Lo Si placed the omelet he had fixed beside the keyboard on the desk in front of his patient. He was ignored.
"My friend," he started as he sat in the chair between the bed and the desk, "I sense you are disquieted. You have many questions that need answers, but…you do not want to ask them. Are you afraid that I now know too much of your past?"
Kermit turned toward the old man, and then returned to the computer screen; started to turn again, and again changed his mind. He sat staring at the monitor, hands resting on the keys.
The stage on which Kermit Griffin had worked, lived, and played for so many years, built of bricks made of the mud of his nightmares and the straw of his anger and guilt, was sinking rapidly back into dust. Perhaps he thought the cloud would hide him from Lo Si.
Lo Si tried again. "Are you …"
"Dammit, why are you still here? Can't I get rid of you?" The outburst did not tear him from the position he had held for several minutes now.
"Why should I leave? You still need to be monitored in case your head wound is more serious than we thought."
"It has been long enough. Don't let the door hit you on the way out!"
"I will not leave."
Kermit turned around in shock. Never had he heard Lo Si raise his voice, never had he heard Lo Si speak in anger. He stared at the wizened old man. "Why do you insist on staying?"
Lo Si's next statement added curiosity to the list of emotions inside of Kermit, to the anguish and guilt he could no longer keep buried deep in his soul, but which refused to quite surface.
"That is not the question you want to ask." Lo Si continued to sit placidly in his chair, watching the questions race across his companion's face and then disappear into grief, quickly transformed into anger.
"How can you sit there calmly knowing what you know about me? You've been inside my mind; you've seen the darkness that surrounded me for so long--the terrible deeds I've done. Why haven't you left here running?"
Griffin started to turn back as if returning to his haven when Lo Si stopped him with a question. "Do you think I can no longer trust you? That because you have been a killer, a gun-for-hire; I will not allow myself to care for you?
"Got it in two!" The ex-mercenary swung himself away from the other man and squared his shoulders. He was done talking.
The old man sighed in resignation. Kermit Griffin had spent too much of his life keeping secrets. The fact that his nightmares would continue to plague him until he had faced each square in the mirror did not make it easier to open up.
Before either could settle solidly into their current dispositions, the front doorbell rang.
Kermit turned just his head toward the old man, "Reinforcements?"
"I have called no one."
"Nor have I. They can stay out there." Kermit turned his head to stare at the monitor.
The doorbell again rang. Without asking permission, Lo Si rose and went to the door. "I will see who it is."
"The alarm system is on." Kermit was not surprised that the old man ignored the warning. The first thing Kermit had checked when he sat down at his computer that afternoon, was the status of the house alarm system. He was surprised to discover, with so many people coming and going, that it was still set on. The thought occurred to him to check with Lo Si but decided to rack it up to one more feat of Shaolin or, perhaps, Caine magic.
Griffin cursed when he heard the front door open, close, and then two sets of footsteps coming his way. He was tempted to lock his bedroom door, but doubted it would have made a difference to his Shaolin guardian. As fast as one set of feet was moving, he didn't think he had time anyhow.
He rose to his feet, partially in defense, when Jody strode cheerfully into the room; Lo Si was several feet behind her. Recognizing her, he sank back into his chair at the computer, turning his back to her.
He had not heard the short, quiet exchange between the two.
"Ah, Detective Powell! Exactly who he needs-a beautiful woman! He refuses to talk to this ancient person."
Only she could see him nod his head. "Well, I've made stronger men talk."
The grin in her whisper was obvious to her escort.
Surprised to see the patient sitting at his computer instead of lying in bed, she strode over to look over his shoulder. "Aha!" she said; and reached in, hit a few keys, and closed the web browser he had been using. "Bet you had Lo Si convinced you were doing important work. Now, get into bed."
Kermit sat there, trying hard to ignore her. He was uncomfortable enough with just Lo Si there. To him, two was a crowd, and three was a mob. Perhaps if he ignored the woman, she'd take the hint and go?
"Stubborn, are we? Well, Kermie, if you don't go to bed right now, I'm just going to pull the plug on your computer. And you wouldn't like that, would you? Would you?"
Damn, she was hardheaded! Kermit conceded. He rose, walked slowly to his bed, and lay down. Deep down, his conscience realized she was right.
Still not giving Kermit a chance to speak, the determined woman turned to Lo Si. "You are supposed to be taking care of this man! When has he eaten last? There is only a stale omelet in here; there is nothing on the stove. Go fix something! You are supposed to be a chef, prove it!"
A master of diplomacy and timing, the old man left.
She turned back to the patient. "And you, what were you doing out of bed?"
