"Kermit? Are you all right?" Savannah spoke, attempting to break into the man's overwhelming sadness. Softly, she rested one hand on his back only to have him jerk his spine into a rigid line. The resistance repelled her with an electric force. She pulled her hand away, nervously twisting her wedding ring as the dark shoulders slumped in front of her.

Suddenly whirling in his chair, Kermit snapped into offensive mode. She'd seen him do it a thousand times, emotion or pain clouding his eyes for moments only to be smashed with an intellectual strike. He had to do things, fix things, be in control. This man was no different. "How do we fix this?" Kermit asked, demanding a cure.

"First, we must find the cause," Caine answered. Gesturing toward to door, Caine guided them back into the living room.

Kermit held himself on the edge of the room, letting Savannah pass by with no more notice than a puff of wind. Torn between staring and looking away, she perched on the edge of the sofa, focusing on Caine and casting furtive glances at the familiar stranger.

Caine sat in the antique rocker between them, providing a bridge. "Kermit, tell me of your day yesterday. All that you remember."

Pacing, Kermit turned over the schedule silently. "Jewel stayed at my place last night. I left her there and went in early." He stopped, looking at Savannah and seeming to gauge her reaction.

Raw heat flooded through her body at the thought. Old lovers and ex-wives she could stomach. There were years that separated them from her life with Kermit. Even Vanessa, who has appeared in drop-dead-gorgeous living color, didn't bother her. Kermit had left them behind, in another phase of life. He had chosen her, this life. To hear him make matter of fact pronouncement about spending the night with another woman burned.

But this wasn't her man. This man belonged to someone else. Pulling apart her life from his, Savannah held her composure, no betrayal of the jealous tidal wave raging in her throat.

"And at the precinct?" Caine continued the questioning, gently prodding
them through the emotions to facts.

"Researched all day then booked in evidence from the museum heist. Jewel stood me up for the city's Policeman's Ball. I made an appearance, drank champagne, went to her place, waited for her to come home then we," he paused, watching Savannah once more, "went to bed. That's all I remember."

"This museum theft," Caine said, narrowing his focus. "Tell me about this." Caine's expression changed from relaxed to grim.

"The Ambawgui Collection. Little ivory statues stolen during transit to the museum last week," Kermit said, moving closer to Caine. "They were recovered yesterday and I--"

The name rang in her ears. "Ambawgui Collection? I think Kermit, my Kermit, was working with that yesterday."

Caine's cool eyes widened at the mention of the words. "Was he in physical contact with the artifacts, Savannah?"

She laughed, covering her fear with the sound. "Oh yeah. He was helping review security for the exhibition and popped in on his day off to check it once more. He had some little tiff with the curator and he got a big kick out of it."

"Come," Caine said, already moving toward the door, "we must go there. Now."

"What is it? Do you know something about the collection that could cause this?" Kermit followed Caine, spitting out his questions to the older man's back.

Gathering his dusty brown hat from the kitchen table, Caine placed it on his head. "I am not certain. There are odd legends surrounding this particular group of artifacts. I must see them."

"Wait!" Savannah shouted at them, breaking into the private circle they had formed.

They turned as one, polite concern evident on Caine's face, annoyance at the delay just as apparent on Kermit's.

"You're not just going to run off and leave me here, are you?" She demanded, forcing herself to concentrate on Caine. "Caine, my husband is GONE! This is some kind of impostor, in my home, and Kat--" emerald eyes narrowed, "This morning?! You KNEW this morning and Kat knew, that's why she was so odd. Why didn't you say something when you were in my bed?" Now she looked at Kermit, fully focused and furious.

"Lady, I didn't know what was going on this morning. At first I thought you were some kind of one night stand, after drinking too much champagne." She gasped in surprised outrage, and he grinned to himself. It was grim pleasure, but he'd take what he could get. "Believe me, all I had in mind was figuring out where the hell I was, and how I was going to explain it to Jewel."

"You could lie to her. You're good at lying to the women you care for." Ice cold, even in that sweet southern drawl. The little housewife had claws.

"Not to this one, Lady." His face softened as he spoke the words, revealing more than his words. "So, you won't find me in your bed again if that's what you're worried about."

Savannah turned from him blindly, reaching for the kind, comforting hand Caine gave her. "We must go," he said gravely and she nodded, thick lashes heavy with tears she refused to shed before the hostile man with her husband's face.

"You'll let me know, as soon as you learn anything about Kermit?"

