Savannah woke to a dimly lighted room, with no more of a hint of where and who she was than before. This was a new place, similar to the other one, but still a new place. Consciousness was strange. It felt like she was still dreaming, but this state was accompanied by either a dulling pain or numbness throughout her body. She was beginning to panic, wondering whether or not she had the strength to breathe.

Suddenly, a face thrust into her line of vision. With the closeness, it looked distorted, a Halloween vision. Savannah was helpless to it. She could not turn away as it invaded her space, her thoughts, terrifying her.

"Savannah?" it said, white teeth gleaming over her. She tried to whimper but nothing came out. "Savannah, can you hear me? Savannah, try to say something. Here - squeeze my hand if you can hear me."

Her hand was suddenly encased in a vise-like grip. She couldn't pull away. She was helpless but she tried to squeeze, just to get rid of it.

"Good girl," it praised. "Now, just say something. Say 'hi'. Hhhhhhhiiiiii."

Tears were forming in the corners of her eyes just as a strong voice cut through the room. "Come here."

The grip vanished and Savannah almost sobbed in relief. The face was gone. She closed her eyes but concentrated on deciphering the conversation at the foot of her bed.

"Get out." The strong voice was low and adamant.

"Sir, I was just-"

"Get out now."

There was a sigh and the soft sound of the door whooshing open and closed. Then soft footsteps approached and she almost whimpered again in trepidation.

"Sssssh, it's okay." The firm voice somehow became soft and gentle so she opened her eyes. He was easy on the vision. No white coat blinding her or a large face hanging over her. Dressed in a dark suit and wearing dark sunglasses, he reached back and pulled a chair over to sit by her. What color? She knew black and white. What color? In the mist that was her mind, Savannah understood that she should know the name but the word eluded her grasp. Once again, the frustration bubbled.

He sat and just looked at her. She couldn't see his eyes but the warmth and concern made its way through to her.

"Remember me?" he asked softly. "I'm that guy you can't get rid of. My name is Kermit. Ring any bells?" The expression went over her befuddled head but she got the gist and smiled. She did remember. He smiled in return and she was struck by how sad a smile it was. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

She wet her lips, wanting to speak for this man, but didn't know how to start.

"It's all right," he comforted. "You can take as long as you want. I'll be here. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Just rest and heal, okay?"

As always, he pasted a smile on his face to hide the despair he felt upon seeing her in this condition. He tried to console himself that at least she was conscious now. Healing. Just remember that, Kermit.

"H...h...hi," she breathed softly.

The smile that broke over his weary features was blinding. "Hi, yourself, beautiful!" The sound was garbled and broken....but it was conversation. Reaching out. In his joy, he reached back. A strand of hair fell in her eyes and he carefully reached over to move it. Leaning closer, he asked, "How do you like your new home?"

Looking around, he had to admit that it wasn't the worse place he'd found. Caring staff, beautiful grounds....Savannah needed the care of a fully-equipped rehab center to help retrain her in all her skills. Betsy March had stayed for one week, then rushed back to be with her husband during his own recovery. She had helped select this new home for her daughter, and then left, confident that she was in good hands.

He looked to Savannah for the answer to his question and saw confusion welling up in those beautiful, green eyes. He took off his glasses and put his hand on her forehead. "It's all right, Savannah. These are good people. They'll help you get better."

Savannah looked at him in hopelessness. She felt...so lost. Without thinking, her hand began to search. It was halting and slow but she managed to reach out to him.

It was worth the effort. He took hold of it, kissed it and sat down with her. Somehow, just with that, her fear began to ebb.

Kermit Griffin's one wish was to trade places with her, to give her back her life, her body. He wanted to elease her from that prison. She had done it for him. Freed him to have a life he never thought he could have. Leaving behind fear and solitude and replacing it with joy and peace. All he could do for her was help her survive from one day to the next...to cross these insurmountable obstacles.

"S...st...stay?" She forced the word out.

It didn't matter if it was a question or a request. "Lady, you couldn't pry me off with a crowbar...." He hesitated, knowing he was waiting for a recognition that she wasn't capable of at this point.

Savannah smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. Fear of the unknown seemed to be her constant companion. The realization of her limits was becoming all too clear. Inside her mind, she would give commands to a body and mouth that refused to obey. She knew what she wanted to do or say but had no idea of how to get from point A to point B. Trying to control her emotions was also draining.

