"Kermit, do you believe in God?"
Kermit Griffin froze in mid-reach. "What?" he asked, with a brief laugh. The ex-mercenary turned away from the closet containing Peter Caine's clothing and brought his eyes to rest on the woman.
"God," Nicole repeated, staring at her former partner as she folded a few pairs of pants, and placed them into the suitcase. "Do you believe in Him?"
Griffin stood silent for a long moment, wondering where the question had come from. She'd been quiet all day. Too quiet. He should have known there was something amiss. "Well, what do you mean by God?" he finally asked as he sat down on the platform.
Nicole brushed by him, retrieving another armload of her husband's clothes from his father's closet. "I mean God, as in 'In God We Trust'. You know, the Man Upstairs."
Kermit's eyes followed her from behind his glasses as she packed. Several boxes of Peter's possessions were already sitting by the door, waiting to be taken down and loaded into the back of the Jeep. Not everything would be taken in one trip, or even in one day, but Peter was being released from the hospital later that afternoon, and Nicole had wanted a good portion of his belongings back in the house when she brought him home. "God as in A Higher Power? Or God as in George Burns?" he half smiled.
"George Burns, I guess," she replied uncertainly.
His answering was long in coming. "Nicole, I really don't know how to answer that. You were only in the business for a few years, but you've seen some of what I've seen in the world, and it's kind of hard to believe that there's an all-knowing, all-powerful God up there who just sits around watching that kind of shit happen."
"I guess..."
"Then again..." he continued thoughtfully, "...seeing all that stuff makes it kind of hard not to believe in the Devil, or at least in evil, which would then mean that if you believed in one extreme, you'd have to believe in the other. And, people like you and Peter and I have survived this long, which *has* to go beyond luck."
"So you do, then? Believe in God, I mean."
"Hard to say. Maybe," he shrugged. "Why? I mean, why are you asking?"
A hesitant, almost embarrassed smile crept across her tired face. "Never mind." She waved a hand in casual dismissal and zippered closed the last suitcase. "The rest of the stuff can wait. There's no telling when Caine will be back, and I doubt Peter's going to need much more than we've already packed up for a while."
"Nicole..." Kermit sighed in exasperation. "What's going on?"
Nicole wrestled the large suitcase to the door and dumped it with the pile of boxes before returning to her long time friend. She shifted from foot to foot, arms crossed in front of her in a familiar, defensive posture. "When Peter got stabbed, I went down to the hospital chapel, and I prayed. Real hard. I promised God that if he pulled Peter through, he could take me instead. As you can see, Peter made it. What I want to know is this - Is God going to take me up on my offer? Now, it's not that I wouldn't trade my life for Peter's in a heartbeat, and you know that."
Griffin was staring at his former co-worker in stark surprise. "Nicole," he laughed. "If there IS a God, I don't think he works that way. Besides, Peter has come through a lot worse than this last go-round, and you know it. I don't think you need to worry about packing for your great Heavenly journey, if that's what you're worried about." He paused as he took a good look at her. She was still at least ten pounds underweight, and the tired look in her eyes hadn't left. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
The embarrassed smile returned. "No, no I'm fine. So far. I have another checkup in about a month, but so far, so good. And you're probably right about the Heavenly journey. My sister and I got onto the religious topic a couple of weeks ago, and I guess I'm still trying to grasp the concept."
The detective nodded and stood, closing the doors to the terrace and moving to the retrieve the heavier of the suitcases. "Your family looks to be the church-going type."
"They are," she nodded, following him with an armload of boxes. "I doubt if I'll ever be though... honestly the idea of God being everywhere, watching everything, listening to everything.... it's like a giant universal bug," she laughed.
***********
"Oh, God," Peter groaned miserably, finally horizontal again. The trip from the hospital had been agonizing. Sitting up was still uncomfortable, at best, and sitting up in the Mustang for two hours while held up in traffic had been agony. He hadn't even been able to enjoy the fresh air, the sunshine on his face, and the first sight of the large Colonial, knowing it was once again his home.
Nicole had helped him into the house, with a first stop at the bathroom. Having only one kidney was going to take some getting used to for him. The doctors had assured him the remaining organ would compensate for its missing twin, but it would take some time. "Yell if you fall in," his wife had called through the door.
Now, finally settled into the bed in the tiny downstairs guest room, the world was at last coming back into focus. "I don't think I'm gonna make it," he whimpered melodramatically.
"You'd better," came the stern reply. "Because it would take me all night to dig a hole in the back yard big enough to put you in."
"Between Burpy and Bertie?" Peter laughed despite the pain.
"Don't know that I have a shoebox big enough," she mused.
"Something green with a drawstring and the word 'Hefty' on the side?" he suggested, starting to laugh harder.
"Really got yourself in stitches, there dontcha, laughing boy?" Nicole dissolved into helpless laughter.
"Ow... owwww. Owwww...." Peter winced, trying to halt the laughing attack. "Whoever said that laughter was the best medicine?"
