From: lurker@iglobal.net
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Subject: Connected (Part 2)
Date: Mon, 3 Mar 1997 02:19:53 -0600
Message-ID: <19970303081907343.AAD174@denp1-29.iglobal.net>

CONNECTED (Sequel to Third Time's' a Charm) - Part 2
by Deb Parizek and Rhonda Hallstrom

"I am stupid! Stupid! STUPID!"

Al, hoping that Sam was finished with the surgery by now, walked into the
middle of Sam's tirade at himself. He gaped, watching his frient pace back
and forth, cursing his mental intelligence. It looked like Sam was finished
with the operation and was in a different section of the building so as to
not disturb Blaisdell. Finally, Al stepped in front of Sam, only for Sam to
walk through him!

"Hey!" Al protested. "Is that the kind of thing you do to a friend? Just
WALK right through him???"

Sam paused. "Sorry, Al," he muttered, "but I think I've just screwed
everything up!"

"Why? And how's Blaisdell?"

"He's not good. Not good at all. If I can't get him into a more sterile
environment, he could get an infection. In his condition, that would kill him!"

"Sam, you'll do the best you can," Al comforted. "You always do."

"It may not be good enough. Ask Ziggy to run death certificates for Kermit
Griffin and Paul Blaisdell."

Silently, Al complied. After a moment, he shuffled his feet nervously.

"WHAT?!" Sam demanded.

"Nothing on Griffin." Al hemmed and hawed until Sam shot him a withering
glare. "Blaisdell has a 67% chance...of dying."

"DAMN it!! I bet he does get an infection! I need better medicine!" Sam
paced. "I feel like I'm operating with my eyes closed! If that isn't bad
enough, Blaisdell just woke up and told me I shouldn't have called Kermit.
For all I know, calling him might've just put him in the same danger that
WE'RE in!"

Al, rubbing his head in remembrance, said, "Uh, Sam? I really think that
Griffin can take care of himself....Uh oh." Al looked at the handlink again.
Reluctantly he repeated the information. "Blaisdell's chances have gone
down...74% chance of dying...."

Sam swung toward Al. "I'm going to have to operate again. Al, see if Ziggy
can center you on Kermit. See if you can find out where Peter and his father
are."

Al grimaced. "Do I gotta?" he asked imploringly.

"You're a hologram - he can't hurt you now. GO!"

"All right, all right...." Al grumbled. "Gooshie, you heard the man. Center
me on Griffin...."

Al disappeared...and reappeared - halfway in a person. Startled, he jumped
back. "Gooshie!" the Admiral bellowed. "Try to improve your aim a little
better, why don't you?" Harrumphing in annoyance, Al stepped back to view
the scenery. He was in a police station and the person he had nearly shared
the same 'space' with was a take-out boy, impatiently waiting for his payment.

A blonde came into the precinct and looked at the delivery boy in
puzzlement. "Detective Powell," she said, displaying her badge. "Can I help
you?"

Al, leering, said, "You can help ME, beautiful."

The delivery boy, shifting his weight constantly from one foot to the other,
nodded toward the back as he said, "Oh, uh, thanks, ma'am, but...."

"Powell, you trying to abscond with my dinner?" a new voice demanded. They
all turned as Kermit strode out of his office, wallet in hand. "Here you go,
kid," he said, handing him a wad of cash and taking the styrofoam container.

The kid looked at the money and grinned at the amount. "Thanks!" he said and
dashed off.

"Hey, Kermit," Powell said, "what's up?"

"Hunger. If you'll excuse me...."

Curious, Jody followed him into his office while Al pushed buttons on the
handlink to position him inside the office. Kermit sat down and, placing the
container on the desk, looked up at Jody. "Yes?"

"What are you doing here so late?"

"Getting some work done. It's quiet this time of night."

"I don't believe you for a second."

"Smart lady," Kermit mumbled as he picked up his coffee and took a sip. He
grimaced. "I knew I should've ordered some juice; twenty-three cups of
coffee gets a little old."

"Kermit! What's going on!?"

"Just some research." Kermit looked into the concern-filled eyes of Jody
Powell. He knew he would have to tell her something or she would never
leave. "Peter called."

"WHAT???"

