"Hi there, Green Man!" chimed Savannah as she bounced into Kermit's office. She leaned over and gave him a little peck on the cheek.

"What are you doing here, Scarlett?" Kermit turned from his computer screen and took in the full view of his wife. Being a Southerner, Savannah was the only person he knew who wasn't completely wilted by the recent heatwave. Wearing a white linen dress and white tennis shoes, long hair pulled back in a ponytail, she was like a cool breeze blowing into his office. At times, like today, Kermit would be looking at her and suddenly realize that he hadn't been breathing. Marrying her six months ago was the best decision he'd made in his life. Bar none.

"Well, detective," she began, propping herself on his desk, "I've dropped your daughter off with Annie and I need the keys to your house. I seem to have lost mine and Janie, queen of all realtors, has a couple to inspect you previous address. By the way, you have taken care of the 'bat cave', haven't you?"

"Oh yeah. Moved all that stuff out weeks ago," he answered, leaning back in his chair. "But, I can't leave right now. See if she can reschedule."

"Oh no, Daddy O. I'm not takin' any chances." Savannah gave him a little tap with her shoe. "This couple is hot, hot, hot for your house and I plan to show no mercy." She grinned, flashing her dimples and batting her eyes at warp speed.

"I'll meet them and walk them through. No need to worry your little head for a minute. Besides," she teased, "you still having your own place will make me hold way back when we finally have our first fight. That wouldn't be fair, now would it?"

His expression turned serious. He didn't want her to go there. Too many ghosts. It had been difficult for Kermit to live there all those months after Ericson had risen from his past and tried to destroy their world. He'd used it as part of his penance. Walking through that living room and replaying that nightmare seemed to be appropriate suffering for Kermit. He felt responsible for Savannah's brush with death. Suffering seemed the correct way to pass his private time.

Savannah, on the other hand, had never set foot in his house since that day. When their lives reunited, Kermit decided to move into her home. Given her fragile nature at the time, she needed to stay in one place. The cloud-filled nursery Savannah had painted for Baby Kat was there and it seemed like an easy place to start their new life together. Truth be told, he would live in a cardboard box if she asked him to.

That house was the last physical remnant of the horror Ericson rained on them. They survived. Their baby survived. They won. Kermit wanted to rid their lives of that house and be done with it.

It had been almost a year since it happened. Savannah rarely had the nightmares anymore. Why risk rekindling the fire? Kermit was also uneasy about her attitude. She seemed so casual about returning to the scene of the crime. He shouldn't be surprised, he thought. When there was a storm brewing in his wife, she often glossed it over. Trying to spare him. Not trouble anyone. She ate conflict to avoid burdening other people.

Kermit had helped himself to a few courses of that feast over the years. Trouble is, it's a hard meal to keep down, he thought. He'd tried to get her to talk but she'd never been able to do it. She would bite her lip, twist her hair and find any way to escape. Baby crying. Dinner cooking. Phone call to make. Molly Strenlich, who now worked in Victims Support Services in the department, had tried with little success. Caine had even coaxed her, in his gentle, fatherly way, to let it out. Savannah would practically pat them on the head like children and tell them they were worried for no reason. Savannah had said to Molly, "That's all in the past. Kermit and I are together. We have Kat. I get to work out of my home so I can be with my baby. Things have worked out perfectly. There's no reason to ever mention that nightmare again so I'm not." Kermit knew better. If she didn't let it out easily, it would erupt on its own.

"Look, Kermit," Savannah began, in that tone she used when she was trying to *handle* him, "I know what you're thinkin' so stop it, okay? It's just a house. Floor, walls, roof. That's all." She took his hand and smiled at him. "I'll be fine."

Before Kermit could reply, Peter Caine strolled into his office. "Hey, where's the tadpole?" He walked in and gave his friend's wife a hug.

Relieved to have the moment broken, Savannah answered, "Actually, she's with your Mom. I'm going to sell Kermit's house, I hope." She winked at him and hopped off the desk. "I plan to play dirty. I brought baby pictures!" She pulled out the latest pictures of Kat.

"Whoa! Who could resist that," he laughed, taking a look at the baby. Kat was only three months old and her parents had already amassed several photo albums full of pictures.

"Keys, please," she held out her hand to her husband.

Reluctantly, he complied. She was an adult. If she wanted to go through with this, he shouldn't stand in her way.

Savannah gave him a wordless reassurance and a quick squeeze, then excused herself to met the realtor.

Peter had picked up on the brief moment of tension and started to put things together. "It's probably none of my business, but I really don't think she should be going back there?"

"You're right," answered Kermit, peering over his glasses, "on both counts."

Peter threw up his hands and left. You should be used to this by now, he thought.

