The baby was awake but lay quietly, his eyes open as he stared intently into his father's face.

Peter was enthralled as the infant mimicked his different expressions, opening his mouth or sticking out his tongue. Speaking in a voice hushed and low, he talked to his son. "What are you thinking, Cricket? Wondering who this big lug is that's staring at you and holding you? I'm your daddy, and I love you. Can you say 'Daddy'?" He smiled at his own foolishness. "Of course you can't. You're only three hours old."

He held out his little finger, and the baby immediately curled his fist around it.

Grinning, Peter kissed the tiny forehead. "That's quite a grip you've got there, Big Guy. Gonna be a pitcher, or a quarterback? Or maybe the next Doug Gilmour?"

The infant scrunched up his face and squeaked.

"OK, OK, you don't have to decide right now. I don't care what you want to be when you grow up. I just want you to be healthy and happy and safe, and I promise you that I'll do my damnedest to see that you are. I promise you, my son, that I'll be there for you, no matter what. Always." He kissed the child again and whispered, "I wish your grandfather was..." He looked up and was not surprised to see his father standing silently in the doorway. "Pop. You're here."

Caine couldn't take his shining eyes off the bundle in Peter's arms as he approached the father and child. He cradled Peter's cheek in his hand, then bent over and gently brushed his lips on the top of the baby's head. "I could be nowhere else."

"I have a son, Dad."

"I know."

"You have a grandson."

"Yes."

"I don't know how to thank you, Dad, for helping Kacie the way you did."

"I love her, as I love you and your son. I did no more than you."

Peter brushed his fingers against the baby's cheeks and kissed his nose. "I know I should let him sleep in his bassinet, but I haven't been able to put him down. I can't. I want to always hold him in my arms like this. I want him to know I'm here for him. I want him to go to sleep knowing I love him and wake up knowing I love him." He glanced up at Caine. "Pop...Dad." He swallowed around the lump in his throat. "I-I didn't know it would feel like this, being a father. As much as I love Kacie, I never knew what it would feel like to love my child. It hurts. I love him so much, my heart hurts."

"Yes."

"Dad?"

"Yes, my son?"

"Dad, how did you stand it? The idea of anything ever happening to my son..." He kissed the baby again and ran his fingers over the soft dark thatch of hair on his son's head. "When-when you thought I had died..." Tears shimmered in his eyes and he choked, "How did you go on?"

Caine was silent a moment and stood with head bowed. When he raised his face, his cheeks were damp. "Perhaps it was because --" He shrugged. "-- Somehow, my heart knew this day would come."

Peter stood up and held the child out to Caine. "And so it has."

Caine took the baby into his arms and cuddled it. "Ah-h-h." A slow tear wended its way down his cheek and splashed onto the child's head. The infant's old and knowing eyes stared into the hazel depths of his grandfather's, a kind of communication passing between the two generations.

Peter carefully put his arms around both his father and his son. "I love you, Pop."

"I love you, too, my son." The baby squeaked in Caine's arms, and he smiled down at the child. "Does your child have a name?"

"We've named him Patrick Michael, after Kacie's fathers. We thought it was only fair, since all my children will share your name."

Caine raised one eyebrow at Peter. "All?"

Peter grinned. "You're the one who keeps speaking about plural, and so does Kacie. I'm willing to do my part until we meet our quota."

A weary voice interrupted them. "Don't plan on having to do anything about that situation for quite some time."

Peter walked quickly over to where Kacie lay curled up in her bed. Smoothing her hair back from her head, he kissed her. "I'm sorry we woke you up, Sweetheart. Are you all right? You doing OK? Do you want me to --"

She adjusted her position in the bed and smiled weakly at him. "I want you to slow down a couple speeds. I'm not going to be moving too fast for a while."

The baby squirmed uncomfortably and fussed, turning red and screwing up his face as he protested his hunger in earnest.

Caine carried his precious bundle over to Kacie and handed the newborn into her eagerly waiting arms. She started opening the front of her gown as the infant rooted at her.

Caine turned his back as Peter reddened. "Kacie, are you sure you want to nurse the baby in front of --"

Kacie arranged the child at her breast and laughed. "Peter. Your father helped to deliver our baby. He saw more of me there than he does now. Trust me. After birthing a baby, I have no more modesty." Patrick nursed contentedly as she hummed to him, staring into his fuzzy newborn eyes and allowing him to curl his small fist around her thumb.

She looked over at Caine, who was standing a short distance from her bed, his face still turned away. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"You Caine men make such beautiful babies."

He cleared his throat and coughed dryly. "We try."

"Thank you for Peter. I've never told you that before. Thank you for having the son who gave me a son."

He turned to look at her.

Her eyes glowed with love and gratitude. "Thank you for helping me deliver my baby."

"It is I who must thank you for my grandson. He is a beautiful child."

They were interrupted by a quiet knock on the door, and Paul stuck his head in. "We know it's not regular visiting hours, but we heard voices, and the nurses said --"

Peter exchanged a quick glance with Kacie and, at her nod, strode over to the door. He opened it wide and ushered in his foster parents. "Come in and meet our son."

