Kermit woke drenched with sweat. His soft percale sheets, so smooth when he went to bed, were twisted about his legs and torso, caught up as he had struggled to free himself from the nightmare. His second wife's derisive laughter still rang in his ears-a leftover from the dream.
He rose, cursing as he untangled himself from the covers, and went to the bathroom. He leaned against the sink as he sipped water from the cup, still trying to pull the rest of the way out of this second disturbance tonight. He wondered, loudly and rudely, when this current pattern of nightmares, which had started a week ago, would end.
Nightmares were nothing new to the ex-mercenary, now a computer expert /police detective. The path that had led him to this unrestful night was strewn with bodies, most cut down by his action or lack of action (as he saw it). The fact that some of the deaths he tallied were not his responsibility was unaccepted by him. He had accepted responsibility for the World when his father died, and had defined no limits to that burden.
This current set of nightmares, however, bore little resemblance to the usual that haunted him, night or day. These were replays of the drug-induced torture he had endured last Sunday.
Last Sunday, --the day when the group that had plotted the death of his friend and mentor, Paul Blaisdell, had been captured. That was the day the partner of the actual assassin, the woman who had killed his friend, had captured him and Peter; had tormented him for information the assassin had carried. The assassin's partner had injected him with a variation of the truth serum propofol (diisopropylphenol), genetically engineered to give it the uncomfortable side effect of unlocking the gates to his private hells, buried deep in the cellars of his mind.
The antidote had been given to him-but why? So far, no one seemed able to tell him what had prompted his torturer to do that, if it was she that did it. He had been told that the antidote would stop the mental diarrhea, and it did! That is, it stopped the verbalizations of his long-hidden emotions, and it stopped the constant stream of memories imbued with those emotions--during the day, at least.
However, once those cell doors had been opened, only conscious effort could keep the inhabitants of those cells from interfering in his daily life. Now, his dreams were filled with the memories awakened that afternoon.
Slumberland was where they came out to play. Certain memories appeared each night-his brother's death scene, his days in the Afghanistan prison; some had only cameo roles. His father's funeral had awakened him only once so far. Tonight was the first time that visions of his second wife had risen to haunt him, with her slicing denouement of their marriage and the top ten reasons why she was leaving him. He still had no answering argument for her; the marriage had been a mistake from the beginning.
He rinsed his face again. He was exhausted. He was spending all of his waking hours at the computer at the Station, making work if there wasn't enough. Eight hours had become sixteen, and then twenty. It wasn't working. Even dozing at the computer brought out the demons. Thoughts of Lo Si and the tea he had offered as a second antidote came unbidden to mind…
"My friend, Kermit. All you have to do is ask."
Kermit, still leaning against the sink, almost hurt himself reaching for the gun he did not keep in his underwear. As he realized it was not there, his survival instinct had already launched him at the voice. He tried to stop himself as recognition sunk in, but the Ancient's survival instinct was just as good and much more awake. Kermit found himself laid out on the floor.
"Take my hand, my friend, and let a clumsy old man help you up."
The spill had helped Griffin to focus on the present. As he rose, he and the old man shared a smile at the subtle humor-only a clumsy man could have tripped Kermit and laid him flat.
Kermit ran his fingers through his hair. "Dammit, Lo Si, why can't you just knock? Even Peter knocks." He took a deep breath and continued, apologetically, "Sorry about the attack. I haven't been sleeping very well lately."
"That is why I am here, my friend. I was afraid that the antidote would not be sufficient. I have made an herbal potion that should help. If you will permit, I will brew it as tea. Then you will sleep."
"This will cure my nightmares?" The detective felt lighter already.
"Ah, I am afraid not. This will only help you sleep through the nightmares. It is but a partial remedy."
"If it helps me sleep, that is enough."
The Ancient Apothecary shook his head but did not pursue the subject. He knew that Kermit was not ready for the rest of the cure now, but he would be desperate for it soon. He moved to the kitchen to make his tea.
Kermit woke at his normal time, remembering only the first sip of the old man's potion. He barely remembered being pleasantly surprised at the taste, having heard many tales of the terrible tastes of Peter's father's medicinal teas. He did not like gaps in his memory, but he trusted that man implicitly; besides, he felt better than he had in the previous seven days, since last Sunday. He went to work.
***
Two days later, Captain Simms called him into her office and asked him to go along on a bust. "We've heard that they've got their supplier and connection data on their computer. Rather than risk destroying any of that information while moving it here first, Detective, I 'd like you to see if you can get into the files there." As she spoke and then waited for his response, her mind was working on two other levels. As his captain, she was noticing that he finally looked as if he were almost fit for duty again. As his friend, she was noticing that he seemed to be recovering from his ordeal a week ago.