*******

Kermit was both relieved and concerned to find Savannah's car in the driveway of his old home. Relieved to know where she was but concerned that she was still here after everyone else had gone. Annie had phoned him at the precinct. Savannah had called her to check on the baby. "She said she'd be a little late, Kermit," Annie began. "That's perfectly fine with me. But, dear, she just didn't sound right. You might want to check on her....... given the circumstances." If Kermit knew one thing, it was to trust Annie's instincts. He'd left his computer running and come to find his wife.

When he walked in, he scanned the living room. It took him a second or two but he finally saw her, sitting on the floor, leaning on the wall. A room full of furniture, and she was huddled in a ball on the floor. Knees pulled up to her chest, rocking back and forth.

Here it was. The flood he'd been dreading. He could almost see the cracks in her facade. Kermit cursed that bastard one more time for leaving these scars on her and quietly walked over to his wife. She still hadn't looked at him. Hadn't spoken.

He eased down beside her, touching her with his arm. They sat in silence. It seemed to be her call at the moment. Kermit had been right where she was now. Years ago. He'd been broken in prison. Blinding lights and pain had driven him nearly insane. Freedom didn't release him from the agony. Paul Blaisdell had dragged him back into the world. Badgered him and provoked him until he'd let it out. Kermit had found himself, huddled and, just as the woman he loved was now, balled up on the edge of his pain. Paul had given him a shove and Kermit had raged out his demons. He lived because he did it. He still carried the scars but he'd stopped crawling and stood up again.

Kermit didn't think Savannah would need the push that he had. Her body spoke of the avalanche to come. Tense and trembling. When she spoke, he knew it had begun.

"They bought the house. Full asking price."

"That's great, Scarlett," he said, calmly. "When do you want to go shopping?"

Savannah ignored his teasing. Completely unlike her. "They're such a sweet couple. Twenty-three. Just out of college. His father gave them the down payment." Finally, she looked at him. A blank, broken gaze.

"It seemed almost obscene to have them in here. In this room. I was afraid that he would come up through the floor and get them, too."

Kermit took her hand. "Do you want to go now?"

She ignored his question and got quickly up from the floor. "Janie said that we should adopt the 'don't ask don't tell' policy." Savannah walked over to stand at the spot where her blood had spread all over the floor. "I walked around this room, showing them the lovely hardwood floors and the charming bay window. And omitted the fact that, 'Oh, by the way, here's the spot where some maniac tried to rape me and murder my family."

Savannah paced across the room. Back and forth in an increasingly frantic rhythm. Kermit stood up but held his position on the sidelines. His wife was beginning her own battle. He wouldn't be able to help her until all the shots had been fired. All he could do is absorb the shock waves she was about to release.

Stopping suddenly, she looked directly at the detective. "When I got here this afternoon, I just came boppin'' up the stairs thinking that this would be nothin', Kermit," she said, shaking her head. "That was so incredibly stupid! I put the key in the lock and I froze. I couldn't move. When I was about to turn tale and run, Janie showed up. I was stuck. All I could do was put on a happy face and let 'em all in."

The pacing resumed. "It was surreal. I was playing the perfect hostess and charming them like crazy but in my head I had this whole other dialogue rolling. 'Yes. The floors were refinished because somebody's brains were right here. No. There hasn't been a crime in this neighborhood in a year." She started to laugh. "And don't forget, there's a great basement down there. Used to be an arsenal. Hey, we might even throw in a spare grenade for you.'"

What Kermit wanted to do was grab her and drag her out of the room. He knew what she was seeing. But he also knew that this had to be done. No matter how much it hurt.

Savannah walked over to stand in front of him. "After they left, I couldn't make myself walk out the door." She bit her lip. "You see, even when I'm not here, I still am. I see him. I feel him. Kermit, I even taste him sometimes."

There she stood in front of him. Suspended in her fear. The fear she'd tried to deny and hide. He reached out to touch her and she flinched. Backing away to continue spilling her guts out into the open.

Savannah turned her back and continued in a more even tone. "Do you remember all those horror movies they used to have about psycho killers hiding under little old ladies beds?" She wrapped her arms around herself. "You'd see one and even though you knew there wasn't a boogie man under your bed at home, you'd still jump out a little further if you had to get up at night. You knew he wasn't there but just in case......" The imaginary cold got colder. She started to visibly shiver. "Ericson is my man under the bed. I know he's dead but it doesn't feel like it."

Crossing over to the chair where Kermit had been forced to sit and view her torture that night, Savannah took a seat. She sat for a moment in silence. Rewinding and replaying the visions in her head. "When I was there," she pointed at the floor, "with him on top of me it was the most horrifying thing. Being helpless. I know you felt it too. Right along with me." She looked up at him and the tears began to flow. "It hurt so much knowing that he was going to use my body to hurt you."

Slowly, the detective moved over and took a seat beside her. Wanting to, but not touching her. "The last thing I remember was his face," she held her hand inches from her nose, "right here. It was full of hatred and rage. I still see it."

