"You had no control. You don't even have any memory of it!"

Kermit shook his head. He didn't want to believe it. "He hypnotized me?"

"Actually, it's more like programming."

"Thought I had more conscious control than a computer."

"The human brain is very controllable - more so than people realize," Paul told him. "Every time I correct you on an error, it's like you tell your brain, "Stop doing that," and your brain is programmed not to do it anymore. That is, if you had listened to me that time!" He smiled. Kermit didn't. "Every time you consciously try to break a habit, create a habit, or do anything differently, you have to reprogram your brain. Well, in this case, somebody else did the programming for you. Unfortunately, it was an expert programmer. The best. And he programmed a LOT of bad habits in you."

"So I have to reprogram myself to not do it anymore."

"I wish it was that easy. But he programmed you on an *unconscious* level. That means that you won't know what the stimulus is that makes you carry out his wishes. You won't remember after you've done it. You have no conscious control over it."

"You're scaring the hell out of me, Paul."

"I know. I'm sorry. But we can beat this thing, Kermit," Paul comforted. "We can try to replace the programming in there with less homicidal urges. It's not going to be fun. Or easy."

"Terrific. Got any GOOD news?"

"Your appetite's improving?"

"Great - I'll be able to finish a seven-course meal on the way to Leavenworth!"

*******

"How did you do it?" Savannah asked, awestruck.

"The re-conditioning?" Paul shook his head. "It was not easy. Actually, you probably won't believe what did do it."

"What?"

"Opera."

Savannah slumped, smiling bemusedly. "I suppose that means that there's no chance now to get rid of all those opera CD's then?"

Paul laughed. "He'd just buy more. I take it that you're not a fan of opera. I apologize for addicting him to it. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"So exactly how did you addict him to opera? And why *opera*?"

Still grinning, Paul explained. "I wanted to give him a stimulus that he could control. Music is very pliable for the human mind. The brain registers its presence while enabling you to do other things. I picked opera because I was going for something soothing, something relaxing and calming. Then we worked in a series of steps. First, we had him associate opera with being safe by playing opera while the lights were off. After he got used to that, we played it when the lights were on but I was in the room with him. We wanted his mind to form a bridge that, when the lights were on and I was with him, he'd be safe. That took longer. But when we kept playing the music while the lights were off, it strengthened the association. Ever notice that when Kermit is really rattled, he just plays one of those CD's?"

"Yes," Savannah said softly. She still wasn't thrilled about the choice of music but immensely grateful that Kermit had an instant outlet with which he could feel safe. She was also grateful for the knowledge that, should she ever have a need for calming Kermit, all she would have to do was to play an opera CD.

"Then we played the music while leaving the lights on. This step was my least favorite."

"You left the lights on all the time?" Savannah asked incredulously.

"Had to. It was akin to him being outside and we had to get him accustomed to daylight. It was not enjoyable to hear him complaining endlessly about it."

"He complained about the music being played all the time?"

"No," Paul grinned, "he complained about the lights. We gave him breaks every once in a while by just simply turning off the lights and the music. He was fine in darkness. But at least he was beginning to be able to complain about the lights, instead of just blindly attacking. He was retaining his mind when the lights were on. It seemed to take an eternity for me. Just about this time, we hit another complication."

*****

"No sudden moves," Paul Blaisdell warned as he turned off the light inside Kermit's room.

"Mr. Blaisdell," the medic, Dr. Broughton, laughed, "you make it sound like he's a wild animal! Administration has assured us that Mr. Griffin is over his trauma dealing with light."

Paul briefly closed his eyes in pain. "Doctor, who do you think GAVE Admin that report? Who do you think desensitized Kermit to bright light? Who do you think knows more about this case than anyone you could find?!" The medic shook his head and began to enter but Paul grabbed his arm. "Look, he can take light up to a point now, but that doesn't mean the danger is over. He has been programmed to kill people. He is still very unpredictable - and still very dangerous. I'm going in there with you."

