**WARNING -- adult stuff below***

Jewel leaned back against the cushions, picking up her plate and and spearing a bite of Sesame Chicken. "Now THIS is the real advantage of living in Chinatown," she told him, before eating it.

"The food is outstanding," Kermit agreed, balancing his own plate of Hunan style dishes. "Do you two do this a lot?"

She laughed. "Eat take out? All the time! My kitchen's too small for real cooking, according to The Mercenary Gourmet. And at his place, I stick to peeling and chopping."

"You don't mind? My wife is very possessive of her kitchen."

"I don't know what half of his kitchen gadgets do." She told him and shook her head, light refracting from her earrings. "When in doubt, order out."

He smiled and she grinned at him. "My turn. And I'm not wasting it on food questions! You, married? I can't see it. Then again, I can't see Kermit and me together, so go figure. Who IS she? I mean, I saw the computer but who is she in your world? Another cop or someone from 'the life'?"

Kermit choked on his second bottle of Chinese beer, picturing Savannah blazing away, in fatigues, with camo greasepaint on her face, nails gleaming as she pulled the trigger on her automatic rifle. "No," he spluttered, "she's an accountant."

Jewel stared. "An accountant? Kermit, you HATE accountants. Bean counters. Penny pinchers. What'd she do, catch you with all that computer equipment you 'requisitioned' and blackmail you to the altar?" She curled into the couch and nudged him with her shoeless, silk-stockinged foot. "Details, man! I need details!"

So, to his own surprise, Kermit began telling his fascinated "date" all about his courtship of Savannah. Her eyes, dark blue in the candlelight, mirrored the story, amused as he told about dodging Mary Margaret's matchmaking attempts, soft when he realized that he was falling in love with this beautiful southern woman. They were horrified when, grimly, he described the attack on them both, just as he planned to propose to Savannah. "I couldn't risk another animal like Ericson coming after her so, to keep her safe, I sent her away," he concluded.

"And she went? After that?" Jewel was amazed.

Now Kermit shifted, looked away. "I told her that it was over. That I didn't love her, didn't want her around clinging to me." Then he jumped as a small solid fist made contact with his thigh. "What the hell?"

"You prick! Oh my gods, I can't believe you did that! I thought you were so much smarter than other men, and you have these male jerk genes just popping up out of nowhere. ARGHH!" Jewel stormed, angry on the unknown woman's behalf. She glared at him, arms folded. "But she didn't go, right? Wouldn't let you run her off, like some stupid...Oh man, if Kermit ever does anything 'for my own good,' I'll kill him. I get enough of that from my brother!"

Kermit fought both guilt and a grin. If he grinned, this spitfire might hit him again. He and Savannah had long ago moved past this, but Jewel was likely to get even more enraged when he found out that, "She was pregnant when she left. I didn't know and she didn't tell me."

"What?" She was speechless and Kermit took full advantage to fill in the details of Savannah's return, their wedding and Kat's delivery by Caine in the back of a restaurant. Jewel just shook her head in stupefaction.

"You are one lucky son of a bitch, Kermit Griffin."

"Oh yeah."

She considered a moment. "But, it did work out, despite your macho bullshit. What about her family?" She was a little too casual, reaching over and holding out her champagne flute, done with dinner and the beer that came with it. He obligingly filled it and shrugged.

"They could be happier. They love their grandchild, though."

"I don't think me having a baby would make my brother David like Kermit any better." Jewel said wryly, and Kermit grinned.

"Protective, is he?"

She sighed. "I never used to think of him that way. My oldest brother was always the protective one, and David was my buddy. Chris and Kermit got into it at the hospital when I got shot, but David--"

"Whoa, hold it. You got shot? Where was I? He? " As she told him the bare facts, his mind and that inner voice filled in details, kneeling in a pool of cooling red, knowing that it was her blood, pleading with her not to leave him although he was certain she had already gone. Fighting down panic in the hospital waiting room, going toe to toe with the blond giant Christopher Adams, who objected to his little sister's much older lover. Kermit didn't question where it came from, he just knew it. It gripped his heart, remembering.

