Peter was returning from his duty in the soup kitchen, whistling a tune. He was later than usual, because he'd spent a whole hour talking with one of the homeless after his shift had been over. He'd called to let Paul know he'd be late, so he figured it was okay to spend some time watching the sunset.

Various shades of red tinted the sky. The sun looked like a blazing ball of fire, slowly sinking down to the horizon. Little stars started twinkling in the rapidly darkening sky. Peter took a deep breath, admiring the wonder of the nature. So many times he'd watched the sunrise or sunset with his natural father at the temple in Northern California. It always had been a time of peacefulness and love. They'd stood at the cliff, Caine's arm draped around him, sharing in the contentment of the moment.

When the temple had been destroyed and he'd learned of Caine's death, Peter had thought his world was gone. Now, he realized that it wasn't gone, it had just changed, it was just different. Not in a bad way, but not the same as it had been. His father used to tell him everything changed. Peter fought the changes in his life for a long time, but now he was in a good place.

A gush of wind stroked over Peter's skin, feeling as if Caine was brushing fingers across his cheeks, a caress of long bygone times.

"Father," Peter whispered into the night and his sense of loss over Caine's absence grew. He wrapped both arms protectively around his chest to ward off the sudden chill he felt. His father was dead, and nothing would ever bring him back.

The wind died down, as did the strange feeling. He shivered once more and straightened his shoulders, continuing to stare at the sky until the sun vanished and darkness set in. Taking a shuddering breath, he turned round and headed for home, impulsively deciding to enter the house from the backyard. By doing that, he'd a few more seconds to gather his composure.

He jumped over the fence and landed in the backyard. Tigger, the house cat, greeted him with a warm meow and pressed his tiny body against his ankle. He bent down and scooped the furry cat up, scratching him behind the ears. The cat responded with a contented purr. Peter hugged the animal closer. The mere contact with the cat made him feel better in an instant. Animals had so much love to give and all they wanted in return was regular feeding and a caress from time to time.

Tigger meowed again, licked Peter's thumb and squirmed in his grasp. Peter smiled faintly, allowing the fur ball to jump from his arms. He followed him with his eyes until Tigger vanished in the undergrowth, probably hunting for mice.

Sensing his sadness had improved, Peter crossed the lawn. He reached the first step leading to the porch when a movement to his right caught his attention. He whirled round, and spotted Kermit standing under a tree a few feet away from him. Judging by the sagged shoulders and the death grip Kermit had on the tree, the man was suffering.

A wave of sympathetic compassion washed over Peter. Kermit looked so forlorn and lonely, and Peter completely forgot about going inside. Instead, he turned round and approached the silent man.

Kermit didn't seem to notice his nearness. Cautiously, Peter addressed him. "Kermit, are you okay?"

The spectacled man didn't react. Peter wondered what he should do next. Was it wise to leave Kermit alone, or maybe he should try and talk to him? He remembered how much better he had felt after that talk he had had with Paul. Maybe this was the opportunity to get to know the man better. The fact that Kermit neither reacted to his approach, nor to his greeting, concerned Peter. Truth be told, it was so much out of Kermit's usual behavior that it gave Peter the creeps. However, he couldn't turn away. The pain that radiated in waves from Kermit was so familiar to him that he wanted to help the man.

Peter stepped closer and laid a hand on the shaded man's shoulder. The touch triggered a reaction. Before Peter knew what was happening, Kermit whirled round, his left arm shooting forward as it curled around Peter's throat. A split second later, something black reflected in the moonlight and Peter found himself held at gunpoint with the biggest gun he'd ever seen pressed tightly against the soft skin under his chin. The sound of a gun being cocked was unnaturally loud in the silent evening and it terrified Peter.

Peter only managed to cry out in surprise, afraid of how the solid pressure of the gun against his throat made it hard for him to breathe. A moment later, Paul and Annie rushed out onto the terrace, alerted by his fearful shout. Paul switched on the exterior light. He held his breath as he looked in their direction, and then he leapt into action.

"Kermit, put that gun down!" Paul said carefully as he jumped over the railing.