Dr. Broughton shrugged. "I still think you're overly paranoid, Mr. Blaisdell. Doctors and nurses have been tending to his needs for weeks."

"And they all get this same warning, too. Just don't do anything...unusual."

"I don't intend to, sir."

Paul looked to the ceiling. *Serve the little arrogant ass right if Kermit strangled him,* he thought as he followed the doctor in. Paul Blaisdell was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The desensitizing of light went well. TOO well. Kermit was now spending half of his time with the light on and hasn't attacked anyone so far. But Paul knew that it wouldn't be that easy. Truong Qui wasn't that stupid. There was a factor missing and it was only a matter of time before they found out what it was.

Kermit was awake and pacing when they walked in. He looked at Paul in resignation. When Paul didn't come in alone, that meant it wasn't time for one of their cozy little chats. It was going to be something that Kermit probably wouldn't like.

"Mr. Griffin, I'm Dr. Broughton," the doctor smiled, oblivious of the intensity of his patient. "Routine physical time."

Kermit sighed and seated himself on the cot. "What are you doing here?" he asked Paul. "I've gotten poked and prodded before without you here."

"Oh, you know," Paul said easily. "Thought a new face might make you nervous."

"I don't get nervous anymore," Kermit said with a smirk as the doctor pulled out a stethoscope and pressed the end to Kermit's chest.

"I think that's debatable," Paul said, strolling to the opposite side of the room.

Paul turned his back for one second, it seemed, when he heard a sudden outcry. Turning back, he saw that Kermit had grabbed the doctor's wrist and twisted it backwards as he made to hit the man. Paul dashed over and once again hit Kermit into unconsciousness. The doctor was grabbing his arm as Paul clutched his shoulder to get his attention. "What did you do?" he demanded. "What did you do?!"

"Nothing!" the doctor insisted, wincing in pain. "I was just taking his pulse....I don't get it!"

Paul didn't get it, either. Kermit had had his pulse taken a million times since he's been here. And the lights were off! "We have to find out what he responded to," Paul said. "Take my pulse the same way you took his."

"Are you kidding??? I think my arm's sprained! I can't use it-"

Paul walked over to the other side of the cot to get closer. "We have to find out why he attacked. DO IT!!!"

The doctor reached out slowly and carefully with his injured arm to take Paul's pulse in the neck. And then, Paul realized. The ticking of the man's watch was as clear as day - and would have been right in Kermit's ear.

"The metronome!"

*****

Savannah sat thoughtfully for a moment, then stated, "I learned that one the hard way, too. My great-aunt sent me her grandfather clock as a wedding present. As a surprise, I had it all set up and waiting one night when Kermit came home from work." She shook her head with remorse at the unintentional pain she had caused. "It was very old and the ticking was unusually loud. He tried to ignore it all throughout dinner, then finally, I started noticing him flinch. Even in the bedroom, where you could only hear it slightly, it was affecting him. When I asked, he told me he just had a headache."

"How long did it take?" Paul was filled with compassion for both of them. For Savannah and the quirks she'd discovered the hard way. For Kermit at having to reveal them.

"He'd been asleep for only thirty minutes when he had another nightmare. When he came out of it, he finally confessed that the clock was driving him crazy. He couldn't stand the noise." Her guilt was evident. "I felt like such an idiot! He'd told me about the metronome but I didn't equate that with other ticking. I took the weights out of the clock that night and sold it the next day." Forcing a smile to her face, she added, "Now, we just have to pray that Aunt Maddie never comes for a visit!"

Paul smiled. "That was very understanding of you."

Savannah was puzzled. "What else would I do? It certainly wasn't a tough decision to choose Kermit over a clock!"

Chuckling, Paul said, "That's an interesting way to look at it! I know some women, though, who would have raised a royal fit before giving up a family heirloom."

