She was walking along the beach. The sun was bright and felt warming to her upturned face, her hair splayed about her shoulders and she felt free. Freer than she had felt in a long time. She could feel the sand squish under her toes and paused to pick up a concha shell.

Beautiful. Nothing would ruin this moment.

She carefully replaced the shell, wanting the beach to be just as magical to the next person to inhabit it when she heard familiar sirens in the distance.

No! She turned her head away from the sound. Not now. She turned and began a leisurely jog down the beach. The sound followed, ominously, casting a dark cloud on this beautiful scene. She jogged harder and faster. When that was inadequate, she broke into a run. The noise was in her ear now, screaming for attention.

"I'm off duty, damn it!!!" screeched Karen Simms, sitting up in bed. She caught her breath, looking around her darkened bedroom. Dreaming...I was dreaming. She glared at the instrument responsible for disturbing her. The telephone continued to ring. Incessantly. Karen knew it must have been ringing at least eight times and still the caller persisted. She sighed. A cop was never off duty. Especially a captain.

Plucking the phone off the hook, she brought the receiver to her ear, noting absently that it was 3:15 in the morning. "Captain Simms here," she snapped.

Surprisingly, there was an awkward pause. "...Karen...?"

"Kermit?" Simms was instantly awake, the peaceful beach scene now totally forgotten. "What's wrong? Is it...?"

"I'm sorry to wake you," came the ex-mercenary's apologetic voice, "but I'm out of options. You've been through this before...."

"Kermit, you're not making sense. Start again." Karen sat up in bed.

"Okay," Kermit continued, a bit sheepishly.

No, he's embarrassed, thought Karen, wondering about the source.

"Kat has a fever. 103 now. I took her to the emergency room where Dr. Sabourin saw her, said it was an ear infection and gave me some antibiotics to give her. Told me to give her something for the fever if it didn't come down. She threw up what she took at the hospital so I'm not sure how much to give her now. I'm trying, but, Karen, she won't take it! I swear that her little mouth is sealed with Super Glue! Except when she's crying! Then she wiggles too much for me to spoon it into her! I tried a dropper and she actually spit it out at me! I know there has to be a trick to this!"

Simms fought a giggle at the besieged mercenary's exasperated tone. He can help overthrow countries but can't deal with a sick baby. She shook tired body, chastising herself mentally. Any first-timer with a baby went through this. And Kermit was doubly panicked because he was all alone. He might have to handle this alone for a very long time. Guilt took the place of amusement as Karen asked softly, "Okay, Kermit, were you given any suppositories for her? Are there some in the medicine cabinet?"

"Any WHAT??!"

This time, Karen Simms had to grip the phone to conceal her growing laughter. When she got herself under control, she uncovered the receiver. "All right, Detective," she told him, taking pity on him, "since you're a newbie, I'll come over and pave the way for you. How's that?"

Kermit sighed his relief. "I'd be eternally grateful."

Karen got out of bed while reassuring the frantic father, "I'll be right there."

"Karen-"

"Yes?"

"When you say 'suppositories', you're talking about...um...."

Karen bit the inside of her cheek to keep from giggling. "I'll be right there."

"Thanks. I'll owe you one."

******

Karen Simms found the door unlocked in anticipation of her arrival. Passing through the entrance, she was greeted by the angry bellowing of a child in pain. "I remember that," she said to herself, and followed the sound to the nursery.

Kermit sat in Savannah's rocking chair, still trying to reason with the unreasonable. "Pretty please, Kat? Please take it?" His shirt already dotted with bright red splotches of medicine, his recent failures were obvious.

Dropping her purse on the floor, Karen smiled at the total helplessness. Savannah had evidently taken charge of all the illnesses. You didn't do him any favors, lady. She knelt beside the ragged man and his daughter. "This little girl is quite a handful, huh, Detective?"

Ignoring the opening line, Kermit dove into the details. "I found what you asked for. It's over there on the changing table. I read the directions and I can't do...I mean, I just can't...." His explanation tumbled into silence as Karen rose and went to the table for the dreaded medicine.

