Four a.m. He was awake and drinking coffee already. Sleep had never made him comfortable. The loss of control, the vulnerability of it, made sleep an enemy in battle. Kermit found it hard not to live by those rules, even back in the world. Three or four hours was all he needed and that was the limit.

The floor was cold beneath his feet as he walked across the tile for another cup. Saudi had been hot, hot all the time. Hot on his face when the winds whipped sand over his skin. Hot when that bastard horse rolled him down the dunes. Hot when he'd broken his target's neck.

Now, he was home and he'd savor the cold and close the door on that mission. The October chill ran through an open kitchen window and felt like a merciful luxury. When Paul had left for home yesterday, he'd said not to come in for two days. "Relax and spend the bonus money on riding lessons so you don't look like such a graceless ass next time," Paul had said, slapped him on the shoulder, then left.

Relax? No way. He hadn't relaxed in years. Not in the field. Not at home. Not at the precinct. Pouring his cup full once again, he took in a long, slow sip. Every time he heard that word, relax, he thought about how relaxed his dead enemies were after he shot them and decided to pass.

The sound of bare knuckles rapping on glass rattled the silence. Hot coffee bit the back of his hand and he replaced the cup with the nearest firearm. Soundlessly, he made his way through the darkened house and looked through the living room window to assess the situation. On his front porch, timidly knocking on the door, was not a situation. It was David.

Stowing the weapon hastily in a drawer, Kermit jerked open the door. "Get in here, Kid," he said, pulling his brother inside from the cold. "What the hell are you doing here at four in the morning?"

Even at twenty-seven, his younger brother seemed perpetually awkward, perpetually a lanky kid. Kermit didn't give him a chance to answer before wrapping him in a warm embrace. It had been a year since they'd been together. Work and life's entanglements had kept them both apart. Kermit moved to release David, only to have him hold on a few seconds longer. Taller than his brother, David's arms seemed to twine themselves around Kermit, holding on for some need of warmth, of contact.

"David?" Kermit let him hold on, bracing them both against the slight tremor in David's body. "What's wrong? Has something happened?"

Pulling his body backward, David blurted out a nervous laugh. "Nothing's wrong, Bro. Sometimes I just feel the need to check up on you." Shifting back and forth, David busied his hands inside the pockets of his denim jacket. Looking around the small home, he said, "Great place." Taking a few curious steps into the living room, he stopped cold and turned back to his brother. "Wait, I didn't think about you maybe having a woman here. If I'm cramping your style I could just come back later." Looking down at his watch, he said, "Shit, I didn't realize it was so early. I'll come back in daylight."

The barrage of words failed to distract Kermit and he grabbed his brother's sleeve before he could make his way back to the door. "No body here but me, Kid, and you didn't wake me." David didn't pull away, only looked back at his brother with a painfully transparent smile. Whatever he had to say, Kermit would let him get it out in his own time. It was the only way to deal with David. Push him, and he cemented his mouth shut. "Coffee?"

Exhaling, David followed his brother back to the kitchen. "Definitely. It's cold as hell in here." Reaching one long arm upward, David pulled down the window, shutting off the flow of icy air. The metal chair scrapped noisily over the floor as David sat down. Taking the cup his brother offered, he took a quick sip then blurted out, "Before you ask, I'm not using again. I just had a few days off and thought I'd come see you, okay?"

"It's okay. And I wasn't going to ask."

"Yes you were and it's okay that you were," David said, holding his brother's eye for a long serious moment. His eyes were dark, always exposing too much emotion. Kermit tried to read whatever story his brother was keeping inside but all he saw was the heavy sadness written across his face.

In self-defense, David severed the visual connection, focusing on anything but his brother. "So, where've you been? I called here and got no answer but somebody at the precinct said you were just getting back from vacation."

Kermit would play ball for a while. David needed time, time to ease into his own story. "So you were the hang ups on my machine," Kermit said, assessing David's condition. He was tanned and pale at the same time, a worn look to his normally energetic features. Dark circles smeared beneath his eyes made him appear weakened, wounded. "I would have called you back."

"Probably wouldn't have been around to get it," David answered, sipping his coffee. "I've been busy." He leaned back, propping his feet on another chair. "South Florida is full of bad guys these days."

"A few less this month, so I hear." Kermit may have been out of touch, but he kept tabs on David's career. He'd made detective six months ago and hadn't stopped running. "Twenty-one busts in thirty days. Impressive."

"Yeah, that's what they tell me," David replied, plopping his cup back down to the table. The cup hit with more force than he intended, startling him. David stared at it as if surprised it didn't shatter. "Impressive." He repeated the Kermit's word.

