know why. It was time to break the silence, "So Kermit, are we okay here?"
"Everything's fine, Paul. I'm just tired."
"Okay, I'll by that. When we get to the house, you can lay down. Annie's still in New York so the house will be pretty quiet."
Kermit looked slightly surprised, "I figured Annie would have come home when she found out Peter had been kidnapped."
Paul looked slightly guilty, "Well, to be perfectly honest, I didn't really tell her everything about the kidnapping. By the time I talked to her, Peter had been rescued and he wasn't in any medical danger. I just couldn't see worrying her for no reason."
Kermit grinned at his friend, "You know that you're a dead man when Annie finds out you lied to her."
"I didn't lie," Paul waggled a finger at the younger man. "I just didn't tell her the whole story."
"Oh, I get it. Annie will be so much more forgiving for that." Kermit chuckled as he watched the Captain turn away in embarrassment.
"So when do you have to go back to see the physical therapist?" Paul decided changing the subject was in his best interest.
"Not until Monday. The Doc gave me some exercises to work on over the weekend."
"You mean you're actually going to do the exercises and go to therapy; that's got to be a first."
"Hey, I've got to if I'm going to qualify for the Police Department. Last I heard, the police consider being able to shoot straight a fairly important part of the job. The way my shoulder feels right now, I couldn't lift a water gun, let alone a gun that shot bullets. In fact, I think I'm going to be pretty useless for a while."
"Well, since I'm doing the hiring, I wouldn't worry too much about being able to use a gun. I've got a spot for you in the office. I need your expertise with the computers. I always wanted a hacker on my team," Paul chuckled.
"I don't know about riding a desk. I've never been stuck in an office doing paper work before. Doesn't sound very exciting." Kermit groaned.
"Yeah, well, it won't be forever. Just until you heal."
"Hence, my enthusiasm for getting the therapy over with." Kermit pointed out.
Paul pulled his sedan into the Blaisdell driveway, surprised to see Peter's new Stealth parked on one side.
"Nice car. You didn't tell me you were going through your second childhood." Kermit kidded Paul.
"It's not mine, it's Peter's. He just got it to replace the Corvette." Paul looked around the front yard, but didn't see Peter outside. His gaze fell on Kermit, who was looking suddenly uncomfortable. "What's wrong."
Kermit glanced at Paul and then looked away quickly. "Nothing," he paused, "So the Corvette was totaled, huh."
"Yeah, but it wasn't the first, and unfortunately, I don't think it'll be the last. Peter's always been a little hard on his vehicles." Paul realized that Kermit still wasn't prepared to face Peter, that he was still uncertain of Peter's reaction. He didn't know what to expect from Blaisdell's son. Would he blame the mercenary for having endangered his life? Paul decided it was probably best to let nature take its course. Besides, if Kermit were like most, Peter's undeniable charm would take hold and the whole situation would be smoothed over.
The two men climbed out of the car and walked to the front porch. Peter met them at the door, a grin on his face, "It's about time you got here, the pizza's getting cold." Peter held the door open for his foster father and the ex-mercenary. "So how are you feeling, Kermit? Glad to be out of the hospital I bet. I know what that's like. So Paul tells me you're going to join the force. That's great, we could use some new blood around the old place." Paul could immediately tell Peter was nervous because of his nonstop talking; he could tell Kermit was equally nervous because of the total silence in response. Paul grimaced internally, "Boy this is going to be a fun night."
Kermit's failure to respond to Peter didn't seem to phase the younger cop at all. In fact, Blaisdell wasn't sure that Peter even noticed Kermit hadn't responded. His son went to the kitchen, continuing to talk all the way. "So when are you going to start work? It'll probably be a few weeks, huh. Those shoulder wounds are rough. I was shot in the shoulder last year and man, did it take a long time to heal."
Slowly, Kermit turned towards Paul, reached for his sunglasses and pulled them half way down his nose, "So have you ever considered Valium?"
Blaisdell couldn't help the burst of laughter rising from his gut. "No, we usually just resort to earplugs."