She was still speaking, going on, "David...some stuff came out and David decided that I needed to move back to New York, for safety. Sound familiar?" She shook her head. "When I wouldn't, he blamed Kermit. He still does, because I won't leave him, not as long as Kermit loves me."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why?" He had to know. "Why, after all he's done, all I've seen, why do you love him?" He took his shades off. "Me."

"Should I blame you for surviving, Kermit? For doing what you had to do?" Jewel touched his hand gently. "You were ethical in your own way. You still are." Such trust on her face. Honest, loving conviction. "The man I love would literally kill for me. He respects and understands how much personal freedom I need. Despite a harsh and sometimes brutal past, he has never touched me with anything other than tenderness and love. How could I not love you?"

His hand closed over hers and the inner need surged at the touch. They drew together on the couch and he raised a hand to her face giving in and stroking her soft cheek. He traced the graceful line of her throat with a finger, smoothing both palms over her bare shoulders. Her spicy perfume and the scent of warm wax filled his nose, his head spun as he finally sought her lips.

"Kermit," she murmured against his mouth. "Oh, gods love." Jewel was fire in his arms, eyes bright with heat, her even white teeth biting gently at his earlobe. She nibbled down his neck, sucking lightly at the hollow between his collarbones, one of his trigger spots.

He cursed softly and she gave a muffled laugh, clever fingers going after his shirt front. He'd already run his hands over the soft velvet that covered her to the waist and now he dipped inside, sliding to the back of her gown to unzip it as he brushed his lips across the top of her breasts. The bodice fell open and he covered her creamy flesh with possessive hands, exploring sweet, familiar curves. Her eager response heightened his own pleasure. The hunger raged through his mind, the hunger she always inspired. He thought about her constantly, craving the satisfaction he could only find in her body. Moving his hands to her legs where they straddled his lap, he slide over the smooth stockings, reaching for the line of flesh at the top. Softly, he explored the warm private flesh that would be wrapped around him in seconds. Her hands were groping his savagely aroused body, sending past the point of stopping. Her legs spread over him, grinding out an invitation.

Kermit nuzzled her shoulder, sweeping back a mass of silky red hair and lightly kissing the fading scar that marked her. He was whispering urgent, vivid fantasies as he fondled her, she was moaning under his touch, and then realization hit him like a blast of icy water. Red hair? A scar, there? He pulled back and Jewel moved, looking up at him.

An unknowing, uncaring universe began to reshape itself.

She saw the look on his face and her eyes went wide. "Oh gods, Kermit, we're...it's..."

"It's starting." He said grimly, forcing himself to untangle their bodies gently, instead of leaping away in horror at himself. Jewel moved with him, pulling her velvet back into place, tangled hair tumbling over bare shoulders. They sat there, staring at each other for a long minute, and then she stood.

"Tell you what." She said in a shaky voice. "I'm going to go change. You want something, a robe? Fresh skivvies?" Without waiting for an answer, she headed for the loft stairs and Kermit forced himself up.

He moved around the apartment, dousing candles and clearing away the remains of their feast so efficiently that when she reappeared, he was examining the pictures on the mantel. Jewel with two men he assumed were her brothers, with a platinum haired socialite, and one small snapshot of her and Kermit. He was holding it when she crossed the room to him, hair braided, feet still bare, carrying an armload of clothing. They stood near the dying fire and looked at the picture in its antique pewter frame. Kermit was standing behind Jewel, his arms around her waist, her hands on his arms. They were both laughing, and looked incredibly happy. Alive. Together.

"Looks like your Kermit is one lucky bastard too." He told her quietly and she shrugged.

"We're both lucky. Now, I've got a clean T-shirt, robe, boxers, I don't have any jammies big enough for you, but Kermit did leave an old pair of sweats here." She handed him the assortment of clothing. She crouched down, poking at the fire, then looked up at him. "Gotta question."