This man, this 'Kermit', was such a rock. Propping her up in the face of this battle. Savannah wanted to be worthy of his efforts. Strong. Fight. But today, in this new place, beginning this new phase, her weakness came through. She began to cry.

Her tears were like arrows cutting through his control. Savannah had wept on that first day of consciousness but not since. She'd seemed fragile and shaky, but today was the first time she'd broken down.

Doctors and their distance be damned! Kermit stood beside her and pulled her close. God...she can't even raise her arms to hold on.

"It's all right," he comforted, stroking her hair. "No one's going to hurt you here. You don't have to do this by yourself. I'm going to do it with you." Once again, familiar words. Promises he'd made before and would die to keep.

******

Clarence Choi felt a vise closing around his temples. This should have been his shining moment. The fist of Bon Bon Hai was closing around a majority of criminal pathways in Sloanville. Much of that success could be attributed to Clarence's conscience-free deletions of key figures in the opposition.

Burrowing his body deeply into his plush leather chair, he swiveled around to look out onto the city he was claiming for his master. The city lights glimmered in brisk winter night. His methods were precise. Opponents were given one invitation. Acceptance meant welcome. Refusal brought death. The refusals were becoming quite rare.

Money and power were in his grasp......with only one threat breathing down his neck.

The grumbling blare of his phone interrupted Clarence's slide into worry. "What?" was his terse greeting to the intruder.

<Your minor annoyance reasserts itself, Clarence.> The voice of Bon Bon Hai betrayed fury in a velvet stroke of syllables.

Clarence felt an ax begin to chop away inside his skull. "Yes, master. The woman is no longer in a coma. I have a source who is monitoring--"

<She has not regained her ....faculties.> The crime lord cut through Clarence's diversionary tactics. <Where is your cousin at this moment?>

Another ax fell inside his brain. Should he lie? Deny that he had no idea where the little idiot had gone since he set foot in China? "Still out of the country, master, and well out of reach of American authorities."

<I detest shoddy workmanship, Clarence. Your craftsmanship in this situation leaves many seams unbound.>

This had gone on long enough. "Should I have the woman eliminated?"

The burst of anger bit through the phone lines like bared fangs. <Once again, you select and anvil to squash the butterfly! Have you learned nothing of my desires, you imbecile!?>

Clarence snapped to silent attention and mentally fumbled for the correct response. "You wish to draw no undue attention to our involvement."

<YOUR involvement has involved our organization, Clarence.> An audible breath rattled in frustration through the receiver. Once again, the regal tones calmed. <There is no threat...at the moment. The foolish child is out of reach. The woman is disabled. Monitoring of those two entities is sufficient action at the moment. Do you feel that your level of skill is adequate for that function?>

"Yes, master."

<See that it is.> The implication was communicated with a ruthless brevity that needed no elaboration. <Now, I wish to discuss the negotiations with your Palm Beach contacts. Is their material suitable to our needs?>

Clarence shifted into action, grateful to have the foot removed from his neck. The conversation turned to their latest acquisition and away from his unfortunate entanglements.

******

He wasn't coming. She was positive.

Savannah leaned back into the pillows and tried not to be disappointed. Over the past few weeks, she had begun to understand that a holiday was coming. A tiny Christmas tree adorned with bright red ribbons glittered in the corner. A group of carolers had made rounds this morning, singing for all the patients -- like herself -- who were still bed ridden. She recognized the feeling of Christmas. Nothing concrete, just light breeze of warmth during the songs. Little by little, Savannah had pieced together the gist of what 'holiday' meant.

Rolling slightly, as much as she was able on her own, she smiled at the crayon drawings taped to her wall. Kermit had said a little girl he knew was a "prolific artist who needs to share." He had carefully fastened the bright splashes of red and green and purple -- supposedly Christmas trees -- right at her eye level. It was nice to have something in the room that belonged to her.

STOP!

Consciously putting on the brakes, Savannah halted the frustrated mental rambling. Every time she wondered if she had connections of her own, it morphed into a panicked, painful search to fill a void with empty space. It hurt, a hurt she simply couldn't deal with, given the energy at hand. Battling the aphasia was difficult enough. Controlling the surges of emotions and riding waves of confusing input from everyone, Savannah had begun to realize her broken status. Normalcy was what others had, and she lay at the center with abnormality her state of existence.

What is, is.