This caught Al's attention as well; he stared at Griffin for the answer.

"You hard of hearing, Powell?"

"What did he say? How is he? How could he call at the Tao Temple?"

"Temple...?" Al muttered, pushing buttons on the handlink.

Kermit laughed. "Well, if you're not interested, sweetcakes...." He laughed
again when Jody's hand clamped down on his sleeve. "Hey, watch the
material....Peter's fine; relax."

"Then why did he call?"

"Just wanted to say hi. Look, I really need to get back to work. And I would
like to eat my dinner before it gets cold!"

"Kermit-!"

The ex-mercenary looked up at Jody. "Hey," he said, "Peter's fine. Don't
worry. Do you mind...?"

Jody, taking frequent backward glances at Kermit, slowly exited the office.

Kermit, opening the container, waited until Jody was out of the precinct
lobby before taking a huge bite of the turkey sandwich and then diving
underneath to manipulate the computer connections.

"Gooshie," Al said, "center me on Sam." He promptly disappeared.

*****

Al reappeared to see Sam sitting over Blaisdell and prudently turned his
back, unwilling to see an operation in progress. "How is he, Sam?"

Sam gave a half-shrug as he continued working. "Not as good as I'd like,"
mumbled Sam. "This place isn't doing much for him. I've got to get him in a
clean environment, preferably without rats! What's Kermit doing?"

"He's doing something with his computer at the precinct," Al explained. "He
did happen to mention that Peter is away at a temple. Tao Temple, to be exact."

"What is he doing with the computer?"

"I don't know!" Al said, exasperated. "I guess he's getting ready to talk to
you. Do you know what you're going to say to him yet?"

"Kind of."

"Well, good luck," Al muttered, shaking his head incredulously. "I saw him
chase off a really good-looking blonde - any guy who can do that MUST have
ice-water in his veins...."

"What's Blaisdell's percentage of dying now?"

Al consulted the handlink. "70%." At Sam's sigh, he asserted, "It's getting
a LITTLE bit better...!"

"I don't know if I can save him, Al, I really don't."

"Sam, don't talk like that-!"

"Go find Peter and tell him about his father." Sam shook his head miserably.
"Tell him I'm trying my best but...it may not be enough...."

"Sam...."

"GO! Please!"

Al, looking at his friend with concern, pressed a few buttons and vanished.

*****

Al reappeared in a sea of men with bald heads wearing saffron-colored robes.
"Geez louise," Al exclaimed, looking around, "Halloween came early this
year!" The bald heads turned to him with a look of annoyance. Al's eyes
widened as he realized that the men were indeed looking at HIM and
remembered that Caine and his friend Lo Si could see him. He smiled a
sheepish apology as he backed out of the circle, rubbernecking, trying to
see Peter. The men promptly turned back to what they were doing.

Al shook his head. "Fruit loops," he muttered quietly as he walked around
the temple. They certainly had enough candles in this place! He was tempted
to just call out to Peter but didn't want to disturb all the meditation
going on here.

"Al!"

Al jumped to hear someone call his name. He turned to see the old guy, Lo
Si, walking up to him and smiled. "Hey, how're you doing?" Al greeted.
"Heard Peter was here...."

Lo Si studied the hologram. "There...is trouble?"

"Kind of."

"I will take you to him."

Lo Si led him through the labyrinth of hallways to a room where Peter was
balancing on one long, thin pole suspended in air.

"Holy hammocks!" Al exclaimed.

At the new voice, Peter instantly started to windmill his arms to keep his
balance. He fell but managed to land on his feet and looked at the new
arrival in astonishment. "AL?!!!" Peter counted himself lucky upon
recognizing the hologram. When Sam was helping him, Al had his 'accident'
and Gooshie was pinch-hitting for him when Peter finally was able to see the
holograms. Only just before Sam left was when Peter finally got to see what
Al looked like. He approached Al as Al beamed a big grin for a hello.

"Heeeeyyy, kid, you look great! But whattaya doing balancing on a toothpick
for???"

"Part of my training as a Shaolin," Peter told him, gratefully taking the
towel that Caine handed him. "But what are you doing here? Paul! It's Paul,
isn't it?"

Al frowned. "How'd you know about that?"