She looked like a schoolgirl about to get yelled at by the principal. Kermit fought down a smile. "Ask away, Milady."

"Okay, well. I've got sheets and blankets and stuff if you want to sleep here on the couch. But I was thinking, even MY Kermit couldn't get turned on by this, right? And my bed is huge, and comfy and we both really need a good night's sleep. Anyway, if you don't want to, I understand but I would really like to not have to sleep alone. The last time I went to bed, I lost Kermit and I'm a little freaked."

Her lover's "twin" took in the much washed, oversized baseball jersey, with its faded NY Yankees logo, and her equally faded plaid flannel pajama bottoms, a couple of inches too short on her bare ankles. The hand me down shirt made her look fragile and terribly young, especially in braids, and brought out his own protective side. It was probably harmless. But still...he hesitated and she blushed. "Never mind. That was stupid, I mean, you're a married man. Sorry."

"Jewel, I--"

"No, Kermit, probably not a good idea. Not one your wife would like, I'm sure." She went to a small closet built under the loft stairs, pulled out sheets, a fat duvet and two pillows, and brought them to the couch. "I'll let you make it up, okay? I'm pretty wiped."

He owed her something, owed Savannah something. Staring down at the photo of his own arms wrapped around Jewel, he said, "It's funny, I spent my life priding myself in my bravery." Looking back to Jewel, he gestured with the frame. "I actually thought I was brave. Patted myself on the back for being able to run into the lions den and back out. I've known a few others who I thought were the same." Placing the frame back in its rightful place, he spent a quiet moment, feeling Jewel's attention heavy on his back. "But I never knew bravery until I knew my wife. There's something I haven't told you about her, something that happened to her."

Jewel folded herself into a ball on the sofa, and said, "I'd like to hear about her if you'd like tell me." With a smile, she added, "That's one thing I like about you, Griffin, you're more talkative than my guy. How'd she loosen up your tongue?"

Consciously rubbing the empty spot where his wedding ring should be, he huffed at the kind way she had of lightening the mood to just the right degree.

"Almost a year ago, Savannah was shot. A drive by in front of the precinct. Three bullets, one to the head. She saw it coming and covered Kat with her body, taking the bullets to save her."

"Gods..." The look of horror on her face was genuine.

He went on, needing to make Savannah real to this universe. "She held on to Kat so tightly that even unconscious they had to rip our daughter's shirt to get her free." His fist tightened to simulate that fierce, protective grip. "She died twice, had a stroke, and spent six months in a coma. She woke up to chaos. She had to learn to sit up, to feed herself, to walk, to talk, to think. It was brutal. And she had to regain her memory."

"She didn't remember things when she came to?" Her voice was soft, respectful of the intimate details being shared with her.

"No, she didn't," he said, leaning against the mantle. "But she fell in love with me again, before she remembered. How lucky is that?"

"I'd call it being one smart chick."

Ignoring the compliment, Kermit continued. "When I think about how she struggled to get back her life, how she gave birth to our daughter when she could have easily ended it without my ever knowing, how she deals with the fears planted inside her since she's met me--," he looked Jewel directly in the eye, "--well, I don't seem like such a bad ass by comparison, do I?"

Jewel fell oddly silent.

Kermit filled in the blanks for her. "She's recovered well, but she's not as strong as she pretends to be. Not yet. She's vulnerable to seizures and she has physical limits she presses. The violence from Ericson and the shooting have left a mark on her that she hasn't been able to deal with yet." Leaning forward, he emphasized his words. "She ignores it all until something brings it to the surface. I know how to deal with her physical and emotional limits, he doesn't. How could he? If he did to her what I did to you this morning--" Kermit stopped, ice cold in his chest at Savannah's reaction to being confined, to being touched with a rough hand. The thought of her afraid at his hands, of her falling into the helplessness of a seizure without him to help her, chilled him.