She had to accept this. She was alone in this body that refused to function. Alone, except for him. She couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief when thoughts of him, that Kermit, came to mind. He was sanctuary. The past few weeks since she'd awakened had one anchor. This quiet, powerful man who never missed a day.

But, today was Christmas Eve. The staff was at a minimum. The nurses had talked about gatherings and parties. He must be where he belonged. Closing her eyes, exhausted by the thoughts and circles of confusion, she tried to fall asleep.

As she began to drift off, a faint jingling sound called her back. Growing louder as the door to her room eased open, the bells chimed into her room, followed by a smiling Kermit Griffin.

"Merry Christmas!" came the warm greeting, as the man carefully sat down on the side of her bed.

He's here!

Her smile mirrored his own as Savannah watched him slide a huge red bag under the bed. "H-h-hi," was the most enthusiastic welcome she could manage. The sparkle in her eyes communicated the emotion she was unable to express.

"Sorry I'm a little late today," he apologized, lightly holding her hand. Taking a moment to soak in the relief he saw painted over her fragile features, he realized what she must have been thinking. "Didn't think I could stay away, did you?"

She responded with a shy smile and shook her head. Her smile was becoming stronger every day. The painful drooping muscles on the right side of her face were strengthening, her beautiful face gaining ground over the injury. Still, she turned slightly away from him in embarrassment, a blushed denial coloring her pale features.

Yes, she did. He could tell by the look on her face when he walked into the room. The instant brightening he lived for every day, brief flickers of personality that gave him hope. The thought that she had been waiting, thinking she'd be left alone, cut deeply.

He'd had no choice. Kat needed a normal holiday. Marilyn had brought her family to him this year. Helping him build a happy circle around his daughter while still allowing him to be near his wife. The morning had been spent picking out a tree and assembling a holiday in his home. Kat had only toppled it over once, an event miraculously captured on video tape by a giggling Marilyn.

Another slice of a little girl's life being stored for the mother who didn't know Kat existed..

Kermit's plan was to spend as much time as possible here with his wife, then get home to read "The Night Before Christmas", tuck in his daughter, and play Santa. Christmas Day, after lunch, Kat should be exhausted from playing with her loot. She would take a long nap and allow him to return to the hospital without upsetting her with his absence

Snapping himself from the unrealistic schedule he'd set, Kermit focused on the woman clinging to his presence. Noticing the red ribbon tied around her long blonde braid, he pulled off his shades and winked. "You look pretty enough for a visit from Santa." He lightly touched her hair, and reveled in the bright eyes the compliment inspired.

Savannah soaked up the warmth of his smile. He hadn't forgotten her! The other staff were kind, but he seemed to belong to her exclusively. Probably just her own fantasy, but one she blindly clung to as a bridge from one day to the next. He was here. That was all that mattered. She tried to lean forward, unsuccessfully. All she could do was rest there on the pillow and watch as he pulled the mysterious bag up onto the bed. He was happy. It was contagious and she wanted to catch it.

Reluctantly pulling himself away, Kermit presented the hand-made wedding ring pattern quilt that Savannah kept folded over the end of their bed at home. A gift from Betsy March after their family reconciliation nearly a year earlier. Night after night, he had pulled it up around his shoulders. It smelled of her perfume. Savannah liked to use it for a blanket when she and Kat took a nap.

Lifting those weakened arms, Kermit slid the quilt upward to cover the bed. "I thought you would like this." Smoothing the edges to cover the bland hospital issue bedspread, he watched as Savannah slowly touched the calico patches.

Without warning, the smile on his wife's face trembled into a tearful frown. The tears bled down her face, as Savannah gently stroked the gift.

"Hey," he comforted, moving upward into a more protective posture, "it's all right. I thought this would make you happy." He kicked himself. She reacted so unpredictably to surprises. She obviously didn't understand. "It's just a Christmas present."

Stumbling to speak through the tears, the woman choked out an explanation. "N-n-no-th-thing-fa-u." She looked up with eyes clouded by confusing emotions. Happiness. Embarrassment. Desperation.

It took a few seconds to decipher the strangled words When the meaning slapped him in the face, his first reaction was joy. The complex concept of gift giving and receiving was clear to the tearful woman holding his hand. Her natural desire to give made him smile. It IS her!

Snatching few tissues from the box at her side, Kermit carefully dabbed away the flood. "Who says you don't?"