Working his body into a more comfortable position, the ex-mercenary closed his eyes and droned, "This is a recording. The party to whom you are speaking is not available. Save your nickel; do not call again."
Jody pulled a chair to the bed and sat. She leaned in toward her friend and poked him ungently in the shoulder. "Kermit, I saw you earlier today, remember? Peter called the office a little while go to check in, and mentioned you had some more trouble here."
As soon as she had spoken to Peter, she knew she had to invade Kermit's territory. Griffin might tolerate Lo Si's company, but unless Lo Si ignored some serious medical rules and got his patient roaring drunk, there was no way Lo Si would get the ex-mercenary to open up about his past. That was just the way men were. As a woman, she should have better luck. Too, she knew her past made her uniquely qualified. "Peter didn't mention 'flashback,' --but you had one, didn't you!"
Kermit opened his eyes and looked at her in surprise. He thought about making a rude comment about her transferring affection from Peter to him, but something about her expression suggested it wouldn't be smart. He again closed his eyes and, in the same tone, continued, "The patient is fine. You may leave now.
She ignored his words and leaned in closer. "Kermit, you remember my father, don't you?"
The memory hit the man almost as hard as the flashback had. He could see Chuck Blakemore, sitting at a bar someplace after a mission, passing around pictures of his daughters. He was a great explosives man, actually made it to retirement, and then died from liver cancer about six years ago. Chuck's profession partially explained why his daughters joined the force.
He sighed and responded, "Your father was a special man, Jody. One of the guys who always knew why we were where we were."
"Of course he was, idiot! Listen! He used to scare Kira and me with his nightmares, when he was home. He'd yell so loud, he'd wake us all up. And then he'd say 'it's nothing; don't worry about it; go back to sleep'. Sure! So Kira and I, when we were somewhere around 9 and 11, we got talking, and there seemed to be just a few special themes to his nightmares. So, smart girls like we were, when his screams woke us, we took notes about what he was saying.
"At first, it was just curiosity; we wanted to figure out what he was saying. We did this for a number of years. Then, I was taking a psych course in college. I can still remember the teacher saying that the subconscious throws nightmares at someone when something happened or is happening that the person refuses to handle. So Kira and I talked about it and, the next time Daddy had one of his nightmares, we sat him down and talked to him about what he was doing on his missions."
"He wouldn't have talked to you about those. They were classified." Kermit wasn't surprised that Jody, or Kira, would have tackled their father; Jody still hit everything head-on.
"He sure didn't want to; but we had sorted out all our notes by then and had a pretty good idea already about what he'd gone through. We showed him the notes and he got real upset at us."
"Of course he did! It was hard enough for any of us to go through that. None of us wanted our families or friends back home to feel any part of it." His own ordeal was, for the moment, far from his mind; all he could think of was how these two young women must have felt, knowing even some of what their father knew.
"He tried to yell at us; he grabbed the notes from Kira and tried to send us out to play or something. Spoke to us as if we still little. But I had a copy, too; and we started to cry and tell him how much we loved him and how it hurt us to see him hurt - you know, 'daughters-handling-daddy 101.'"
"Oh, yeah; I can just imagine. He told us about you two ganging up on him sometimes." Kermit was caught up in the nostalgia of the moment and grinned at the memory.
"Well, it worked. He started talking. We knew he wasn't telling us everything, but he didn't leave out much. After all, we already knew a lot from our note taking. Besides, with Daddy being ex-military, too, we had seen all those war movies so many times. So he was just giving us a lot more details, sort of filling in the gaps. He didn't tell any secrets - like where the missions were and the who's and the when's; just some of the what."
Delicious smells were starting to float in from the kitchen and sounds of activity there were decreasing. Food would be ready soon and Kermit was now hungry. "Is there a point to this?"
Jody jabbed him in the chest. "The point to this is that after Daddy talked about it with us, his nightmares went away. He'd been afraid we'd be scared of him, if we knew what he did; but we found it exciting." She grinned at the horror on his face. "You don't know girls very well, do you?"
He shuddered, "I guess I don't. I think I'm grateful."
"Look, Griffin. In this business, like in your old career, we have to be strong; and we can't burden our families with what we know. Sometimes it's the secrecy; often it's just the horror. But, if we don't have someone to open up to, even just a little, after a while, we explode."
When Kermit opened one eye and lifted the brow at her, she grinned sheepishly, "I didn't come to make speeches, idiot. I came to help. You know I'm probably the only one you could talk to. Peter just wouldn't understand, and you're just not that comfortable with his father. Captain Simms wouldn't understand, right now…" She grinned at his slight blush, "Oh, yeah, we know--there's no secrets in the 101st. But we're for it, so we're leaving you alone…for now.
