"So, basically, you gave him an 'F' and they gave him an 'A+', right?" Savannah was smiling slightly. The though of anyone grading his performance now was comical. A+ every time.

"More like a pass/fail. He passed and he was in," Paul took another sip, "for a lifetime. Or so I thought."

"Don't you think that if they hadn't taken him that it would have destroyed him, Paul? He didn't have many options left. In his mind, at least." Savannah ached at his plight. She KNEW what kind of man he was. Imagining his self image at the time - only good enough to destroy - hurt badly.

*Not even good enough for killers.* The thought hadn't crossed his mind before. She was probably right. That blow would have been the last. "I wished that I could have provided another option, but this was the last trick in my bag. He was on his own. Thinking he was running his life when he was actually at their mercy. Like we all were."

"Well," she grinned at the storyteller, "he's at my mercy now! And I'm much sneakier than some silly spy ring."

That garnered a belly laugh from Paul Blaisdell. "No doubt, lady. No doubt." He remembered Annie saying something similiar about himself and wouldn't trade that feeling for the world. Probably Kermit wouldn't, either.

Speaking of which...."I assume you already know about his other two ex-wives?"

"Yes," Savannah tried to hide a grimace. "I met Vanessa not too long ago. She's very beautiful...worldly...talented...."

"Yes," Paul nodded, "she was all of those things. But she wasn't good for Kermit. Marriage is, as you know by now, through the good times and bad. In her own way, she was wearing her own set of rose-colored glasses. She only wanted good times and didn't even want to acknowledge the bad. She wasn't really capable of tending to Kermit if he got the flu, much less helping him with the leftovers of his 'programming'. She wanted an invincible, capable, strong partner which Kermit was, HALF the time."

"She said, when Jim asked her why she was still in the business, that she didn't have anywhere else to go." Savannah held her breath. She had just opened another can of worms and wondered if Paul noticed. *Of course he did,* she chided herself, *he notices everything!*

"I don't doubt that at all," Paul told her. "She's very intelligent and knows when she's dug herself into a hole. But it takes a very stong person to accept it and then dig their way out. To do that, you have to examine who you are and to go to great lengths to change it. I don't think she has the inner strength to do that. Vanessa has never been long on self-improvement. She'll probably stay in the business forever. It's the only thing she knows now. Now, Julia...." he shuddered slightly. "She only wanted the bad side of Kermit. Fanned the demons and basked in the chaos."

"Yes," Savannah said, holding up a hand, "I know." She suppressed a shudder herself. She had thought that she had reacted badly when she heard about Julia for the first time but Paul had known her and HE was shuddering! She struggled to change the subject. The less said about Julia, the better. "At least, Vanessa was likeable. We actually hit it off....Oh, she asked about you, by the way. Even called you a 'remarkable' man!"

Paul smiled. "Vanessa does have her charms. What was she doing here, anyway? Annoying Kermit?"

"That was a fringe benefit," Savannah said, smiling. "She wanted Kermit to talk Jim out of joining the business. Of course, you know about Jim-?"

"Yes," Paul nodded. "I was with him when he checked out the Hellstroms. She WANTED him to talk Jim out of joining the business-? That's a bit out of character....It would be more like her to talk him into joining so she could have the pleasure of his company once in a while."

"Kermit said the same thing," Savannah said.

"So did he talk him out of the business?"

"Yes, he did."

"That's good," Paul said. He knew he didn't have the strength to go through it all again with another one. Kermit and Peter had been quite enough. *Who are you kidding, Blaisdell - you'd drop everything to help the kid out and you know it.* He was very glad that Kermit had talked Jim out of it. "How did THAT visit go?" He was disappointed on missing out on the fireworks.

"At first, it was awkward, as you can imagine," Savannah said, "but I think they made headway. They actually hugged when Jim left! I didn't think Jim would do it....And, of course, I'm happy for Kermit. I don't think I've ever seen him so emotional...and relieved!"