"Kermit is my family, too," Savannah said with a light tone but Paul could hear the steel will within.

Paul smiled again, gently, feeling the love this woman had for Kermit. *You finally done yourself good, kid,* he thought. But telling her would ruin the curious mock-disapproving 'in-law' relationship that he and Savannah had been toying with...and that was proving to be just too much fun to give up! Instead, he continued with Kermit's story.

"As you may have guessed, I never did manage to desensitize him to the ticking. We tried everything. We even tried making him listen to the ticking while we played opera with the lights off. I think that's the only way he managed to tolerate it enough to get along. It wasn't the results that I wanted, but it was certainly better than nothing. I think the light desensitizing went better because Kermit was more cooperative."

"Why didn't he cooperate with the ticking?"

"Actually," Paul corrected, "the question should be 'why did he cooperate with the light?' The answer is psychological, they told me. Kermit knew very well that he couldn't spend his life in total darkness and probably worked a little harder to get over it. He wanted to leave the hospital but even he knew that he couldn't be released until he could tolerate light. Ticking wasn't as necessary to acclimate to. Our first trip out in the great outdoors was memorable...."

*****

Kermit winced slightly as Paul took his arm and nudged him out into the light. "A little too bright?" Paul asked with concern. This was Kermit's maiden voyage. Everywhere Kermit looked, there was light. A far cry from a lone lamp, very turn-off-able, in the far corner of the room.

"I can do it," Kermit said, gritting his teeth slightly.

Paul looked at his charge. Kermit seemed to be holding his control but still, there was no use in subjecting him to too much at one time. Especially his first time. Maybe they should try at twilight time when it was a little darker....He was just about to lead Kermit back into the car when an idea hit him. He reached into his pocket, dug out his sunglasses, and pressed them into Kermit's hand. "Try these."

Kermit, the official hater of all glasses since his vision was perfect, scrambled to put them on. He tentatively opened one eye slowly and then the other. "That's better," he said with relief. He peered through them. "They're filthy!" he complained. "But they're dark. Thanks."

"You can wash them when we get inside," Paul told him, leading him through the tall buildings.

"See - this is why I hate glasses."

"Yeah, yeah. But you can still see." Just then, Paul thought of an exercise that would be both useful and distracting. "You want to get on with the lesson or you want to keep stalling?"

"What lesson?"

Paul looked at him. "You forgot already? Not a good trait....You said you wanted me to teach you to be more observant. So you wouldn't be blindsided anymore. Excuse the pun."

"Oh, that."

"No time like the present. I'll give you two seconds to describe FULLY that scene over there," Paul said, pointing to a team of window washers.

"TWO SECONDS!??"

"Time's up." Paul grinned at his student. "What floor were they on? What color socks were they wearing? How many of them were there? Describe their hair color."

"I don't believe this-"

"Okay, because of the rough time you've been through, I'll make it easy for you. Four seconds. There!" Paul pointed to a hot dog vendor, serving some customers. Kermit snapped his head around to look at everything he could before Paul called time. "Stop. Describe the customer wearing the name tag." As Kermit stared incredulously at Paul, he continued to fire questions. "How many customers were there? Who was the girl sitting behind the vendor?"

"HOW WOULD I KNOW THAT?!!" Kermit stormed.

"She was wearing a uniform from the chicken fast food place there on the corner. Guess she got tired of chicken," Paul grinned, enjoying Kermit's consternation.

"Are you telling me that you're aware of ALL these things instantly?!" Kermit asked doubtfully.

"Yes, I am. And you will, too, if you want to keep breathing."

"Prove it."

Paul sighed. He had yet to meet a green officer who didn't believe him. "Fine. Pick a scene. How many seconds?"

"I'll make it easy on you," Kermit grinned. "Three seconds. There!"

Paul whipped around to glance at the entrance of a busy shopping mini-mart.

"Stop!" Kermit said. "Well?"

