BROTHER'S KEEPER
By Wendy: Shywalker

My guilt is set as hard
as the headstone on his grave.

I was my brother's keeper.

Now another suffers,
cursed under my own name.

I will be my brother's keeper.

I will give my life,
I will not fail.

I am my brother's keeper.

My Brother's Keeper

Part 1

The message in his e-mail account brought a snarl to his lips. Glancing out his office door, Kermit Griffin scanned the room for the one other detective who would be aggravated by this information. The hyperactive Shaolin cop was nowhere in the bullpen. Glancing at his watch, Kermit muttered, "It's 6:59. He has one minute."

Activity at the front desk held Kermit's attention as he maneuvered over to the coffeepot. Pouring a cup, he grimaced at the taste, then looked at his watch again. "You're a minute late, kid."

"Hey, Kermit, you ever go home last night?" Detective Blake asked as he trudged up the steps from the locker room.

Kermit eyed the other detectives who were each engrossed in performing their duties. Turning, he saw Frank Strenlich emerging from his own office, clipboard clenched in one fist.

"You hear from Peter this morning, Chief?"

Looking at the clock on the wall, then at Kermit, Strenlich growled sarcastically, "He's only three minutes late." Then he walked toward the vice squad's dark office. "McGuire, Sheldon, Weiss, let's get the debriefing over."

Three scantily dressed female officers stepped into the office as Strenlich flipped the switch to turn on the lights.

Heading back into his own glass-enclosed office, Kermit picked up the phone and called Peter's cell phone. He received no answer. The hair on the back of his neck started to rise.

He reread the message he'd received earlier. Greg Larsen had turned state's evidence against Dessa and been granted entrance into the federal witness protection program. Kermit's source went on to say that Dessa had put out a contract on Larsen and the people involved in the hotel where he was captured--at least the ones who had signed depositions about the fateful day he was captured and charged with drug trafficking in Florida.

The familiar voices of the three vice officers reached Kermit's ears as they left the office. Kermit stepped out of his own office in time to intercept Jordan McGuire. "Jordan, have you seen Peter lately?"

She sat her petite form on the corner of Peter's vacant desk, wondering why her lover wasn't there to greet her this morning.

"No, I had to work a twelve-hour shift last night, so after we had breakfast, I went home and went to bed. He was supposed to pick up his mother and take her to a doctor's appointment."

Kermit nodded, mentally shuffling through vague feelings of uneasiness.

Jordan scooted off the desk. "Isn't he here this morning?"

Kermit saw the beginnings of worry lines mar Jordan's china doll face. He offered assurance. "No, but he probably stayed with Annie last night and didn't set the alarm. I'll call her and see if he's there. Knowing him, he's already out and about so he can miss Frank's lecture on the need to be at work on time."

"OK, but let me know. I'm going over to his place. We're supposed to meet tonight for dinner." She gave him a brief smile, though Kermit saw through her guise and knew she'd worry about the errant detective until he showed up, hopefully repentant and in one piece.

Back in his office, Kermit dialed Annie Blaisdell's phone number.

She picked up, her voice still groggy with sleep. "Hello."

"Annie, this is Kermit. How was the doctor visit?"

"I didn't go. By the time I got in touch with Carolyn, it was too late, so I rescheduled. Did Peter have to go undercover?" Annie was beginning to sound more awake.

Kermit closed his eyes, offering a silent prayer that this day would not find his friend in trouble. "No, he probably had a problem with his father. I guess I can go over to Caine's and see if Peter is there."

Annie didn't miss the tension in Kermit's voice. She knew him too well, and her blindness had heightened her senses, especially her hearing. "Kermit, you know as well as I do that Peter would have called me if he could. He's in trouble, isn't he?"

Knowing denial wouldn't work, Kermit admitted what he knew. "Annie, he hasn't been seen since yesterday morning. Jordan said he was getting ready to pick you up. I thought he might have stayed with you last night."

Her last words were said with great strain. "Find my son, and bring him home safely."

She wasn't able to see him remove his sunglasses and rub his eyes before he answered. "I will. I promise."

Rocking back in his chair after returning the phone to its cradle, Kermit let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Gotta find Caine." Leaving the office, he checked out with Strenlich. "Caine'll know where to find Peter."

"You think he's found trouble?" Strenlich asked, sharing the uneasiness Kermit felt. To be a few minutes late was typical Peter, but to stand his mother up and not report in at all was prelude to a very bad ending, especially for Peter Caine.