Paul extended his hand in congratulations, but Peter ignored it and threw his arms around his foster father instead. "I have a son, Paul," he choked. "I'm a father."

"What about me?" Annie demanded. "Don't I get a hug? I'm a grandmother!"

Laughing through unexpected tears, Peter embraced her with one arm while he held Paul with the other. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you both for giving me a home and a family. This day would never have come without you in my life."

Annie patted Peter's back and sniffled. "Lead me to my new grandson."

"He's right over here, Annie," Kacie called softly. "He's eating."

Annie followed Kacie's voice, and when she reached the bed, Kacie took hold of Annie's outstretched hand and guided it to the top of Patrick's head.

"Oh-h," Annie breathed as she cupped the small head in her hand. "What color is his hair?"

"Brown. Lots of dark brown hair."

"Who does he look like?"

"It's too soon to tell. He --"

"Peter," Caine interrupted softly but firmly from the corner where he had retreated. "He is the image of Peter when newly born."

Paul held out his hand to Caine. "Welcome to the ranks of grandfatherhood."

Just as Peter had done, Caine ignored the hand and embraced the man. "Another joy we can share as Peter's fathers."

Paul swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. "You constantly amaze me with your generosity of spirit, Caine." Stepping back from Caine, he grinned. "Suppose this one will be any easier to raise than his father?"

Caine shook his head firmly. "No."

Paul laughed and moved over to stand next to Annie. Kacie beamed up at him, and he leaned over to kiss his daughter-in-law on her cheek. "How's the new mom?"

"Thrilled." She grinned. "A lot smaller, too."

Peter stood behind Paul and Annie, draping his arms around their shoulders and poking his head between theirs. "Allow me to introduce our son, Patrick Michael Caine. What do you think of him?"

Paul stared down at the red, wrinkled infant so intently suckling at his mother's breast. "He's a fine, strapping boy. Carolyn's little Paul was nowhere near this size."

"Nine pounds, two ounces, and twenty-two inches long," Peter announced proudly.

Annie held the tiny hand in hers, feeling each finger and knuckle. "We're so happy for you both."

Kacie covered Annie's hand with hers. "Thank you. We're pretty happy, too. I wish I could let you hold him, but he's not done eating yet."

"We aren't staying...this time," Annie said with a smile. "We know you're all tired. But when we come back, I have dibs on first hold."

"You and Paul can fight that one out, Mom." Peter hugged his mother and rested his cheek against the top of her head. "Mom, can a person die from too much happiness?"

"No, Sweetie. They just savor every drop while it lasts."

Paul and Annie turned, but, before they left, Paul reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. "Here you go, Peter. We thought you might want this."

Peter's eyes lit up. "Oh, yeah! Thanks, Paul. I'd nearly forgotten about it in all the excitement." He took the box from Paul and slipped it into the breast pocket of his shirt.

"Imagine that," Paul said dryly, and winked at Peter as he and Annie walked out the door.

Caine started to follow after them until Kacie stopped him. "Dad? Wait." She turned her head and looked up at her husband. "Peter, did you ask him?"

"You're tired right now, Hon. It can wait."

"No. I want you to ask him now. It's important."

"Ask me...what?" Caine stood waiting quietly, hands clasped before himself.

Peter propped a hip on the edge of Kacie's bed and settled an arm around her shoulders. "We've talked about things a lot, Dad. Kacie and I..." His voice trailed off and he rested his head against hers a moment. "We want the same things. A real home for our children. Roots. Stability."

He paused and Caine watched him solemnly.

"Dad, you told me once that I would have to choose my destiny, and I have. I've never been more sure. I'm a cop, and I'm a good one. I'm making a difference, helping to make this city -- this world -- safer for my family and other families like them. I-I can use my Shaolin skills as a cop, but I can't make the commitment necessary to be a priest. I was away from that life for too many years. Don't get me wrong, Pop. I understand the choice you made, and I respect you for it -- but I wouldn't be able to leave my family, not for days at a time. It would tear me apart." He reached down and caressed his son's cheek with the tip of his finger. "Dad, Kacie and I agree that when our son is old enough, and if he wants to, we want you to teach him the ways of the Shaolin."

Caine looked directly at Kacie. "You are sure?"

She smiled shyly before nodding firmly. "I know he's a very special child. From the moment I knew he existed in my body, I knew he was special. Peter's saving him when he was so sick. When he kept me from flying on that plane." She looked down and lovingly touched the downy hair on top of the baby's head before looking up again at Caine, tears shimmering in her eyes. "When you and Peter were able to help him be born. A Caine man is something extraordinary. I should know. One is my husband, one is my child, and one is my father-in-love. Yes, I'm sure."

"So, will you, Father?" Peter's voice was thick with emotion. "Will you teach our son, as you taught me?"

Caine bowed solemnly, fist in palm.