"Good idea, Captain. I'll get right on it." As he turned to go, he slipped his glasses down his nose just a bit, looked at her over them, and said, "How about, when this gig is over, we bop over to my place and make the naked turtle?"
Halfway down the stairs to join Peter and the rest of the team he realized what he had just done, what he had just said. Where the hell did those words come from?
He fell against the stair wall in horror. This was the nightmare he had really been afraid of, not the night terrors. He had too much respect, not to mention a growing affection, for Captain Karen Simms to throw out a line like that, especially during working hours. His thought of going back to apologize was interrupted, first by his worry that he might compound the felony, so to speak, and, second, by a shout from Chief Strenlich.
"Detective Griffin, if you're coming, get a move on it!"
Kermit continued down to the locker area to get the jacket, cap, and bulletproof vest he was to wear.
***
Two hours later, Captain Simms came rushing into the hospital.
Peter Caine was in the waiting area of the emergency room. "Where is he, Detective? What happened?" Even though it was expected of her, she gladly came whenever one of her team was hurt--these people were more family than co-workers. For the patient to be Kermit, scared her and hurt more than she expected. Only years of practice helped her maintain her composure.
She started toward the patient care area but Peter stopped her. She started to move past him, saying, "I should go back there, Detective. Are they still working on him?"
Peter pulled her into a seat. Flushed with obvious concern, he seemed withdrawn, as if he did not believe Kermit's condition. "The doctor is patching him up now, Captain, I just don't know how to explain it. It's like he just flipped out, suddenly screaming and running."
She swung around to face him and grabbed his arm. "Start at the beginning. This was supposed to be a straightforward arrest, right, Detective?"
He swallowed, took a breath, and started; "We got to the abandoned factory, spread out, and covered the exits. Kermit was to wait, we told him he was backup. You know the hours he's been putting in, Captain; he looked like he was walking in his sleep. We figured he'd be so jumpy, he might start shooting too soon. So he was to stay back until one of us came to get him."
"I doubt that he liked that, Peter."
"True, and maybe that's why he had moved up to one of the exits after we had started moving inside. Anyhow, one of the perps apparently had circled in back of me and Griffin saw him get ready to shoot. Kermit came charging in like a madman, yelling and screaming. It sure stopped the guy aiming at me, but it brought him into somebody else's line of fire. A bullet grazed his head; he's lost a lot of blood."
"Has the doctor said anything yet?"
Before Peter could answer, a nurse called to him and said they could see Detective Griffin now.
They pushed back the curtain isolating the emergency room treatment area just as the attending nurse finished taping Kermit's head. He replaced his sunglasses as she continued giving him instructions on filling out the admission forms. He straightened his tie and brushed off his pants as he said, "Oh, good, Captain. Just in time to take me to my car."
He was thanking the nurse for her kind attention, as the nurse greeted Simms and Peter by asking them to please talk some sense into the patient. He had a head wound; they wanted to keep him for observation, just for twenty-four hours, please.
The patient answered by heading for the exit. He was not ten feet away from the examining table when Kwai Chang Caine and Lo Si walked into the area, blocking his path. "Thank you for coming all the way down here, just to visit me during my stay in this marvelous institution devoted to the care and restoration of hapless police, but I am on the way home. Your trip has been wasted. If you will just move out of my way…"
Kermit had had to stop his forward motion to avoid walking into the latest arrivals; only Caine and Lo Si, standing face to face with him, could see the effort it took for him to stay on his feet. The mental shock of his unexplained behavior at the factory and the physical shock of the bullet wound, even if just a crease, with its accompanying loss of blood, had taken more out of him than he was willing to admit. Lo Si turned to locate and then appropriate the nearest wheelchair. Then, as if the sequence had been practiced, he maneuvered it behind the falling detective as Caine reached out, steadied and then pushed the man into it; with a minimum of effort, they had guided Kermit safely into the chair.
Before Kermit could protest further, Caine turned to the nurse. "You only wish to keep him here for observation?"
The nurse responded affirmatively, adding, "He should not be alone for at least 24 hours, preferably 48. It does not appear to be a bad wound, but we just never know."
Griffin stood to leave, and then, as the entire group reminded him about 'hospital policy', sat back into the wheelchair and started propelling it toward the door, saying, "Whatever. I'm going home."
Peter moved toward his friend, "I'll come with you, Kermit. I'll make sure you're all right."
Kwai Chang moved to offer his services, also, but Lo Si got there first. "Kermit, my friend, would you prefer a restless, young, caring friend; the deep stillness of a great healer; or the good company of an excellent chef?"
Peter, his father, and his Captain looked on in amazement as Kermit laughed, "Since it is obvious that I am not allowed to be alone, I will accept Lo Si's offer. I am hungry for a good meal."