Picking up the box of Tylenol suppositories, she used every ounce of her control not to laugh openly at finding the chink in the big bad mercenary's armor. "Baby illness 101, detective. If it won't go in her mouth, there's always an alternative. She's hot and upset. Bring down her fever and she'll calm down." Opening the package, she continued her instruction. "Now, they gave her a shot at the hospital?" Kermit nodded. "Then she shouldn't need the antibiotic until about noon. Let's just concentrate on getting the fever down so she'll rest. Later, she'll be much more amiable to your ministrations. Put her down on her tummy on the bed."

Kermit complied, silently. Never in his life had he felt more inadequate. A complete failure. Unable to care for his own daughter. Gently, he laid Kat's screaming, kicking body down on her bed.

Then, he went pale.

"Here, Detective." Karen held up the small white blob of medicine for him as she peeled back Kat's diaper. Holding the furious child down with one hand firmly on her back, the captain memorized the deer-in-headlights look on Griffin's face - knowing it was a rare treat. "Just hold it, don't faint!"

Kermit took the bullet-shaped article in one hand and stroked Kat's hair with the other. "I can't do...uh...that."

Exasperated, Karen snatched the bullet away from him. "You CAN because you have to, Daddy. You're all she's got and this is what has to be done!" Immediately sorry for the reminder of his heartbreak, she softened. "It's really not that bad. I'll do this first one so you can watch. If she needs another tomorrow, you'll know just what to do."

Karen performed the procedure quickly, in spite of the protest of one screaming, uncomfortable child. "There, see? Not nearly a bad as you thought it would be, was it?" To Kermit's controlled expression, Karen replied, "Why don't you go run her a warm bath. Not cold, not hot. That'll help bring down her fever, too. I'll stay here and be sure the little delivery stays put."

"Stays put? You mean...."

"Yes, Detective," she confirmed in amusement, patting Kat's bottom. "Sometimes they return fire."

Kermit beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom and filled a tub for his daughter. After an hour of coercing and bathing, Kat was cool and calm and sleeping in fresh pajamas. Giving one last check, the relieved father closed his daughter's bedroom door and followed the smell of coffee into the kitchen.

As relieved as her cohort to have silence returned to her personal space, Karen slid a cup in front of the man now wilted at his own kitchen table. "Another crisis averted. She'll be fine." Sitting down beside him, she placed a sympathetic hand on his arm. "Really, Kermit, she'll be fine."

"I didn't know what to do." He stared blankly into his coffee. "That's a novelty for me. If this had been something really serious...." his voice trailed off into exhaustion. The thought had been building in his mind for days and now he had confirmation. "I think I should send Kat to stay with her grandparents for a while."

Reacting with the authority of her command persona, Karen sat bolt upright and snapped, "Some father! The going gets tough and you bail! Nice, Griffin."

"Oh, so I should keep her here to make me feel better and let something happen to her because I don't know what the hell I'm doing?!" He was felt older than ever before. Tired into his bones. Negotiating his way through a maze of daycare and babysitters and pediatricians without the freedom he'd always known had ground him down to raw nerves. "She deserves better."

"Don't hide this behind 'what's best for her,' Detective!" She saw the strain painted in those dark eyes. "Can you honestly tell me that Savannah would want you to send that child away? Her child?" Allowing only a second for response, she continued, "No, she wouldn't. She trusts you so you'd better screw up your courage and get a grip. No, you don't know everything about babies. Your wife took care of the dirty work and gave you the fun stuff. So what?! You'll learn. You'll also learn that you don't have to do this alone. Call me. Call Marilyn. Call her pediatrician. Anyone at the precinct. We'll help you and Kat. You need back-up, we're here."

"You sound like T.J."

"Him, too."

Taking a long drink from his cup and rubbing bloodshot eyes, he replied quietly, "I never thought I'd be in this position. Only a few years ago, I was a free agent. No ties that couldn't be broken when I was ready. Now...." he shook his head roughly, "I couldn't part with Kat even if I wanted to. No more than I can part with her mother."

