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"Muted Words"

by Valleya

Chapter One

"Colliding Hearts"

"Look, Paul, I've stacks of work to do! Huge stacks!" Detective Peter Caine slammed an armload of case files on top of his police captain's desk for emphasis. "I can't go traipsing around the countryside just to transport a couple of witnesses back here to testify. I'm a cop, not a babysitter!"

Running a wild hand through his hair, Peter continued, "People are depending on me to be here to do my job! I've got things to do! Lots of important things!"

He smashed a hand against the teetering pile of reports, and then resumed his frenetic pacing. "I-I can't just pick up and leave at the drop of a hat! No...I'm sorry, but you're just gonna have to give this assignment to someone else."

Peter's arms were unusually animated as he spoke before he paused for a quick inhalation of breath. Before he could rant on, Captain Paul Blaisdell interrupted.

"That's enough, Detective! You hear me? Enough!" Blaisdell's rich baritone voice boomed in his small office.

Peter was certain it had carried out into the bullpen area, too. Not that Peter cared about who heard their heated argument. Nothing seemed to matter to him since his father had taken off a week earlier without even a good-bye to him. Peter had spent the past few weeks planning a special surprise for his father, now completely ruined by his father's unanticipated absence.

Caine's disappearances always had a negative influence on him, but this time he had set a nonstop pace in an attempt to silence his burning heart. It seemed the more his fatigue grew, the harder he pushed himself to keep going. Worse, he also expected the same level of activity from those working with him.

"You aren't listening to me, Paul!" Peter shouted.

"I am listening to you, Peter! Just as I always do! You said you can't go right now because you have work to do. Because people are depending on you. Because you can't just pick up and leave without warning."

Peter watched as Paul rose from his perch at the corner of his desk. The normally

even-tempered Captain slowly walked towards his detective, the rich timbre of Paul's voice resonating in the small office as he recited Peter's litany of reasons against accepting the assignment.

Abruptly, Peter found himself with Paul in his face, holding a finger to his chest and speaking in a low, menacing tone which told him that Blaisdell's temper had flared during those brief steps.

"I heard it all, son, every word. Now, you listen to me. You'll be back here in no time at all. You won't be letting anyone down by being gone for a day or two. This is not a situation where you'll disappear for an ungodly length of time while your loved ones have no idea where you are or what the hell you are doing! Dammit, Peter, you are not your father!"

To Peter's ears, it seemed Blaisdell's words not only rocked the interior of the office, but the very foundation of the precinct itself. His head jerked up and a fist clenched in automatic response to Paul's statement. His eyes darted away for a moment as he struggled to control his emotions.

Peter whirled and slammed a fist into a nearby file cabinet, instead of his foster father's face, rattling the windows lining the office and knocking items atop the cabinet all askew. Peter reached for the door, but before he could fling it open, there was a firm grip clasped over his outstretched wrist.

"Peter, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way..."

Peter couldn't meet his Paul's gaze for a fear of losing what little control he possessed as he pressed his aching hand against his side, well away from Paul's view. Pity was the last thing he wanted right then.

In a low, bitter voice, he said, "Sure you did, 'Dad'! You know, for a second there, I thought I was wearing Kermit's sunglasses...because you were looking mighty green to me. Heard jealousy can do something like that, even to a good man!"

Peter broke free of Paul's grip with an abrupt jerk. Before Blaisdell could utter another word, Peter stormed from the office. His vision was a haze of red fury blinding him to everything except the front door to the precinct.

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Paul Blaisdell stared at the doorway with his mouth agape. Peter's harsh words echoed in his heart and mind. The caustic tone had frozen him in a pose of regretful paralysis. He knew he should have followed Peter outside, or at least tried to call him back, but he remained unable to move from his office. Finally, he closed the door, seeking solace in the solitude there.

Paul squeezed his eyes shut as he stood with his palm still against the door jamb, wishing he could have retrieved his unthinking words before they had the chance to wound Peter's heart so deeply.

Unfortunately, his son's acrid reply had been partially true, but not in the way Peter was thinking. Paul was jealous, but not of Caine's presence. Rather, he was jealous of Peter's limitless capacity for forgiveness for his natural father, who continually placed his duty to the community, to his religion, and to the entire world...everything, it seemed, was above the needs of his own son.

Paul's eyes wandered to the filing cabinet positioned by the door. A cabinet which now had a slight indentation in its side from the force of Peter's blow. His fingers traced the dent as he released a long breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. The breath caught in his chest as he spied a toppled picture frame. Reaching forward, he righted the treasured photograph.

It was one of his favorites taken on the day of Peter's graduation from the police academy. Many pictures had been taken that day with family and friends who had attended the ceremony, but the one Blaisdell chose to display in his office was of just the two of them. Both father and son were smiling so broadly, it was difficult to determine which of them was more proud.

Picking up the picture and moving to his leather desk chair, Paul sat down heavily and stared at the photo, trying to bring back the good feelings so apparent in that happier snapshot of life. Back then, no one could have guessed the impossible scenario in which fate brought the return of Kwai Chang Caine into Peter's life.

He could almost hear Annie's voice in his mind, quietly saying the right words to calm the maelstrom swirling in his gut. He started replying to her imagined presence aloud, "Hmm, Annie, Peter was so happy to have his father back in his life...And who could blame him? I know how I'd have felt if I had been in his place. Up to that point, I had always felt such a bond to Peter. Something I didn't think would ever be broken."

He paused as he put his emotions into words. "Remember what you told me after Caine returned and I said I was nothing more to Peter than a third wheel now? You said that Peter would always need me...Huh, I doubt if he needs me now. Probably never wants to lay eyes on me again...

"I always swore I'd never hurt him the way Caine's done in the last year with his unexplained disappearances, but I just did the same thing to him with words. Dammit! It came out with hardly any effort at all!"

Rapping his knuckles against the arm of his chair, he shook his head in disbelief. More appalling to Paul than anything else in their argument was the way he had spewed his anger to Peter about his father. No matter what the man did, he was still Peter's father and Peter loved him deeply. Blaisdell always worked to maintain a certain level of respect in what he said to Peter about Caine.

It wasn't easy, but the payoff was enormous. He still held Peter's love and trust...until now. In a way, Paul's infraction had done far more damage than anything Kwai Chang had ever done to the young man.Paul set the picture frame down carefully on his desk as he stood and approached his office window, noticing Peter's car still parked on the street.

"Is this the same way it happens for Caine?" he wondered grimly."One thing leading to another and the bottom line turns out being Peter bearing the brunt of the encounter? Oh, Annie, what have I done to our son?"

His mental image of Annie didn't have an answer for him, only words of comfort, but she went quiet after a moment.

"What's that Bible verse? Let he who is without sin cast the first stone? Well, Kwai Chang Caine, I certainly can't throw the first stone today. Peter, wherever you are, please forgive me."

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