Annie put a hand to her face, gasping in horror at the tone in Paul's commanding voice and his disturbing order to Kermit. She followed her husband into the yard.

***

Realization for Kermit set in. Shocked, his hand dropped to his side as he stared into wide open, terrified eyes that looked as shocked as his own. He let go of Peter, stumbling a step back. "I'm sorry," he stammered, horrified.

Paul reached the twosome and pulled the trembling teenager into a protective embrace, scowling at Kermit. Ice blue eyes seared Kermit's glasses, burning deep into his soul. The captain didn't say a word.

The Desert Eagle fell out of Kermit's limp hands. He swayed and had to lean against the tree to keep his balance. A noise, half sob/half choke, escaped his throat. Paul handed the confused Peter over to Annie, who'd reached them by then. Slowly, he bent down and retrieved the weapon from the grass. After carefully checking it over, he put the safety on and stuffed it in the small of his back.

Kermit swallowed hard and felt the cold chill of blame creeping up his spine. He wasn't able to take his eyes from the badly shaken Peter. He heard Annie's soft voice crooning calming words into Peter's ear as she stroked his back in a soothing rhythm.

"I'm so sorry," Kermit repeated over and over again like a broken record. Even to him, his voice sounded hollow and dripping with guilt. He didn't manage to shake off the aftermath.

Paul switched quickly from concerned father into cop mode. In his best police captain's voice, he issued his orders. "Annie, take Peter back to the house. Kermit, take a couple deep breaths and sit down before you collapse."

Kermit nodded and slid down the rough trunk of the tree, realizing it would be better to obey Paul's order than trying to straighten out the mess he'd gotten all of them in. Besides, there wasn't much he could do right now.

Annie didn't argue, even though Kermit knew she wanted to. She simply steered Peter back to the porch without saying anything, but the expression on her face told the mercenary that she would read him the riot act for attacking one of her children later.

As they reached the porch, Peter suddenly whirled around. He looked at Kermit, then at Paul. Fastening his gaze on his foster-father, he said accusingly, "You told me Kermit would never do any harm to your family. Well, it's obvious that your friend, Griffin, doesn't consider me a part of your family! Do you need any more proof?"

Then, the teen tore away from Annie's grasp and stormed into the safety of the house, oblivious to Annie's shout to wait. She hurried to follow him.

***

Paul waited until Annie had closed the French doors before he turned to Kermit. He looked down at the man who sat in the grass with his back pressed against the solid tree, clenching and unclenching his hands.

"What the hell happened?"

"He took me by surprise when he touched me. I just…reacted," Kermit said in a flat tone.

Paul waited for him to continue, but the merc refused to say more. Silence stretched, gnawing at frayed nerves. Paul felt his anger rising. The cop and ex-mercenary in him knew that Kermit hadn't done it on purpose, but the father in him raged, driven by the urge to protect his children. The father won.

"Dammit, Kermit! I told you that you were burned out! He's only a child!"

The muscles at the corners of Kermit's jaw twitched spasmodically. He brushed invisible fluff from his jacket before he stood up. In a smooth motion, he pulled the glasses from his face. Raw emotions of unprotected eyes were reflected by the dim light. He glanced at the house, and then his gaze darted back as he locked on Paul's unflinching gaze.

"I don't know what to say, Paul. A simple 'I'm sorry' isn't enough. The kid's right, I'm not only a threat to him, but to your family, too. I should never have come. If you didn't believe I'm a cold blooded killer before, now you have proof."

Paul's anger faded as quickly as it had come. One look at the beaten man in front of him told him how much Kermit regretted what had happened.

"No, you're not a killer, Kermit. If you were, the kid would be dead by now. It was just an unfortunate accident."

Kermit snorted. "No, it wasn't. I simply acted and reacted as the man I am - a killer for hire. Don't you see it, Paul? Why shut your eyes from the truth? What else has to happen before you believe it? Hell, I nearly killed an innocent child - your child!"

"You said he took you by surprise. There's no one to blame. Peter didn't know he shouldn't touch you unexpectedly, because I never told him. So, if you want to blame someone, it's me."