And the older man bowed to her, patting her cold hands with great warmth. "We will." He gave Kermit a rather stern, searching look, and gestured to the door. Kermit shrugged it off and left without so much as glancing Savannah's way.

The two men were in the Corvair, heading for the museum, when Caine spoke again. "Savannah is not your enemy."

"She isn't my friend, either, Caine. She's nothing to me. This isn't my life." The ex-mercenary's voice was cold, dead to his Shaolin companion's ears. Even as he prepared to kill his brother's murder, Kermit's voice had been heated by anger, by hate and righteous passion. This was flat and empty.

"But you are here. You would not wish your counterpart to take his anger and frustration out on those you care for."

Now Kermit bristled. "If he lays one hand on her, Caine," then, reluctant to admit the priest's point, he changed the subject. "So, you think those weird ivory carvings have something to do with this mess? "

"I do not know. There are legends, myths about objects of great power."

Kermit's laugh was short and harsh. "Then they're going to be in better shape to find it on the other side. Jewel's library, she's a pagan, and a former consultant on ritual crime. Dozens of reference books concerning magic and this ritual object crap."

"IF one of the artifacts is indeed the cause of this displacement," Caine cautioned.

"I sure as hell didn't step into an enchanted wardrobe, Caine."

They rode in silence for a time. Caine stared ahead, his face the picture of calm. Behind his shades, Kermit attempted to do the same. The home he had left moments ago was a foreign, unsettling place. Regimented, committed, dangerous. Jewel was who she was, self sufficient, street-wise. If anyone had a chance to survive the intrusion of his life, it was Jewel, not this flowery housewife, not a toddler. Sitting ducks was the best description he could apply to this family.

She was beautiful, there was no denying that fact, but beauty had never been the deciding factor in any of his relationships. How could this man, this Kermit Griffin who lived in suburbia, set up shop there? A much as he wanted to detach, he couldn't help an ounce of concern. Someone should warn her.

And what about her physical shortcomings? Turning down a familiar short cut lined with now unfamiliar buildings, he let himself wander back to Savannah's reactions. The ball she had been squeezing. The stuttering after their confrontation.

"Back there, you said she hadn't been well," Kermit asked, gripping the wheel tightly. "What's wrong with her?"

"I thought that she meant nothing to you." Caine almost whispered the response.

"She doesn't," he snapped, pulling into the museum lot.

"Savannah is sensitive about her recent disability and recovery," Caine said, getting out of the vehicle. "It is not my place to discuss her life. Perhaps when we return, you could speak with her yourself."

"No thanks, Caine. I'm not staying." Kermit took the stairs two at a time, attempting to speed his way toward home.

*****

The interior of the facility was cool, permeated with ancient history and mysteries. Hushed during a weekday morning, they walked alone past the front desk and past the permanent exhibits. Caine moved with purpose, as if drawn toward their goal with Kermit on his heels.

"Maybe we should ask the curator," Kermit said, words fading as they rounded
a corner and came face to face with a mountain of ivory.

Red lines of light surrounded the group of beige ivory statuettes resting on red satin. "Obvious but effective," Kermit muttered to himself as he inspected the security measures. As Caine moved forward, Kermit reached for his arm. "Wait, you'll set off the--"

Caine's hand glided forward, scooping up one ivory globe, cradling it in his palm. He had not hesitated, but had reached directly for one piece. No sound gave away their intrusion.

He cradled the rounded carving in both hands, eyes closed. Kermit slid his shades down to take a better look. It was no bigger than his clenched fist, could this really have caused so much havoc in his life? "Caine?" He asked, his voice taut with frustration.

"I believe that this is the piece, Kermit. Here, hold this." And the Shaolin passed the ivory globe to the other man.

"NO! Gentlemen, I must insist that you...DETECTIVE? Don't!"

Kermit took it in both hands, gingerly, and then swore as it scorched his flesh, just as the museum curator shrieked behind them. . He dropped it, Caine moving quickly to catch the orb before it hit the floor. There was no one to perform the same service for the distraught museum curator, who had seen his dark suited nemesis of the day before actually DROP one of the priceless artifacts. The poor man was stretched full length on the subtle gray carpet. Kermit waved his tingling hand at him, and at Caine, who laid a finger to his lips. Gracefully, Caine knelt beside the curator, an arm around his shoulders as the man began to come around. The priest bent to whisper in his ear, as Caine spoke the confusion drained from the man's face. Elegant fingers sought pressure points on the man's shoulder and he collapsed again, Caine easing him back to the floor.

