Kermit wiped the sweat form his brow, cursing for the umpteenth time the humidity in the tropical jungle. He'd arrived at the base camp a minute ago, after a long and exhausting observation of their surroundings, and looked forward to washing off the filth and the dust in the makeshift shower. The shower itself consisted of a rusty watering-can hanging from a branch, but it was better than nothing. Even the lukewarm, stale water it provided would feel like heaven compared to the inhuman heat.

He went to his tent and started disrobing, glad to escape the scalding sun for a few minutes. The shirt clung to his sweat drenched skin, refusing to yield. Temper flaring, Kermit huffed and tore the offending fabric apart.

"Ha, you got what you deserve," he murmured not in the best mood, and threw the tattered cloth into a corner.

He grabbed a fresh shirt and jumped as his modified cell phone started ringing. "I never thought it would work in the back of beyond," he mumbled, before he reached for it.

"Griffin."

Static noises greeted him. Though it was apparent someone was on the line, it was impossible to understand a word. He was about to cut off the call, shouting into the receiver, "I can't hear you," when the connection cleared a bit all of sudden.

"Kermit? Kermit, don't hang up!" he heard the distorted voice of his friend and mentor Paul Blaisdell. The hair on his back stood erect. There was an urgency in Paul's voice that rang all alarm bells.

"One moment, Paul, I have to look for a better location," he cut off the captain and stormed out of the tent, aiming for the small hill. When he reached the place, he noticed the static noises went down to a bearable level.

"I can hear you now," Kermit said.

"Senator John Matheson is dead. I'm accused of killing him."

"You’re what?" Kermit interrupted his friend, "I don't believe this for a minute!"

A grim and hopeless laughter filled the line. "You're right, I didn't kill him but police don’t believe me. Now I'm on the run. All I know is that one of the Falcon's must be involved. There was…."

Suddenly, Kermit felt very cold, despite the flaring heat. He looked around, knowing full well that he would need at least three days before he would reach civilisation. He only half listened to Paul while battling with his feelings. The thought that he would not be able to help Paul, no matter what, seared his brain like a burning knife. His stomach twisted with the guilt, his muscles curled into tight knots and he felt the first signs of a killer headache.

"…I could need your help, pal," Paul ended the speech.

Bile rose up in the ex-merc's throat. He swallowed hard. Turning down the man who had saved his life on more than one occasion, and had always been there for him whenever he needed him, was one of the hardest things he ever had to do.

"Paul, I'm sorry. I'm too far away to be of any help," the ex-merc finally choked out.

For a few seconds the line went dead. Then a deep sigh of bone-numbing weariness broke the silence.

"I already feared you're stuck in one of those third-world-countries, judging by the hurry you left the precinct a week ago."

"I'm so sorry, Paul. I'll try to get back as fast as I can," Kermit promised helplessly, having no idea what else to say.

"Don't feel sorry, my friend. I know you will. Give me a call when you're back and take care. I have to go," Paul said, and then the line went dead.

"Wait," Kermit shouted into the receiver, but it was too late. "Damn!" he cursed.

Too late! Why did he always have to be too late? Too late to save his brother David. Too late to save any of his marriages. And now he would be back too late to save his best friend as well. His gut instinct told him that within these three days the decision would go down and there was no bloody way in hell he would be able to take part in it.

The bespectacled man didn't feel the pain when his fist connected hard with the tree to his left and his skin tore open. All he felt was the cruel pain of betrayal he knew he had inflicted upon Paul. He took a shaky breath before he turned around, pretending the tear that slid down his cheek was because of the burning sun. He ran back to his tent, and then he started packing in a hurry.

*****

Three days later

Kermit entered his apartment, carelessly throwing the baggage into one corner. The tie and the suit jacket followed. He didn't even bother to turn on the security system, but headed directly to the liquor cabinet. He took out a bottle of whiskey and a glass and sat down on the couch with a weary sigh.

When he opened the bottle and poured some of the contents into the glass, he couldn't suppress the tremble of his fingers. "Damn!" he shouted, slamming the bottle on the table. Then he hid his face in both hands and took several deep breaths. He felt the stinging of tears in his eyes, but refused to let them fall. "Come on, you're no cry baby. He's gone, so what? Who cares?" he mumbled, knowing he was lying to himself.

In fact, Paul's determination to leave stung like hell. Kermit's own guilt and helplessness he felt made things worse. The ex-merc knew he would never overcome the fact that he hadn't been there for his best friend. He'd let him down! Boy, had he let him down!