They looked around at each other in disbelief; this incident must have been more traumatic to the usually unshakable Kermit Griffin.
Lo Si grabbed the wheelchair handles and began to push the patient closer to the door. "I will take care of you, my friend. Now, how do we get you home?"
Karen Simms had not volunteered to stay with the patient. It was difficult for her to not speak up, but she knew it was too soon in their relationship and would be misread, especially if anyone had heard what he had last said to her in the squad room. Thank heavens that amazing proposition would be read as a symptom of whatever caused him to charge into the middle of a gunfight. That was how she intended to explain it. So, she could not stay with him, but she could take Kermit and Lo Si to Kermit's--she drove a larger car than Peter. She would arrange later for someone to bring Kermit's car to him.
Peter and his father did follow Karen to Kermit's home to help install him comfortably.
Before Captain Simms left, she told the patient, "The doctor may have told you to rest for 48 hours; as your boss and your friend, I'm telling you that I do not want to see you in the office for a full week. And that does not mean you come in on nights! Do you understand me? Stay home!"
She was the first to leave, and as she did, she had a short talk with Lo Si. "Master, will a week be enough time? When Peter described Kermit's actions, it reminded me of what I've read about flashbacks. I cannot have a member of my team, on active duty, having flashbacks; not even Kermit."
The Apothecary gave her a private, reassuring hug, "I will take good care of him. He will be fine. I believe he will be fit for work in that time. His nightmares will continue for some time, but the flashbacks will disappear."
While the two Shaolin Masters conferred about possible after-effects of the head wound and appropriate treatments, Peter fluffed Kermit's pillow, arranged his blanket, and generally made poor Kermit very uncomfortable.
Suddenly, it occurred to Kermit why Peter was so solicitous. "Come on, Peter, it was not your fault. I was supposed to stay out of the way and I didn't. It's my fault alone. I got careless."
"But you were trying to save me; and you did. And ended up getting hurt yourself."
At this, his father came up and put an arm around his shoulders. "Come, Peter. It is time for us to go. Kermit is in good hands."
Kwai Chang and Peter left, Peter still protesting his apologies. Lo Si brought his patient a cup of hot tea.
"You are a man of many talents and potions, Lo Si; what will this tea do? Will it cure this terrible headache?"
"This, my friend, is only good for thirst. With your head wound, you know I cannot give you anything that could put you to sleep. The headache will fade soon."
Kermit sipped his tea and waited for the questions to start. He had no illusions about the reaction of any of his acquaintances to the little scene that had taken place in the warehouse. Lo Si had as much curiosity as anybody else, and usually expressed it more forcefully than most people he knew. Everybody would want to know if Kermit had just gone over the edge.
It surprised him then, when the old man settled into another chair, made himself comfortable, and appeared to doze off. "Lo Si?"
"This old man is just resting his eyes. Is there something you need?"
"No. Never mind." Well, if the Ancient was going to wait for him to start speaking, he would have a long wait. Kermit was in no mood to talk. -or to think!
Unbidden, thoughts of the warehouse incident started to creep into his mind, so he hurriedly pushed them out and thought about why he chosen Lo Si to 'baby-sit him'. He really wished that Karen had volunteered, but, after what he had said to her, he wasn't sure she'd talk to him as a friend again-she had been distant the whole time it had taken to ferry him home. He still wondered where those words had come from-'naked turtle, indeed. He certainly didn't want to see her pity, or Peter's either. Caine would have hidden it, but what other reaction would they have to his outburst? At least Lo Si had provided understanding when Kermit had awakened after the little 'incident' last week; and no one had teased him about his waking words about Karen's perfume, so Lo Si must have kept quiet about that, too. Not that he'd given anybody much chance to approach him, much less tease him.
A flashback, that's what he'd had. He knew that it was not surprising for someone who'd seen and felt any of the horrors he had experienced in his life to have flashbacks, but he'd been so sure he was immune to them. After all, it had been how many years since he left the field? With no hint of a problem? And then that damn mercenary, Marne Pasteur, had to give him that damned drug which removed any vestiges of control. Without that drug, and the nightmares and lack of sleep it caused, he wouldn't be here trapped at home with a wet nurse and a headache, wondering if he had finally succeeded in causing enough fear in one more group of people. Wondered if he'd lost one more set of friends. Maybe he had stayed here too long…
The old man sitting comfortably in the chair, sensing the ebb and flow of Kermit's chi, felt the drastic change as the other man suddenly dropped into another nightmare - a flashback triggered by a backfire somewhere outside.