Caine stepped forward. "Peter is the one who requested Dr. Beckett's
assistance in saving his foster father."

Al looked at them all, puzzled. "What are you talking about? Sam leaped into-"

"-Rykker," Peter completed. "I know. I saw a vision that Paul was hurt and I
was hoping that Sam could help. Did he?"

Al waved his cigar. "You saw a vision??? You have any idea what that sounds
like-?"

"Is Paul okay?!!"

Al looked at the ground.

"TELL ME!"

"Well, kid," Al said despondently, "it's not looking too great. Sam is
trying his best, he really is."

Peter swallowed. "How bad IS it?"

Al checked Ziggy via the handlink. "HEY! It's getting better! It's up to 61%
percent!"

"61% that he will survive?" Caine asked.

"Well...um...no. Against," Al said reluctantly. "But it was a lot worse
before. Sam's doing everything he can. Even Kermit is helping."

Peter ran a hand through his hair worriedly. "Al...what can I do to help?"

Al slumped a bit. "Pray."

*****

Finding a telephone was easier than Sam had thought. He found a pay phone
behind what passed for a convenience store in South America. The building
was deserted. Even though Sam thought that was a bad sign, he figured Kermit
ought to like it since there was no one around to hear.

Sam unknowingly held his breath as he picked up the phone and placed the call.

Kermit answered on the third ring. "Griffin."

"It's me." Sam promptly held the phone out away from his ear as a
high-pitched whine sounded over the phone to about five seconds.

"It's clear," Griffin reported. "What's going on?"

"We need...assistance getting out of here."

"How is he?"

"Better. He needs to get to a hospital."

"That may be tough. All right, I have your location. Can you tell me what
happened?"

"We got attacked and he took a hit for me."

"Can you tell me now why you can't contact your own resources?"

Sam was glad Kermit finally asked that. It was the one question he was
prepared for. "Yes. I was compromised. I can't use any of them."

"Except me."

"You're technically one of Bl-...HIS contacts. They shouldn't track you to
me." Sam held his breath again. This was a BIG assumption on his part; he
only hoped that he was right.

"They might think he gave you my name."

"Doubtful - he was badly hit. He hasn't been conscious very much."
Remembering that Blaisdell didn't want Kermit involved, Sam decided to try
to find out from Kermit. He didn't have much optimism in succeeding but it
was worth a try...."Do you have any old enemies down here?"

"I have enemies everywhere."

"If it puts you into the line of fire, don't do anything. I'll figure
something out." Sam was gambling that Kermit wouldn't call his bluff and
that Kermit valued Blaisdell too much to listen.

"Reverse psychology? You MUST be desperate."

Sam winced. Okay, Griffin had seen through that one....He decided to be bold
by being honest. "He led me to believe that it wouldn't be...healthy for you
down here."

THAT got a moment of silence from Griffin. "All right, all right," he
sighed. "Whatever's going down, it's obvious you need help. I'll see what I
can do. Call me back in seven hours."

Sam hung up, feeling that the conversation had gone much better this time,
and headed back to Blaisdell.

*****

When Sam returned, Blaisdell was awake again, his gun once again resting on
his abdomen, finger on the trigger. This time, though, he had heard and
recognized Sam's approach and only tensed for a second.

Sam mock-glared at the man. "You need to rest," he snapped at Blaisdell as
he tried to take the gun away from him.

Blaisdell moved the gun away from Sam's reach. "No," he said softly, his
eyes conveying a message that Sam didn't want to see.

"Give me that gun."

"No."

Sam exhaled noisily in exasperation. "Okay, keep the gun, just give me the
bullets."

"It's not much good then...."

Sam sat on the floor next to him. "You need sleep. It's not good for you to
be moving around so much. Come on," Sam said, trying to coax him, "you must
be exhausted."

Blaisdell's eyelids fluttered, as if confirming the mercenary's condition.
With an effort, Blaisdell forced them open again. "You have to get out of
here. I'm a liability...." His fingers curled around the gun again.