Kermit and his son....Paul made a mental note to stick around more. He would have loved to have seen that battle of wills. *I hope that you have a kid that puts you through what you put me through,* Paul thought, the old mother's curse rising to his brain. So true.

*****

Paul discreetly looked at his watch. It was getting late. He had warned Annie that this might take a while but he had no idea that he would get roped into a game of 'This is Kermit's life.' He was enjoying this, though. He enjoyed plowing through all the rough times to a new audience. It reminded him how far they had come. And amazingly enough, he knew that more times were in store for them.

Savannah sat next to him, comforted by his safe, fatherly presence. In that, Paul reminded her of Caine with a bit of Kermit thrown in. And she was captivated by his tale. He was there for Kermit. Every moment. The thought was sobering and a bit exhilarating. She felt the love he had for Kermit and for her, too, now that their lives were intertwined. Swallowing some tea to rid herself of the lump in her throat, she began again. "When was the next time you saw him?"

Paul smiled at the memories flashing before him. "I saw him on and off throughout the years. Sometimes, all we'd exchange was a nod before dashing off in opposite directions. Sometimes, we found our interests clashing and we'd have to figure out how we could both win some and lose some at the same time. But once in a blue moon, we'd actually run into each other when we had some time to shoot the breeze. Now, *those* were the good times. But they never lasted.

"About ten years later, I found myself in Washington, D.C. Never mind the reason....Anyway, lo and behold, there was Kermit. He was about 39, 40, although he looked about 60." Savannah looked quizzical so Paul attempted to elaborate. "He was standing in front of the Memorial."

*****

"Paul. This is a surprise," Kermit said.

"So is this." Paul approached his old friend. He noted the black suit, dark green sunglasses, perfectly-groomed hair, straight posture. *You'll never be able to fool me, kid,* he thought. In some ways, Paul could see that Kermit was still, in his heart, that scared, lonely 22-year-old. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

Paul smiled. "What are you doing *here*?" He knew Kermit could never resist trying to get a rise out of him.

Kermit cocked that familiar grin. "Oh! That!" He sighed. "To tell the truth, I'm not really sure." Paul stood next to Kermit as they perused the names on the wall. Lives that were lost in a senseless war that the powers-that-be wouldn't even call a war. Talk about senseless....

Paul came closer, unable to hide his concern. He studied Kermit; his bearing and manner. "Are you all right?"

Kermit started to nod automatically but it turned into a chuckle. "You just can't help it, can you?"

"Help what?"

A long pause. "...'fathering' me...."

Paul shook his head. "This is more than that...kid." The affectionate nickname sounded strange, compared to how Kermit looked at the moment. "Ordinarily, I'd agree with you but not this time. You look...."

"Like shit?"

"Not the words I would have chosen. 'Exhausted' comes to mind. Also besieged."

Kermit looked down. "Good choice of words." They walked down the carefully-tended garden paths, each thinking their own thoughts. "As long as I've got you here...."

Paul fought to hide his relief. No matter what they've been through, Kermit could still open up to him. "Yes?"

"Does it ever end?"

"I think you've just answered your own question," Paul replied, knowing that Kermit would understand. Just the fact that Kermit had asked it implied that he already knew the answer. Unfortunately, Paul didn't have many solutions to offer. "Come on," Paul gestured and whimsically led Kermit to a snack bar. "I'll buy you lunch." Before Kermit could respond, Paul turned to the vendor. "Two foot-longs, with *everything*."

Success! Kermit actually grinned in amusement. "New coping mechanism?"

"One taught to me by my beautiful daughters." He handed one to Kermit, who looked at it doubtfully.

"Well, I've definitely had worse." Kermit took a bite and chuckled as the fixings went every which way and he fought to control them. He then took on a studious expression as he chewed. "You trying to tell me that chaos is good?"