"I know about flashbacks, Kermit," she said, offering no other explanation. "Did they catch the person who shot her?" Jewel stayed on her side of the room, watching with compassionate eyes as Kermit spilled out the story of the woman he loved.

"Yes, the little animal goes on trial in a two weeks." Kermit began to move, finding comfort in the rhythm of pacing. "I need to be with her. She's having a rough time putting it all behind her. She's raw and frail and she needs me."

"You can't heal her, Kermit. I know. She has to heal herself." Jewel rose to block his path and the pacing stopped.

"I saw the scar. Bullet?" He moved to touch the spot he's seen earlier, only to stop himself. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are," she said, seeing her own man apologizing for her pain. "Yes, I was shot and it had nothing to do with Kermit if that's what you think. Just like your wife." She stood solidly beside him, boldly giving up her personal pain to his aid. "I had to heal myself and my spirit. She will, too."

"She needs me. I have to get home. No matter what it takes," he said, looking away then back to Jewels' eyes. "I love my wife. No matter what happens, I love my wife."

The message was clear. Failure was not an option. Jewel accepted the finality of Kermit's declaration. There would be no making do if the ritual failed. He would never be the man he resembled. "Thank you for sharing her with me."

They stood together for a moment, unspoken support passing between them. Jewel broke the silence. "We should get some rest. There's work to be done in the morning."

Shaking himself, Kermit broke the invisible bond between them. "Oh yeah. Sleep well."

"You too. Goodnight, Kermit." And she kissed his cheek before picking up her snoozing cat from the hearthstone and going back upstairs.

He lay awake long after she'd gone, knowing that she was awake too, both of them unwilling to sleep. They'd lost too much in the space of one night to risk losing more. All they could do was sit in their separate silences, fight their fears, and wait for dawn.

*****

He felt a touch to his cheek. The brushstroke of fingers ripped him from sleep. Reflexes broke sleep more quickly than consciousness and he struck out, grabbing the hand in his own. Jerking it across his body, he pulled its owner down to his chest.

"Kermit, it's me." Savannah's voice was hushed in its surprise. "It's me."

Eyes adjusting to the bright morning light streaming in over him, Kermit's vision was filled with her face. Green eyes wide with uncertainty, she released a shy smile within inches of his own mouth.

Quickly uncurling his fingers, he released her. "I'm sorry," he said, fumbling for his shades where they had fallen off the edge of the sofa.

Lingering on his chest, Savannah whispered, "It's all right. I know better than to surprise you like that when you're sleeping so soundly."

With the shades back in place, he looked up at her, silently accepting the comforting spirit she offered. She hadn't moved, still leaning on his chest, as relaxed as if she'd touched him every single day. His knee jerk reaction hadn't rattled her. Perhaps she handled that every single day, also.

"He doesn't sleep well sometimes, especially when things are crazy," Savannah said, folding her arms beneath her chin. "Do you have the nightmares, too?"

Not answering never occurred to him. The truth seemed to rush out of him to meet her. "Yes."

"If it helps you to know, Truong Qui is dead in this world. He came for Kermit and he was able to rid himself of the conditioning and get free once and for all. Those nightmares from 'Nam are pretty rare now." She smiled slightly, as if remembering some great hurdle overcome.

She stayed on his chest, whispering another man's secrets to comfort him. He hadn't heard a word about the creator of his nightmare world in decades. By all accounts, he was dead and gone but there was no proof. No grave to spit on. No period at the end of his life sentence.

Savannah knew it all. She could see it played out in her eyes. "Did I...he kill him?" He hoped so, hoped that his own hands had choked the life out of his jailer and torn him apart.

"I don't know," she answered. "There was a fight, a gun battle, and when it was over he was dead. It wasn't something I needed to know."

Her hand was in his own, small and soft. "His life has hurt you, hasn't it? Last night, when we...," he hesitated to bring it up again with her so close, "when I saw things from his perspective, I saw you hurt, shot. Was it someone from his past who hurt you?"