"Karen will understand, later. The Chief wouldn't understand what you're upset about-he's probably eaten his demons. So you're stuck with me."
The man lying in bed merely rolled onto his side, again turning his back to the woman. Bad mistake!
With the index fingers of both hands, Jody started poking Kermit in the back.
After his initial response of "Hey, there's a sick man here." didn't stop her, he gave in. He rolled onto his opposite side and faced her. "Just what is it you want, Detective Jody Powell?"
Quickly hiding her glee at succeeding, she asked him to "Tell me about this second flashback today. What triggered it? What happened?"
Kermit sighed and flopped onto his back. "A car backfired; I felt like I was back in Afghanistan on some mission. I could see people in my team fall after I could hear shooting. Then I was shot and captured and imprisoned. Later, Paul came, bribed the guards, and got me out. Only this time, it was Lo Si, coming into my mind, pretending to be Paul, who got me out. And woke me."
"You must have hated Paul, and the other team members. I've been on a few undercover jobs that went sour; wasn't sure I was going to survive. If anything kept me alive, it was the thought that I was going to rip the faces off the chief and the captain if I ever got out of there! Every curse I ever knew I laid on them and their parents and their children. It's a good thing they weren't the first to find me, I can tell you."
He was sitting up and looking at her, an expression close to horror on his face. "How could I hate Paul? He got me out of there. He's been a good friend, even like, …well, almost like a father."
"Who do you think sent me in? Blaisdell did! He was my Captain then. Besides, didn't he suggest you for the mission? My father mentioned once that he'd heard Blaisdell had to talk the guy who wanted the job done into letting you be part of the team-he'd never heard of you."
He flopped back onto the bed, but continued, "And I didn't want to go either; I'd heard too many of the operations he contracted out ended with most contract players getting killed. But Paul said it would be a great marketing ploy for me; said he'd checked everything out and it was an easy gig. We'd just run in, grab the …whatever, and come right out. Sure. Paul was the only one who came out whole." Kermit had forgotten for a moment that he was not trading war stories with a compatriot; something he'd done rarely enough in his younger years.
Jody recognized the rhythm of war-story swapping, but she didn't remember enough details of her father's stories to relate any; and hers weren't daring or scary enough to keep Kermit's pump primed. Yes, she'd had some very difficult moments in her various undercover assignments; but she'd exaggerated the seriousness of them for Kermit's sake.
Before the silence stretched too long, and Griffin built up his anger about Blaisdell's part in his Afghan captivity, she spoke. "But Blaisdell wasn't unscathed either."
The other looked at her in surprise, "What do you mean by that?"
"You're talking, what? mid-'87? He disappeared around then for several weeks; he came back looking like he was just left his deathbed. I saw him when he came to see my father. Maybe he wasn't physically hurt, but it was months before he even smiled again. Whatever happened, that mission took something out of him. Don't ever say he came out whole from that."
She tried another exploratory jab. "I'll bet you've been feeling guilty because you came back and others didn't - or you weren't hurt as bad." Kermit didn't deny it, didn't even respond; but he rarely agreed-either said 'no' defiantly or just did whatever it was. She continued, "I'll bet Caine would say something here like, 'it is better to accept with joy the opportunity to do more good, than to resent not having that opportunity removed,' --although his would sound good and even be poetic."
Since the other still did not speak, she tried another tack. "Did you get to see Dad before he died?"
This he answered. "No, I was still recuperating from Afghanistan in Switzerland. He was fine when I left, and was gone when I returned. I wish I could have; he was a friend."
Now he was puzzled. "You haven't spoken about this to me, or anyone before. Why not?"
Jody shrugged, "To who? Kira and I did talk some. But, Paul was too busy with whatever was bothering him, and when you came back-well, I didn't know you then." She grinned at him, "Dad always kept us away from you-said you were probably too dangerous to know. He was right."
Kermit's response was a feral grin, "He's still right."
She poked him again, "Hush, you! My father didn't like your father; said that the way your father treated his family, you would probably turn out just like him. Dad was wrong about that." She spoke this about his father slowly, clearly expecting a defensive reaction.
She got none. Griffin simply rolled away from her again.
"Kermit, did you say goodbye to him at his funeral?"
For several moments, there was silence. Then, in a voice she could barely hear, he said, "I stood there and laid on him every curse I knew. I thanked every deity I could think of for setting us free. He was a nasty, vindictive, abusive man. I wish he'd died years before."
"What about your sister? How did she take his death?"
