Part 10
Larsen watched the fire and listened to the screams and pleas that surrounded him. A satisfied smile was accentuated by his half-closed eyes, eyes that were filled with contentment at an enemy being brought down.
"Now, for our next part of the party," Larsen pulled out a metal rod from a campfire hidden behind some trees that Kermit had not seen before. It was not more than twenty inches long. On the end, there was a crossbar with two words, "brother mine". "Have you ever been to a branding, Griffin?" I'm told the animal doesn't feel the pain much. But, since animals can't talk, we don't know." Larsen watched with satisfaction as the words lit up red-hot.
"You can tell us, Griffin. Let's see. We want this where you can see it every day for the rest of your miserable life. Open his shirt," Larsen ordered hulk. He then looked from Kermit to Karen, watching the shock and disbelief cross the feminine face.
Kermit's face remained stone-like. No emotion came through. Instead, looking at Karen, Kermit knew that Larsen would never let the two of them live to see tomorrow. Knowing this and seeing the red tipped rod coming toward him, Kermit's self-doubts fled, leaving the ex-mercenary with renewed strength.
The words, lit up like neon lights, were only inches from Kermit's flesh. The smell of hot iron filled his nostrils, the heat radiated out toward him.
'Yes,' he thought. 'I may deserve the brand, but Karen and Peter deserve better than a coward.' He remembered the words Karen had said earlier. Was it pity he had felt for himself, or remorse for a brother he didn't get to grow old with?
Hulk had pinioned Kermit on his back after tackling the ex-mercenary to the ground. He held Kermit's wrists with one meaty hand as the other kept Kermit's head on the ground.
Karen watched the fire return to her lover's eyes and readied herself for a fight as the branding rod drew closer to Kermit's flesh.
The heat from the rod increased Kermit's determination. As the rod bit into his skin, Kermit brought up his legs, knocking the large man that held him, off to the side. Then with his hands briefly loose, Kermit grabbed the handle Larsen was pushing deeper into Kermit's chest. The handle was cool, though Kermit didn't feel the sting and pain that had been inflicted on him anymore. His one thought was to kill Larsen. Grabbing the handle with adrenaline-filled strength, he pulled Larsen into the startled hulk.
Taking advantage of Kermit's moves and her own captor's loss of attention, Karen bent at the waist and swung around, striking the man in the abdomen, causing him to lose what air he had in his lungs and fall to the ground.
A shot sounded, bringing everyone's attention around to the end of the cabin. The sound of car doors slamming shut prompted Larsen to roll off hulk and run for the woods, leaving behind the mayhem he had created.
Kermit staggered to his feet and rammed his fist into hulk's face, and then into the big man's abdomen.
Dazed for only a second, hulk stood and stepped toward Kermit, grabbing him by the throat with both hands and squeezing as he lifted Kermit up off the ground.
"POLICE! FREEZE!" The familiar voices of Paul Blaisdell and Mary Margaret Skalany shouted.
Hulk continued to squeeze as his cohort raised his hands, giving up the fight when he saw Larsen run off and the five officers approach from both ends of the house, weapons drawn and trained on the three remaining men.
"Drop him or I'll shoot," TJ demanded, his gun aimed at hulk's head. Waiting just a second, TJ fired his shot and watched as the large man jerked backward, releasing his grip on Kermit, then fell to his knees.
After a moment's hesitation, he fell forward, landing face down on the ground. The gunshot wound to the head had done its job.
Bussy and Marley gave chase to Larsen, letting the Metro officers take care of the other suspects and the injured.
Karen ran to Kermit, who had fallen to the ground. He lost the fight for consciousness, having lost his oxygen supply courtesy of hulk.
The same cuffs that had held Karen's hands behind her back were now handcuffed to her guard, an identical pair now encircled his cohort. Cradling Kermit's head in her lap, she looked up as the footsteps behind her came closer. "You must be Blaisdell."