The tears ceased in her puzzled expression. Curiously, Savannah watched as her own personal Santa pulled a green, leafy sprig from his pocket.

Dangling it over her head, he leaned forward and whispered. "It's a long standing Christmas tradition that anyone under the mistletoe has to fork over a kiss." As she began to smile, he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her worried brow. Noticing the slight withdrawal at the intimate contact, he kept it short and pulled back quickly. Kermit had to constantly remind himself to hold back. Remember that this Savannah was still becoming accustomed to physical contact. Grinning slyly down at her as he resumed his previous position, he said, "Best present I'll get all year, lady."

All the tension and confusion faded away under his touch. It was easy. His voice comforting and kind. He knew she wasn't strong. He didn't care. He didn't' force or expect. "M-m-mer-mer-r-ry Kr-kr--" The last word was too much and it drizzled off into the air.

"It certainly is," he confirmed, allowing himself a peck on the frail hand resting in his own.

*****

Most people gave work a rest at Christmas time. Not cops. The holidays were ripe with crime -- and people with bad cheer to take advantage of those with good. The 101st was bustling with a crabby procession of complainants and criminals, all trying to out screech each other.

Peter Caine had drawn the holiday lot this year, along with Skalany and Jody. His ear was red hot from constant contact with the phone; and if he ate one more sprinkled Christmas cookie, he'd have to loosen his belt.

"One more hour, partner!" Skalany slapped him on the back of his denim shirt and then stretched her aching muscles. "One more hour and we turn this place over to T.J. -- and it's party time."

Peter looked up from his seat and stretched his arms out in front. "You're not heading to your parents for interrogation this year?"

"Thank God, no!" She stuffed her hands into the pockets of her bright red sweater and laughed. "My parents decided to spend the holidays on a cruise. They were sooooooo that worried I'd be upset." Leaning down and giving a wink, she said, "But, I, being the selfless daughter, told them I'd be fine. I'd find *something* to occupy my time."

"Is he coming to the party at your place?"

"Yep! I'm being escorted by none other than your elegant father." Pulling the mistletoe from her pocket, she teased, "And I'm prepared."

"I didn't need to know that." Peter shook his head as Skalany whacked him over the head with her shrubbery. He was actually relieved to see things progressing between Mary Margaret and his father. The holidays were bringing everyone together. Easing some of the hurts and making things clearer, somehow.

"Are you coming? I have food. Eggnog. Music." Skalany didn't push. Pushing only made Peter dig in harder. This was a nudge, a friendly nudge.

"I think I will." He was ready to be with people. It was time. Exile was coming to an end. Things were settling in at the precinct. He was finding his way.

Over Skalany's shoulder, Peter caught sight of a familiar dark figure moving through the tangle of people in the precinct. Kermit had been little more than a ghost coming and going through the 101st after Savannah's reawakening weeks earlier. The appearances were brief. Though on extended family leave, Kermit was still making his services available to the benefit of all the detectives.

Peter watched the man slip quietly into his office and fumble through the muddled disarray that belonged only to Kermit Griffin. "Wonder what he's doing here on Christmas Eve?" Peter rose from his chair and began to move toward the office.

"Peter...wait..." Skalany reached out softly to hold him back, but it was too late.

Moving through the maze of desks, Peter paused inside the doorway and made contact. "Hi, Kermit."

A black suit stood facing away from the door. At the sound of Peter's voice, his back pulled rod straight. The shoulders rose up and down with the movement of a forced intake of air.

"Pop told me..uh...that Savannah's doing better." Peter wanted to say it. Wanted to offer a genuine congratulations. "I'm glad for both of you." There....he had said it.

Kermit held a disconnected modem in one hand, twisting a cable around the plastic box in tense, angry circles. He moved in stiffened, controlled gestures. Briefcase to desk. Modem shoved in with a brutal thrust. Latch pounded shut by a fist.

"I'll think I'll drop by in the morning to see her, Kermit," Skalany chimed in, nervously trying to defuse any confrontation by her own presence in the doorway. "Why don't you come by the party for a while? It'll do you good."

The man turned toward them both, but focused his green-tinted gaze on Detective Caine alone. A mountain of black ice. Frozen calm than barely encased the fury.

Peter felt the jagged edges assault his senses and clamped down an ill-equipped shield to block the invisible battering ram of hatred and fear. For a moment, the younger man locked eyes with the older. A mental image pelted Peter Caine's heart. A sliver of vision. Savannah. Pale and weak, lying in a hospital bed. Tears streaming down her cheeks. A large hand cupping the damp face in comfort. Kermit's reality being made a broadcast in his intense emotional state.