"I know that, Kermit." Karen continued to hold his arm sympathetically. She cared. Deeply. Still. Changing the subject, she asked, "How is Savannah doing? Will she be released soon?"

"She's the same. Stabilized but no more conscious than before." The two hours he had spent with his wife this morning were exactly like the others. A one sided conversation. "We have another week or so before her transfer."

"So you've found a facility to accept her?" Karen sipped her coffee and watched Kermit's jaw shift inside his cheek.

"Not yet. I'm still looking." Another worry for him to carry. Finding a safe, qualified nursing home was more difficult than he thought.

It was too late for him to be adding care to his list, so Karen changed the subject back to Kat. "Just call when you're stumped. You'll get the hang of it. Everyone does."

Taking her hand in his, he said, "Thank you. For me and Kat." She was the only person who could understand at the moment.

"You're welcome." She pulled back slightly. "I care about that little one back there and you too. Now, you'd better get some sleep before she wakes up again."

"I won't be coming in to work."

"Good thing you have an understanding captain," she smiled, gathering her things to leave. "An understanding captain who will be late herself." It had been some time since Karen Simms had stayed up all night with a sick child.

******

The door to his office slammed open with a graceless clatter. Most inmates at the 101st had either enough sense or self-preservation skills to stop themselves from such an intrusion. After all, Kermit Griffin protected his software with hardware the size of a Buick.

This did little to daunt the ecstatic woman who burst through his door. "KERMIT! LOOK!!!!" Rushing in with a smile charged times one million watts, Savannah shoved a small plastic square into the man's face.

Grinning as the contagious, though undefined, joy filled his cluttered office, Kermit took the offering. "Nice to see you too, Scarlett."

The greeting was answered by a lap full of blonde wife and a mouth full of passion. Not about to break this moment! He quickly slammed the door on amused spectators. After a few moments of blurred kissing, Savannah finally allowed the man enough air to speak. Plastic square long forgotten, Kermit moaned one more short smooch and asked, "Not that I'm complaining, but whatever I did, I'd like to know so that I can do it again."

"Ha! What did you do? Hmmmmm..." she leaned back, still grinning brightly down into his face. With twinkling eyes, she picked up the large hand holding her gift. "Well, you did it VERY well, sugar. Proficiently and perfectly. You should give lessons!"

"Your endorsement is quite-" he stole another kiss, "-enthusiastic, my dear, but how 'bout another clue."

Growling loudly, she shoved his hand up to his nose. "PINK PLUS, you bonehead!!!!! Positive. Affirmative." To his silence, she shouted, "WE'RE PREGNANT, KERMIT!!"

Stunned silence lasted only a few seconds. "Are you sure? Positive?" He wrapped his arms tightly around her, as the eavesdropping crowd outside his office reacted with applause.

"Ooooohhhhhh, yeah," she descended on him once again. After one long, wet kiss, she relaxed into his embrace and whispered, "I love you. I love Kat. I love our life."

Sliding his hands leisurely up and down her back, he lost himself in the smell and feel of her body. Spring. Love and Spring. And it was all his. Unbelievable, he thought in the midst of hishappiness. "I love you, too. More than anything." After what seemed like hours, he whispered, "Maybe we should get up now, before we make the next police gazette."

With sparkling laughter, she held his face with two small hands and repeated the words. "Get up? Get up...." The hands patted lightly, then more firmly. "Get up...get up...."

******

With the sloppy kiss of a toddler, Kat planted a wet one on her father as she swatted his cheeks. "Geeeeeeed up!"

Shaking his head, Kermit Griffin peeled off his dream and fought back into reality. His reality. No happy news from his wife about the second baby they planned to have. No healthy wife. Only a little girl calling for him.

A sick little girl!

Sitting up quickly, Kermit pulled Kat into his lap. Remembering that he'd plopped her weak little body into his bed so that he could monitor her temperature, he felt her forehead. "How's my girl this morning? Feels much better, Kitty Kat."

Kat's body was much cooler and her bright eyes blinked up at him.

Her mother's eyes. Sliding out of bed, he scooped her up against his chest and focused on the here and now. "Let's get something to eat and watch some cartoons."