Paul rolled his eyes as he took a huge bite of the sauerkraut and onions and hot dog. *Only Kermit could get meaning out of a hot dog,* he thought. *The kid's *definitely* been working too hard....*

They sat at a bench and finished their meal in silence. The sky was beautiful today. There were kids and parents picnicking nearby. Kermit sighed. "Hard to believe this place is the home of the government. Guess they can do *one* thing right in a century...."

"Who're you talking about? Them or yourself?"

Kermit's mouth quirked. "What's the one thing that I did right?"

Paul had had enough. "Are you listening to yourself?! GOD, kid! You are thoroughly battle-whipped! It's time to get out while you're still breathing." He studied his former pupil. "I'm not telling you anything you don't know. So what's going ON??! Would you just tell me that?!"

Strangely enough, Kermit seemed pleased by Paul's reaction. He shook his head to the questions, however. "I know. I know it's time for me to get out. But I don't know where to go. I thought about more classes and got violently sick for a week. Here's how far I've fallen: I've actually considered politics!" Kermit and Paul both grinned at that prospect. "You know," Kermit said, "Search and destroy from within, using their rules to hang them...."

"You always took a particular perverse joy in that lesson," Paul remarked, remembering.

"It does work," Kermit said, "but I doubt I could tolerate the bullshit I'd have to take to get high enough to do some damage. What else is left?"

Paul didn't have an answer. He reached within himself and came up with nothing. He couldn't fail Kermit...not again....

Kermit filled in the awkward silence. "So, tell me about your kid. Your newest one."

Paul grinned a mile wide. "Peter. God, he's a stubborn, obstinate, happy-go-lucky, do-as-you-please, little shit...just like you. Why do *I* always get saddled with the hard cases?!"

Kermit grinned. "You're just lucky that way."

"I'm bringing him to work at the...at the....KERMIT!!!"

Kermit reached for his Desert Eagle, nerves on fire and at the ready, scanning for the enemy.

"Kermit! Relax, kid, it's okay!" Paul soothed the battle-ready mercenary. "I just had a brainstorm and it is a WHOPPER!"

Kermit sighed and tried to relax again. "Shit, Paul...don't DO that to me."

"Kermit, listen to me. This is perfect. Just listen. Come to work with me at the 101st."

"You've GOT to be-"

"LISTEN!" Paul thundered. "I'll make you a detective. You work your own hours. I know you've kept up on your computer skills and we don't have an expert. This is just perfect! And you can take off whenever you feel the need. You'll be close to Marilyn in case she needs you. Hell, I'll even throw out that internal auditor and give you an office to hide in. C'mon! This is turning out to be one of my best ideas! You can be there for me when I need backup. You can get some much-needed rest in the luxury of bureaucracy. I guarantee you that your 'file' will get lost in the mail. And, in the meantime, you could help us. Find lost kids, take down drug lords, beat a bit of crime back and feel like you're doing some good in the world. Kermit...? Are you listening to me? What do you think???"

Studying him closely, Paul could tell that Kermit was holding his breath. Thinking. Mulling it over in his mind. Trying to imagine himself in the picture that Paul painted. Frantically, since he KNEW that this was what they both wanted, Paul offered more straws. "You can come over for a home-cooked meal any time you want. And you can keep an eye on Peter when I'm not around...."

Kermit looked up. And smiled.

Paul watched and waited...then started as Kermit discarded the remains of his lunch and walked back toward the looming polished stone monument. His demeanor said 'I don't give a shit!' but Paul knew better. Knew that a list of pros and cons was assembling in the younger man's mind. A list of his sins and gifts. Paul followed.

The walls were long and gleaming. An odd vision of calm and peace, giving the names of tortured souls a resting place. An endless sea of names representing battered and lost faces. Along the base were tender gifts. Flowers, teddy bears left by fatherless children, and the dogtags. Sets of dogtags dropped by brothers-in-arms when they found a friend's name. A farewell.

Kermit stood silently. Allowing Paul his inspection of his condition. He reached out to touch a name. Mitchell Griffin. "You know Benjy died. Not long after I left town."