"And you're not satisfied?" Kermit leaned over, focusing on seeing David. His brother's gaze remained fixed on his own cup, avoiding contact. He'd never been able to hide from his older brother, never as a boy and not as a man. There was a tremble to his body, even though he sat perfectly still. "Talk to me," Kermit said, reaching a hand toward David's fingers, which remained clinched tightly around his cup.

"Satisfied?" David repeated, snatching his hand away and stretching quickly to his feet. "Why wouldn't I be satisfied? Hell, I've been tracking small time dealers all over the city, busting left and right. My life's work, you know? Every minute after one lead or another and hittin' pay dirt with every one. Got 'em running like rats. Last Thursday, I popped one little shit who's just three levels away from the main distributor for the whole fuckin' coast. Gotta keep tracking the little ones to get to the big ones, right?" He paced back and forth across the room, his boots clicking faster as his voice sped along with the story. "Sang like a bird, that last one. Beautiful, Man. Chased him for forty-five minutes through these abandoned apartment buildings downtown. Bastard was half dead when the backup got there and he was beggin' to go to jail so I be off his tail and --"

David stopped his story abruptly. His eyes were brighter, as if reliving the moment, breath coming in short bursts, his fists closing and opening in the air. Giving in, he looked Kermit in the eye, opening the door to whatever wound was festering behind the bravado. The silence bled out around him, filling the air with tension, tension needed to be broken and cleared away.

"Was there something special about this last one?" Kermit said, sitting still, calmly taking the opening David provided. Restraint was the last thing he wanted to exercise. Every muscle wanted to walk over to David and jerk the problem out of him. (Talk to me, boy. It's safe here.) He kept the words to himself. Jumpy as David was at the moment, physical contact would only make whatever this was worse.

"I don't remember it." The words were whispered, hidden words to make the admission somehow smaller."

"What does that mean, David? You don't remember something he said?"

"No, I don't remember the chase." David stared back at his brother, weakened, as if the confession had taken ounces of flesh from his body. "I don't remember most of them, the busts, I mean."

Seconds went by before David moved again. When he did, he fell down hard into the stiff chair in front of his brother, elbows digging into his thighs and holding his head with his hands. Long, dark hair draped over his hands, hiding his face. "I was running after him and things just faded away. The black and white trying to catch up with us for back up said they saw me jump off a building, grab a loose fire escape ladder, then slide to the ground to head him off." David looked up, briefly and said, "You know how I am about heights. I can't even ride a fuckin' Ferris wheel." He shook his head and laid it back into his hands. "I had two nails drive through the sole of my boot and never felt them. When I finally got my hands on him, we fell through the window of a laundromat. That's when I realized what I was feeling. The rush."

"David," Kermit put his hands on David's shoulder, feeling the emotional trembling become physical as he leaned closer, "lots of men get into the zone during a chase, during a battle. It helps you to cut out distractions, keeps you moving."

David's head shook side to side. "No!" David shouted, jerking upright and grabbing Kermit's arms. David's eyes were desperate, now glaring directly into his brother. "I was high, dammit! That's the feeling! The rush, Man! It started a month ago and I feel it at every bust and I had to have it over and over and I can't go more than a day or two without it or I start to come apart, Man!"

He let David hold on to his arms, feeling the panic in his grip. Touch wasn't something he usually allowed or cared for from others. It had to have a purpose, a reason to justify letting another human being into his space. Doctors could he tolerated, to a point, and when necessary. A woman was welcome, on occasion, as long as it didn't last longer than necessary. A good fist fight was an exception, but touch generally meant something was about to be taken or required from him. He wanted to say when that would happen. Control was his, always. Touching meant giving some of that up. He was willing to do that for very few people.

Without hesitation, he gave that away for David.

"You said you weren't using, David." Kermit gently grasped David's arms, trying to relax him but not break the connection.

"I'm not," David gasped, his eyes filling with tears. "I swear to God I'm not. But it's the same. I'm not there. Have to fake my reports from what people tell me! That blur, that buzz that takes me somewhere else. My head is somewhere else when I'm on the hunt, Man. I'm invincible, invisible. Nothing feels better or stronger and when it's over, it's like I've been dumped out of bed into cold water, Kermit!" David jerked up his sleeves.
"See, no marks. I swear. You can give me a test. I swear I'm clean but this has taken me over! You've gotta help me!"

"Calm down, David," Kermit said, sliding David's sleeves back down his arms. "Keep talking." The truth was coming now and he had to keep it going.

The tears rolled down David's cheeks. Tears of failure, fear, and shame. These admissions were costing him dearly. "It started right after I made detective. I had so much to prove. It's where I've always wanted to be. Narcotics. I could get even there."

"Get even with who?"

He looked down, as if he'd spoken past his own understanding of these feelings. "Get even with the dope, with the pushers that put it out there for me to get. I don't know exactly." He held his head up once again, not trying to hide the tears or truth anymore. "That first bust was so sweet. Perfect. Went undercover at this high school because I could look the part. Two weeks and we'd shut down the operation, bagged the supplier. It felt so good, Kermit. I was doing my job, the unit was happy. I had detective's pay and freedom, and even had a girlfriend."

