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Peter's Patrol

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Peter Caine's fingers beat on the steering wheel as he glanced at the naked woman in the back seat. He couldn't believe that this had happened on his first solo patrol. Technically he was about a week or two away from being on his own, but a flu epidemic had decimated the police force, so he was had been sent out on his own early.

"Best just do it and get it over with," the young officer muttered to himself. At least the sergeant was back so he would not have to be explaining this to the lieutenant who seemed to think he had only graduated from the academy because of his relationship with Paul.

Those who where not out sick themselves had been very heartened to see the captain back on his feet and at the station that morning. In fact, due to the lack of precinct captain's still able to work, each of the functioning captain's was taking three precincts, and one of Paul's just happen to be Peter's precinct. Peter still couldn't believe that the virus had had the audacity to try and take on his foster father, Captain Paul Blaisdell. Paul rarely, if ever, got sick; but this bug had even knocked him flat for most of a week. Unfortunately, after hitting Paul, it had moved on to his wife, Annie. Three days later Annie was feeling a bit better and threatening to throw Paul out of the house if he didn't go to work and quit hovering over her. The man had wisely left for work. Evidently calling to check on her ever two hours was allowed, however, because he did it.

Sighing, he reached for the radio. No one was going to believe this. Well, at least the radio still worked even if the heater was broken and the squad car was totaled.

"Dispatch, this is officer Caine at the intersection of Liberty and 12th. Assistance requested. I've got an intoxicated woman in a state of, ah, undress," he informed one of the women taking calls that day.

"Officer Caine, please clarify," came the response.

"She's naked and I would like some assistance," Peter growled.

"We'll send someone over as soon as possible," The voice replied.

"Thanks, and the squad car's been wrecked so there's no heat," he added, wincing.

"Captain Blaisdell's going to love you, Peter," the woman chuckled. "I'll see about getting some speed on that request."

"Thanks," he retorted before signing off. She was right, though, that Paul was not going to be happy about this. Well, at least he could call the captain and tell him himself instead of waiting for Paul to hear about it through official channels.

Looking in back once more, he saw that the drunken woman was asleep under the blanket he had gotten for her from the trunk.

Hitting speed dial 1 on his cell phone, he waited for Paul to pick up.

"Blaisdell," came the curt, professional response.

"Hi, Paul, It's Peter."

"Peter, you were supposed to have been back almost an hour ago, Paul complained.

"I know, a couple of things came up," Peter answered immediately

"Oh?"

Peter was amazed at how much one word could convey. He could see the older man leaning back in his chair and sighing as he prepared to hear the entire story. It also told him that nothing less than the complete and unvarnished truth would be accepted.

"Peter, that was not a rhetorical question, what happened?" Paul asked. As a captain he tried to treat his son like any other cop in the precinct, but there were times when he could not stop himself from going into father mode, and this was one of them. He was all too aware of the dangerous and potentially deadly situations a rookie cop could find himself in, and all of them were flashing before his eyes. Peter was calling for himself, which meant that it as probably not all that bad, but still, he was a parent and worrying was what parents did.

"Well, I was driving my patrol and I saw a woman in a parking lot with no clothes on. I figured that she was either in trouble or drunk, so I pulled over to check it out," Peter explained.

"Either way she was breaking a number of laws so you were right to stop," Paul assured the rookie. One of the things that made Peter an excellent cop was that he could not stand to not help if someone was in need, so of course he had stopped to offer her assistance.

"So you taught me," Peter smiled, almost able to see Paul's matching expression. "Anyway, I got her into the back seat and opened the window from the front to get more heat back to her. I left her there while I went to get a blanket out of the trunk."

"Did you call for a female officer to assist you?" Paul asked. Peter was sometimes a little creative when it came to procedure.

"I was going to call as soon as I had her covered and warming up," Peter answered, and then started laughing in response to the snort of laughter on the other end. "You know what I mean, Paul."

"Yes, I do, and that sounds fine," Paul reassured him.

"So I had her in the car while I was getting a blanket and she managed to crawl through the connecting window and drove off with the car," Peter said, cringing as he prepared for Mt. St. Paul to erupt.

"She drove off in your squad car?" Paul asked after a few moment's silence.

"Yeah, but I have it back," Peter told him quickly.

"I see, how did you get it back?" Paul asked, slowly. He just knew that with Peter it would be something unique.

"Well, she only got it about two blocks before she hit John Durham's bank, " Peter waited while Paul swore softly under his breath. John was an old friend of the family, and he would not be happy about the redecorating job done on the corner of the building. Not to mention what the commissioner would do when he heard that one of the patrol cars was wrecked.

"She stole the car and then wrecked it on John's bank. Were either of you hurt?"

"No, we're fine just cold since the heater doesn't work any more," Peter replied.

"I assume you have her in custody?" Paul asked

"She's in back passed out under a blanket," Peter muttered.

"Have you called for assistance?"

"Right before I called you; I did graduate from the academy," the younger man snorted.

"Sorry, son, I know you did," Paul apologized. "Where are you and I'll come get you?"

"Liberty and 12th, at the bank," Peter responded, relieved. "I'll be waiting for you, and thanks."