As they walked, Paul described the approximate number of vehicles and people present, including as much detail as he could remember with Kermit occasionally looking back to see if he was right. After ten minutes, Paul was still describing the scene and Kermit huffed his disgust.

"All right, all right. Shut up!" Kermit snapped as Paul grinned a devilish grin. "Sometimes, I really hate you...."

"Are we through stalling?"

"Yes," Kermit grumbled.

Paul was about to pick another scene when a whisper caught his attention.

"PSSST!"

Kermit and Paul looked over to see a gun pointing right at them! Kermit looked at Paul, who shrugged and meekly went into the alley as bidded by the mugger. Kermit followed, looking a bit befuddled.

"Gimme your money!"

"Sure," Paul said, looking at Kermit who nodded.

Seconds later, the thug was engaged in a fist fight but it became more than Paul expected. The thug had friends. Four of them. He and Kermit was doing fairly well, and Kermit was controlling his blows, until one accidentally clipped Kermit on the side of the head, making his sunglasses fly off his face and to the ground.

"No!" Kermit yelled, dropping to his knees to try to find them and shielding his eyes with one hand.

The muggers took the advantage to surround Paul Blaisdell more thoroughly, throwing punches to his midsection, as the other approached Kermit. "Kermit!" Paul yelled, trying to protect himself. "Fight! Don't worry about-uhhh!" He reeled back as someone got in a blow to his stomach. "Help me, Kerm-uhh!" He pulled himself in to make himself a smaller target while he got his bearings when suddenly, his assailant was gone.

Looking up, he saw Kermit slam the man's head into his knee, then into the wall. He then grabbed Blaisdell's gun and fired over the thugs' head, causing them to run for it. He then swayed slightly, causing Paul to force himself to his feet. Paul staggered over to the sunglasses, picked them up and gave them to Kermit as he shoved the younger man in the building's shadow. He then took back his gun. "You still with me, kid?" Paul checked the gun reflexively. Kermit wasn't supposed to handle a gun yet. Not until they knew that he could control himself.

"Yeah," Kermit told him, rubbing his eyes and putting the sunglasses back on. "That was a shitty thing to do."

"What?"

Kermit glared at him. "I'm not stupid! You set up that ambush! To test me!"

Paul's mouth dropped open. "I did not!"

"You did, too!"

"I DID NOT! It was completely a coincidence!" Paul glared back until Kermit averted his gaze, apparently believing him. "It was good AS a test, though...."

*****

"What?" Paul Blaisdell stopped his story as he saw Savannah Griffin click her tongue and shake her head as she stirred the chicken noodle soup cooking in the kitchen.

"You set that up," she accused him with a smile.

Paul looked for supplication at the ceiling. "I DID NOT!"

"You did, too!"

"Deja vu," mumbled Paul. "What makes you think I set that up? I bruised a rib in that fracas!"

"Because, MR. Observant, you would have noticed the mugger otherwise. Because it's something you would do to test Kermit. And because I trust Kermit's instincts." She glared at him through long lashes with those penetrating green eyes.

Paul sighed. "Okay...I set it up."

Savannah's glare melted into a smile. "I knew it!"

"So did I," came a sleepy reply, and a sneeze, from around the corner.

Savannah glare returned as she went to her husband's side. "What do I have to do, tie you to the bed?"

"Not my fault, Scarlett," Kermit defended, issuing another sneeze. "Managed to smell that chicken noodle soup concoction all the way in the bedroom. Just barely."

"I would have brought it to you."

"I know. But it was interesting hearing what I heard." Kermit sat down on the chair next to Paul. "You took a heckuva chance with those agents' lives."

"I had a code word to stop their attack if it got hairy," Paul told them as Savannah scooped up some soup for Kermit.

"Okay, hotshot," Savannah taunted, placing a bowl in front of the patient, "Let's see what kind of student you were. Describe what I was wearing the first time we met."