Sam stared at him, horror dawning. *Was Blaisdell going to KILL himself to
enable Ryker to get out safely??? Would he DO that???* He looked into
Blaisdell's eyes and realized that this man was fully capable of it.
"Paul...." he began, trying to reach the man, "Paul...think of Peter...and
Annie! And the girls!" He only hoped that Ryker knew as much about Blaisdell
in relation to Peter as he did, but somehow Sam sensed that this was the
point of no return and had no choice but to take chances with his 'cover'.

Blaisdell swallowed. "Annie's strong - stronger than she looks. I've always
admired...." He paused to cough weakly, that, by the expression on his face,
felt like his lungs being ripped out. Sam got up to offer him some water and
carefully poured some water to the injured man. Blaisdell gulped at it
greedily, wishing he could guzzle it, but Sam, controlling the flow of the
water, wouldn't let him. Blaisdell then picked up the conversational thread
as if they'd never been interrupted. "...admired her for her strength....Her
blindness...and putting up with me! The kids...." He shook his head in
wonderment.

"I'm sure that...." Sam stopped, not knowing if Rykker had ever met Annie,
and paused to rephrase. "She IS strong, but that doesn't mean she doesn't
need you. And what about Peter? How do you think he'd feel?"

Blaisdell lowered his gaze, unwilling to meet his eyes.

Sam, encouraged, warmed up to his subject. "His natural father died on him -
turned the kid into a basket case....Peter still hasn't recovered! The fact
that you walked out without a word to him did enough damage but what do you
think will happen when he finds that you're dead? JUST LIKE HIS FATHER!" Sam
enunciated.

Blaisdell stared at him. Sam realized that he might have just blown his
cover but didn't care at the moment. He HAD to make sure Blaisdell wouldn't
blow his brains out the second Sam turned his back. That meant playing hardball.

"You want to shatter Peter for life," Sam continued, "go ahead and shoot!
Come on, do it now, so I can start cleaning up the mess. That's what you
want, isn't it?"

"...no....I don't WANT that...." came the soft protest.

"Then fight, dammit!" Sam, fighting for Peter now, was no longer registering
what words came out of his mouth. "You're a fighter! Fight for your life!!!
It's not just about you or me! There are people who love you - YOU CAN'T
THROW THAT AWAY!!!"

"Is this the same man who was willing to blow up ten men, including us, to-"

"The past is NOT the issue!" Sam said, not letting Blaisdell trap him. It
was too easy to slip. "I'm talking about now - and the future! If you ever
CARED about your family-"

"YOU never cared for my family. You always called them a liability."

"Strategically, they are," Sam conceded. *What kind of man WAS Rykker,
anyway?* he thought. Sam knew he was operating at a disadvantage because
Rykker was a mercenery, called upon to kill, whereas Sam was a doctor, who
wanted to heal. "But thinking strategically is not your LIFE. These
people...your family are part of what YOU are just as YOU are a part of what
they are. Sure, fine, you destroy yourself and your pain is gone. But their
pain would be just beginning. And some may never recover!"

"Death is a natural-"

"There is NOTHING natural about what you're thinking about - NOTHING! If
your family hears that you did everything you could to survive and return to
them and died in transit, their pain would be less. But if they hear that
you GAVE UP and killed yourself so that _I_ could get out of the
country...." Sam shook his head. "_I_ am not worth that!" Sam felt the
absence of a ring on his finger and confabulated, hoping Blaisdell would buy
it. "I know I've never been the family type-" Blaisdell was expressionless
but Sam pressed on, "-BUT *YOU* ARE!!!"

Blaisdell looked at Sam and looked at the gun. Without a word, he turned the
gun around and handed it to Sam, who took it, trying hard to mask his relief.

"I never knew you had it in you," Blaisdell murmured.

"Neither did I," Sam returned. Now that he was batting one-for-one, Sam
decided to tackle the other, more minor, problem. "I called Kermit again -
he's going to think of someone to help us out. So, why didn't you want him
to be called?"

Blaisdell's expression flickered something unreadable for a second. Then, he
relaxed into a smile. "Because I don't want him to find out that I played a
practical joke on him."

Sam sat back, puzzled. He had thought Kermit's life was in danger...."What
are you talking about?"

Blaisdell's smile turned into a devilish grin, weak though it was. "I got
him." In a conspiratorial tone, he confided, "I got him GOOD!"

