Faithfulness in the Center
Part 15
It had been over two hours and Kermit had not left the bedroom. Clearly the two were involved in another battle of wills. Kermit wasn't coming out until Peter was gone and Peter wasn't leaving until Kermit came out and talked with him. Peter grinned, knowing that he would win the battle. There was only one way in or out of the fourth floor apartment and that way involved going through the living room.
With concentration, Peter could close his eyes and feel Kermit's presence. He knew that his friend was unharmed. The Shaolin had debated knocking on the bedroom door and asking Kermit to come out, but had decided that in Kermit's present state of mind, that act would be inadvisable; that it would be best for Kermit to decide when he was ready to face and forgive his friend.
So instead, Peter resigned himself to monitoring Kermit mentally. Peter's skills were still not dependable and so he had to settle on flashes of visions, not complete thoughts. It seemed the more intense the emotion from Kermit, the more vivid the image in Peter's mind. The fact that the pictures were so clear now was not a pleasant thought for Peter. It meant that Kermit was reliving the nightmares again. Only this time, unlike the previous evening, these memories were bouncing between the incident with Stiles and the shooting of Stephanie Porter.
Peter picked up the newspaper which was now laying on the coffee table, reading the headline again for the umpteenth time. It never changed, nor did the article below it. While Sandra Mason may have broke the initial story, the newspaper reporter had taken the investigation further. The newspaper had been sure to publish reactions from everyone, including the Porters and their attorney. The attorney's response was typical in threatening additional legal action against the Department and the City. The Porter's response and specifically Mrs. Porter's response, was much more emotional and accusatory. The woman implied that Kermit's actions were intentional; that they were the premeditated act of a killer, not a police officer whose job it was to protect the innocent.
Peter sympathized with the woman. He knew of the intense suffering she was experiencing. Pain like that caused one to say things. . .do things that one would never have dreamt of doing before. Peter flashed on standing at his father's grave eighteen years before and threatening to take revenge against the men who he believed had murdered his father. He had meant it then, but thankfully, never had the opportunity to act upon it.
Peter reached for the phone and dialed the direct line to the precinct. Sgt. Broderick answered on the second ring. "101st Precinct, Sgt. Broderick," the gruff, but efficient voice came through the line.
"Sergeant, it's Peter."
"Caine, how's Kermit?" The voice was quick to ask the question.
"As well as can be expected, I guess. He's not talking to me at the present time." Peter felt guilty for the response.
"What happened? You piss him off again." The Sergeant could be irritatingly accurate at times.
"I'd rather not talk about it right now." Peter muttered.
There was a chuckle on the other end. Peter continued, ignoring it, "How's it going down there?"
"It's a zoo. The press has been hanging around all day. I've tried clearing them out, but they keep finding their way back in. We've had two civil rights groups call in and threaten the department with actions for police misconduct. The mayor has called and says she wants a copy of every case Griffin's ever worked. Says she wants to see for herself whether we knew of Kermit's background."
"Alleged background," Peter interrupted.
"Yeah. . .that's what I meant. . .alleged background," Broderick corrected. "I'll be honest, Peter. It doesn't look good. All sorts of questions are being raised about the missing file, Kermit's hiring and. . ." Broderick's voice trailed off.
" 'And' what?" Peter pressed.
"And what the connection was between Kermit and Captain Blaisdell." Broderick completed the sentence, his voice filled with regret.
Peter closed his eyes. This really wasn't a surprise. Once people started asking questions about Kermit's past, those questions invariably led to more questions about Paul's. "Is the Captain in?"
"Yeah, but she's on the phone. I think she's trying to convince Kincaid not to suspend Kermit."
"Okay. Tell her I called and that Kermit's fine. If she needs me, I'll be at Kermit's."
"Will do." Broderick responded. "By the way, Stephanie Porter's funeral is today at 3:00. Are you going?"
"I doubt it. I want to stick with Kermit and I don't think it would be a good idea if he were in attendance."
"Agreed. There will be officers from the 101st representing the Police Department. Kincaid wants to make sure that we are seen as being sympathetic to the tragedy. . .as if we aren't already."
Peter had to wonder about the advisability of attending the funeral. However, political games had never made much sense to him. "Hey Peter?" Broderick said quickly before the line could be disconnected.
"Yeah."