"Who is she?" Kermit eased up his grip a little more, trying to detour the conversation slightly. David was talking, he'd keep on talking but he wanted him calm, thinking, not exploding.

"Stephanie," David said, taking a long breath. "She's a hostess at this restaurant close to the precinct. You'd like her. Really sweet and funny. Beautiful. She moved in around the time I made detective, but she's gone now." David let go of his brother, wiping his hands across his face. "She moved out two weeks ago and it took me three days before I realized she was gone. That's how bad I've needed these busts, Kermit. I let the woman I love leave me and didn't even notice."

Kermit watched the pain play across David's face. He was lost and expecting his brother to find him again. "Maybe you should take some time off."

David shook his head, roughly. "No! It'll just be the same when it's over. It's a high, Kermit! I just replaced one high with another! I can't live like this." He stood up once again, walking toward the living room.

Kermit hurried to match David's pace. "David, stop!" He caught David's arm as he reached the front door. "What is it that you wanted, David? From the job? What?" He held onto his brother, not letting him run away.

"Revenge, dammit! I wanted revenge on all those bastards who tried to take my life away with heroin and I can't get the ones who did it to me so I'm trying to get every other one I can!" He shook off Kermit's hands and began pacing again. "But it's never enough! Every fuckin' pusher I bust just makes me want another one, and another one and I'm never going to get full up with it! Never!" David slammed his boot into the glass coffee table in his path, shattering it into tiny pieces that glittered across the room. "When I'm running them down, bustin' those assholes, I'm high. It's like I'm not even there! Like I shot up and there's nothing that can touch me and I don't know what I'm fucking doing! It's another fucking high! That crazy rush! I don't want it! It takes everything, just like before!" He kicked the remains of the table again, crashing it against the wall.

The violent reaction seemed to stop David's angry spiral. He stood frozen, in the middle of a thousand broken shards of wood and glass. "I don't know what to do, Kermit. I won't live like this, going from one high to the next like before. If I can't do this any more, what can I do?"

Crunching across broken glass littering his floor, Kermit moved to his brother, not touching him, simply standing closely at his shoulder. "What do you want, David? What makes you happy? This isn't going to work for you any more. That's the trouble with revenge. The relief only lasts a few moments then it's gone." Gently, he guided David to the sofa and he sank down into the cushions without resisting. "Obsession, I can understand. I've had many. But you have to find a life that won't run you, Kid. Maybe your time as a cop needs to end. Make your life be yours. Don't please me or Marilyn or anyone else. Please yourself. You've earned it."

After several long moments, David took in a deep breath, then said, "What makes me happy?" His eyes scanned the room as if searching the dim light of dawn for an answer. "I thought being a cop would do it. Stephanie, she made me happy and I think I made her happy, for a while. The big brother thing, the counseling thing at the Y, that made me happy but I think I've been away from them too long."

"Look, Kid," Kermit said, sitting down beside him, "go find it, whatever it is. If you need money, I've got it. Just had a big payday from a freelance job and it's yours." David looked at him, opening his mouth to ask about "the job" but stopping the words. He'd learned long ago what the boundaries were concerning his older brother's other life. "Go back to school, be a counselor full time, do whatever you want. Life is too short to spend it hurting yourself. You've been smart enough to figure this out, now change it."

"You think I should do that? Quit?" David leaned back, trying to reassemble his control. The tears were gone, the trembling had eased, but there was still a frightened look on his face that made him appear considerably younger that his twenty-seven years. "A lot of people took a chance to help me get here. You. Paul Blaisdell. I don't want to just throw all that away."

"Who said you had to carve Detective David Griffin in stone? Not me." Kermit leaned back into the sofa, trying to find the words to give David permission to live his own life. "When we spent those weeks in Paul's cabin with you going through withdrawal, why do you think I did that? For you to owe me something?"

"No."

"Then why?"

As if embarrassed, David said, "Because you're my brother and you love me."

"The only thing you owe me is to go out and live, David. That's it. Go get whatever life you want and live it. You can be proud of your time on the force and move on. No shame in that. The only shame would be in letting yourself be burned alive again by an addiction that you can walk away from this time."

Addiction. He'd used the ugly word and called this problem by it's name. It hung there in the air between them for a moment, then faded away. The problem had a name and they could handle it now.

They sat in silence for a long time. As the sunlight grew from dim to bright, flooding the room with day, David fell asleep on the couch, exhausted and spent from the early morning revelations.