Kermit joined in the laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. Peter reentered the room, balancing a pizza box, three beers, plates and napkins, while still carrying on his one-sided conversation. He stopped suddenly, watching the men laugh. "What? What's so funny?" His eyes darted back and forth between the men.
"Nothing, Kid," Kermit stopped laughing, but kept the smile on his face, reached out with his free arm and grabbed the plates from Peter's stack.
Paul took the beers from Peter and sat them on the coffee table. Peter placed the pizza box on a trivet in the middle of the table and opened the lid. He dove in and grabbed three pieces for himself before the other two men had sat down. He plopped down on the couch next to Paul. "I wasn't sure what time you would be here, but I figured that dinner might taste good. I know that you don't eat very well when Mom's away." Peter looked slightly concerned at his father.
"Yeah, and this is such a healthy meal too," Paul gently cuffed him on the cheek. "You worry too much. You're worse than your mother."
Kermit watched the exchange between father and son with curiosity, and with a hint of envy. Kermit's father had died when he was twelve, leaving his mother with the responsibility of raising three children. Kermit, being the oldest, took it upon himself to help his mother with the task. When Kermit was eighteen, his mother died and suddenly he became, for all intensive purposes, a father and mother for his younger sister and brother. He thought that being a parent meant being a good provider and so he looked for a way that he could make money without work experience. The military was a good start. It was there that he met Paul Blaisdell. When Paul left the formal military for a more colorful life, as he put it, he took Kermit with him. For the young man starving for attention from a father figure, Paul Blaisdell was everything Kermit could ask for. By the time his mentor had decided to retire to a more traditional life, Kermit said that he could stand on his own two feet. But down deep inside, he still needed the fatherly support only Paul could provide, even to this day. Only now, that support was no longer for him, it was for someone else. Another had taken his place. Peter Caine had become the son Paul Blaisdell had lost when Kermit left to fight his battles alone. As Kermit watched Paul's eyes, heard the affection in his voice, the only thought in his mind was, "that affection should be for me." Then Kermit realized that the room was silent, his hosts looking patiently at him.
"You feeling okay, Kermit?" Peter asked again.
"Uh, yeah. Just lost in thought for a moment." Kermit shifted his position in his chair, careful not to jostle the injured shoulder. Paul handed him a slice of pizza and opened the beer can for him.
"Paul was just saying that since I can't go back to work until Monday, maybe I can take you apartment hunting this weekend."
Kermit glanced at Paul, a frown on his face, "Oh joy." Then, seeing the hurt look in Peter's eyes, Kermit had a change of heart, started to shrug his shoulders and then remembered the potential consequences, "Well, I guess if I'm going to stay I have to start looking for some place to live."
Paul glanced at Kermit, surprised that he had willingly agreed to be escorted by Peter. Maybe, just maybe, things were getting better. Maybe Kermit was coming to terms with situation; coming to terms with himself.
End Part 3
Knowing the White,
Keep the Black
Part 4
The early morning sun peaked over the horizon, reflecting peach and rose colors across the clouds in the sky. Lo Si enjoyed the glow of its rays on his skin. He sat at the small breakfast table on his patio, waiting for Peter, instinctively knowing he would come this morning. The elderly man poured himself a cup of tea and leaned back in his chair, listening to the birds chirping in the background, flying from tree to tree, in search of food. Two ground squirrels chased each other around an oak tree, in what looked like a child's game of tag. Lo Si couldn't suppress the chuckle at their antics.
He heard the sound of a car door shutting, marking Peter's arrival. He closed his eyes, allowing his chi to flow from his body and touch Peter. Peter's mood was, not surprisingly, unsettled. Unfortunately, Lo Si had discovered that Peter appeared to be unsettled quite a bit over the past two months. No doubt his mood was directly related to the absence of Kwai Chang Caine. But this time Lo Si felt something more from Peter. He felt doubt and uncertainty. Lo Si took a calm, centering breath, prepared to discover the source of Peter's hesitance.
"Lo Si, are you here?" He heard Peter's voice sounding from the front door of the apartment.
"I am here, young Peter." Lo Si's voice guided Peter to the patio.