"Some idiot." Nicole smiled, wiping the tears from her eyes. Shaking out a pill from the large bottle on the nightstand, she handed him a glass of water. "Looks like you could use one of these, and a nap."
Peter sobered, his laughter at last subsiding. "I hate to sleep away my first hours home."
Nicole settled down on the side of the bed and leaned down to kiss his forehead. "I know. But your body still needs the rest. I'll make dinner a little later than usual and wake you up when it's done. The monsters are terrorizing my sister tonight, so the house will be nice and quiet."
The weary patient nodded reluctantly and swallowed the pill, knowing he'd be asleep shortly. "It's good to be home. Even if I am in the guest room."
Gentle fingers tweaked his nose. "I know, and I'd love to have you back in our bed, but there's no way you can handle those stairs. But I put the extra TV and the old VCR in here, and you've got the cordless phone, so it's not like you're completely cut off from the world back here. You'll just have to take it slow and easy for a little while."
Peter's hand captured hers and brought it to his lips. "I know what I'd really like to take slow and easy right now and it has nothing to do with a slow walk to the bathroom and back."
"That... is going to have to wait," she replied with a wry smile. "And considering it's been over a year, I think it's safe to say that it's going to be anything but slow and easy."
*************
Dinner consisted of roast chicken and stuffing, string beans and corn on the cob. Peter and Nicole shared the meal on a tray in the bedroom, engaged in light conversation as the evening news droned on in the background. Peter had slept for several hours, and had woken ravenous.
"We got most of the important stuff out of your father's place," she told him, picking at her dinner. "Everything you'll be needing for now, anyway."
"I can't believe he's been gone for this long," Peter mused.
"He's a big boy, he can take care of himself. And you know he's not much for sending postcards."
Peter offered her a smile. "I know. It's always him pulling my ass out of the fire, not usually the other way around."
"And a nice ass it is," she laughed.
Peter's smile broadened into a grin. "Don't start."
"I'm not starting anything," she insisted, a look of innocence of her face as she moved to take the tray from the bed. "Are you done devouring now?"
"I am," he nodded. "But you hardly ate anything."
Nicole shrugged. "Not all that hungry. Just tired. It's been a long day."
Peter watched his wife as she stood and carried the tray out of the room. She looked exhausted, and a dull pang of guilt reminded him she was still recovering herself, and was now taking on the responsibility of taking care of him. He could hear her in the kitchen, putting away leftovers and washing the dishes, and wished he could at least help her with that. The next few weeks were not going to be easy for either of them. He wanted to talk about the last year, but didn't know how. He knew they should talk about the divorce, about the events leading up to it, but didn't want to rip open healing wounds.
The TV droned on quietly, the news over, and reruns of old sitcoms following. Peter switched off the light next to the bed and sank down beneath the covers, moving to the far side of the bed. He heard the water go off in the kitchen and the sound of footsteps. He walked with her in his mind, through the living room, turning off the lights, around to the front of the house, the deadbolt clicking into place, then up the stairs. He waited in the near darkness, the light from the TV providing the only illumination as he heard the return steps, back down the staircase.
Dressed in a black t-shirt and flannel boxers, Nicole reappeared in the doorway, her fair skin appearing even more pale above the dark shirt. "Room in there for another?" she asked with a tired smile.
Peter pulled back the blankets and patted the space beside him. "Always." He felt the comforting warmth of her body as she slid in next to him. Over the last year he'd almost forgotten how it felt to have company during the long nights. His arm slipped around her, pulling her cautiously closer, and he let his eyes drift shut. Groping for the remote he'd misplaced in the blanket, he turned off the TV, welcoming the darkness for the first time in months.
"Want to go away for a real honeymoon once we're both up to it?" he whispered, feeling the nod against his shoulder.
"Love to. Somewhere warm... and private."
"Somewhere we can spend all day in bed," he growled playfully in her ear.
The smile on her face could be heard in the darkness with her reply. "Somewhere we can play Suspect Resisting Arrest."
Peter chuckled softly. "I like it. Say, remember that Halloween party we went to a couple of years ago?"
"How could I forget? That was a couple of months after the twins were born, everyone we knew was there. Jordan was dressed in that catsuit..."
"Yeah, and I seem to remember a little scene with 'someone' force-feeding her kitty litter for looking at 'someone' funny," he laughed. "But what I wanted to know was - do you still have that costume? You know the one I'm talking about....."
A sharp laugh escaped her throat. "The Princess Leia gold bikini thing? Oh, sure, it's around somewhere."
"Glad you didn't throw it out - we had a lot of fun with that... Maybe we could bring it on our honeymoon," he suggested with a grin.
"You really had a thing about that costume!"
"Ohhhh yeah..." He nodded enthusiastically.
"Okay," she relented. "But this time *I* get to be Princess Leia."
The healing sound of laughter filled the room.
END