The Letter

By valleya

Paul stared at the thin white envelope in his hand and sighed. He recognized Kermit's precise block handwriting in black felt tip ink. Only Paul's name was written on the front of the letter and it stood out against the white paper, like a wrought iron fence against a whitewashed house. In this case, an abandoned house with overgrown weeds and a back door flapping in the wind... basically a sense that left a hollow feeling in the depths of Paul's gut.

The post mark was dated four days earlier.

Paul tapped the envelope on his desk for a moment in agitation, and then tossed it angrily into a drawer, as if he was tossing in all of his frustrations along with it. He slammed the drawer shut and paced a moment, running a hand through his hair.

*Damn it, Kermit, don't do this to me.*

Paul picked up the phone and rapidly punched in a number. "This is Blaisdell. Anything yet?"

Rykker's typical measured tone answered him back, "The security lock down on that mission is tighter than practically anything I've ever seen before, Paul."

"Kermit said it was important."

"That's an understatement given the level of secrecy. Have you gotten anything from your other contacts?"

Paul frowned. "No."

"Well, don't worry, I'll let you know when I know more."

"Thanks."

Paul hung up and walked over to the blinds separating his office from the bullpen, opening them enough to see out. He leaned a forearm against the wall and sighed.

Closing his eyes, he let his thoughts drift to his old friend and his unexplained absence.

It had all started with a former associate of Paul and Kermit's, who had pulled some pretty high level strings to get Kermit on this particular assignment, saying it was one that required his unique skill set, but Paul couldn't forget the nervous hints Kermit had inadvertently revealed – hints that told Paul the mission also had all the earmarks of something that could go sideways at a moment's notice.

Paul could almost hear Kermit's voice in his head, repeating his earlier comment, *It's a quick in-and-out. You won't even know I'm gone.*

Paul grunted. That was nearly four days ago. "Not exactly an in-and-out, old friend. And you know how much I hate to wait when you're overdue."

He turned back to his desk, pulling out the letter, this time more gently. "You may have left me this blasted letter again, but I'll be damned if I'll read it!"

With a sharp rap to the door, Peter poked his head inside the door, nearly startling Paul and asked, "Any word yet?"

Paul shook his head as he casually placed the letter in his in-box. Peter stepped inside, eyeing the letter as it sat on Paul's desk, and closed the door. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

Paul smiled sadly. "Not a blessed thing. I don't know where he was sent or why, but Rykker's working on the specifics and there are others out there, busting their asses looking for him. We should know more by the end of the day."

Peter cleared his throat. "Have you opened the letter yet?"

Paul practically growled. "No, and I won't until I know more."

Peter put up his hands, his gaze waiting until Paul turned back in Peter's direction. "Don't bite my head off. I'm just trying to help. Didn't the back of the letter say to open it if you hadn't heard from him by the 15th? That was yesterday."

Paul folded his arms in front of him. "That envelope was something you never should have seen."

"Why?"

"Because."

"What if Kermit left some clue to where he – "

"He didn't."

Peter looked confused. "Then, why did he mail it?"

Paul swallowed and the butterflies in his stomach began to flutter again. "It's a practice Kermit and I have done for a decade."

Peter didn't say anything. Paul knew he was giving him enough time to get the words out that were catching at the back of his throat. Paul closed his eyes and sat on one edge of his desk. "I can't even remember who started it. When one of us were shipping out on a mission without the other, we'd leave a letter to be read if something happened and we didn't come back."

Peter frowned. "Did you ever receive one of Kermit's letters before?"

"You mean a letter I had to hold without knowing if he was alive or not?"

"Yeah."

Paul nodded absently, his mind drawn back into the past. "Once when Kermit was captured in North Viet Nam and again in the Baltics."

Frowning with sudden concern, Peter stepped closer to Paul's desk. "Did Kermit ever get one of yours?"

Again, Paul nodded. His mind flashed back to Afghanistan and he cringed. Some things were better left to the past. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This might be pointless. Kermit could be perfectly fine."

"Was he perfectly fine the other two times?" Peter asked quietly.

Reluctantly, Paul shook his head. "Nam was bad enough, but we almost lost him in Kosovo. If we hadn't been able to send in a special team when we did..."

Peter dived in when Paul's voice tapered off. "Kermit's tough. His ability to survive can make a cat with nine lives jealous. Don't give up on him yet."

"I'm not. I've got a few calls of my own in place and I'll go to Washington myself if necessary to pull the right strings."

"What kind of things did Kermit's other letters say?"

Paul's fingers strummed across the desktop. "I don't know," he said quietly.

"You don't know? But I thought you said – "

Paul stiffened. "I said I received them, but I didn't say I had opened them."

Peter took a step closer. "Why?"

Paul got up, bypassing Peter as he walked to the office window again, looking out into the bullpen, trying to find solace in familiar things. "Because I knew he was coming back, just like this time. We just always wind up giving back the unopened letters when we finally meet up next."

Peter's expression tightened, and he placed his hands on his hips, struggling for a moment, then he stammered, "What if... what if this time is different – "

Paul turned around to face Peter fully. "It isn't. I won't believe it. Not until I see a body."

Peter scratched at the back of his neck, still appearing to choose his words carefully. "If that's how you feel, why do you even bother with the letters?"

Paul allowed himself a slight smile. "Some might say the letters are a finality... closure, if you will, but I say they represent a thread that ties us together – a thin thread of hope. I'm not about to read Kermit's letter until I am faced with the undeniable truth of his death. Kermit's out there and he'll make it back."

Peter continued to rub the back of his neck, his hesitation not allowing him to say anything at all this time.

Paul stepped closer to his son. "They say faith is believing in when you can't see. I'm living in faith that Kermit will come back to us."

Peter pursed his lips together and nodded once, his gaze distant, appearing lost in all the different possibilities of a final resolution. That gaze shifted in the next moment when Peter straightened, a smile now dancing in his expressive hazel eyes.

"Well, Dad, you better get ready to give that letter back."

Paul looked up at Peter in confusion, and then spun around to the office window.

Kermit had entered the bullpen, carrying a duffle bag and a black eye, but he gave the others his typical smart aleck smirk when they greeted him. He moved stiffly, but at least he was moving.

Paul glanced back at Peter, more than a little perplexed, but all he felt was profound relief, as if a great weight had been taken from his shoulders. "Damn, I don't know how he came in under the radar this time. He must have skipped out on the debriefing. That won't earn him any brownie points, but at least he's alive."

Another second of watching Kermit and Paul let out a long sigh, then he felt a tap on his shoulder.

When he turned, Peter placed Kermit's letter in his hand. "Don't forget to give this back to him," Peter said as he patted Paul on the shoulder, his hand lingering there a moment longer than it should have.

Paul smiled and squeezed his foster son's hand still resting on his shoulder. The next thing Paul knew Kermit was heading toward his office.

Peter stepped away to open the door to the office and greeted Kermit with a broad smile. Kermit caught Paul's eye as Peter gave Kermit a big hug and the two ex-mercs exchanged a wealth of information in that glance – relief, friendship, a renewed appreciation for life and it was all due to Kermit's return home.

Once again, the letter had remain unopened and the thin thread of hope binding the two men together had grown more resilient, reenforced by their recent success. Survival will do that to old friends. The thread of hope had persevered once more to allow the letter the option to be delivered another day, hopefully a day far, far away.

oOoOoOoOo

The End