Paul reached down, nodding his answer to her statement. Feeling a pulse in Kermit's neck and witnessing his deep intake of air, Paul let out a deep sigh of relief. "And you are Captain Simms. Excuse me. I'll be right back. Mary Margaret, I need your help." Without waiting to see if the stunned detective followed, Paul turned and walked back toward the end of the building. "Kincaid, call for an ambulance, please. They'll be on channel eight, waiting on your call," he requested, again never looking back; his only thoughts were to get Peter to the hospital and make sure his friend recovered.
**
"What the HELL do you think YOU were doing?" Karen Simms hissed out the words, unable and unwilling to hold back the anger and fear to which she had been clinging since they'd left the mountain. "You knew the hell those two were going through, yet you just stood back and watched? What kind of friend, not to mention father, do you think does that?" Her face was red; her hands, had she not been holding her arms across her chest, would have been trembling.
Paul thought about the words she was saying. He knew that she would probably regret the harsh words, but there was truth in them. Watching as Karen continued to pace back and forth in the waiting room, he didn't bother to answer her, instead he thought about her questions and his answers. How was he going to tell both his son and Kermit why he had watched from the windows as they suffered alone?
Only TJ and Mary Margaret sat in the plastic chairs, listening to the brief tirade from their present Captain.
The shock of seeing her former Captain at the cabin had vanished when Mary Margaret saw the prone shape of Peter Caine leaning up against a tree, his skin the color of cotton, except under his eyes where dark circles hung like bags.
"Ahem," a doctor from the ER voiced, bringing everyone's attention to him. "I'm Doctor Shaw. Are you all with Mr. Griffin and Mr. Caine?"
"Yes, we are," Paul and Karen answered in unison.
"Well, I am admitting both of them to the hospital, Mr. Griffin overnight and Mr. Caine for a few days." The doctor nodded at Paul, remembering their earlier conversation. Dr. Shaw had started to comment about the track marks on his patient's arms when Paul told the story about kidnapping, forced administration of drugs, and withdrawal. "I'm admitting your son with dehydration, secondary to influenza. We have him on IV fluids and antibiotics. I think he also had gastroenteritis. That's just a long name for a stomach virus. It's not uncommon for the flu and a stomach virus to hit at the same time. The body is in such a weak state that it's hard to fight off the other bugs floating around. He also has a sprained ankle." He didn't mention the track marks on the young man's arms or the bruises that covered this man's son's body.
Paul let out the breath he had been holding, saying a short prayer of gratitude. "And Kermit Griffin?"
The doctor didn't lose his tired expression. "I'm afraid most of his injuries are mental, not physical. He refused the IV, but I do have him on PO antibiotics. The burns to his chest will heal, and eventually he can have plastic surgery to remove the scar. I'm more concerned with his state of mind." Dr. Shaw looked at each person. "He's asked for no visitors, especially Karen Simms."
"I'll be damned if I let him hide from me," she voiced her thought and stalked toward the emergency room doors.
"Wait!" Doctor Shaw called. The determination on her face had told him that nothing would stop her from talking to the patient.
It didn't take long for Karen to find the room Kermit was in. "Get the HELL out of here," Kermit shouted at a male nurse who had come in to help the patient finish undressing. So far, Kermit had only been willing to wear the gown and keep the pants.
"Why don't you shut up, Detective, and let this man do his job?" Karen growled before the nurse could respond. She was tired and was not going to put up with either Kermit's or Paul's crap. Worry fueled the fire that coursed through her body.
"I said I didn't want any visitors," Kermit answered, unable to look her in the eyes.
"Well, looks like you don't have a choice. Now, either you get undressed or I'll do it for you. Which would you prefer?"
Kermit thought about the choices. He really only had the two and if he had to get undressed, he would prefer to do it himself. "Peter's dead because I couldn't help him. Larsen was right, I'm not a person you need to get close to. The results could be fatal," he mumbled as he unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants, letting them drop to the floor while keeping the gown in front of him.
"You let me worry about my own safety. I'm a big girl. As for being a bad brother, I'm sure Marilyn would disagree with you on that point. How long have you been awake?" Karen asked, picking up his pants and neatly folding them.
Not wanting to answer her, Kermit turned away. He could feel her hard stare into the back of his head, hear her controlled breathing. "I woke up to them poking me with needles."