******

Captain Ronald Levins was not having a good day.

First, the F.B.I. were waltzing through with something else they called 'classified', with which Levins was expected to cooperate, let them do as they will and still help, while still under the direction of the F.B.I. A stomach flu was going around so there were two out on sick leave and three who should be on sick leave but stuck stubbornly to the precinct, not getting a lick of work done. He was one of them.

And now, he was just informed of getting a new beat officer. One Peter Caine, 101st, disgraced former detective.

Levins popped under Pepto Bismol tablet in his mouth as he perused Caine's file. He'd suspected that something was up when he called Captain Simms and asked her to tell him something about Peter Caine. She wasn't very helpful. After hemming and hawing for five minutes, he demanded that she send him the file. Now, he could see why. This guy was a maverick, seemingly doing what he pleased, whenever he pleased. Foster son of Captain Blaisdell. On cases, he dragged along a civilian -- his real father, for God's sake! True, his arrest record was way up there but that didn't mean squat when it came to people's lives. In fact, that's what got Caine intotrouble. One of his scams went sour, with disastrous results.

That last maneuver had been the one to land Caine in Levin's precinct. The captain had read the details of the case with disgusted fascination. Captain Simms had written supportive, explanatory notes in the file in defense of her former detective. She seemed to think highly of the young man in spite of his screw up.

Levins wasn't going to have it here. No way, no how. Caine was going to realize that his new captain wasn't going to be his foster father or some touchy-feely lady cop. Levins decided to stomp on it before it ever got started.

Feeling a headache coming on, Levins popped some aspirin as he shut the file. Damn, but he was almost looking forward to this.

He didn't have long to wait. Officer Caine was due in his office soon. Two minutes and counting. And then, he saw him through his office window.

Newly pressed uniform. Shined shoes. Levins looked him up and down as he approached. There wasn't a hair out of place as the man knocked at his door.

"COME IN!" he growled, sitting back in his chair.

Officer Caine, his back ramrod straight, walked into the room and closed the door. "Sir," he said. "Officer Peter Caine, reporting for duty, sir."

Levins just let the guy stand there. Make him sweat a little. Then he got up and began to slowly encircle the cop like a vulture at a slaughter.

"Caine. We have a few rules here," he told him. "They will be obeyed."

"Yes, sir."

"I've read your file." Levins stopped to peer into Peter's face. "I've never read such a disgusting record in all my life! Now, THIS is how it's going down! You listen to me! This is MY precinct! That kind of CRAP will not be happening here!"

"Yes, sir."

"First of all, you are not a detective anymore," Levins snapped. "You will not behave as a detective. You are an officer. You follow orders! Second, I am not your foster dad -- there is no easy road to travel here! You screw up and you're history! Third, I'd better not see you drag your father around any place. It is YOUR job, not his I get word that you're meeting your old man on the sly during your shift and you're history! Fourth, you follow the rules! Let me tell you something, Caine. Every time -- EVERY TIME -- somebody gets hurt, it is almost always because the cops didn't follow the rules that were set to deal with exactly their circumstances. You get me? You don't follow the rules and your ass is my boot's new home! YOU HEAR ME?"

"Yes, sir."

Levins leaned back, astonishment finally seeping into his stressed brain. He'd heard about Caine. He was also a smart-ass yet he continued to stand ramrod straight, staring into his eyes like he wasn't even there.

"Yes, sir, WHAT?!!" he demanded. Was this guy even listening to him?

"Yes, sir, I will follow the rules you have set forth. I understand and will perform the job to the best of my abilities."

Levins blinked. Okay, either this guy is making nice for the meeting and will go his own way once he leaves my office or somebody slipped me a robot. He knew only time will tell. And if Caine screwed up, he could always be terminated again.

"That'll be all, Caine. Go see the Desk Seargent for your assignment."

"Thank you, sir." Peter fairly snapped toward the door then followed orders.