"The kid doesn't have to look for trouble. It finds him."

The grim twist to Kermit's face said it all too clearly - Peter was in deep shit again.

It was a struggle to open his eyelids. When he did, Peter quickly closed them as bright lights stabbed at his eyes, causing tears to spring up. He tried to cover his eyes with his hands, but cold metal around his wrists prevented the movement.

A noise thundered in his ears as he felt the heat of the lamps lessen. "Well, well. Ready for another dose of the good stuff? It's a special blend I made just for you. You're gonna love it."

Peter heard the menace in the voice, but couldn't remember what or who had gotten him into this situation. He shook his head as the voice drew closer, giving Peter a chance to see the face behind the voice. "No," he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut again. The face in front of him was still distorted when he reopened his eyes, reminding him of the time he and Carolyn had gone to the House of Mirrors at the fair. The mirrors had been bent, causing the people to have heads and bodies out of proportion with each other.

Peter laughed at the memory and at the face before him. He didn't notice the tourniquet restricting the blood flow to his arm. Nor did he feel the sting of the needle as it slid through his skin and into a vein, emptying the contents of the syringe into his circulatory system.

The man untied the tourniquet, then turned to the woman who stood behind him. "Just a few more doses and he'll be ready to fly."

She looked at the still laughing detective and noticed the growing spot on the captive man's jeans that was turning from denim to dark blue. Smiling, she commented, "I hope he doesn't start shitting yet. We won't be able to stand the smell, and I'll have to clean it."

The man stood and walked over to stand close behind her, wrapping his arms around her small frame. Bending over, he softly kissed her neck as his hands began to explore her body. "After you get done cleaning him, you can come and enjoy my company. At least I'll know you're playing with my balls, while he doesn't even know he has any."

Both laughed as she turned to face her friend. "Come on. Let's let him dream, then."

Fire spread from Peter's arm to his chest and throughout his body. The flames moved slowly as he tried to get away. Shadows danced against stone walls as thick red curtains burned. Another wall blew out, causing debris to fall on top of him, pinning his arms beside him.

"No, no. Please, no." Tears streamed down his face as the pain spread to his hands and the fire licked at his fingers and wrists. Struggling against the bonds, Peter cut his wrists; blood trickled from the lacerations. The metal restraints dug into the cuts, causing the fire that he feared so much to travel up his arms, consuming him.

"Father, don't leave me!" he screamed to the vision of his father on the other side of the wall. A hole in that very wall allowed Peter to watch his father turn his back on him. "Don't want to be alone. Please…" The screams turned to whimpers as the burning continued, his mind telling him he was going to die.

Scanning the top floor of the fish and vegetable market building, Kermit hoped he'd find his young friend upstairs. The Stealth was parked near the fire escape, the doors locked and engine cold.

Entering through the French doors, Kermit's mercenary senses kicked in. Something wasn't right. He could feel it. Drawing his weapon, he stepped into Kwai Chang Caine's meditation room. He saw the familiar shrine to Buddha on his right, the statue surrounded by candles and dying flowers.

He stepped to the left, into the room where Caine mixed his herbs. Tables were knocked over; bowls of dried leaves and herbs littered the floor. Movement to his right made him take aim, then quickly lower his weapon as he recognized the one-time convict.

"Cheryl, what happened? Where's Caine? Where's Peter?" Kermit asked rapidly as he jammed his Desert Eagle in his holster.

Cheryl continued to clean up the mess she had found. "I don't know where Peter is, but his father has gone to China to return the body of Master Kwan. I came over here to check on everything and I found this."

"Peter's car is downstairs and nobody's seen him since yesterday morning," Kermit began as he helped her to turn a table back onto its legs, then started picking up the broken bowls. The smell of some of the herbs caused him to turn up his nose in distaste. "I'm going to guess he was here and there was a fight."

Cheryl halted in mid-motion, the implication of Kermit's words and the mess before her hitting home. She shook her head. "I haven't heard anything. Lo Si went with Caine."

"Great. And I think I know who has Peter. Listen, if you hear anything, let me know." Kermit turned to leave then paused. "Why was Peter here? Did he know his father was gone?"

"I think he knew Caine had gone. He likes to come here when his father leaves. But then, that's Peter."

It was time to call the precinct and send out an APB on Detective Peter Caine.


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Part 2