Paul had heard this from Marilyn. The void had overwhelmed Benjy Latham in the form of a rope around his neck in his attic. "Yes."

"But his name isn't here because he lacked the grace to go ahead and die in the jungle." Touching his father's name again, Paul watched as the mercenary's jaw shifted back and forth. "My name's not here, either. Suppose I lacked the same grace Benjy did."

"You're not dead."

"That's a matter of opinion." The father of long ago could offer no more guidance. The father that breathed beside him stood waiting for him to choose.

Speaking softly and carefully resting his hand on Kermit's shoulder, Paul said, "Don't feel guilty because you lived. Living is the only victory some of us had left. Our only finger to shoot back at the jungle and say, 'You missed one, you bastards!' See it as that."

Adding one of his famous 'what if's,' Paul added, "Who knows, Kermit, maybe this overwhelming debt you feel is about to be paid in full. If I can come in from the cold, so can you. I need you as much as you need me right now. Hell of a note, huh?"

Turning to stare at him through green lenses, Kermit asked, "So you think you can drop me in the middle of a bunch of urban cops and make a saint out of me? Ha! Bet you'll even try to marry me off to some unsuspecting Sunday school teacher in the P.T.A."

"Number one, I don't have much time for saints. They're basically pretty useless unless you need a guest of honor to be burned at the stake." Feeling his victory close at hand, Paul chuckled lightly. "As for the marriage part, who knows? Maybe your taste in women has improved with age. Find a nice girl to love you and maybe a kid or two."

"Now, I know you're crazy." Kermit stroked the emblem of his lost father once more. Turning to stand face to face with his proposed savior, he asked, "Big office?"

"As big as we've got."

"Come and go as I please? No questions?"

"Damn right."

"You aren't separating me from this," he said, patting the Desert Eagle.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Let's go." Kermit left behind the wall and headed to the parking lot.

Paul heard a clinking sound as his *son* strolled away. There, under Mitchell Griffin's granite gaze, lay a pair of dogtags. Left by a dead man - who'd just resurrected himself.

*****

Savannah smiled. "Fortunately for me," she added.

"Oh, he hid in his office for awhile," Paul continued. "I mentioned his name at a meeting four months after he was set up and running and someone, undoubtedly a parent, commented, 'Kermit WHO? Kermit the Frog?'"

Savannah laughed out loud. "Kermit's often said that, although he appreciated the man's skill and imagination, if he'd ever met Jim Hensen, he'd have made him regret ever stickin' his hand in a sock! Slowly and painfully. Why pick-"

"-the name 'Kermit' for a frog?" Paul finished. "Now, people can't help it - the name is typecasted forever."

"It certainly is," Savannah mused, her eyes gleaming. "Oh - while we're on childhood imageries, there's one more mystery to Kermit. One more that I've been dying to know for a very long time." Savannah held her breath. If anyone would tell her this deep, dark secret of Kermit's, Paul would.

"Paul," she asked, picking up their empty cups, "there's something about Kermit's past that Marilyn won't tell me. Something so sinister that she feels she had to hide from me."

After the revelations of this afternoon, Paul couldn't imagine what could be left. Kermit said to tell her anything she wanted so the barrier was removed. Offering himself as her source, Paul answered, "If it's important that you know, far be it from me to keep it from you. Fire away."

Biting the inside of her cheek to stifle a threatening smile, she asked, "What music did he like before the opera took over? It must be bad because HE won't tell and Marilyn nearly doubles over in laughter and says that he'd send her 'swimmin' with the fishes' if she told. Give. Please?"

Paul Blaisdell actually snickered. Finally, he would have his revenge on Kermit Griffin! The ultimate in payback for years of ignored instructions, endless complaints and smartass remarks. "My lovely hostess...I would be more than happy to enlighten you as to your husband's youthful musical interest."

Trembling with excitement, Savannah babbled, "Okay! I know it's not Elvis. I know it's not country/western. What is it?!"

"The Monkees."