******

It was, to date and in Kermit's humble opinion, the greatest role of his life. He had discarded the shades and the black suit in exchange for the appearance of Mr. Joe Normal. Brooks Brothers and Wall Street from head to toe. Plain. Conservative. Calm. He had briefly considered a haircut but he had run out of time.

No ex-mercenary who killed people here, just a distraught husband looking for medical care for his wife. He could revert back to type later, after his wife was admitted.

The Blairwood Nursing Center was the place he wanted. He'd already run the staff through police checks as well as their record with the Health Department and the I.R.S. The location was perfect; five minutes away from the precinct. Best of all, the security was top notch, with video monitoring and cardkey-only access from the exterior as well as into the specific wards. This was a system he could work with and use to make Savannah safe, now that police protection had been withdrawn.

In spite of Karen Simms's protest, there was no way to justify continued police protection for a victim when all signs indicated the perpetrator had left the country. Unless you were the victim's husband. He'd protect her as long as he deemed necessary -- and that was forever.

Now, all he had to do was convince the nursing home administrator to bump her to the top of their list and accept her.

The administrator was buying his act. Kermit's hair lay just a bit ruffled, his white shirt slightly wrinkled, his eyes showing his sincerity, his tone humble as he answered the questions. "We...um...have insurance but there wouldn't be problems with finances. I've invested in a few safe stocks over the years. I'm sure there's more than enough there to take care of everything." He fidgeted purposefully with the pen they had given him to fill out the application. "My wife is due to be released any day and she needs round-the-clock medical care."

Mrs. Allen eyed him carefully from behind her desk. "Mr. Griffin, most of our patients are in a more responsive range than your wife. The majority are semi-conscious, not completely comatose. We only provide limited space for those few cases, with similar prognoses as your wife's, we accept because the care must be so intensive."

"She's going to recover. This is only temporary." His tone was sharper than he intended. Wetting his lips and looking away, he whispered, "She has to."

The maneuver achieved the desired compassionate result. "What made you choose this facility, Detective?" the administrator asked, accepting the forms as Kermit slid them carefully over the tidy desk.

"Your staff is top-ranked in the country and our doctor has great confidence in your medical procedures."

"Dr. Ashton, right?" Mrs. Allen asked, reviewing the pages quickly.

Score one for the doc. He noted the approving smile. Dr. Ashton seemed to carry some clout. "Please...." Kermit trailed off, leaning forward to look the woman directly in the eye, "she needs this place. We need a place for her to recover."

"Well, I don't see why we can't expedite the paperwork," the administrator said sympathetically. "We'll, of course, need your wife's medical charts...oh," Kermit handed her the thick file. "You are prepared, aren't you?"

Kermit ignored the question. "The rest, her hospital records as of today, will be in the mail as soon as I call them. Oh, and...." pausing before moving to the second issue, "...there is something else. I was hoping to take a few additional safeguards in regard to her security." The administrator opened her mouth to protest but Kermit rushed on. "I'll pay for it personally. You won't even notice the changes. Really -- it's just a precaution. My wife was...shot...by a gang." He played up his distraught look. "It's doubtful that she could be in any danger, but since she is a possible witness, I want to be sure."

"Well, nothing is going to happen to her here, Detective." The administrator watched the man carefully. "I can see you love her very much."

"She's my life," Kermit told her honestly. His eyes devoid of sunglasses, met hers, silently pleading.

The administrator sighed. "Well, let me look over the security plans. I'll approve them on a one-by-one basis. There are some things we just can't allow for the sake of the other patients, but I'm sure that you'll find our own security to be sufficient."

"Thank you!" Kermit gasped, shaking her hand vigorously. "That's just fine. Thank you." He began making mental notes to take care of the items that she would reject, to hide them himself so that no one would ever see them. She was resistant, but that was fine. His wife was in and he could workout the rest. What the good administrator didn't know, wouldn't hurt Savannah.

After a few more formalities, Kermit let a crooked smile spread to his face as he walked to his car. Got 'em. Savannah would be transferred in a few days, he would revert to his normal mode of operations, and be running the place soon enough. Having such skill in getting his own way did have its advantages.

"You look pleased with yourself."