The young man stepped on to the patio, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. "Good morning. I'm sorry to come by so early, but I," he hesitated as if looking for the right words, "I guess I needed to talk."
Lo Si smiled, "I am an old man. I do not have guests often. I enjoy having the company. Please sit and have tea with me."
Peter looked at the table, suddenly realizing that two tea cups and an assortment of fruits and breads were sitting on the table. He had been expected. Peter grinned in amazement at the old Master, "How did you know I was coming?" Then he paused and shook his head, "Never mind."
Lo Si smiled. He, admittedly, took pleasure in teasing Peter. It brought a closeness between the two men that would otherwise not exist. Lo Si could get away with so much more than Caine when it came to what he did and said around Peter. While the young man placed his father on a pedestal, expecting perfection from an imperfect man, Peter did not seem to place that expectation on the Ancient.
"So how are you feeling, my young friend?" Lo Si reached across the table and gently placed his fingers at the pulse point on Peter's right wrist. He quickly observed that the writs was still bruised from the handcuffs that had been used to imprison him, however, internally, Peter's strength had returned and he seemed well on his way to a complete recovery.
"I'm okay. Still a little sore, but now it's more like I just worked out too hard."
"I am glad to hear you are progressing so well." Lo Si nodded. "But, something else bothers you, I fear."
Peter looked at the tea in his cup, his fingers slowly spinning the cup in circles on the saucer. "Lo Si, I was hoping I could talk to you about something, well, something personal."
"Of course, young Peter. I am honored that you are willing to bring your personal thoughts to me. I will do whatever is in my power to help you." Lo Si was not lying, he was grateful that Peter trusted him enough to be willing to talk about his feelings and his fears.
"Ever since the kidnapping, I've been having this really. . . uh. . . odd feeling inside of me."
Lo Si looked questioningly at the young man. "I do not understand, Peter. What type of odd feeling?"
Peter took a deep breath and looked into the dark eyes of the Master. "I guess you might refer to it as a lack of confidence."
Lo Si tilted his head, "You are afraid?"
"No, no," Peter said quickly in a somewhat embarrassed tone, "It's not fear. It's like. . ." he paused for a long time, as if searching for the right words, "It's like I have lost faith in me. . .in my abilities." The look on Peter's face broke Lo Si's heart. For a long while, the elderly man was quiet. The cop removed his napkin from his lap and tossed it on the table, his tone slightly frustrated, "Never mind. It's stupid. I shouldn't have said anything."
"No, wait, Peter." The Ancient reached forward to place his wrinkled hand over the strong hand of his friend, "It is not stupid. You mistake my silence as a dismissal. It is not. I wish to be here for you, to help you through these feelings." Peter sat silent for a moment and then nodded. "Do you think there is a reason for your . . .lack of confidence?"
"I don't know. When I was in the orphanage, I used to feel like this, like I couldn't do anything right. But after the Blaisdells took me in, I changed. Each day I felt stronger, like I understood the world and my place in it." He paused, sorting his thoughts, "And then Pop came back. The uncertainties returned for a while, but then he helped me to realize that I was okay; that I didn't need to change myself for him. Things started going better for me."
"Do you think that your feelings changed when he left?" Lo Si was afraid of what Peter's answer would be. Peter was already angry at his father for having abandoned him again, despite the fact that Lo Si had repeatedly, albeit unsuccessfully, tried to convince him that his father was, while physically absent, emotionally and mentally there to support Peter."
"Actually, no. I was okay when he left. . .Yeah, sure, I miss him. . .a lot. . ., and I guess I'm mad at him for not bothering to contact me, but that's it." Peter thought some more, "I really think that what's wrong with me is related to what happened Monday." Peter finally reasoned.
"Why do you think that?" Lo Si finally knew what the cause of Peter's problem was, but now Peter had to discover it on his own.
Peter thought about what had happened for a long time. Suddenly his voice became very quiet. "Lo Si, I felt so helpless. I. . .I was at their mercy. From the moment they first ran me off the road, they controlled me. I tried to fight them, but I couldn't. I wasn't strong enough. . .I wasn't good enough." His voice shook slightly, "I tried to escape, and they stopped me. If you and Paul hadn't come along when you did, I'd be dead. I know that. I couldn't have stopped them from killing me."
