Disclaimer: Although the individual story ideas are mine, the characters are not and nor is the central concept of The Pretender. They belong to TNT, MTM and NBC productions, as well as the fertile imaginations of Craig Mitchell and Steven Van Sickle.

Original characters are mine and I would beg you not to use them without my permission.


Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 1

“Freedom is nothing else but a chance to do better.”
Albert Camus


Entrapment

April 14, 2000
Jarod stared at the gray cement wall in front of him until the door clanged behind him and he spun around in time to hear the bolts being rammed into place. The small trapdoor opened momentarily and a pair of eyes looked in, glancing once into his face before sliding away and disappearing as the flap was closed. Jarod turned back to the smooth, flat wall and, walking forward, placed his palms onto the cool surface. He gently leant forward until his hot forehead rested on the concrete. With an almost inaudible moan, he turned and allowed his back to rest against the solid support, finally sliding down until he was sitting on the floor of the room, his head resting on his arms and his legs pulled up to his chest.

The clothes he wore were nondescript and baggy. He pulled numbly at them, unbelieving of the fact that they existed. Finally he looked around the small room. A bed stood against one wall; a hard, ungiving surface, difficult for a guilty man to bear, let alone an innocent one.

The sink, a white and gleaming object, seemed out of place in the grayness. A toilet bowl stood next to it. It had once been silver but the years had tarnished the metal and it seemed to reflect the lack of color in the room.
Suddenly, as Jarod was about to hide his eyes from the starkness, a ray of light flashed in through the window and fell onto the floor at his feet. The light was reddening, showing the passing of another day. The clearly defined vertical lines made him shudder and he began to tremble, uncontrollably and violently. A feeling of nausea began to make itself felt and Jarod crawled on his knees over to the toilet and brought up the one meal he had eaten that day.

March 12, 2000

Miss Parker stood in front of the desk and threw the package down onto the flat, shiny surface.

“Another present from the lab rat.” Her voice was almost snarling but Sydney managed to detect the note of fear deep within it.

“Have you talked with your father?” Although it was phrased as a question, the statement required no real answer. The response was not verbal but a glance that warned Sydney away from the topic and from her private life, as she saw it. Sydney had often shaken his head in wonder at her ignorance, and at the fact that she had never worked out that life for people involved with the Centre was never private.

As he watched, she turned away and abruptly left the room. He turned back to his desk and picked up the package she had left on it. Sydney had no real hope that it would turn out to be a clue to Jarod’s location. Obviously Miss Parker had come to the same conclusion, or she would not have left so suddenly.

April 2, 2000
The doors burst open, announcing Miss Parker’s arrival into the Tech Room in SL-5 and he occupants looked up quickly before rapidly returning to their work. She walked over and stood behind Broots, who rapidly became increasingly agitated.

“Well, anything?”

“N...not yet.”

“God, Broots. There has to be something. It’s been three weeks and we haven’t heard anything.”

“But there isn’t anything!” His desire to make her understand made him suddenly articulate. “We’ve looked everywhere, even exploring new areas. There’s just no sign.”

“It’s not acceptable.” A new voice, hoarse and wheezing, broke into the conversation. “Failure in this task is not acceptable.”

Broots heard Miss Parker gradually draw in a deep breath before she slowly and deliberately turned to face the newcomer. “Well, unless you can come up with a better idea, failure or lack of success is just something you’ll have to put up with. After all, your most recent idea of bringing in Lyle and Brigitte didn’t appear to be very successful.”

“They were expendable, Miss Parker,” Raines wheezed, his fury making it more difficult than usual to speak. “And you’re expendable, too. Don't you forget that.”

Miss Parker stepped towards him and watched with a gleam in her eye as he instinctively backed away. “If you have a better idea, let’s hear it. Broots, here, is doing what he can, and I’m doing everything I can. Believe me, you’re not the only person who wants him back here.” She watched as he nodded slightly and rapidly walked away.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 2

“Freedom is not the right to live as we please, but the right to find out how we ought to live in order to fulfil our potential.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson


Remembering

April 2, 2000
Jarod lay on the bed, one hand over his eyes to block out the sunlight that streamed in through the window and onto his face. Three weeks. He was beginning to count down already. His mind traveled back to the courtroom.

The verdict.

Guilty.

The sentence.

One year.

That was all. It was a light sentence, considering the crime, but for a man who had not committed the crime, it was a weight he felt that he could never throw off.

One year.

Three hundred and sixty-five days.

Eight thousand, seven hundred and sixty hours.

Five hundred and twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes. Roughly. But, with the time he’d already served, those long three weeks, that left only three hundred and forty-four days or eight thousand, two hundred and fifty-six hours or four hundred and ninety-five thousand, three hundred and sixty minutes. Give or take. The meaningless calculations took up some of the time, but not enough.