Kermit stopped at the sight of Karen Simms. "Have you been taking Shaolin lessons from Caine or do you just follow me as a hobby?"

"Having you as a hobby could be fatal," Karen smirked, trying to lighten the bite of Kermit's terse greeting. "Skalany said you were here trying to have Savannah admitted."

"This place is perfect for Savannah but I had to pave the way a bit for her." He shifted uncomfortably in his unfamiliar clothing.

"And this?" She waved a hand at his non-threatening attire.

"Camouflage. Works every time." Kermit shook his keys. "Was there anything you wanted? I have to make arrangements for Savannah's transfer."

"Will I see you at the precinct later?" Simms wasn't sure whether to be worried. Kermit's spy persona was one that she was unfamiliar with and she wasn't sure she wanted to see it come out under these circumstances. "You're needed at the precinct."

"To kill time, right?" Kermit asked sardonically, understanding the underlying meaning. "Well, don't worry, Captain. One reason I wanted this place is that it's five minutes away from the precinct. As soon as I let these people know who's boss, I'll be in to work."

Karen inwardly shuddered at his words and awkwardly changed the subject. To the wrong subject. "Peter was accepted at the 59th. Levins just called to tell me that Peter is toeing the line. Looks like things will go well for him."

"And this is supposed to mean something to me?"

"I hoped it would."

"It doesn't." Under Karen's heartsick gaze, Kermit got into the Corvair and drove away.

******

Officer Johns couldn't help but check the time again. Only 3:45. The young man had been on duty for a scant two hours. It had dragged on like an entire week. Now he understood the snorting whispers in the locker room when he'd asked about his new partner. "The mannequin," they had called him. "Got the rule book tattooed on his ass, man!"

No shit! Johns grumbled to himself. Officer Peter Caine was starched and pressed and stiff as a board. Being a transfer from the 83rd, he didn't want to ask too many questions. Feel out the waters for himself. Big mistake.

The young man surveyed Peter Caine with careful fascination. Gripping the wheel with both hands - one at ten and the other at two - the older cop sat rigid in the driver's seat. Uniform pressed with razor edges. Scanning the street and sidewalks. Obeying the most minute traffic regs down to his fanatical following distance.

As Officer Caine turned down another side street in the west side neighborhood, Officer Johns made another stab at conversation. Maybe he just had to get to know the guy. "Say, Caine," Johns shifted in his seat, "why don't we stop and get a cup a' coffee or something."

Peter never peeled his eyes from the street. "We don't have a break until 4:30, Johns. This black and white is required to patrol the neighborhood until then." With the warmth of a glacier, Officer Caine issued his response and clamped shut on further chatter.

Peter gratefully immersed himself in the silence once more. No need to make conversation. They were there to do a job within the parameters of the department. He had taken refuge inside the rigidly numbered rules of the police codes. His way had ended in death and sorrow. Their way would keep everyone safe.

Continuing to scan the normally quiet streets of the business district, Peter monitored the occasional passerby. Suits and ties. Clicking along with cellphones held to their efficient ears. No muss, no fuss. Nothing like the teaming confusion of Chinatown. Little chance for.... "Caine! Look over there!" Officer Johns, already barking code and location, jarred their attention to the other side of the street. It was happening in a blur. Scruffy haired man in a trench coat yanking a woman from behind the wheel of a silver Mercedes. The car thief dumped the woman unceremoniously onto the pavement and sped away.

Peter flipped into automatic, screaming the blue lights and siren into life. Radar honed in on the stolen car as it rocketed through the oncoming traffic, he glued the wheels of the patrol car to the same path. Weaving among the oncoming vehicles, his senses alive, Peter commanded the speed. One goal in sight. Get the perp.

Johns, voice box charged with adrenaline, fairly bounced with excitement. "Unit 42 in pursuit. South on Lane. Now, east on Whitworth. Requesting backup!"