"Bullshit! You weren't the one holding that kid at gunpoint. I was!" A deep sadness shadowed Kermit's eyes. "I was out here, thinking about your offer to come in from the cold. We both know I can't stand being touched after the torture in…" Kermit hesitated in mid-sentence, "…you know where. I kept the promise I gave you in the den. I considered all the pros and cons…if I could manage a normal life, if I could leave the violence and bloodshed behind. I…I thought maybe…maybe I could do it and then…then this happened."

He shook his head. "No, Paul, I'm not made for living in a cozy neighborhood, caring about other people, having a social life. It would never work. I'm too dangerous, too battle-marred. I've received too many scars too fast."

Paul shut his eyes for a moment, pushing back the memory of the cruel torture Kermit had had to endure in Beirut. Now wasn't the time to talk about it. He opened his eyes again, seeing the change that went on in the younger man. The sadness was replaced by steel hard determination and a hint of regret. He prayed he wouldn't hear the words, but they came.

"I'm leaving, Paul. And I'll never come back. Tell Annie and Peter I'm sorry and kiss Carolyn and Kelly goodbye for me."

"Kermit, no," Paul protested. "You're making the wrong decision. I can understand if you can't stay here any longer. But don't make the mistake of turning your back on everyone. You never ran from anything!"

Broken eyes looked at him. Kermit held Paul's gaze for a few seconds, then he carefully put his green glasses back into place, and started to speak in a forced even tone. "It's too late, Paul. My decision is final. There's always a first time. I won't take the chance of hurting you, Annie, or one of your kids. Never again. Good-bye, Paul. We'll meet at the next mission. You know how to reach me in case you need me."

Kermit didn't wait for an answer. He simply reached to Paul's back and retrieved his weapon. He stowed it in the small of his back, turned round and limped away, vanishing into the night.

Paul stared at his friend's retreating back, too stunned to react. He had no idea how long he stood there, feeling as if he'd lost a child - a 27-year-old child.

"Kermit, running away won't help. You need your friends now more than ever. You can't do that to me! You can't just walk out like this! Please, come back," he whispered into the dark as tears of loss and helplessness ran down his face.

***

"Paul, honey, where are you?" Annie's voice cut through the night.

Paul took a deep, steadying breath and a quick wipe at his face, before he turned round to approach his wife. "I'm here, hon." He took her outstretched hands and drew her into a tight embrace.

Annie's head cocked to one side. "Where is Kermit?"

"Gone." Paul sighed.

"Gone?"

"Yes," Paul said in a tone that signaled the finality of the simple statement.

Annie leaned against him. "I understand why, but damn him! No one does that to my children and then just leaves."

"It's not his fault. You know what he's gone through."

The blind woman sighed deeply, calming in his comforting presence. "I know. Still, he shouldn't have left."

"There was no way I could keep him here. We have to accept his decision, even if it's wrong. How is Peter?"

Annie straightened. "He was very upset and was still shaking after several minutes. I coaxed him into taking two valerian capsules. He's sleeping soundly now."

A shudder raced through Paul's body. "What a mess."

"We'll get through it, together, as a family. We always do."

Paul shook his head. "I doubt Peter will be so forgiving. You know him. He will either hate Kermit with all his heart, or he'll blame himself for what has happened. I bet it's the latter."

Squeezing Paul's hand, Annie said, "Peter will get over it. I'm sure about it. But you'll have to have a long talk with him. You have to tell him more about Kermit and make him see the kind of man Kermit really is. It's the only way for Peter to know that it wasn't his fault."

"I know, I know," Paul responded, sounding less than pleased about the task ahead.

The conversation broke off. The couple spent long minutes in silence, holding each other, drawing strength from one another.

Finally, Annie slipped off her glasses and rubbed her forehead before turning her sightless eyes on Paul.

"What do you think? Will they ever meet again?"

Paul kissed the palm of her hand and stroked the hair from her face. "Kermit's too stubborn to ever come back as long as Peter's here. Nevertheless, I have a feeling they'll meet again, Annie. You know the saying: 'You always meet twice.'"

Annie nodded, then tugged at his hand. "Come on, darling. Let's go inside and sit with our son."

The End

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