Kermit understood. Savannah never got the closure of a trial or seeing that bastard dead on the floor. Her last vision of that day was the devil. Glaring inches from her face. On paper, he was dead. In her mind, he was very much alive. Kermit Griffin knew, from all his years as a mercenary and as a police detective, that the only way for Ericson to die there was for his wife to kill him. Kermit had assumed the same position he'd had a year ago. Watching this woman suffer and being powerless to stop it.

His wife sat there, clinching and unclinching her fists. She was staring at the sofa. At the spot where Ericson had orchestrated a particularly wrenching scene for them. "He went to such trouble to set up that whole thing about the gun." Savannah rose from her chair and her demeanor changed. She was leaving behind the helpless victim and getting angry.

Circling the spot where she envisioned her devil, Savannah resumed pacing the room. Eyes blazing, she said, "He put you in that chair knowing what you'd think. Knowing what we'd try. That scum! Knowing the whole time that he had moved the gun out from under the chair."

She balled up her fists. So tightly that the nails of one hand had pierced her palm. As she passed the fireplace, she grabbed the poker hanging from the mantle. With a violence Kermit didn't know existed in her, Savannah attacked her vision of Ericson. She plunged her weapon into the fabric of the sofa and her nightmare. Screaming and cursing at the object of her hatred. "You stinkin' son of a bitch!" she cried. "You tried to kill me...kill him...kill my baby!" Over and over, she shredded the fabric sending foam rubber and rage into the air. "All those months apart WERE ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Kermit stood transfixed by her anger. Knowing that this was exactly what she needed to do. His wife's catharsis was much more humane than his had been. Kermit had pounded his rage on flesh. Savannah chose to destroy the furniture. Her anger had form. Almost had color. The air around her swirled with bright red fury as she continued the assault on her demon.

"I HATE YOU! I WANTED YOU DEAD. I STILL DO!" Her arms were losing their strength as she continued. "I WANT TO DIG YOU UP AND KILL YOU AGAIN, YOU SICK BASTARD!"

Suddenly, her knees gave way and she sank to the floor. The poker hit with a clatter beside her. Now, Kermit could go to her. He gathered her in his arms and held her as she sobbed.

"This...scares....me...Kermit," she cried in broken words. "I don't want...... to feel this way."

"It's alright, Scarlett. Go ahead and hate him. Feel it."

She'd had enough. Kermit scooped her up and carried her into the kitchen. Sitting her down in a chair, he left and returned with a towel and a glass of water. Hands trembling, she drank as he dried her face.

After a few minutes, he asked, "Feel a little better now?"

Savannah nodded. Too exhausted to speak.

Kermit patted her hand. "I'll be right back. Just stay here, okay?" He went into the other room to make a quick phone call.

Returning to his wife, he said, "I can help you with this part, baby. You had to bring it all up yourself but I can show you how, or how not to, take it from here.....if you'll let me."

Lip quivering, she nodded once again. Hatred was a new emotion for her. She didn't like it and desperately wanted someone to help drive it away. Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs away, she said, "We've got to go get the baby now."

"No we don't," he answered softly. "She's going to stay with Annie and Kelly tonight."

Sitting upright again and regaining some portion of her composure, Savannah argued, "Poor Kat doesn't have to stay away from home just because her Mama freaked for a few minutes!"

Kermit stood behind her and wrapped her in a warm embrace. "You've been taking care of me and Kat. Now it's time to take care of you. That's what we're doing tonight."

His wife gave in. She relaxed against him. Savannah had carried this storm for too long and it was actually a relief to let go. "Caine is always telling me 'embrace your pain and release it.' Like a broken record. This is what he means, right?"

He squeezed her a little tighter and whispered, "Oh yeah. This is what he means."

After she'd rested for a while, they both got up to leave. As they walked through the living room, Savannah surveyed the destruction. Bringing her hands up to her face, she gasped, "Oh God, Kermit. I'm so sorry about this."

He kissed her on the head and laughed. "Never liked that couch anyway."

"Yeah, but our buyers did. They bought it along with the rest of the furniture."

"Don't worry. I'll figure out a way to explain it. 'A tragic upholstery accident.'"

Savannah smiled for the first time. "That's better," Kermit added. "Why don't you go out to the car and I'll close up the house."

"Okay," she agreed. "I love you." With that, she turned and went out the door.

After he'd turned off the air conditioning and the lights, he stood and viewed the living room one more time. He never wanted to set foot in here again if he could help it. Maybe the new owners could exorcise the shame and pain from this place. Make happy memories to fill it up. Kermit walked over to pick up the implement of destruction Savannah had wielded. He held it for a moment and in a burst of rage drove it into the sofa. Right into his own vision of the devil.

*What d' ya know?* he thought, *that even made me feel better.*

End

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