<Backup about three minute west and closing, 42.>

"Roger, that!" Johns licked his lips at the instant relief granted in the hour of his boredom. Caine was a beast behind the wheel. Damn! He was going to have to scam driving lessons from this guy! Never losing sight of the perp, they stuck behind through every turn. "Whoa, Caine!!! Just like he's draggin' a wagon! Go, boy!!" Johns updated the dispatcher, "42 now south on Gretch."

The traffic whizzed by in a blur of color and sound. Following the perp as he threaded between lanes, Peter focused on the chase. Get the son of a--

The thought was derailed as the Mercedes bounced off a parked car and sideswiped an oncoming minivan. The patrol car followed through the scene of the accident. He lost the sounds of Johns calling to report the accident among the blasting reality that assaulted him. The wreck in the rearview mirror. The chase had moved from the business district into the active retail center of the city. People everywhere. Car weaving and scrambling to get out of the way. Too many people. They were everywhere. The cars going faster and faster.

Suddenly, Peter snapped his foot from the accelerator, dropping out of the chase. His pulse leveled to normal. The scenery slowed to its normal speed.

"WHAT THE HELL!!!???" Johns bit in shock as the perp faded on the horizon. "He's getting away! What are you thinking, Caine??!!!"

"Too much risk to the public to pursue, Johns," Peter reasoned calmly. Relieved to be out of the chase and have the danger to the bystanders removed, he took the mike from his stunned partner. "Unit 42 no longer in pursuit. Suspect last seen traveling south on Gretch. Unit 42 out."

Johns was red-faced and furious. "What's your fuckin' problem?! You're just gonna let him get away?"

Growling over to the young man, Peter bled out his venom. "Do YOU think some car is worth an innocent bystander ending up dead?! Do you!?"

"We could have caught him easy, Caine!" the young man countered as Peter turned the black and white back to their assigned territory. "What if he kills the next person who won't GIVE UP their car?! How 'bout that?!"

Forcing down the wall of ice that had become his defense, Peter responded. "Police officers are charged with protecting the public. The chase put too many at risk, in their cars and pedestrians." Breathing through the rationalizations, he added, "Another unit may be able to apprehend him more safely."

"Chickenshit," Johns mumbled under his breath, then returned to staring at his watch.

The tingling in his knuckles longed to be relieved against his partner's jaw. Chanting to himself, Peter reinstated his resolve. Follow the rules. Nobody gets hurt.

The safe silence continued.

******

Kermit Griffin, now presenting the true cut of his personality, escorted his wife into her new home under the curious eyes of several Blairwood staff members. The cool, dark man walked silently beside Savannah's bed as she was carefully unloaded from the ambulance and wheeled through polished corridors.

Nervous staff members eyed him carefully, some craning necks from around corners to get a better look. He wanted them to look; wanted them to get the full effect of this battle armor that had taken him years to construct. Holding tightly to Savannah's hand, Kermit clicked through the halls as efficient women in cheerful pastels went about their procedures.

Her skin felt cool and soft as he stroked Savannah's small hand gently in comfort. Whose comfort, he wasn't sure.

As two large ambulance attendants angled Savannah's gurney into her room, her protector stepped back to an observation point in the corner of her cheerfully decorated room. The surroundings were as palatable as could be expected. No bland hospital colors, pressed wood, or chrome furniture could be seen. It could have been any bedroom. Tasteful prints hung on the walls, and the monitoring equipment was all tactfully stored in an out-of-the-way corner.

"Okay, guys. On three," instructed a bright young nurse with a name tage reading 'Judy.' As the attendants moved in sync to transfer the unconscious patient from the gurney to her bed, the woman counted out, "One, two, three."

Kermit watched the procedures with meticulous attention. The three nurses circled around Savannah's bed, quietly arranging her body. One attached an IV line as another took her vital signs and made notes in her new chart.

Judy carefully lifted her new patient's head and tugged the long blonde hair out over the pillow. Shaking her head, the nurse looked at one of her staff and said, "It's a shame to cut such beautiful hair, but I'm afraid we'll need to take care of that today. Debbie, would you please handle that this afternoon?"

"No one is touching her hair." Kermit issued the order with brutal clarity.