"It's not the kind of subject you bring up at family gatherings. 'Say, Sis, do you remember how our father used to beat Mom and us?'" He still refused to face her; she continued to respect his need for some minimal pretense of privacy.
She hadn't given up yet; she could still see the tension in his body. He was going to get no rest until he let this go.
"Kermit, did you ever tell him what you thought of him?"
Now, that stirred him. "You have got to be kidding! He'd have beat the sh*t out me!"
"Sorry, I wasn't clear; did you ever go to his grave and talk to him? Yell at him? I go to the cemetery, sometimes, and talk to my father and then to Kira. Maybe I'm really talking to myself, but it helps."
"Great place for a sniper attack-wide-open spaces!"
Now she poked him. He was getting smart-assed again. She waited a few minutes in silence. She sighed, looked at her companion, and then looked again. His breathing was so soft and shallow, she had to observe him closely to determine he was still alive.
"Lo Si! Come quick!"
Before she could locate a pulse point on the prone man, the apothecary was there, picking up the man's arm and verifying, "It is all right, Detective Powell. He is asleep. Your discussion was very beneficial. I thank you."
"Should he sleep? With the head wound, I thought…"
"It has been long enough that we need not worry any more. He will sleep very well now."
"Lo Si, how could he just drift off in the middle of a conversation about how he hated his father?"
"Detective Jody Powell, you are such a caring person. Realize this is the first time he has spoken of how he felt at that funeral. Those feelings were overwhelming to the child he was; as an adult he could accept them and also free the child from the guilt of feeling them. You allowed him to free one more demon.
"Would you like some supper? I have made a wonderful dish."
"Master Lo Si," she said with a bow and broad smile, "It doesn't matter what it is. I'm so hungry I could eat octopus."
"How did you guess?" was the chuckling response.
Jody groaned, but followed anyhow; she was that hungry.
***
Over the next week, Jody was a frequent guest; Lo Si continued to play maitre'd and chef; and Kermit's nightmares grew less frequent and less disturbing.
There were no more flashbacks. However, the second night, after Jody had left, after a very short visit because Kermit refused to talk about any incidents in his past at all, he had two different, very graphic disturbances. He waited for Lo Si to offer the magic brew he'd given him the last time he'd had such a bad night. Lo Si never even woke.
The next morning he asked, "So, Master Lo Si, do you have any more of that special tea you brewed for me to stop my nightmares?" He was not prepared for the response.
"Do you wish to exchange disturbed nights for disturbed days again? Perhaps this time you will walk into a bullet and end both?" The old man angrily pulled away the plates he had just set down, still laden with fragrant omelets garnished with yellow and green herbs. "Perhaps I should not be wasting my culinary skills on an ungrateful patient, turning up his nose at the appropriate remedy to ask for the 'easy way out.'"
Before Lo Si could dump out the food, which was plainly his intention, Kermit jumped up and grabbed the plates. "Whoa, don't be so hasty! Just explain, please, to a starving man what you meant about me taking the 'easy way out.""
Lo Si let him take the plates, but stood opposite him at the breakfast table and said, "The herbs I gave you were meant to allow you to sleep enough to give you strength to face the demons you had hidden so long. Now you have started to face them. Do you wish to hide from them now?"
Kermit gave him a long look as he continued to eat. "Face my demons? You mean by talking? With Jody? You know talking is not my thing! Tuesday was just a fluke! Getting shot, having that flashback, having you visiting inside my head, shook me up; enough to make a dead man talk!"
Lo Si went to grab the plates again, although his facial expression was not as serious as it had been, but Kermit threatened to stab the hand reaching for the plate. The old man backed off, but only as far as leaving the food in front of the other man. He sat down and began to eat his own food, while he watched a parade of thoughts cross Kermit's face.
Nightmares or flashbacks. I have a choice? Go nuts or go nuts? Or die? Lose my friends or my sanity? "This is delicious, Lo Si; thank you for all the cooking you have done." The words came out as if Kermit had indeed made a choice; as if he were expecting Lo Si to leave and let him go crazy in private.
"You are welcome, my friend; I hope you like what I am planning for dinner."
"Dinner? I thought you were leaving. That you'd decided to let me go my own way." The police detective and ex-mercenary was actually having trouble maintaining the normally blank face he used to cover all expressions, but since he rarely fought smiles as hard as he fought tears, the smile was breaking through.
Both men knew that Lo Si had known of Kermit's decision as soon as he had made it; the words were part Kermit's protective coloration, for his own ego only. Lo Si made the appropriate reply, "I have always let you go your own way, Detective Griffin; I have merely made it easier for your footsteps to follow the right path. Your recovery would be faster, and this old soul could return to the people who also need me, if you had trust in another to open your heart to.