The ex-mercenary jumped up--that was a shot! He heard more, much gunfire, people shouting, people running -it was an ambush. They knew we were coming. They knew we were coming. One, two, three, four, he watched his group fall--where was Rick, there he is; the guard is going to shoot. "Down, get down! I've got to get over there, got to run! A shot, I'm hit, I'm hit; just a scratch, got to move… Shit! Where am I? Oh, no, not this cell again. I can't; I just can't! no, No, No."
The old man saw the ex-mercenary jump up, start to move forward, fall, start to get up again, and then collapse and roll into the fetal position. He couldn't hear the man's thoughts, but he could feel the fear start and then accelerate.
**Kwai Chang! Peter! I need you! Now!**
The mental call was received by both men, still in Peter's car, just pulling up to his father's place. Kwai Chang responded for both, **We are on our way. What is wrong?**
**Kermit is in need of my help, and you must stand watch for me. The house alarm system will be off when you get here. Please hurry!** Lo Si gave them a quick rundown of what had happened as he set out sticks of incense from his bag. By the time they arrived, he was prepared.
Lo Si stationed Peter outside the bedroom into which Peter and his father had carried the patient. Kermit now lay on the right side of his king-size bed. Lo Si lay down to Kermit's left, in the middle, and Kwai Chang Caine arranged himself in the lotus position on the left side of the mattress.
The older man placed his right hand on Kermit's forehead, at the site of the Upper Dan Tien, known also as the third eye, to ease his entry into the stricken man's bardo. Caine placed his two hands in position to monitor Lo Si's body: left hand under his fellow healer's head, at the Yu Gen, and right hand over the Lower Dan Tien. This positioning of Caine's hands enabled him to monitor the Ancient's chi flow and supplement it, if necessary; the pulse points normally used to diagnose would not have responded quickly enough for Caine to react.
Lo Si closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. With the first he totally relaxed; with the next two, he moved his consciousness inside himself; with the fourth, his consciousness left his body. Caine relaxed into meditative mode with his friend, but remained alert in case Peter was unable to prevent an intrusion.
Peter and his father had had the argument in the car. "Why do I have to stand outside the door? I'm his friend. I should be with him!"
Kwai Chang Caine sighed. "Peter, it is the same problem as last Sunday. Kermit thinks that if you knew his past, you would not want to remain friends with him."
"But, he's told me a lot of things from his past."
"Not the parts for which he now feels shame. He knows he has done terrible things, has been part of terrible conflicts. Your good opinion has become very important to him. It is a long time since he has let anyone care for him and he is afraid of losing that."
"It is hard to imagine Kermit Griffin afraid of anything!"
"He is only a man, my son; with human fears and worries. He has hidden them, better than most, so that they could not interfere with decisions he feels he must make. One who is only concerned with the attainment of a goal cannot let extraneous influences come to bear. In the past, he has felt it necessary to believe that personal feelings and the past are extraneous and dangerous."
Peter thought about that for a few seconds and then, "Wouldn't I be the more logical one to go into his bardo? Wouldn't I recognize more of the scenes? Remember, he has told me more of his past then you or Lo Si, so I'd be more help. Besides, I don't remember you in my bardo; why should he?"
His father had to admit there was some logic there, but not enough. "Peter, do you not remember when you were recovering from the surgery, after I went into your bardo? You told me that you felt you had to thank me, but you did not know why? Deep within you, there is a memory of me inside you. Kermit would not know why, but he would be very uneasy around you. He would carry a feeling that you knew something about him that you should not. You will guard the door while I assist Lo Si."
"Are you both entering his bardo?"
"No, My master has built a rapport with Kermit that I have not. Kermit was willing for Lo Si to help at this time, but not you or I. I cannot trespass where I am not wanted. But, I can help monitor, and provide backup in case you need it."
"I don't understand that either, Pop. Just why do you need someone outside the door? Who do you expect to come barging in?"
Who indeed, my son. thought Caine with an internal grin, When you are already occupied by standing guard. "It is necessary. Leave it at that."
By now, they were back at Kermit's. They left the Stealth parked in front and entered.
As they mounted the stairs to their friend's apartment, Peter had one more question. "Wait a second, Pop; I thought you entered my bardo because otherwise I was going to die. Is Kermit dying?" Peter's anxiety was pulling him up the stairs faster even than his father quick pace.
Kwai Chang Caine thought for a moment and then answered, "My son, when you fell, it was the trauma to your head that left you in danger of leaving this plane of existence. But it was the anger that filled you that had you trapped in your bardo.
"Just before you fell, you were searching for the man who held your friend. After you fell, you continued your search, in the only place you could search-your bardo. But because of the anger you felt when you fell, all you could find was angry memories; you could not find a way out. I only helped you to let go of that anger. Then, when the surgeon released the pressure on your brain, you could find your exit and waken.
"Kermit has trapped himself with his anger and fears-those he cannot express openly. Master Lo Si will help him accept them as part of his being."
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