Savannah took in a deep breath and said, "No, the shooting had nothing to do with Kermit. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got caught up in a drive-by gang thing." She stopped, considering her next words. There seemed to be a struggle within her before she continued. "But, I have been. There have been people from his past who have hurt me, hurt us both. But it doesn't matter."

"How can you say that it doesn't matter?" he asked, still holding her hand. The touch wasn't intimate in the sexual sense. The intimacy was innocent, friendly, a family feeling.

She looked at their hands, mingled together on his chest. "Because it doesn't. We love each other. We love our daughter. He has enemies. Should we throw away our lives because something might happen? That lets them win and I won't let that happen." Looking back into his sunglasses, she turned the questions back on him. "Has someone from your past hurt Jewel?" She said her name with the same familiar tone she used for his name, as if she were family as well.

"Not yet," he answered, releasing the smooth hand and placing it on his chest. "She was shot, too, a while back but it had nothing to do with me." The sting in his chest at the memory of her bloody body sprawled across the floor was a tangible pain. "But it could happen."

"Are you thinking of leaving her for her own good?" The 'for her own good' was spoken in a sing-song mocking rhythm.

"The thought crosses my mind occasionally."

"Does she love you? Really love you?"

"Yes, I believe she does."

"Then that's all that matters, isn't it?"

"Tell that to Romeo and Juliet."

She laughed out loud this time. Peeling herself off of his body, she said, "Sugar, I hate to tell you but you ain't Romeo and this ain't Shakespeare." Standing, she folded her arms in front of her body. "Just live, okay? You're allowed to be happy and so is she, even if it's dangerous.

"Breakfast is ready," she said, leaving the room and the intimacy behind.

*****

There was something on his chest. Kermit must have dozed off from the effects of booze and exhaustion at some point, because he had to open his eyes to see what it was. Round green eyes stared back at him, and a feather-light little paw patted his chin. Shade. He dimly remembered the cat joining him in the wee hours, leaping up and kneading him through the down-stuffed duvet until she was comfortable. He wouldn't have admitted it, but her warm black furred mass and loud purr had been comforting in the dark hours between night and morning.

"You hungry, cat?"

She padded forward and a raspy tongue licked his cheek.

"Let's go get you fed, huh? No need to wake your mama." And the familiar words, the sense of deja-vu, hit him like a blow. He'd done this a hundred times before, with another green eyed Kat. Suspiciously, Kermit glared at the ceiling. The powers that be were having a grand laugh at his expense.

If only he could prove it.

The postage stamp sized kitchen was sunny, if not spacious, and Jewel kept his favorite gourmet coffee beans in the freezer. The miniature grinder and the matching two cup coffeemaker, along with the large assortment of herbal teas on the counter, suggested that the coffee was for his twin's, benefit alone. The fridge was small, but it had the essentials. Eggs, cream, cheese. Bacon and turkey sausage in the meat keeper. No fresh onions, but onion powder in a rather well stocked spice rack. Breakfast could be made. He often made Sunday brunch at home, letting Savannah--

Kermit ruthlessly cut off that line of thought, poking around to discover where his hostess kept the cat food. After treating his feline companion to a tiny can of some sort of gourmet cat food, he filled her water bowl. Then the misplaced merc grimly bent to the task of whipping up a cheese omelets. When the thought of the condemned's last meal crossed his mind he ignored it. This was fun, after all. Cooking. A challenge really, in such primitive conditions.

*****

"Ummm."

Coffee. Sausage. Things cooking. Jewel turned over in the big bed and winced. Her head hurt and her eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep. It was darling of Kermit to get up early and cook, but she would have preferred a few more hours of sack time, followed by a Morning Special, heavy on the naked. With a side order of...Kermit! She sat bolt upright, memories of the day before flooding back as her mind whirled and cleared. The change. Maybe...just possibly...She jumped out of bed and flew down the loft stairs, sleep-frowsy braids streaming behind her. Crammed into the tiny alcove she optimistically called the breakfast nook sat Kermit, eating eggs and sausage, drinking coffee. He looked up with a smile, her heart jumped... and she could feel her face fall. It wasn't him. She forced a smile back up and sniffed. "Something smells awfully good in here."