After showering and rewrapping his broken ribs, Kermit went into the kitchen to make breakfast. David had fallen into a deep sleep that he clearly needed. Looking through the doorway, seeing David in the light of day, he looked more worse for the wear than he'd realized. Maybe, he could get him back on the right track. That was his job, a big brother's job. He could help save a government and he could save his brother.

At nearly ten o'clock, David made his way to the table, yawning and stretching as he took a seat. "I'm sorry about the mess in there," David apologized, accepting the omelet and coffee Kermit slid in front of him. "I'll buy you a new--"

"Forget it, kid," Kermit cut off his offer. "Needed to redecorate anyway."

They ate quietly for a while, then David spoke first. His voice was stronger than the night before, sure and steady. "I'm going to resign after I wrap up one last assignment. Maybe I can get Stephanie back. I hope. School sounds good. Working with kids sounds good. I just don't want to be around the dope anymore and the pushers. I thought it was all I was good for because I'm a recovering addict, but I'm done. I want to feel good again making someone else feel good." He looked across the table at Kermit. "Does that make sense? I was a good cop but this is poison for me. It is."

Refilling his brother's cup, Kermit said, "Oh yeah, it makes sense and I'll help you do whatever you want."

David took a big gulp from his cup. "Your coffee is improving," he looked across the table and smiled, "slightly."

"Ah, my coffee shop dream may yet become reality."

David seemed better. He looked better, sounded better. The panic was gone. "I brought in your bag from the rental. Make yourself at home when you're finished."

David sat back, pushing his plate away. Dragging a hand over his face, he said, "Oh, guess I do look like shit. I could use a shower." Standing up, he stretched again. "And a meeting. Can you help me find an AA meeting around here today? It's been a while." David didn't wait for an answer and started toward the bedroom.

Addiction was always a part of David's life. At least, he was honest about it. "I can do that," Kermit answered. While the topic was still open, Kermit asked, "Are you sure that you should take one more assignment?"

David stopped, turning back to his brother. His voice was all cop, confidence and authority. "I have to finish this one. You know that last bust? The middle man? I'm set up to go under with his supplier, some punk named Larson. All the pieces aren't clear but we think he's working on some synthetic shit that'll cause a lot of misery if he gets product out on the street."

"How long?"

"Shouldn't take very long," David answered, leaning against the bedroom doorway. "Got a good cover. Get this, the department's official line is that I'm being fired because smack is missing from my last bust. Douglas Larson should love taking a dirty, drugged out cop into his fold with a recommendation from his best customer, huh?" Walking over to Kermit, he slapped his arm and laughed, "Don't look like that. I know what I'm doing. In and out."

"Do you want some help with this guy?"

"No." The word came out with a new sharpness, an almost teenaged indignation. Within the space of a second, David's face softened. "Look, I've got this. I've got a plan. Maybe we can talk about it later in the car, on the way to the meeting. Give me your input, okay?"

"Okay. Whatever you need, I'm here."

David bent over to pick up his black duffel bag that lay just outside the bedroom door and said, "I know that. That's why I'm here." He slung the bag over his shoulder, then said, "After I finish up with Larson, I might want to come here. That is, if Stephanie will come with me and you don't mind. I mean, she might not even speak to me again and you might not want me here in your way and I might not even be able to find anything I want to do here but--"

Kermit held up his hand to stop David's nervous run on sentence. "If you end up here it's okay with me." He put his hand on David's cheek, patting it lightly. "It's better than okay."
His approval flooded all over David's expression, replacing the nervous smile with one of genuine relief. "Go get dressed."

David turned and went into the bedroom, calling, "Thanks, Bro," over his shoulder.

"Anytime."

Grabbing the phone book, Kermit began flipping pages looking for the number of AA to find David a meeting. It had been a rough few hours but things were looking better. David leaving the force was his own decision but it would be nice not to worry about him ending up dead. Counselors rarely ended up dead, at least, not as often as narcotics detectives. He found the number and began to dial. He couldn't deny the relief. David would be here where he could keep an eye on him, here not being a cop. Marilyn would be happy to reduce her worry time by a factor of one. He'd been here for a couple of years and with David and Marilyn close by, maybe he could take the chance of making this town home.

The number began to ring. Home. He liked the sound of that. He'd get David through this last assignment and then he'd make it home, too.

Relief was a strange feeling, one he rarely allowed. Relief was generally followed by a sharp blow to the back of the head because you were stupid enough to let your guard down and relax. Relax. Maybe he'd relax once David was finished with Larson.

The first meeting close by was in an hour. They could talk over the plan on the way and he'd feel much better after that. Maybe then, just maybe they could relax and have a good time for a day or two. It was good to have David here. It made him forget about his ribs and what he'd done in Saudi. Made him forget about his own thrill addiction. Maybe he could convince David to let him come along as back up. Maybe he'd come along whether David liked it or not and get this business over faster.

Kermit put down the phone and went to hurry David along. They had business to discuss.

The End

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