"THE WHO???!!!"

"No, not The Who. The Monkees." Paul basked in the glow of satisfaction as this well-mannered Southern lady doubled over in breathless, screeching hilarity. Actually hooting at the news.

"Oh...my...GOD!!!" she gasped between fits of laughter. "It's worse than I thought. Oh, no!!! The Monkees! The Guys-in-Malibu-wearing-striped-pants-and-love-beads Monkees???"

"The same."

The room was suddenly filled with a sullen presence. Glasses returned to their familiar resting place. The tinted glass could never disguise his disgust. "You son-of-a....You told her. You didn't have to tell her THAT!"

Rewarded beyond his wildest dreams, Paul calmly replied, "You said, 'tell her anything you like.'"

"Scarlett...." Kermit attempted through his wife's guffaws, fighting a serious blush. "It wasn't me...it was a product of the times...."

The fits of laughter made entering the fray difficult. When Savannah finally screwed her control back into place and forced the glee from her expression, she said, "Kermit...uh...there's nothing to be ashamed of." She tentatively kissed his tense and annoyed cheek. Lips trembling with restraint. "I'd better go check on Kat."

As she walked slowly from the room, she began to softly sing. "Here we come...walkin' down the street...we get the funniest looks from...."

"STOP THAT! Right now!" Kermit yelled after her.

The incessant giggling resumed. "The Monkees...I can't believe it...." she trailed hysterically over her shoulder as she disappeared into the hall.

"I'll get you for that, Paul," Kermit grumbled toward his former commander.

"Yeah, yeah. Heard that before."

"And to think I came in here to...to...." Kermit shook his head.

"What?" Paul looked quizzical. Sensing that this was important, he glanced down the hall. "Better hurry," he advised.

Kermit looked to the floor. The same thing he did twenty years ago.

Paul came closer. "What?" he asked softly.

Kermit took off his glasses and made himself look his mentor in the eye. "I wanted to say...thank you....I know it's lacking but...." Kermit's expressive eyes conveyed the emotions he couldn't vocalize. He was thanking Paul for his life, mind, and soul. He was thanking Paul for being his father and loving him as a son. And Paul understood.

Without a word, they hugged briefly - as father and son. Then, as Savannah hummed 'I'm a Believer' through the hall, coming back into the room, they broke apart. This was between them. For all time.

"Well," Paul said, looking at the two of them as they unthinkingly stood close to one another, arm around the other one, "looks like he's done gold-bricking for the day. Just at the end of a work-day. Good timing, kid!"

"Get stuffed," Kermit said cheerfully.

"Thought you'd never ask," Paul grinned. "Annie's waiting dinner by now and I've talked myself hoarse." He leveled a finger at Savannah. "Now I know who to come to when I need a first-case interrogator! But, warning...next time, I want to hear all about how this romance started in every embarrassing detail." He took Savannah's hand and kissed it. "My gracious hostess....adieu. And you-" he glanced at Kermit, "-behave yourself, *kid*!"

Kermit narrowed his eyes as Paul laughed and ducked out, waving a farewell, leaving the two lovers to sigh and turn toward one another.

"I thought he'd never leave," Kermit teased, stroking a strand of his wife's long, blond hair.

Savannah studied him, realizing that he was displaying much more color than he'd presented that morning. She hugged him briefly and withdrew to get yet another glass of orange juice to shove into his hand. "Your daughter is unconscious...thank God. Hungry?"

He decided it wasn't worth the energy to argue and drained the glass. "No, but after lying around all day like a complete slacker, I think I'll take a shower."

"Hmmm...you must be feelin' better." She gave him another, more enthusiastic hug. "You go take care of that birthday suit and I'll be there in a minute."

"Don't forget your promise," he grinned as he turned to leave. "I believe I'm due one get well gift."

"Paul was right," she quipped and patted his behind. "You ARE a demanding patient. Go on...be a good boy."

"Yes, ma'am," drifted behind him as he returned to the bedroom.

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