Kermit Two had seen the hope in her blue eyes, seen it dim like stars fading, too. Nothing he could do except try to lighten the mood. "Hope you don't mind. I made plenty for two, and there's some hot water ready for you. All those dried leaves, I thought Caine was hiding around here somewhere. Stuff all tastes lousy to me."

This smile was less forced. "I don't know how someone who drinks coffee can say that. It smells delicious, but the taste?" She shuddered and moved past him to reach her own bright yellow mug and spoon a big helping of leaves into a tiny clay teapot. Adding water from the kettle, she caught a look at herself, rumpled and barefoot, in the black reflection of the microwave. "I think I'll go wash up while this steeps."

"No rush. You want some toast or something?"

"Would you do me a bagel? In the breadbox? Thanks."

And when she came back in, with clean face, combed hair in a neat, single plait, but still barefoot, her breakfast was on the table. Omelet, sausage, glass of apple juice, bagel, and a small crock of whipped honeybutter from the fridge. "You don't cater, do you?" She teased, pouring strawberry and willowbark tea into her cup through the strainer/pot. Willowbark for headaches, and strawberry for breakfast. Then she looked around. "Oops!" Jewel went to the door and came back with something that made her guest's eyes light even behind his shades.

"YOU get the paper delivered?"

"I have a thirst for knowledge." Jewel drank most of her tea in a long swallow, poured more, and then tasted her food. "Umm, and a hunger for eggs! This is GOOD." Shade strolled over and politely requested her share of the sausage, which made Jewel glance over at her pet's dishes. "And you fed the little beastie. Thank you, Kermit."

He lowered the paper, and his shades, to wink at her. "My pleasure, Sweetcakes. Gotta earn my keep," he answered, and resumed his perusal of the world news. Things were just as screwed up in this universe. A good way to keep from thinking about Caine and the ritual to come. Just keep eating breakfast and reading the paper.

When Jewel offered to do the dishes, Kermit took the clean clothes she offered and escaped gratefully to the bathroom. It, like the kitchen, was tiny, but there was no doubt that a woman lived here. Tile in pale blue, white fixtures were neutral, but cheerful nautical curtains, a clear shower curtain with brilliant goldfish, and carefully arranged blue soaps in a dish gave her away. With a grin, he checked the towel rack. Guest towels, never touched, their dark blue satin facings pristine. Like Savannah, Jewel stocked big plain "ordinary" towels on another shelf for people to actually use. Guest towels, something only women really understood. It was somehow comforting.

Once in the shower, he sighed with real contentment. There was something so real and so perfect about hot water on demand, delivered under high pressure, matting his hair over his eyes and steaming the soreness out of his back from his restless night on the couch. Squinting, he picked up a plastic bottle, opening it for a cautious sniff. Jewel. That same spicy scent that tinged the loft and followed her, concentrated here. He wiped the water from his face and discovered that she used herbal shampoo, lavender and rosemary for clarifying, whatever the hell that was. But it was her scent, the round cake of clay looking soap smelled the same. Reminding himself that it could be worse, she could use something that smelled really girlie, <like Savannah's perfume...>

No. He wasn't going to think about Savannah, who always made sure that he had unscented soap and shampoo. Savannah, who could rouse him just by walking by after dabbing on her cologne. A spicy sweet scent filled his nostrils, lathering his hair, hot water pounding on them both as he held Jewel against the tile with his body, her silken skin wet and warm under him, her lips hungry and her body, urging him on, lust and love and warm lavender scenting the air...he jerked the handle to cold and grimly finished getting clean. This ritual had to work. The vision of that girl, in here, the feel of her, had been too real. And way too tempting.

An uncaring universe, tried once again to remold its wayward pieces.

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