Kermit took several long strides forward. Skalany moved in to block what she saw as an impending disaster. "Kermit." Her warning was unnecessary. The man merely twisted his body between his two guests and preserved his silence.

Once again, the guilt fluttered to life inside Peter Caine. Silence was all that was left. No long winded discussions would change the one fact that now defined Peter's life. He had destroyed the lives of innocent people. No amount of commendation or penance could repair what he had ripped to shreds in his arrogance.

The weight returned. Thunderously descending on his back. Peter returned to his desk. Returned to his exile.

Skalany watched the newly hatched relief drain out of her friend as he buried himself in answering the phones. There would be no Peter Caine at the party tonight.

*****

Kermit came into Savannah's room to find her sitting in a chair. Major progress. Yesterday, she'd still been barely able to sit up in her bed. The weeks were ticking by and she was improving. The speech was becoming more and more fluid as Savannah mastered new words and sounds. When he had heard his wife struggle through 'Kermit' for the first time, it felt like her warm arms encircling him--as they had in that first tentative, electrical embrace

"Hi, Sca...Savannah! You've learned a new trick." Savannah's right arm, usually drawn protectively to her middle, was relaxed and resting in her lap, a sign that she was gaining more control. Kermit sat down beside her, resisting the urge to throw his arms around her. There was still no recognition in her eyes. She was comfortable with him. But, she didn't know him.

"Hi. I...I...got b...b...bored." It was a great struggle to get the words out. She knew what she wanted to say and could form the words in her head, but pushing them out took a tremendous effort.

Just who was this man? Savannah knew he was someone special to her. He must be because he came every day and stayed until they kicked him out. That first day awake was such a blur. Frightening. He was the only one who made her feel calm. Safe. She knew his name because he'd told her and she had practiced it over and over to get it right.

Maybe a change of scenery would help, he thought. There was a wheelchair in the corner, probably left from her trip to physical therapy that morning. "How about a walk...or ride. There's a nice garden on the grounds." It was still a few weeks away from official springtime, but it was sunny and warm enough for a short outing.

She shook her head. "K...K...Kermit...it's too br...br..."

"Bright. I know." She had been in total darkness for six months. Even the lights in the hallway hurt her eyes. Here in her room, the lights were soft and dim. He crouched down before her and pulled off his sunglasses. Dropping them gently onto her nose, he said, "How's that?"

She smiled, unconsciously liking how it made him smile back.

"That should do the trick. They look a lot better on you." Moving slowly and carefully, he picked her up and placed her in the wheelchair, trying to hide his despair at how little she weighed. God...she can't weigh 90 pounds.

Before they left the room, she reached up to touch his hand. "You don't j...j...just w...wear these. Need them?"

Kermit opened his hand, turning it over to hold her delicate fingers. She didn't flinch or pull away. "Yes...but you need them more."

"But...."

"You'd do the same for me."

Standing up quickly before he gave in to embrace her, he wheeled her out into the hall and to the garden. He wanted to hold her so desperately; some nights he just couldn't sleep because he hurt so badly for her. His soul had taken her soothing presence for granted and, when it was ripped from him, he felt lost. But, she was so fragile and jittery as a rabbit at physical contact that he had to be careful.

He stopped the wheelchair on the patio, overlooking the garden. Far enough to get away from the smell of the hospital and close enough to get her inside, should it prove too much for her delicate senses.

He set the wheelchair's brakes. Walking forward to sit down on a chair next to her, he plucked a yellow pansy from a large clay pot. He handed it to her, delighting in seeing her smile once more.

"K...k...ker...?"

"Yes, sweet thing?"

Savannah frowned. She knew she wanted to ask him who he was to her; why he seemed so devoted. But she had the distant memory of waking up and seeing him for the first time...how his beautiful, dark eyes clouded with emotion when she asked him who he was...He was being so nice, she didn't want to hurt him any further.

Kermit misunderstood the reason she paused. "It's okay, Savannah. You're getting better everyday. Don't worry if you can't do it all just yet. Just take your time."