"Peter woke up in the ambulance." She watched as the self-pity he'd had earlier turned into doubt. "Paul got him out of the cabin before it collapsed. The scream we heard was Peter trying to get out the window."
"P-Paul Blaisdell?" Kermit couldn't believe it. "You mean Peter did see him?" His hands clenched, his eyes growing wide, his breathing becoming slow and deliberate.
"Yes, Paul Blaisdell. Apparently he got the message you sent him and he found out you had taken Peter to the cabin. I don't know how and he hasn't told me, though I guess I haven't given him time." Karen, weary from the long hours she had been keeping, said as she propped herself up on the edge of the bed.
"I'll explain everything to you when they move you and Peter to a room," a baritone voice announced. Paul stood in the doorway, a wheelchair in front of him, having just left the room his son occupied. "The doc is going to put you both in the same room. Peter is still fuzzy-headed, but he is coming around. I know I owe you all an explanation and I will give it to you."
Kermit's anger flared, "What kind of explanation can you give me? The hell we have been through deserves something. I don't know about Peter; he'll probably forgive you just for coming back. But me…"
Paul waited for Kermit to finish his sentence, but the ending never came. "You have to first forgive yourself, Kermit. Come on, get in the chair and let me get this over with."
A half-hour later, both injured men were in their hospital room. TJ and Mary Margaret had left, with TJ promising to come back in the morning to pick up both the Captain and Kermit. Karen had refused to go home, stating she wanted to stay overnight and make sure everything was all right.
Paul sat beside Peter's bed, running his fingers through his son's soft brown hair. It was so easy to forget that Peter was not his biologically and to have almost lost him had cost Paul a lot.
A low moan escaped Peter's lips as he pushed his head down into the pillow, the movement an attempt to pull away from the pain and dreams. "Dad?"
"I'm right here, son," Paul whispered, leaning down toward Peter's head as dark hazel eyes opened to meet his blue ones.
The dryness of his mouth caused Peter to lick his chapped lips. "I-I thought y-you were a d-dream."
Paul offered his son a cup of water, positioning the straw next to Peter's lips. "Here, drink some water. Not much now." Paul waited while Peter took a few sips of the cool liquid. No one had asked any more questions since the two patients had been brought into the room; the tension that emanating from both Karen and Kermit was palpable. "I'm sorry, Peter. I shouldn't have let you and Kermit go through this-this agony-alone."
"K-Kermit h-here?"
"Yes. He's in the next bed," Paul answered, looking in Kermit's direction.
Turning to Kermit, but never losing physical contact with Peter, Paul added, "When you contacted me, I had to find out what was going on. I sent out some feelers and found out that Larsen had Peter abducted, and then later, that you had brought him to the cabin. You have never gotten over David's death. I thought that if you could help Peter through this, then maybe you could forgive yourself for not being there for your brother.
"When Peter ran from you, I watched as you talked with him and cared for him. Kermit, you did the best you could with both David and Peter. One thing I have learned is you can't always be there for the ones you love, you can only support them in the decisions they make. I called Donnie and gave him some information and he gave me what he had. Even Nickie was willing to remain quiet. When I found out that Larsen knew where you were, I called the precinct. Frank told me Skalany and Kincaid were out with the feds, and Karen had already started for the cabin. My cell phone wasn't working so I was at the neighbors' cabin using their phone and by the time I got back, Larsen had Karen. I took out one of the men watching the back of the cabin and by that time they had already set fire to it. Getting Peter out was my main concern. We'd almost made it out the window when the chimney collapsed. Peter's foot got hung up and he screamed. God, he scared me. I thought for sure the fire had got him."
Paul turned back to Peter. "I'm sorry, son."
"'S all right," Peter whispered as sleep overcame him.
Kermit rubbed his bandaged chest, thinking of the words Paul had said. "I thought I was a failure to all of them; David, Peter, and Karen. I couldn't save any of them when they needed me to. You left me there with him, to let me kill him. God, Paul, what were you thinking? I should have learned long ago not to let anyone get close to me. They all wind up dead."