"Yellow linen double-breasted suit with matching buttons. White cotton blouse open at the neck. Flesh tone hose. White high heels with pointed toes. The clasp of your necklace was turned halfway around your throat. Pearl earrings, pierced. Your hair kept dropping into your face and you were tucking it behind your ear. New hairstyle, probably, because you were so uncomfortable with it. You were holding a Pentel mechanical pencil, blue, with .5 lead. Your watch was five minutes fast. You were wearing light pink nail polish and had one broken nail." He treated her with a sideways smile at her shock and added, "And your slip was showing."

"It was not!"

"Yes, it was. Good thing that doesn't bother me." He was starting to feel better. "Teach you to test ME, lady!"

With a disgusted glance at Paul, Mrs. Griffin responded, "You teach him to be such a smarty pants, too?"

"No, ma'am. Came to me in that condition, I'm afraid." Paul noticed a movement from the corner of the room. "I believe we have company."

Kat toddled over to her father, lip extended approximately one mile, and laid her head on his leg.

"How's my girl?" Kermit hoisted her up into his lap and tried to get her to eat, to no avail. After coercing her into a drink of orange juice, he gave in to her pitiful expression. "Why don't you and I go back to bed and watch Barney, huh?"

"Bahnee!" Kat perked up immediately and ignored the odd gaze of their guest.

"You MUST be joking! Tell me you're joking." Paul sat there, amazed.

As they got up to retreat to the bedroom, Kermit cast an indignant look his way. "Barney...a misunderstood leader of the masses. Anyone who can control the minds of millions of children deserves my scrutiny."

Kat babbled joyfully as Kermit carried her away. Then, in the master bedroom, they could hear the distinctive sounds of the Barney song flooding from the television. "Barney is a dinosaur from our imagination and when he's tall, he's what we call a dinosaur sensation...." Paul Blaisdell shook his head.

"If I hadn't been here, I wouldn't have believed it!" he said with a grin.

"I'm more partial to Sesame Street myself," Savannah confessed, grinning back. "But you see what lengths he'll go to for her?" A somber look crossed her features and she sat down at the table. "Paul...how...? I'm still confused about something," she said in a quiet tone. "How was Truong Qui able to snatch him back if you desensitized him to light and ticking?"

"Because light and ticking wasn't the only thing they programmed him with," Paul told her quietly. "Kermit remembered a certain voice in his dreams - words that he couldn't remember but he knew he could understand at the time? That was Truong Qui's voice. That was the third stimulus they used.

"When we first rescued him, he would attack to the sounds of the ticking, bright light and Qui's voice. When he left the hospital, we managed to 'cure' him enough so that, to ensnare him, he would need ALL THREE of the stimuli to make him attack. Then, as the years wore on, so did the conditioning. I imagine what happened was that Qui called him on the phone and instantly put him in programming mode since there was no way we could desensitize him to the sound of his voice. Then, when Qui coupled his voice with the ticking, he had his assassin back."

Paul leaned back to look down the hall and took Savannah's hand. "My dear...I owe you...more than I could ever express. If you hadn't been here for him....I don't think you fully realize your contribution in Kermit's sanity right now. All I can say, though woefully inadequate, is thank you. Thank you for saving my 'son.'" Getting up from his chair, he gifted her with a hug and kissed her on the forehead.

Savannah felt a warm, embarrassed flush flow through her. She hugged Paul in return. "I think I could say exactly the same. Thank YOU!" She kissed him on the cheek and quickly rose for a kleenex to stop the threatening tears.

Both took a moment to bring their raging emotions under control. The emotions that loved Kermit Griffin so fiercely, so completely. Thus accomplished, Savannah busied herself in the kitchen, quickly whipping up some party-size sandwiches for herself and Paul, complete with lemonade and cookies.

Snapping herself back to some semblence of normal, Savannah took a sip of lemonade. "Please go on. What was the next obstacle?"

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10       

Back to serie's index      Back to Story index