"Tell Griffin that we're behind him. He has friends here." Broderick's voice carried a hint of emotion. . .more than could usually be detected from the man.
Peter found himself smiling, "I'll do that." Peter hung up and muttered, "If only I thought it would make a difference."
Before Peter could move, the doorbell rang. Peter closed his eyes, knowing that the press must have finally found Kermit's address. He pushed himself from the couch and peered through the peephole on the door and immediately recognized a familiar face. . .a face that just might be what Kermit needed at the present.
He undid the locks on the door and smiled at the visitor, "Hi John."
John Durham returned the smile, but with a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Is Kermit here?"
"Yeah. . .come on in." Peter held the door open for the ex-mercenary, turned banker. "How's Megan?"
John's face lit up at the mention of his new love's name, "She's great. We're engaged."
"Congratulations. When's the big day?" Peter was glad to hear someone was happy in the world.
"This November. We're going to get married in Hawaii." The man looked twenty years younger than the last time Peter had seen him. Of course, in all fairness, the last time Peter had seen the man was during the robbery of the branch which John managed.
John's face drew tight, "How's Kermit?"
The light-hearted discussion turned suddenly serious. Peter looked towards the closed door of the bedroom, "Not good. This morning's paper may have been the proverbial straw."
John nodded, his British accent very sharp, "Yes, I saw. I've been out of town for the past couple of days so I didn't find out what had happened until this morning."
Peter walked back to the couch and sat down. The older man took the chair a few feet away. "Kermit is blaming himself for what happened. . .punishing himself for something that was clearly an accident."
"What exactly happened? If you read the paper, it sounds like Kermit was playing Rambo out there. In fact Sandra Mason went as far as to hint that he should be brought up on manslaughter charges."
Peter gave a short recital of the details, stressing the fact that Kermit had been injured and returned fire in self-defense, not realizing that the young girl was in the line of fire. John nodded silently, pondering each and every word. Peter continued, "I don’t know what to do, John. He is hell-bent on blaming himself for this. What's worse is that this shooting is bringing back some memories for him that he really is in no shape to deal with right now."
John nodded, "I've known Kermit for a long time. He has always had a strict definition of right and wrong. If he perceives that he has done something that fits into the wrong category, he will punish himself forever and a day."
"So how do we break this cycle of guilt?" Peter asked, knowing that his voice sounded desperate.
"I'm not sure," John shook his head. "Let me see if I can talk to him."
The gray-haired man rose from his chair and approached the bedroom door. Knocking on it solidly, he called out, "Hey Kermit, it's John."
There was nothing but silence. John repeated the knock and shout. Again, he was answered with silence. "Please Kermit. We need to talk." John tried the door handle. It was locked.
He turned back to Peter and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess I could kick it down."
"I'm not sure that's advisable. I think he's armed," Peter joked. . .at least he thought he was joking. Peter closed his eyes to make sure his friend was okay. He reached out and felt. . .nothing. Kermit was no longer in the adjoining room.
Quickly, Peter vaulted the couch and ran to the bedroom door, deciding to do exactly what John had threatened. He kicked it open and found himself standing in the middle of an empty room. The window was open and a warm breeze was blowing the drapes. Peter ran to the window, John following close behind, and peered out to see a long line of sheets knotted together. The improvised rope dangled two floors down. From there, it was a 16 foot drop to the ground.
Peter shook his head in amazement, "How'd he do that? He was injured!"
"When Kermit sets his mind on something, injury rarely makes a difference," John muttered, pulling the sheets back into the bedroom.
"I screwed up. I was trying to keep track of him by. . ." Peter's voice trailed off, realizing that using a mental link to monitor his friend might not be accepted by the ex-mercenary. "I was sidetracked when I made a phone call. He must have heard me get on the phone and decided to make a run for it."
"Where would he go?" John asked the young cop.
"I'm not sure. . ." Peter glanced at his watch. It was almost 10:00. "I'll call the precinct and have them keep an eye out for him in case he shows up there."
"Find him, Peter." John headed back to the front door.
"Where are you going?" Peter asked the man before he could leave.
"I have an idea of how I can help Kermit. I just need a couple of hours. You just find him and make sure he's okay." Durham left the apartment without looking back, leaving Peter to wonder what the ex-mercenary could possibly do to help his friend.
End Part 15
To Part 16