"You're wrong, Kermit," Karen said, her voice tender and tears clouding her vision. "You can't always save those you love. Like Paul said, you have to sometimes accept what comes along and just do the best you can. You fought back when you thought Larsen was going to kill us, kill me. You didn't think of yourself, only of others."
Paul got up and moved next to Kermit's bed. "Peter will forgive you, just as he'll forgive me, you were right there. It wasn't your fault that Larsen got him. Kermit, you have to forgive yourself and realize that you are human and sometimes we humans make mistakes. Mine was leaving last year and I've paid dearly for it. You have friends," Paul looked at Karen and knew that there was a bond building between the Captain and her officer, "who love you and don't judge you. You're not a failure. Look at all the times you have helped others and kept them safe. You do the best you can and go on, nothing more-nothing less."
Remaining quiet, Kermit looked from Karen to Paul to Peter and watched as the young man slept peacefully. His own eyelids protested being open so long and began to seal themselves shut. A yawn caught him off guard.
"Get some sleep, Detective. We'll talk some more later," Karen ordered as she pulled the sheet up over Kermit's shoulders. "The doctor said the scar can be removed with plastic surgery."
"I think I want to keep it. Just to remind me of who I am," Kermit responded, sleep pulling him quickly away.
"NO! Kermit! Please, don't let him. Stop him, Kermit!" Peter's nightmare had him held firmly within its grasp. He struggled against the hands that held him. George had somehow gotten around Kermit and had him penned.
"Peter." The word finally broke through the dream. "Peter, it's me, Paul. Come on, wake up."
Opening his eyes to the darkness, "No!" Peter protested. "You're not real! Kermit said y-you weren't r-real. You left me. Just like he did." Peter fought against Paul, confusion preventing him from recognizing Paul in the dimly lit room.
Paul sat on the bed, encircling his arms around Peter, gently stroking the back of his son's head. "S-sh. Peter, it is me. I'm sorry I left."
Defeated and tired, Peter leaned into the embrace. "I-I don't un-understand why you l-left. I d-didn't know h-how to take care of-of Mom when she w-was sad."
"Son, you have done what you could. You haven't done anything wrong. I have. I left you when you were hurting." Paul ignored the tears that ran down his own cheeks as sobs wracked Peter's body.
Hearing the screams, a nurse entered the room, then quietly left, seeing father and son together.
Kermit watched and listened to Paul sooth the Peter.
The next morning, Kermit was still unsure of his ability to protect those he cared for, feeling the self-doubts resurface. Karen had promised him time off and had taken some herself. They were going to go to a beach for a few days, to help Kermit to find himself again.
Peter woke without any more nightmares that night. His body was so exhausted that dreaming had been out of the question. He looked around the room for the gray haired man he had called Dad for half his life. Disappointment was written over Peter's face when he didn't see Paul, Karen, or his roommate. Running water from the bathroom could be heard, making him wish for a shower. The door to the hallway opened, allowing the one face Peter longed to see to enter. "Hi."
"Hi there. You think you can handle some breakfast?" Paul carried in a tray with five brown mugs on them. "Doc says you need liquids so that is all you get for right now. If you can keep it down, I'll take you home tomorrow. Your mother is worried sick about you."
Peter watched as Paul uncovered the liquids in each of the mugs, their aromas mingling with each other. "B-broth?"
Smiling, Paul picked up the cup that held the broth. "Yes. Here, let me get you a straw for this."
The broth went down and stayed down, along with warm tea and Jell-O. Peter refused the juice, stating he was full. Paul was moving the tray when Peter reached for Paul's arm. "P-Paul? How's K-Kermit?"
"He's fine. He needs to take a few days off. Remembering David and everything that has gone on in his life has overloaded him. He'll be OK, just like you." Paul tousled Peter's hair gently. "Peter, I'm sorry I didn't come inside when you called for me."
Peter gave a weak smile. "I knew y-you were there. K-Kermit s-said you were a d-dream, but I knew." The effort to eat and talk weakened him. "I-I love you, Dad."
"I love you too, Son. I love you." Paul leaned over and gave Peter a kiss on the forehead just as his son went off to sleep.