"He...will not notice the missing item until we no longer need it. I will explain in the car." Caine inclined his head toward the door, wrapping the purloined globe in a silk handkerchief.

Kermit looked back at the museum worker, then shrugged and headed for the car. "Whatever you say, Caine. And may the Force be with us."

They reached the Corvair without further interference, and Kermit pointed the car back across town. Caine held the silk wrapped bundle comfortably in both hands, while his companion glared at it over his dark glasses.

"Mind explaining why that thing burned me and not you?" Kermit asked, gesturing with the offended appendage. The Shaolin captured it with a swift motion, closed his eyes, and the cop felt a warm wave wash over his burned palm. The pain stopped. He shook his hand, experimentally, but no trace of it lingered. "Really could have used someone like you back in the jungle, Caine. So? You going to tell me why we had to steal this from the museum?"

"It is a legend...from another land." And the older man began a tale of African kings and twin sons, and magic, waiting for disbelief to appear on his listener's face. It never came. Kermit had already suspended his disbelief. All that mattered now was the mission.

"So you're saying, if I smash that puppy, the universe resets itself? Blondie's hubby comes home and I get my life back?"

"You must not!" The reckless way his companion eyed the artifact made Caine cradle it a bit more securely. "It is a link to your other self. We will use it, among other things, to draw you together. It will not be easy, my friend.

"Nothing I value has ever been easy, Caine," The ex-merc muttered. It didn't matter. He was geared up and ready to fight for what mattered most to him. Jewel. As for his twin...a thought hit him, hard.

"He'll be trying to get back, right? I mean, he married this woman, they have a child. He MUST love them enough to come back. To need it, the way I--" Kermit had walked away from too many women, and he'd done it without ever looking back. Who was to say that this other Kermit wouldn't welcome a chance to be free of his marriage, this dependant wife and baby... hell, to live without House Beautiful and June Cleaver. The ease of the life he himself had with Jewel, the freedom they shared. Her way of letting him go without casting him loose. And Jewel herself, with her off beat allure wild spirit, that curious sweetness contrasting with prickly independence. Savannah was beautiful, no doubt about it, but she was weak, soft, a target. Jewel would have been fighting back the minute he threatened her, doing her best to kick his ass long enough to get to the door, or to her gun. Kermit knew his young lover, knew how she cherished him, but he had no illusions about her. One man had viciously betrayed her, hurt her, she'd never allow another violent hand to touch her and live.

But, in spite of appearances and this mystery ailment, Savannah hadn't performed too badly for a housewife. She'd kept jockeying for position, psychologically, not letting him depersonalize her. She'd had some kind of crisis training and had remembered it in a crucial moment. He had to give her credit, it wasn't too shabby. He'd seen recruits forget their training under fire, but she was a mother with a small child to protect. He couldn't deny some small sense of pride ringing in the back of his mind. But the feeling was odd, a foreign voice speaking inside his head, someone else's voice...

"His life for theirs." Caine was saying, and Kermit shook his head to clear it. Focus. The mission. He'd been driving on automatic pilot, right to the building that housed Jewel's loft in his world. He pulled to the curb and sat there, looking up at the sagging woodwork, the battered bricks, the big empty, shard-hung window frames.

"I'm sorry, Caine. What?"

The priest looked up at the old warehouse, too, as if sensing the loss it embodied. "The Kermit of this universe truly adores his wife and child. He would give his life for them. They have suffered things that would have torn most couples apart, and instead have been welded together into a true partnership. He will be fighting as fiercely for his world as you are for yours."

There was no mistaking the sincerity in the older man's voice, nor the admiration. Relieved, Kermit merely nodded and pulled back out into traffic.

*****

Kermit paced the confines of the loft like a caged tiger while Caine and Jewel huddled over the ivory globe and a handful of printouts. Once they'd been able to give her a name and an actual item to work with, the woman's network of experts dealing in magical artifacts had come through.

"Its original African name has been lost, but WDtcr2000 says he's always heard it called the Janus Globe. Typical European arrogance, and not much originality when you think about it. I mean, two faces, Janus, duh, right?" Kermit had stared icily through this little tangent, and even Caine's warm encouragement was meant to nudge her back on track. With a slight frown, she continued. "Anyway, the legend goes that there were twins born to this ancient African queen. Again, the tribe, the royal house, has been lost. Twin boys, first born sons and princes, were precious, but there could be only one heir to the throne, so one of the boys was taken from his mother and brother, and sent with a trusted servant to one of their kingdom's allies. The king's wife had died without producing a son, and the king was in poor health. Having no wish to marry again, he agreed to adopt his royal ally's child and rear him as his own heir. This way, the young prince would not lose status. Because they were twins, however, there was a superstition about separating them. Twins were supposed to share each other's lives, it was unlucky and insulting to the gods to keep them apart. So, the magic workers in both kingdoms labored, and came up with the Janus globes. Each brother had one, and, when they were old enough, they were taught to use them. They could literally take each other's place, share the other's life by living it for a day, or a week."