A sound, half sigh, half sob, escaped his throat before he straightened up and grabbed for the swifter. He swirled the glass in his hand and watched the amber liquid lapping at the corner of the glass. Instead of drinking it, he continued the movement while his thoughts took him back to the Blaisdell residence barely two hours ago.

~~~

"He's in his den," Annie said in a shaky voice that betrayed what she truly felt. Her (Kermit assumed) red rimmed eyes were firmly hidden behind the huge black glasses. Somehow he had no doubt that she'd shed tears. Before he could utter a word, she turned round and fled into the kitchen.

As he made his way over to Paul's den, accompanied by sounds of restless movements in the kitchen, he felt as if he were walking through a field trapped with land-mines. Deep down he'd known it had been a very bad sign that because he wasn't able to reach Paul for the past three days that he needed to get back to town. Still, he prayed that his worst suspicion wouldn't be confirmed, but he couldn't shake off the terrible feeling in his gut, even if he knew from Annie that Paul was cleared of the case. Stiles and Cooper, the men who were responsible for Senator Matheson's death, were now behind bars where they belonged.

Kermit reached the closed door of the den and fumbled nervously with his tie and glasses. Though he came directly from the airport, he had re-dressed on the plane. He simply felt much more secure and safer in his armor - the suit, tie and glasses. He just wondered if it would help him in this case, too. Paul had always been able to break through his defenses. Maybe the captain was the only person in this world who was capable of reading his nearly non-existent body language and always knew in which mood he was. Not even his sister, Marilyn, was capable of judging his moods. One last time Kermit adjusted his glasses, placing them firmly on his nose, before he gathered enough courage to knock.

"Come in."

He opened the door, entered - and stared at Paul in shock. The greeting died on his lips. All he could do was glance at his best friend. Not even in their worst days in the field, had Paul looked as bad as he did now.

The captain's cheeks were hollow, the cheek bones clearly sticking out of the grey shimmering skin, and he looked worn out and exhausted. He also seemed to have lost a lot of weight in the last couple of days, because his shirt hung loosely down his upper body. But the worst thing was Paul's eyes. Kermit gulped hard to swallow around the lump in his throat as he gazed into the ice blue seas. Gone was the sparkle Paul's eyes always held, no matter if he was amused or stern. Sometimes those sparkles had ignited into a fire; it had always been a sure sign not to cross the line. But now nothing was there. Desperately, Kermit searched for any sign of hope, but he only encountered empty pools.

Paul managed a wan smile that wouldn't even fool a newborn baby and reached out a hand.

"Ah Kermit, it is good to see you back. How was the flight?"

Kermit grasped the offered hand and shook it, wondering about the absurdity of the situation.

*You will leave! Damn it, you will go away!* Kermit suddenly knew. Despite the cruel discovery, he managed to reply in an even voice. "Long, hot and limited. It's good to see you, too." *And you look like hell.*

~~~

The next minutes went by in a blur. Paul told Kermit about what had happened, but somehow Kermit didn't register half of it. The shock about seeing his friend in this condition sat too deep. He came to, when Paul ended his speech with "…I have no other choice than to leave."

"I’ll go with you. You know I’m only a cop because you gave me a badge. Give me an hour and I'm ready to follow you anywhere you want," Kermit responded in an even voice, betraying the true emotions that played havoc with his body and soul.

"No, Kermit."

Only two words. But they cut into Kermit's heart like a blazing sword. He was used to rejection, hell he didn't want to have it any other way, but he for sure wasn't used to rejection from his best friend, mentor and father figure.

*You lost your trust in me when I let you down. I wasn't there for you, so why would you want to have me around?* He would follow Paul to hell and back, didn't he know that? Nevertheless, he had to try again.

"Why not? Listen, Paul, I know I wasn’t with you when you needed me the most, but now I am here. And I don't have any intention of…."

Paul held up his hand, stopping him in mid-sentence. "Spare this bullshit, Kermit. It wasn't your fault, so cut it. The reason why you can't go with me is…" Paul hesitated for long seconds before he continued. His hand, resting on the table, balled into a fist.

"I…I need you here, Kermit. With my family, with Peter. The threat is still there and I need someone here I trust. It's…" Paul took a deep breath. "I just have to know there is someone who will take care of my family and will protect them from any harm. Will you do this for me? Please?"

Kermit felt there was no other way than to give in. How could he deny the last wish of Paul? If his friend trusted him enough with his family, maybe not everything was lost. He could make up the betrayal he had inflicted upon Paul by taking care of the Blaisdell family and Peter. Nevertheless, he had trouble not showing the agony he felt when he thought about the impending departure of Paul. Soon his best friend would be gone and he was left back here, alone, but with a task as huge as Mt. Everest. None of the Blaisdell family were easy to handle, they all were pigheaded and secretly he feared, they wouldn't listen to him; especially Peter.

Kermit, realizing Paul was waiting for his answer while his thoughts had drifted away, didn't manage to overcome the huge lump in his throat and simply nodded his approval.

His former boss smiled but it didn't reach his eyes which reflected the sadness and fear he tried so hard not to show. He grabbed Kermit and pulled him into a bone crushing hug.

"Thank you, my friend. I knew I could trust you."

*No, you can't,* the ex-mercenary wanted to shout but didn't. Instead he returned the hug for all it was worth. Anxious for what the future might bring, without Paul.

The End

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