"Mr. Griffin," Judy addressed him compassionately and stepped over to his position in the corner, "I know it's difficult to do these things, seemingly without her permission, but we simply lack the time to --"

"I'll have someone come in and take care of it every week. No one is to cut her hair." They wouldn't change her. He'd keep her the same, no matter what it took. He loved her and her beautiful hair and he wouldn't let them change her. Kermit leaned forward into the woman's face to make his point. "Is that clear?"

The other two nurses were carefully working their way out the door. Taking a short breath before her reply, Judy conceded on the hair. "Certainly, Mr. Griffin. We can work with that and you can schedule someone to take care of her hair. Just let us know."

The command persona was in control. Kermit was now ready to take charge. "Fine. Now, here's a list of the authorized visitors." Kermit handed the crisp white paper to the nurse. "These people are family or close friends and photos are included for verification. Anyone presenting themselves as a member of the police department must present identification and you are to call the precinct to verify their identify until you are familiar with them. No one gets near her without it. Understood?"

Judy examined the list carefully, barely taking notice as the new maintenance man eased his way into the room and began replacing a fluorescent bulb in the ceiling. "We're all aware of the situation, sir, and you don't have to worry. She'll be safe here."

He wouldn't give an inch today. Kermit nodded to acknowledge her statement. "I assume there are admitting papers for me to sign."

"Yes," Judy answered, "they'll be at the desk when you're ready." Moving away to give him his privacy, she noted the uniformed man, still fumbling with the light bulb. "I'm sure Mr. Rodriguez will be finished soon. Stay as long as you like." Clutching the hard metal chart to her chest, she disappeared out the door.

Kermit strolled over the bed. Lightly fingering the golden strands he had just battled to save, he stood silently drinking in the feel of her. Never taking his eyes from Savannah's face, he said, "Did you find everything I stored for you, Rodriguez?"

Miguel Rodriguez finished adjusting his own surveillance camera inside the light fixture and closed the clear Plexiglass case. "Exactly where you said they would be, Griffin." Climbing down from his perch, the heavily muscled man moved over to stand on the other side of Savannah's bed, observing the woman reverently. "The weapons are accessible and the monitoring equipment is in place."

"All Blake's equipment functioning?" Two days ago, Detective Blake had presented him with a box of digital video cameras, monitors, and matching software. Good ole Blake. Blake, who never let on to anyone about their shared past and the things he knew about that long ago Kermit Griffin. He simply handed over the box of expensive gadgets and said, "Rodriguez should be able to use these."

"Blake never uses trash." Rodriquez looked back at his new employer without a smile.

"Good." Kermit could look in on her at any moment of the day and Rodriguez could monitor her from his onsite living quarters. Finding this man available had been a lucky break, another gift from Blake, who provided the address without ever being asked. Life had been rough for Miguel since their stint in Vietnam, but he had skills that couldn't be had from any run of the mill bodyguard.

"No one will get to her." Miguel's weather-beaten face focused on the fragile woman he was charged to protect. "I've been out of the life for a while, but I'm sharp. You won't be sorry." The maintenance uniform did little to hide the powerful man underneath the tan coveralls. He had left the mercenary life behind years ago and found refuge in a normal job. Only a job like this one could have drawn him from retirement.

"I have every confidence in you," Kermit replied, in a hushed tone, "or you wouldn't be here." Getting a man on the inside had been easier than expected. The hospital needed a new head of maintenance and Rodriguez was an expert tinkerer. They had come through the meat grinder of 'Nam together. Less than friends, but bonded with the loyalty of soldiers. Miguel had been Blaisdell's personal bodyguard. Who better to protect a comatose woman than a trained killer disguised as a janitor?

Grunting at the vote of confidence, Miguel left the room.

"Well, Scarlett, looks like we have the place under control." Kermit looked down over the tiny body, so vulnerable and fragile. The pain groaned once again in his chest, out weighing the hope. Life was moving on without her. Leaning down to kiss her ivory cheek, he whispered, "You're safe here. I won't let anyone hurt you again. I swear."

The words lingered there inside her ear, drawing no response.

As always.

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