He held her hand. It was so hard to watch her when all he wanted to do was to take her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her. _DAMN_ that Caine, anyway! He shook himself mentally. He'd promised himself to not think about that while he was with Savannah. It wouldn't do for her to see him angry. He was having a hard enough time remembering to call her 'Savannah' instead of the loving 'Scarlett' he had called her since they met. But the doctor told him that she needed to respond to her own name before responding to a nickname so Kermit focused on using her real name.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Savannah squeezed his hand back. He looked at her, worrying instantly that being out here was too much for her, but it wasn't. She was looking at HIM with concern.

"Are you...all...r...right?"

The question tightened a knot in his stomach. She was going through hell and she was worried about him??? Kermit gave in to temptation and got up quickly to kiss her lightly on the cheek.

"Such a sweetheart," he said happily, sitting back down and taking her hand again. "I'm just fine." She hadn't flinched at the kiss or the hand-holding. A glorious first for them! Kermit took the flower back and placed it gently in her hair on one side. "Pretty as a picture," he commented.

"Need one...for other side...so match...."

Kermit laughed and complied, not letting her see that his heart was breaking.

*****

Peter sat in the passenger side of Mary Margaret's car, watching the Corvair disappear from the parking lot. Breathing a sigh of relief, he said, "Let's go."

Even as she was opening her door, Mary Margaret had misgivings about the visit. "Peter, Kermit would be furious if he knew about this. He'd come after both of us." Chasing after Peter's long strides, she shouted, "I've told you that she's getting better. This might not be a good idea."

"When I talked to the nurse, she said that seeing her friends might help her come back. I HAVE to see her." The nurse he'd spoken to had been more than forthcoming with information when he had identified himself as an officer with the 101st. Peter had stood by for weeks, accepting reports and encouraging updates on Savannah from Mary Margaret and his father.

But.....he had to see her for himself. He owed her that.

Mary Margaret understood. This pain had nearly burned him alive, but she was afraid that what he would meet in that hospital room would only double his guilt. Being her best friend, Mary Margaret had spent a great deal of time with Savannah since her reawakening. Every time, it was difficult to watch her struggle. That vibrant, loving, outgoing woman was trapped somewhere out of reach. Skalany could still see glimpses of Savannah fighting to get out through broken words and attempts at movement. Her recovery would be long and painful, both for Savannah and those who cared about her. Peter wasn't prepared for what he would see in her.

"Hello, Mary Margaret," called out one of the nurses. Eyeing the tall male with her, the nurse pulled out what they jokingly referred to as "Griffin's Guest List" "Who's your friend?"

Mary Margaret acted quickly. Grabbing Peter's arm to hurry him along, she tossed, "He's okay, Judy. He's with me."

Putting the list away, Judy replied, "Then he must be okay." Judy briefly elbowed another nurse ogling the good-looking young man. "Savannah just finished dinner, so go right in."

"Evidently, Kermit hasn't blacklisted you here," Mary Margaret whispered in Peter's ear, pulling his arm to stop his progress once they were out of earshot of the nurses' station. "Before we go in, promise me that you will NOT show any reaction to her condition. That upsets her. She's very fragile at this point and her limitations don't need any reinforcement. Don't try to relieve your guilt by telling her things she can't handle. Okay?"

He nodded. Already feeling the weight crushing him again. Glancing down the hall, Peter half expected that mountainous janitor who generally stalked him at the other hospital to appear. He meekly followed Mary Margaret into the room and was very glad for her warning as he suppressed a shudder.

What Kermit must be going through seeing her like this every day. Pale and fragile, Peter doubted that she even weighed a hundred pounds.

Savannah's eyes seemed to brighten a little when she saw Mary Margaret. "M...mm...ary!" She pushed herself up a little straighter against the pillows as they approached.

Mary Margaret went to her with a big grin and lightly hugged the shrunken, little body. The woman smiled lovingly as Savannah hugged back. In all her many visits, it was the first time Savannah hadn't immediately pulled away. "How's it going, dollface?"

Peter watched. No recognition of the 'dollface' tag.

"Who...friend...?"

"This," Mary Margaret said, pulling him forward by the arm, "is Peter."

Savannah desperately tried to say the young man's name but the hard consonant of the 'p' sound stalled helplessly on her lips. She tried and simply ended up exhaling air without sound. She kept trying, tears beginning to form as she tried vainly to make the sound she could hear in her head.

Peter, fighting the knot forming in his throat, suggested quietly, "How about 'Caine', Savannah? That's my last name. Caine."