"You're welcome," Paul replied in a tone reserved for his family.

Twenty minutes later, Paul pulled up followed by a policewoman. He stood back, out of the way as they got the paperwork from Peter. He wondered what was up as they both started snickering when they reached in to the back seat to collect the rookie's new friend.

Paul chuckled a bit, himself, as he saw her. Peter was somewhat legendary for his bevy of beauties. The one thing all of his many lady friends had in common was that they were all beautiful young women. This one was definitely not his type. She was in her mid to late forties and it didn't look like she had aged very well. Somehow, Paul had just assumed that if Peter was stranded somewhere with a naked woman, that she would be a young beauty.

"Your tastes must be changing," Paul chuckled as Peter trotted over to the car the Captain was waiting in. The younger man just groaned. Settling into the passenger seat, the officer turned the blowers on his hands and rubbed them together for warmth. "H-h-hey, Paul," Peter chattered as he was handed a thermos of hot soup.

"Don't talk, just eat. Annie's orders," Paul instructed. He had quickly swung by the house to check on her and was told to take Peter the soup she had heated up, since she could easily heat up more and their son had been sitting out in the snow storm in a wrecked car with no heat.

Peter nodded like a bobble head as he ate the soup. "Tow truck?" He stammered.

"That's what we're waiting for, son. I called right before I left and they should be here any time now."

Magically, a set of lights became visible through the snow. Peter groaned as he put down the soup and reached for the door.

"You stay," Paul's rumbling voice ordered as he reached for his own door. Peter smiled his gratitude as he reached again for his soup. At this rate, in a day or two he should be warm again.

Peter watched as Paul and the mechanic talked and then the poor squad car was hooked up and hauled off to the garage.

"I'm really sorry about all of this, Paul," Peter apologized as the older man got in the car.

"You did all of this on purpose just to ruin my day?" Paul asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course not!" Peter shot back in a tone that, out of sheer shock, was bordering on outraged indignation.

"Then I don't see why you feel the need to be sorry about it. These kinds of things happen sometimes, and all you can do is get through them and remember them to tell to your kids someday," Paul informed him as they headed back to the station.

Once at the station, Paul went to his office to finish up a few things before heading home, while Peter turned in his shift reports and went to change after signing himself out.

Sitting at his desk, however, he remembered something else he should do. Picking up the phone, he dialed a number he knew by heart.

"Hello?" Came one of his favorite voices.

"Hi, mom, I just wanted to thank you for the soup. It was really good, and I know you haven't been feeling well the last few days" Peter said.

"I'm glad you liked it, but thank Paul, he was the one who made it," Annie chuckled.

"Paul made it? I didn't know he could cook anything that wasn't barbecued!" Peter exclaimed.

"Yes, he's actually a fairly good cook, but it's something that I enjoy doing as well, so he lets me do most of it," Annie laughed at Peter's shock.

"Okay, thanks for letting me know. I hope you get to feeling better."

"I'm feeling a lot better, now get going so that you get some rest, Paul's told me about the hours you've been working since the bug hit the station," Annie scolded lightly, like the mother that she was.

"Thanks, night, mom."

"Good night, Peter," she said, hearing his smile as only as woman who was blind could.

"Captain," Peter called out as Paul was walking past, after ending his phone call.

Hearing his son's voice the graying man turned. "Yes, Peter?"

"Thanks for the soup, it was really good. I had no idea you could cook," Peter commented, looking up at his foster father.

"What do you think I did before I was married, Peter?" Paul snorted, giving Peter an affectionate smile.

"Had a lot of girlfriends who cooked for you?" Peter teased.

Paul merely raised an eyebrow, but suddenly lost the smile that had been there. Peter wasn't looking that good, now that Paul could see him in decent lighting. "Peter, are you coming down with this flu bug, too?"

"Paul, I'm fi..." Peter began and turning a nice shade of green, he almost shoved Paul out of the way as he dove for the men's room.

"Sure, kid you're great," Paul muttered as he followed the younger man.

Peter stepped out of the bathroom stall to find Paul waiting with a cup of water. "Rinse" the older man instructed.

Taking the water the rookie did as he was told.

"Can you get to the car under your own steam, or would you like a hand?" Paul inquired.

"I'm fine, really, I just need to go home and sleep for twenty-four hours," Peter said in what he hoped was an assuring voice.

"Tell you what, if you're fine than YOU call Annie and tell her you aren't coming over," Paul responded, knowing that Peter had yet to successfully get past Annie if he was sick.

Peter groaned.

"I'll make you some more of that chicken soup," Paul offered.

"Well, okay, I'll come and stay overnight," Peter agreed reluctantly.

"Sure, son, just overnight to appease us unreasonable parents," Paul smiled. By tomorrow Peter wouldn't be in any shape to be going anywhere. He would be stuck at the house for at least half the week. Once Annie got to mothering him she wouldn't let him loose until he was fully recuperated.

As they walked out the door, Paul was making a mental checklist of the ingredients for chicken soup with matzo balls. He would need to make another batch with Peter down and Annie still recuperating.


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