Even distressed, a good story could catch and hold Jewel, and she held her audience as she told it. "There had to be some kind of catch to this," Kermit said. "If it isn't just some bedtime story in the first place."

"I guess that would make you the bogeyman." Jewel muttered, but went back to her printout. "There WAS a catch. They couldn't do it for long. There's this old folk song that goes with the story, it says in part, 'Don't stray from your own road, walk in your own prints, or the road will make your feet fit.' If they stayed too long, the Universe began shaping them to fit the other's life. Once it did, they couldn't ever go back. Now, there's supposedly only one Janus globe left in the world."

"In this world, Julia. In another place, I believe you and our Kermit both touched this Janus globe and set these events in motion. I...do not know why it has occurred, but we all must agree that it has."

"Caine, I'm here. My family isn't. Consider me convinced. Now tell me how the hell I get out of here." Kermit had stopped his pacing, rooting himself in front of the only two people who seemed able to help him go home.

The Shaolin glanced over at Jewel, who shrugged. "I'm no expert on dimensional magic, my rituals are pretty much all of this plane. But, I'm guessing, we have to do whatever it is soon and hope that my Kermit and the other Caine have gotten their butts in gear."

Caine nodded. "The ritual will have to be conducted on both sides of this problem. There are some mediations I can try, and perhaps you can search your own rituals, and those of your friends, Julia."

So Kermit paced, and they consulted books, and printouts and Caine sat, entranced, for more than an hour. When he finally left, to gather what they would need for the next day, no one was certain that their cobbled together ritual entry to Shambhala would work, but, without a better plan, the trio as committed to action.

*****

"So my Kermit has to touch this globe at the same time, wherever he is, for them to switch back?" Her features were heavy with the unlikely probabilities running through her mind. She had pounced on the men upon their return, frantic for good news. Their explanations had been less than comforting. Kermit leaned against the wall, not offering any support in the face of her turmoil.

"It is unlikely that the unique circumstance of the initial transference could be duplicated," Caine answered, calmly. Before she could elevate her panic level, Caine proceeded to the alternative. "I do believe that there is a place, another plane of existence, on which we could return each of these men to their own lives. I believe our efforts, their efforts, are drawing us to this place."

Kermit spoke up. "Shambhala. It's a place where--"

"I know what it is," Savannah said, ignoring Kermit and focusing on Caine. "Do you think that they, my Kermit and the Caine who is there, will try to go to Shambhala?"

"Yes, I do. It is the only option."

"Let's do it," Savannah said, hopeful once again.

Caine stilled her excitement, gently holding her hand. "This journey will require much strength of body and of will. Are you certain that you are strong enough to do this?"

A warm smile, filled with memories and love, spread across her face. "If Kermit is alive, he's trying to get to me. I won't stop trying to get to him."

"Your presence may help draw him back into his own time and place." Releasing her hand, Caine picked up his hat and bag. "I must prepare. Come to me at dawn and we will make our attempt." Bowing to both of them, Caine said, "Rest and try to relax."

"Right," Kermit said as Caine closed the door behind him. Rest. The concept struck him as comical. He looked over to his hostess and found her staring back at him, the same odd thoughts in her eyes. For several seconds they stood frozen, examining each other. The awkward silence seemed to stretch endlessly. The longer they lingered, the thicker and heavier the tension became. Kermit studied her face, trying to read her. It was easy to see that she didn't want him there. Her veneer of politeness couldn't cover that fact.

"Well," she spoke, startling them both out of their uncomfortable thoughts. She flicked her eyes away from him, looking around the room at nothing. "What do we do now?"

"If you'd rather I wait somewhere else, I'd be glad leave," he said, making the offer as much for his own comfort as for hers.

"Don't be silly, " she said, walking toward the kitchen. "It's better that you stay here and not interact with too many people. If something happens to you--" She cut off her theory and opened the refrigerator. "Besides, it's suppertime." She busied herself pulling out ingredients. "The least I can do is feed you. Make yourself at home."

