Forgotten Times 11/17
By Debbie Eng (wan-ping@juno.com)

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	In his mind, Peter approached his secret place.  It looked almost
identical to the one he had had at the temple.  He had created this one
in its place because the sisters at Pine Ridge wouldn't let him go back. 
He used to come here to think but now, it was his sanctuary from the
outside world.  Here, he could escape the aches and pains the beatings
incurred.  He sat down and looked out at the lake.  It was beautiful. 
Everything here looked so lush and full of life.  There were even a
couple small animals scurrying behind him.  Peter sighed and fooled
around with a couple of pebbles by his right foot.  He had a lot to think
about.

	His father was alive.  He couldn't believe it, but even Frog Man
had confirmed it.  But he wasn't here.  Not when he needed him.  Peter
angrily threw a pebble, watching it skip erratically before sinking below
the surface.  It had always been that way.  At the temple, his father was
always leaving him with the other monks while he went away on a mission. 
When he had been small, he had begged to go.  His father had said, maybe
when he was older.  He had turned fourteen that year and still he had not
been allowed.  At the school, after the holidays, he had envied the
stories the other kids told of where they had been.  He however had never
even made it out of the town.  The thought crept in his mind again.  His
father was alive.  His father, or his teacher?  Peter wondered.  Often,
Peter thought of his father more of as a teacher then a parent.  When his
father was at the temple, all he would do was try to instill lessons, and
more lessons into him and all of the other students, before he would
leave again.  His father didn't know him at all.  Hell, he hadn't even
known that Peter had had a secret place until he had been given a clue
>From another monk.  Peter sighed again and wrapped his arms around his
legs.  He had concluded some time ago that his father hadn't wanted him. 
As a student, maybe, but as a son, no way.  After all, what kind of
father would continually leave him by himself?  Or left him to die when
he had called to him while in a raging fire?  He probably thought that it
was a good riddance when he thought that I was dead.  Probably shocked
the hell out of him when he found out that I was alive.

	I wonder if he knows about Anderson?  Peter cringed at even the
thought of that man.  He probably would have cheered him on.  I was
always doing the wrong thing at the temple.  Like whenever he went to
mother's grave.  He always looked so disappointed at me whenever I
refused to go with him.  Well, what does he want?  I never knew her.  And
he doesn't want to talk to me about her.  Why would I want to go to a
stranger's grave?  Sure, she gave me life, but she sure didn't stick
around long enough to see what kind of life it would be.  

	And then there's this crisis that I'm in now.  I'm missing
fifteen years of my memories.  How do I get them back?  Do I want them
back?  Do I want to go back to be their Peter Caine?  Who am I?  I don't
know anymore.  I thought I knew at the orphanage.  I said as much to the
captain when I first met him, but now.  I just don't know.  Am I Kwai
Chang Caine's son?  Student?  Anderson's son?  Am I a son and brother for
the Blaisdells?  Cop?  The sun was setting.  That meant that soon, he
would be going back.  Back to the confusion and the pain. 
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