Lo Si placed a comforting hand on Peter's arm. "Peter, you were not helpless. You have never been helpless."
Peter shook his head in disagreement. "You don't understand." He stood suddenly. "Look, I've got to go. I told Kermit I would help him find an apartment today."
"Peter, do not leave. We need to talk about this."
"No. Look, forget I brought it up. I'll deal with. It's just me." And before Lo Si could stop him, Peter had left the apartment.
After leaving the Ancient's apartment, Peter drove out to the Blaisdell's house to pick up Kermit. His brief conversation with Lo Si replayed itself in his mind. He mentally kicked himself for having walked out on the elderly man. He knew better than that. It showed a lack of respect for the Master. But Peter's frustration with his emotions seemed to be controlling him at the moment.
During the previous night's dinner with Paul and Kermit, Peter had tried his best to hide his uncertainty. He didn't want his foster father, who was also his Captain, to have doubts in his abilities as a cop, even though those were the exact feelings he was experiencing. Doubt, for a cop, was deadly. If Paul were to suspect that his son didn't think he could do the job, Peter would be riding a desk into the next millennium. So, instead, Peter pushed the fears down. . .Oh God, he thought, Lo Si was right. . .it is fear that I'm feeling.
Upon arrival at the house, Peter climbed out of the Stealth and walked up to the front door. He took a deep breath and covered up his somber mood. He tried the door handle, it was unlocked. Walking into the foyer, he could smell coffee brewing in the kitchen and a muffled conversation between Paul and Kermit.
"Good Morning," Peter said cheerfully, as he walked into the kitchen.
Paul grinned at the young man, "My, you're up early. You do realize that I'm not letting you go back to work until Monday, and this is a Saturday. I thought the standard rising time for you under those conditions was somewhere between 10:00 and midnight."
"Very funny," Peter said sarcastically. "You forget, I offered to help your friend find a place to live today."
Kermit spoke up then, "Hey, don't you drag me into this father and son chat. I'm minding my own business over here."
Paul chuckled. He grabbed the newspaper from the kitchen table and opened it up to the front page. "Uh oh. Guess who made the headlines today?"
"Oh no," Peter groaned. "I wondered why the phone kept ringing last night. I let the answering machine pick it up, but no messages were left. I wasn't in the mood to talk and so I turned the ringer off."
"Well, it looks like the Feds couldn't keep the story quiet any longer." Paul held up the paper. The headline printed across the entire width of the front page, "LOCAL COP A PAWN IN ASSASSINATION PLOT." A picture of Peter was below the headline. The article covered most of the front page and continued onto the back. Paul skimmed the story. "Well, they didn't many of the facts right, but the did spell your name correctly."
"Oh great. At least tell me they made it clear that I had nothing to do with what happened or I'll be the main course on Sandra Mason's show tonight."
Paul kept reading. "I think you're in luck. It basically says that you were 'abducted and victimized,' their word, not mine," Paul pointed out, " 'by the assassins.' That you were held for ransom and rescued by the police department."
Peter was silent. A twinge of anger grew in him. Kermit said nothing, seeing a cold look entering Peter's eyes. Paul, however, didn't notice it, as he was too intent on reading the article. "It doesn't even mention you, Kermit. Guess my connections paid off, huh." Paul smiled. Kermit, though, continued to look at Peter.
Suddenly, Peter stood, "I need some air." He left the room without further comment. Paul, startled, looked up from the paper. "What happened?"
Kermit said nothing. He started to follow Peter outside, but Paul grabbed him by the arm. "Better let me go." When Blaisdell walked out onto the porch, he found Peter sitting on the porch swing. Neither man said anything for a long while. Finally, Paul spoke first, "You want to talk about it?"
"Nope," Peter replied simply.
"You sure," Paul followed.
"Yep." Peter stood and looked at the man, "So is Kermit ready to go apartment hunting, or what?"
Paul looked at his watch, "Gee, don't you think 7:15 in the morning is a little early."
End Part 4