"I will tell you of my adventures while I was a young monk surviving in China; then we can trade misadventures, No?"
Kermit sighed, as if in resignation, "Oh, all right!"
The two cleaned up the kitchen and then retired to the living room, Kermit with his coffee, Lo Si with his morning ginseng tea. As they settled, the old man started telling the other about the time he was taken prisoner by the father of a woman he had cured of a lengthy illness. "She had been sick so long, there were no young men in the area to marry. The father was afraid he would be stuck with a weakling daughter who had been too sick to learn to cook or sew. He had no sons with wives to cook for him if his wife died before him. He decided I should marry his daughter and take over his estate when he finally died."
"That sounds like a decent deal for a young wandering monk; were you allowed to marry?" Kermit had tried marriage more than once; he knew the attractions to a man with no roots.
"It happens; but it was not my path. One day, as I wandered his estates, looking for herbs for my medicines, I took the wrong road and soon found myself in another province. I took advantage of the opportunity to remove myself from the threat."
The two laughed together, and then Lo Si finished the story. "I did not go back, but I knew I had only fixed part of the problem for that woman. For the next few years, whenever I came upon a young man traveling to seek his fortune, I sent him to that province, telling them to ask that man if he needed help. I am sure by now he has many, many grandbabies.
"Now, it is your turn. Do you not have an entertaining tale, a misadventure you can share with an old man?"
So Kermit told about hot-wiring a car at 16, and ending up in the Army instead of jail; about seeing action in Vietnam; about his progression through the Special Forces to becoming a mercenary after the regimentation finally got to him.
As Lo Si listened to the other man, he looked for the little pauses and sharp subject changes that indicated tender areas in Kermit's memories. Some he stored away to prime Jody for her nightly talks; some he addressed then.
One of Kermit's stories was about a village that his company came across while moving to a new vantagepoint for observing the Ho Chi Min trail. As they drew near, some of the villagers approached as if offering friendship. As soon as the soldiers were within range, their commander ordered them to fire. Kermit fired along with the rest of the troops, but was still horrified at what he saw as an irrational act.
At the first opportunity, he had gone up the chain of command and even went to the Inspector General, filing letters of complaint at each level. He was told to back off. He would have carried it further, but was transferred to Special Forces shortly after the massacre and was soon submerged into his missions. Then life got in the way, and the memory was just one more occupant in the dungeons of his mind-only resurfacing with the rest of the demons.
"Do you now have the resources, with your computer skills, to find out if you were right or not?"
"Oh, yeah; I've just been a bit busy since the nightmares got so bad. If you'll permit me the time, I'll see what I can find." Kermit was already out of the room.
Lo Si called to him, "It is time for your chef to make lunch; I shall bring the food to your computer and you may show me your findings."
He took his time fixing the meal, giving Kermit enough time to at least start his search. He used the last of the salad greens and some of the other vegetables and seeds he used to complement the greens in the salad; so he made a mental note to call Jody and ask her to do some food shopping on her way over.
When he reached the bedroom, there was no one there. Since the apartment was not large, it took only another moment to find the computer expert, staring out a living room window.
Griffin turned when the old man placed the food plates on a side table and growled, "You could have told me, couldn't you!"
"Yes."
"And you didn't because…?"
"You would not have believed me."
"No, I would not have." Kermit sighed and sat next to the side table with the food-laden plates. He started nibbling on the salad, his mind still on the data he had located in the CIA fact book web site, of all places. The list of enemy vs. friendly Viet villages was now public knowledge. It took only a few moments for him to locate the site of the massacre; only a few moments to confirm his commander was right. He, Kermit Griffin, had been wrong. All those years, he had been wrong. What a waste of a perfectly good nightmare!
He looked down at the salad dish in his lap. About half of the meal remained. His senses now told him how tasty it was, and he said so to the chef; but his mind was still elsewhere.
Finally he focused on the present again; he looked at his companion. "Not all of my nightmares could be just so much wasted energy, resulting from naivete on my part, could they?"
"They are part of your own history, born of your own experiences and knowledge at that time. We all need to reflect on our history from time to time to sort out the misconceptions. Since you have not done so in the past, you are getting that opportunity now.
"I will go clean up the kitchen and prepare a list of foods for Detective Powell to bring tonight."
Griffin didn't even hear him; he was already on his way back to the computer-feeling in control for the first time in two weeks. He had a problem, and a team; he would soon have solutions. 'Oh, yeah!"
The End
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