Savannah, having had practice with that sound because of Kermit's name, had no problems. "Caine," she said and beamed delightedly.

Mary Margaret hugged her. "Good!"

With a puzzled look, Savannah asked, "Like other C-Caine?"

Mary Margaret answered quickly. "Yes, Savannah. Peter, this Caine, is the other Caine's son."

"Oh..." Savannah looked the man over carefully, taking in a new face.

Peter turned away, just now barely comprehending the agony that Savannah had to go through and what still remained in front of her. Not knowing any of this, Savannah tried to talk to the new visitor. "Know...you...Caine?"

Peter smiled sadly. "Yes."

"W...wh...en?"

"We met when you were working as an accountant, Savannah," Peter blurted out. "Got on my tail pretty good for wasting my expense money when--" Peter cut off his sentence at Mary Margaret's sharp look.

Mary Margaret retracted her glare immediately. Reach back if she reaches out.. That's what the doctor had told them. Savannah was looking between the two of them, brow knit into a confused map as she tried to understand. "Savannah, that's what you used to do. You were an accountant at the police precinct where Peter and I work." Leaning down in a conspiratorial whisper, she said, "And you nailed him good for blowing city funds on a date."

She had no idea what any of that meant. Most of the words were confusing, but, Savannah, to her delight, found that Peter was amused by that memory. "S...sorry," she said.

"Oh, no, don't be sorry," Peter hastened. "I deserved it."

"Friend?"

"Yes, of course, I'm your..." Peter turned around abruptly. His control was disintegrating at lightning speed. Some friend, he thought. Kermit's right. Oh, God....

Mary Margaret stood up. "I think I'd better show him the little boy's room. You know, Savannah, I can't take him anywhere!" she joked, as she tried to hustle him out of the room.

The man was crying as Savannah watched them move toward the door. He couldn't look at her. What did I do?! The fear and panic surged again. "_W-WAIT_!!!!!"

It was a cry of desperation. Both Peter and Mary Margaret turned.

"S-S-SORRY...T...TELL ME! T...te...te...te..." Savannah dissolved into a flood of tears. Quickly becoming hysterical as she fought against her uncooperative brain.

"Go get the nurse," Mary Margaret ordered calmly as she flew to Savannah and tried in vain to comfort her.

Peter ran.

*****

The next morning, the precinct was, as usual, bursting with activity.

"Hi, Kermit! What are you do-" Frank's greeting was cut off as the ex-mercenary stalked past him into the squadroom, "-ing here?" He had thought Kermit was on indefinite leave as he helped his wife recover.

Skalany caught sight of him and, from his body language, knew why he was there. Oh, shit! She moved quickly to try and stop him before he found Peter in the Captain's office.

When Kermit found Mary Margaret in his path, he stopped dead in his tracks. Speaking in a level but threatening voice, he stated his position. "Don't you EVER pull that shit again, Skalany. I catch you sneaking him in there again, and YOU are out, too. For good."

Her own temper sparked, she shot back, "Now, just wait one damn minute, Kermit! She's my friend and she needs me. Keeping me away would hurt her and I won't have it. Do YOU understand?"

"What the hell did you tell her, Skalany?!" He stayed right in her face, breathing fire. "She was mumbling about working and police and trying to say 'accountant.' She kept saying she was sorry, over and over."

"The doctor told us to reach back, Kermit." Skalany tried to calm her own anger at his accusatory fury. "She asked how she knew Peter and he...I mean we told her that she had been an accountant at the police precinct where we worked. That's it! There's nothing wrong with that. It's what we're SUPPOSED to do!"

It was good that Savannah had asked questions. Kermit could see that much. "But we both know _that_ isn't what upset her, don't we?! It was--"

Spotting Peter in Simms's office, Kermit cut his arguement short. Shoving Mary Margaret out of the way and went after his next victim. Slamming the door against the wall, completely ignoring the Captain, he backed Peter down into the chair. "I've taken care of your little visits by instructing those nurses that MY WIFE is off limits to you. If I have to, I'll keep watch myself 24 hours a day! What - you're not satisfied to TAKE her life away from her? Now, you have to put her through a little more hell, don't you??!!"

"I just wanted to see how she was doing." Peter didn't fight against his friend. He knew the consequences of any contact with Savannah. In fact, at this point, he didn't really care if Kermit beat the crap out of him again. He had it coming, anyway.