She turned away from him, absorbing herself in making the meal. Kermit sat down at the table, not knowing what he should do next. Lounging in her living room seemed too familiar. He certainly couldn't go back into that flowery nightmare of a bedroom. He could use the computer. That would be something to pass the time.

Pushing back his chair, he got up to go into the small office he'd used before. Savannah turned around at the sound to monitor him. She didn't trust him, that was obvious.

"I'm going to use the computer for a while."

Before he could get out of the kitchen, Savannah had already stepped around him, blocking his path. "I don't think Kermit would like that so I'd rather you didn't."

"I am Kermit and it won't bother me at all." She was still in his way, refusing to move.

"You're not the right Kermit and I said I'd rather you didn't," Savannah replied sharply, hands moving to her hips. The sound of a baby broke off the smoldering anger of her stare and Savannah went to the back of the house to retrieve the child.

He could simply walk into the office and do as he pleased. It was what he wanted to do. The sight of Savannah coming back down the hall with the little girl in her arms changed his mind. In the middle of his own personal crisis, he'd forgotten about her. Savannah cradled the baby in her arms as she walked down the hall, making a decision with every step.

"Kermit is usually home by now," she said, stepping around him and settling Kat on the floor in front of a pile of toys. "He plays with her while I finish dinner. If you'd just watch her, if you wouldn't mind, it would help me out."

Kermit nodded. Savannah nodded back then disappeared into the kitchen.

Kermit wandered the room while his brain tried to get in gear. Kat played on her blanket, pausing now and then to watch him move. It was a jolt to realize that he recognized the suspicious look on her chubby face, in those little emerald eyes. It was his own. "Don't worry, Munchkin. I'm not gonna try anything funny." Talking to the cat worked, why not talk to the kid? Of course, the cat liked him now, whereas Miss Katherine Griffin was clearly allowing him to remain on sufferance. "So, this is your mama, huh? And your daddy, handsome devil that he is. Handsome, but stupid." Kermit raised his glasses to wink at Kat, who seemed fascinated with the conversation, and to look at a formal posed family portrait. "He" was actually smiling down at his wife, who cuddled a younger Kat in her arms. "Stupid, but happy, it would seem." Kermit wondered briefly if he looked like that at Jewel, then thrust the thought of her away as it cut his chest like a knife blade. Too much pain. The idea of her dead, too much. Force it down, force it back. Bury it. Cool and calm and complete the mission. The mission was all that mattered.

He turned blindly away to face another wall of photographs. This one showing a very pregnant Savannah at a wedding. He did a double take. At HER wedding. To him. "Well," he told Kat, "This explains a lot, Kiddo. Someone should have told your daddy about safe sex, because someone else must have been telling your mama about meal tickets."

There were more photos, elegantly framed slices of life. It seemed odd to see his face neatly blending within the boundaries of a family. His own solitary existence held that possibility at bay. It kept him just out of reach. Here, there were Christmases spent entertaining a child, playing Santa, traveling to Marilyn's house. There was eight by ten evidence right in front of him. Still, there was a solitary barrier that encircled his reflection in the photos. His twin, dressed in the black armor that they preferred, was set apart. Part of this life but not. He was the shadow standing behind the blonde wife and pretty baby.

A sharp shriek from the floor drew his attention. Kat was trying to pound a cliched square peg into a round hole with a red plastic mallet. "Kid, it won't fit. I've tried it all my life," he said, crouching down beside her. Gently, he took the peg away and slid it into the correct slot on her toy. "See?"

Kat handed him the mallet and a smile. It was quick, still wary, but a smile nonetheless. They sat for a while, pounding wooden shapes into their matching holes on a board. She would fit the pieces in and hand the mallet to her playmate. Kermit would knock each through, a simple activity that oddly obliterated his confusion. Those few moments spent in actual play lightened his burden.

"I need to get her fed while the chicken bakes," Savannah said, rushing in and scooping up her daughter. She was all business. "If you'd like, I mean," she hesitated, holding her daughter on her hip and looking down uncomfortably at her guest, "I suppose it would be all right for you to use the computer for a while. Just don't mess with anything. Okay?"

Before he could rise or answer, she was gone. Only a cool breeze remained behind with her permission. Kermit didn't flatter himself that she was offering him her confidence. She wanted him out of the way and with few options for stowing him out of sight in such a small house, she'd selected her best choice.

Savannah never looked back as she settled her child in a high chair and allowed her guest to disappear into the relative privacy of another man's office.

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