Peter rose from the bed and returned the salute. "Thank you, Father."

Kacie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before turning her attention back to Patrick. She dislodged the sleeping child from her breast, and he lay still in her arms, eyes closed and rosebud mouth moving reflexively as though he were still nursing. "Being born is hard work, isn't it, Punkin? You sleep now, and grow big and strong like your daddy and your grampa."

Peter snickered at the pained expression on his father's face, the solemnity of the moment broken. "He won't be calling you anything for quite a while, Pop, but you better get used to the idea of being 'Grampa' or 'Grampy' or 'Paw-Paw'."

"Please." Caine raised his hand to halt Peter's words. "Not now. Let me enjoy the moment." He laid his hand on the sleeping newborn's head in loving benediction. "I must go now." A knowing smile crossed his lips. "You all need your rest, such as it will be from now on." He clapped his arms around Peter one last time, and silently exited.

When Caine had left, Peter sat on Kacie's bed next to her side. "How are you feeling, really, Sweetheart? Can I get anything for you?"

She shook her head, face shining with love and contentment. "I've everything I need right here in this room."

Peter leaned forward and kissed her. "I do have something for you, Sweetheart." Peter removed the jeweler's box from his pocket and popped open the lid. Inside was a ring with two pearls, one white and one black, and a small diamond chip nestled between the two gemstones.

She caught her breath sharply in a gasp of pleasure. "Oh, Peter. It's beautiful!"

Taking her right hand, he slid the ring onto that ring finger. "I bought this for you over a month ago." He grinned crookedly at her. "I finally had to give it to Paul and Annie to keep for me, because I could hardly wait to give it to you." He pointed to the two pearls. "The white pearl is you, and all the good things you have brought to my life. The black pearl is me, with all my faults and shortcomings." He continued softly, "Our lives are forever entwined, as the yin is hidden in the yang, and the yang is hidden in the yin. The relationship of the two, just like ours, is dynamic, not static. Every moment, the forces undergo changes from one to the other. They are complementary to each other. Without yin, there is no yang. They are rooted one in another. You are rooted so deeply in my heart, without you, there is no me."

He pointed to the small diamond chip in between the two pearls. "This is our son. He will always be between the two of us, connecting us, combining us." His voice cracked and broke. "I wish I had the words to tell you how much you both mean to me."

Kacie held out her hand, admiring the ring on her finger. She sniffled and her voice wobbled as she spoke to him. "Thank you for your gifts to me, Peter. Your love. Your baby. The way you spoil me. Words? You're doing just fine with words. Just fine." She yawned and blinked sleepily.

"What am I thinking of? Sweetheart, I'm keeping you awake. Patrick's going to want to eat again and you won't have gotten any sleep. Here. Let me take him."

"Oh. Do you have to? I can't get enough of holding him." Kacie reluctantly allowed Peter to pluck the baby from her arms.

"You need your rest, Honey."

"Mmmm," she sighed wearily. "I do feel like I've been rode hard and put up wet."

"You what?"

Kacie smiled faintly and slid down under her covers. "Never mind. It's just a saying from out west that means I'm really wiped out."

Peter brushed his lips over hers. "You get some sleep. Thank you for my gift, Kace. Thank you for having my baby. Thank you for loving me."

Her eyes fluttered as she murmured, "You're very easy to love, Peter. I think I loved you from the first moment we met." Her voice trailed off. "I knew...right away. You...took longer...to figure...things out."

He kissed her cheek as she lay sleeping and whispered, "But once I did, you had me."

He walked over to the bassinet and started to lay the baby in it before stopping and looking over at the reclining chair. "Don't care what the books say, Little Cricket. You're sleeping with Dad your first night in this world."

He sat in the chair and carefully pushed it back into a reclining position. Laying the baby on his chest, he kissed the top of his son's head as they cuddled. "I love you, Patrick Michael Caine. I love you, my son." Peter wrapped his arms securely around the sleeping child. He felt the small, rapid puffs of air tickle his neck as the baby breathed. Peter's own lids grew heavy.

"I love you, too, Pop."

Startled, Peter's eyes flew open and he peered down at the sleeping baby. "Did you...?" He laughed at himself and closed his eyes again. "Get a grip, Pete."

Unseen, unheard, two shimmering, saffron-robed figures watched from the corner of the room. Their heads were shaved and their hands were folded before them.

The shorter figure threw back his head and laughed joyously, blind eyes glowing. "The priest is born."

The taller figure merely smiled as he stared at the father and son. "The journey begins."

"And we will continue to help them all, will we not, Grasshopper?"

"Yes, Master Po."

They bowed, fist in palm, to the sleeping father and son before their shimmering light blazed brightly and they faded away.

Peter's head snapped up and he stared around the room in drowsy confusion. He looked at Kacie, who was sleeping soundly, and then down at his son, whose sleep was just as deep. Leaning his head back, he relaxed and closed his eyes before he yawned and muttered, "Sleep deprivation. Guess I'd better get used to it."

Back to Story Menu