Sam couldn't help but smile in return. "How?"

"Actually, I got two of 'em...at the same time!" Seeing Sam's confusion,
Paul explained. "I had a girlfriend when I was younger - well, I had a lot
of girlfriends-" He winked at Sam, "-but this one was different. She was one
of the few that I told what my...business really was. She didn't bat an eye.
Hell, she even offered to HELP me once in a while! She was always attracted
to the wrong kind of man, she said, but that made things all the more
exciting...more alive. Now, Kermit...he's had a few tempestuous flings he
likes to call 'marriage' and sometimes, the women he's picked were good for
him for a time. But they never lasted. He said he almost didn't want them to
last - it kept things interesting....See where I'm going with this?"

Sam grinned. "So you set them up to go out together? How'd you do that? WHEN
did you do that?" he asked, knowing that Blaisdell had been away for a long
while.

"The second I left, it started. By interesting coincidence, my old flame was
the one I picked to sub for me at the precinct, where I knew she would run
into Kermit."

*CAPTAIN SIMMS???* Sam thought, his jaw dropping. He thought back to when HE
took over Kermit's life - he had barely said two words to her. He was too
busy keeping Peter out of trouble. But how Simms barked at him the second he
leaped in didn't suggest that she liked him very much. Sam then remembered
that, just before he leaped in, Kermit had played a practical joke on Simms.
But his swiss-cheesed memory couldn't remember what it was or even if he had
known what it was in the first place.

"But..." Sam's mind wasn't catching up as fast and he knew it, "but how do
you know that they'll be attracted to each other enough to go out?"

"Karen's an adrenaline junkie - she loves her work and she hates unsolved
mysteries. Kermit is a mystery. There's no way she could resist. And Kermit
loves strong women. Once Karen has him in her sights, it would be easier to
pry off a bulldog. Believe me, *I* know. I also know Kermit. He's ready to
try to 'settle down', as much as our type CAN settle down. Karen is strong
enough to take his way of life and yet, is...ahem, WOMAN enough to help him
forget that way of life. They're a perfect match. Of course, if they both
figure out what I've done, I'm a dead man, anyway." He yawned, tired from
the exertion of staying awake, reminding Sam that he was a doctor.

"You need to rest," Sam said and, this time, Blaisdell didn't argue and let
Sam cover him up with a blanket Sam had found on one of his forays.

"What did Kermit say?" Blaisdell asked curiously.

"Just to call back in seven hours." Sam noticed, as his fingers
automatically reached for Blaisdell's pulse, that Blaisdell was looking at
him rather oddly. *Did I mess up?* Sam wondered, taking the pulse. He knew
he shouldn't ask - he might get into more trouble regarding Ryker's past -
but he didn't think Ryker WOULD let a look like that go by without asking.
"What?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you like this," Paul said softly.

Sam thought quickly; leaping into hundreds of lives gave him plenty of
practice. "I owe you. You took that hit for me."

"Luck of the draw," Paul said. "Frankly, I didn't think either of us would
make it."

"Then why did you come down here???"

"I couldn't let you rot in that prison. I take care of my friends,"
Blaisdell said.

Sam remembered his host's three broken fingers and couldn't suppress a
shudder. "Well," Sam said, "that makes two I owe you. Get some sleep."

*****

Sam found out that Kermit worked fast when he needed to. Seven hours later,
Kermit told him a code phrase to use to recognize 'help' that was on its
way. A private plane had been chartered already and was standing by. There
was a brief rocky point when Sam had asked Kermit if HE was coming down.
After a long pause, Kermit said no. Sam knew that the mercenary was
suspicious but sincerely believed that Blaisdell was hurt and, as such, was
willing to put suspicion aside.

Sam strode into the building after securing some food and drink. Paul looked
gratefully at the food - until he saw what it was. He looked at Rykker, shocked.

Sam looked at him. "What?" he asked defensively. "Okay, so it's a little
greasy - a LOT greasy -  but it's better than nothing. That's why I brought
these napkins."

Paul watched incredulously as Rykker patted the food between the napkins to
soak up the grease. He then took a morsel and brought it to Paul's
mouth....Paul, grunting from the exertion, swatted his arm and the morsel
went flying.

