Return to Innocence
Part 8
The doctor placed the sheet over Michael's face. Peter took a step forward intending to push the man out of the way and attempt to save his friend himself. A firm hand grasped his shoulder, holding him fast. He knew the touch without looking at the face.
"He's dead, Pop." Peter's voice broke with his emotion.
"I know, Peter. I could feel your pain," Kwai Chang Caine pulled his son towards him, bringing him into a comforting embrace.
"I tried to save him. Honestly, I tried, but. . ." Peter's words tumbled out, uncontrolled, muffled in his father's shoulder.
"It was too late. His chi had crossed the river," Caine consoled.
"You could have saved him. . .why couldn't I?" Peter pushed his head off his father's shoulder.
Caine shook his head, "No, Peter. I could not have saved him. There are some injuries too great for man to heal."
The doctor left the side of the patient's bed to stand next to Peter. "You're with the police department?"
Peter nodded, silently. The doctor shook his head, "I'm sorry. The bullet entered his body just below the armpit on his left side. It lodged in the heart. We were never able to get a steady rhythm. . .the heart was too badly damaged. For all purposes, he was dead on arrival."
Peter shook his head, "But he had a vest on," he whispered.
The doctor nodded, "It's a damn shame. Unfortunately, no vest protects that part of the chest. He must have had his arm up in the air at the time the bullet was fired. That's the only way it could have hit the body and not the vest." The doctor started to walk away, then stopped, "It was a one in a million chance that the bullet could kill him."
"That doesn't make it any better," Peter mumbled.
"The body will be taken to the medical examiner. He will remove the bullet for evidence." The doctor left the room.
Peter leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. His father's hand gripped his shoulder in support. "He was a friend. We were partners."
Caine tilted his head, "I do not remember meeting him."
"We were partners before I found you. . .before Tan."
"I am sorry, my son," the elder Caine's sincerity was evident. "What happened?"
Peter shook his head, realizing that the entire operation was a blur. "We were raiding a drug dealer's apartment. He fired on us and. . .Michael. . .he was hit. . .he was thrown backwards into me. . .." Peter closed his eyes, reliving the nightmare, "He was in so much pain. . .I tried to send him my chi, but it wasn't enough."
"No." Caine answered simply.
Suddenly Peter's eyes flew open, "Oh God. . .Kathy and Elizabeth don't know. Someone's got to tell them. I've got to tell them."
"Is that not the job of the leader of the . . .unit?" Caine questioned.
Peter shook his head. "I have to do it. Michael asked me to take care of them before. . .," he was unable to complete the sentence.
Caine nodded, "Then you must do as he requested."
Peter and Caine entered the hallway outside of the ER. A uniformed officer was standing outside of a room three doors away. Peter approached the man, knowing instinctively why he was there. Holding up his badge for identification he pointed to the room, "Is Watson in there?"
The uniformed officer nodded, "Yeah. They brought the bastard in a few minutes ago. The wound appears to be clean through." The cop shook his head, "They should've nailed the mother fucker in the head for what he did. . .."
Peter didn't argue with the officer's statement. The fact of the matter was that Peter agreed. Caine looked into his son's eyes and could feel the rage. He started to speak in an effort to calm Peter's spirit, but decided that in his current state, Peter would not listen. Instead, Caine started to enter the room which held Watson. The cop's arm extended across the doorway, blocking the entrance. Peter looked at the cop and then his father, "Pop, where you going?"
Caine was silent for a moment. He closed his eyes, reaching out into the room, then opened them. "We must see the man in this room."
Peter was appalled, "What? Why?"
"Please, Peter. We must see him," Caine insisted.
"Pop, no! You're going to try to help him, aren't you?" Peter's eyes were wide, aghast. "How can you even consider trying to help him. He killed Michael!" The younger Caine's voice became louder, echoing in the hallway.
Kwai Chang Caine sent a hard look to his son, grasping his shoulder, "Peter, I. . .we must provide assistance to those in need. That is the Shaolin way."
"Well, I've got news for you, Pop. . .helping a cop killer isn't my way," Peter furiously shoved Caine's hand from his shoulder, turned on his heel and stormed down the hallway.
Caine watched his son depart in anger. He should have known not to press Peter during this emotional time. He would talk to him later. Peter would come to understand the truth in time.
"May I see him?" he asked the cop politely.
The cop, glaring at the older man, shook his head curtly, "No, not unless you are his attorney or a cop.
"I am a priest," Caine asserted honestly. This caught the cop off guard.
"You don't look like a priest," the man said skeptically.
"No. But that does not change what I am," Caine said gently, clasping his hands in front of him.
The cop debated Caine's words then leaned around the corner, speaking into the room, "Hey Tommy? Watson's priest is here to see him. I'm letting him in."
Caine started to interrupt, "No, I am not his. . ." and then he quieted his voice. If the police department wanted to assume that Caine was Watson's priest, who was he to deny the assumption.
Caine heard the sound of another male voice coming from the room, "Send him in, Frank. After what this guy's done, he's gonna need a priest."
End Part 8
To Part 9