"So typical - just thinking of yourself!" snarled Kermit. Putting a finger in Peter's face, he hissed, "She was so upset because she couldn't remember who you were or what SHE could have done to make YOU so emotional that it made her SICK. She cried for HOURS!" Standing erect once again, he issued one final statement. "This is your LAST warning. Got it?!!" He left, slamming the door behind him.

*****

No one answered the timid knock as Peter Caine entered his father's home. Moving through the silent, peaceful space, Peter tried to feel at ease. A forced contentment that had only plastic reality.

His visits had been few in these past months. Peter moved through the clean, open spaces. Candles flickered in welcome. Quiet carved faces greeted him after his long absence.

He lit a candle and tried to banish the angry visions that had shattered his sleep the night before. Screeching slices of noise and pain, leaving Peter as wrinkled as the crumpled navy T-shirt and faded jeans he had struggled into that morning.

Raking a hand through his tangled hair, Peter forced out the images. Probably just leftovers from Kermit's ass-chewing, he rationalized.

He began to move. Quiet time wasn't helping. Caine's Spartan workout room opened wide to accept him as Peter crossed the space in long, solid strides. Sunlight battered the air in solid rods, as he tugged off his shoes and tossed them into a corner. The polished wood felt cool beneath his feet.

Stretching out his body, Peter fell into the practiced routines that he reflexively remembered. Arms pulled air into a circle, embraced it, and released. The knot in his back gave way to the rhythmic motions.

He increased the pace. Reaching out. Further. Kick. Higher. Spin. Physical sensations blocked the emotional turmoil. Forcing his body harder and faster, Peter lost himself in the dance.

React....don't think. Sparing with air, Peter shifted from stretching to fighting. A balled fist battled the wind, connecting with softness.

Fire ate inside his belly as his hands and feet fought with nothing. Flames licked higher, biting his throat. More...he needed more.

Two leaping steps brought him within range of the heavy leather bag that hung passively in the corner. The stuffing groaned in agony as Peter's heel drove a dent into its middle. Fists dug ditches into the taunt brown hide. Swinging in time with the assault, the bag accepted the punishment.

Breath and sweat and strain were all reality. Peter gave in to the circle of pain and force.

<"Kermit! I have to find Kermit!">

Peter fought the bag harder. The vision fought back. Savannah...on her knees. Screaming.

The bag crashed into the wall and shot back into his waiting foot. Gunshots echoed in his mind. Pain and blood clouded his vision as sweat ran from his mangled brown hair.

Savannah was falling before him in his mind. NO! Not again!!

The bag thundered to the floor in defeat as another barrage of fists and feet attacked. Peter stood over the rubble, watching the bag roll to a stop against the wall. Cotton batting bled over the smooth, quiet boards. Peter Caine heaved in gulps of air, forcing himself to banish the vision. Dreams crashing into the daylight.

"This gives you release, Peter?" Caine suspended himself in the doorway. Expressionless, as always.

"Everybody needs to let go sometimes, Pop." Peter sheepishly retrieved his shoes from the corner. Sinking to the floor, he avoided his father's eyes.

"But you do not let go." Caine folded to the cool flooring beside his son. "You hold on to you guilt and make it a familiar."

Pulling his pants leg over the edge of his boot, Peter steeled himself for another lesson. "I'm trying, Pop."

"How are you...doing?" Caine put a hand on his son's damp shirt, and left it there.

"Crappy, evidently." Peter wiped the wet hair from his forehead. The memory of Kermit's furious retribution remained clear. Even clearer were the nightmares of pain and Savannah's anguish attacking his sleep. The weight was never gone for long.

"You do him no honor in your submission." Caine withdrew his hand. "It confirms his anger."

He knew who his father meant. "So I should fight back against the man I've wronged? What happened to turning the other cheek, Pop?" Peter pulled himself from the floor, aching muscles biting in argument.

"You encourage his rage. Your...cheek invites Kermit to continue." Caine remained on the floor, passive in the face of turmoil.

"Can we talk about something else, please?" Peter examined the cracks in the plaster.

"Of course, my son." Caine abandoned the floor and left the room. "We will discuss the topic of your choice...." Caine's voice drifted behind him and he led his son to the balcony.

Peter followed in silence. He had no other topic. No space in his mind for another topic.

Savannah screamed in his mind, once more.

Part 1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14   15   16   17   18   19   20    

Back to serie's index      Back to Story index