"HEY!" Sam protested, "we don't have a lot to choose from. This is the ONLY
thing I could find!"

"Better we starve than eat that," Paul said. "Are you out of your MIND
eating chicken down here??? And...you brought...WATER??? You KNOW poultry
and water down here are not to be taken internally! There's so many germs in
that, we'd die quicker than from any bullet!"

Sam opened his mouth slightly in shock. He, as a doctor, knew that foods
weren't as sterile in South America but he figured it was better than
starvation....Besides...."I SAW the water being boiled, Paul," he protested.

Paul gaped at him. "That's the old 'boil-the-water' tourista trick! You've
seen it a hundred times! What's the MATTER with you???"

Sam looked down. *Damn!* he thought. *I REALLY screwed up....* The problem
here was that, ultimately, Sam was a trusting person.

"Oh, geez, sorry, Rykker," Paul said, looking chagrined. "I've been fading
in and out so much, I didn't realize....How much sleep have you had?"

Sam shrugged. "Not enough, I guess, but that's no excuse. I was in a hurry
and didn't think, that's all."

Paul regarded him. "Well, no wonder - what with taking care of me and
sneaking in and out of here...."

"Well," Sam said, standing up, "guess I should go and try again. We have to
have food. I'd better get going so I get back before Kermit's contact gets
here."

"Wait a minute - you told Kermit to send the contact HERE?" Sam's
expression, as always, betrayed him. Paul shook his head. "They really must
have put you through the wringer...."

"Kermit gave me a code phrase!" Sam said defensively.

Paul looked at him. "You always take extra precautions - ALWAYS - by meeting
him someplace else. You'd better give me back that gun. Come on, hand it
over. If this explodes in our faces, you'll need my help. Hand it over." Sam
meekly handed over the gun and Paul checked it, shaking his head. "I don't
believe it....You said Kermit's contact will be here soon?"

"Yes. But don't worry; Kermit's not coming down himself."

"I should HOPE not. Help me up." At Sam's confused expression, Blaisdell
elaborated. "Help me into a sitting position or close to it. I can't shoot
while flat on my back."

"You can't get up! Your wound-"

"Help me up, dammit!!!"

Sam, seeing no recourse, helped Blaisdell sit up slightly by bunching some
blankets under his head and shoulders. "I don't understand," Sam said, "If
it's KERMIT'S contact, we can trust him."

"You can't trust anyone!" Paul exclaimed. "Our only hope is that Kermit is
paying him better than the competition is. And even if he is, the guy might
try to double-cross him, hoping to cash in from two cashboxes at once. You
know this!"

Sam knew he was now dangerously close to blowing his cover. *I'm DEFINITELY
not cut out to be a mercenary!* he thought.

*****

As Rykker left for more food, Paul stared at his gun thoughtfully as he
reflected over the last few days. He only remembered bits and pieces just
after he got shot. Frankly, he really didn't WANT to remember anything. He'd
been shot plenty of times; he knew when it was just a graze and when he'd
better start making peace with his demons, as Caine would say. He could have
sworn that he had no chance of making it this time but apparently Rykker had
gotten the bullet out with no ill effects. He was very grateful that Rykker
seemed to have improved his surgical skill by leaps and bounds.

*Just what the HELL was wrong with Rykker, anyway???* Blaisdell thought. It
was almost as if Rykker was a totally different person....Paul had never
seen Rykker make so many screw-ups. Paul had attributed it to the condition
he had found Rykker in when he rescued him. Ryker was barely able to walk on
his own; it was Blaisdell's own urgency that propelled the mercenary onto
his feet so Paul wouldn't have to carry him. Then they had shacked up in
that hut for Rykker to get his second, third and fourth wind. He didn't seem
delirious or confused, merely weak...and embarrassed at being captured the
way he was. When they decided to move on, Rykker was pretty much back to his
old self again...until Paul got shot.

Paul did NOT understand it. Rykker was making screw-ups that were so
elementary....At least, Paul knew how Kermit was financing their rescue,
which gave Paul a reason to hope that everything would turn out all right.
Not many people could outbid Kermit, once he put his mind to it. ESPECIALLY
with Paraguay's resources at hand....

*****
TO BE CONTINUED!