Jarod looked out through the bars to the sky, which was reddening as the late autumnal sun set. He was trapped again. Helpless and hopeless with amazingly less chance of escape than ever before. And only because he had been pretending to be someone else. He silently cursed the gift that had been given to him. Perhaps it was a wonderful to be able to help people, but what if you ended up in a place like this? Twice. Not just once, in a man-made hellhole and through no fault of his own, but now twice. And all because he had something that almost no one else in the world had. The ability to become those other people was what had been responsible, both times, for the situation he was currently in.

The rooms were a similar size and similar coloring, with the lack of any bright hues. The small camera in the corner completed the illusion that he was in the same place and it was only the lack of simulations that convinced him that he had not been returned to the Centre when he was unaware of it.

He moaned slightly and rolled over onto his side, facing towards the wall. A vain attempt to hide himself from camera, as he had done so often in the past.

April 23, 2000

A whole month. Miss Parker stared at the wall in her office, her arms folded as she leant back slightly in the chair. Her feelings of failure were intense and she could constantly feel them gnawing away at her. It was not only the month which had passed since Jarod had made any contact with anyone from the Centre, but also the fact that three and a half years had passed since he had first escaped and she was now no closer than she had ever been to capturing him.

Of course the Tower was demanding answers. But they could only push her as hard as she allowed them to. It was her own force, and her own pressure, that drove her onwards when everything else seemed hopeless.

Everything logical told her that he was gone, that something had finally caused him to break connections with them. With her. It was that which hurt most, although she hated to admit it, even to herself. She turned over in her hand the gift that Jarod had sent to both herself and Sydney, nearly six weeks earlier. A small mirror. The note had been so pointed, despite containing only two words.

’Know thyself’.

April 23, 2000
Broots glanced up from the computer as Miss Parker burst in through the door. It was, he though ruefully, becoming more than a daily occurrence and almost an hourly one. Now he looked up as he shoved a piece of paper under her nose. The paper itself and the words written on it were annoyingly familiar, as was the sentence she uttered.

“Find out for me where these come from. Trace their origin.”

As she left, he stopped her dead in the doorway. “I’ve already done it, Miss Parker. I’ve got the answers here.”

She turned and stared at him. The one word was like a drop in a still pond. “How?”

“Well, um...Sydney asked me to do it yesterday.”

Broots began to slide down in his seat until the computer screen hid Miss Parker from view, at which point he immediately felt better. It didn’t last. She moved around until she could both see and reach the card he held in his hand and which was identical to the one she had given him.

Her glance moved between the paper and the nervous technician for several more moments until finally she moved over to stand behind him while he deactivated the screensaver and showed her the results that he had found.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 3

"So far as a person thinks; they are free."
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)


Realization

April 23, 2000
Jarod struggled to sit up as the breakfast was pushed under the door on the tin tray. The weeks of inactivity were having an affect and he had lost a lot of weight. He also had no energy. There seemed, as there had so often seemed in the past, no reason to get out of bed. Now there was no one forcing him to get up and now it was easy to lie there and think.

He had plenty to think about. His mind traveled back over the three and a half years of freedom and to the time before, when every day had a set pattern of eating sleeping and performing simulations. Now it was the same, the tedious pattern that seemed like it would never end.

A quick glance over at the tray showed the contents and Jarod moaned softly and rolled over with his face to the wall. The small cell gave him an almost constant feeling of claustrophobia and also created a terrible feeling of nausea. He hadn't eaten for almost two weeks, only occasionally drinking from the tap in the room.

Suddenly the image of one man came into his head.

Sydney.

Jarod had avoided thinking about him for almost the entire time but now he let his thoughts travel in that direction, not only to Sydney but to the others whose opinions he valued. He hadn't wanted to think what their reactions would be at knowing that he was in a place like this, and at this point

Jarod's eyes travelled around the small room and he shuddered. How would they feel if they could see him in such a place? The fact that he had been in a similar situation for so many years and that they had seen him there for all that time, didn't now cross his mind. What now mattered was the fact that they must not be made aware of what had happened to him. The shame was not something he felt would be easy to get rid of and until then he didn't feel that he could contact them.

May 3, 2000
Miss Parker sat at her desk, unthinkingly fiddling with the small card, the last contact that Jarod had made, now two months earlier. The phrase had been difficult for Broots to translate, with the source of the quote as obscure as the man who had sent it to her. She could see the ironic similarities in the lack of knowledge about the source of the excerpt.

Broots had managed to trace it to a Greek temple at Delphi, a Spartan Battle Manual, Diogenes Laertius, Plutarch, Linnaeus or Socrates. The source was as incomprehensible as the sender.

Miss Parker was finally beginning to believe that Jarod may never contact her again and, surprising though it was for her to realise, she was beginning to miss the games which had brought amusement into a life which, for so long, had been deprived of such entertainment. Now it seemed that life was becoming gradually worse, as the few bright lights that had illuminated it were gradually diminishing.

Even Sydney, who had provided comfort and support even when she tried to push him away, was withdrawing into a world of his own. She began to realise how much she had missed all of the previous friendship that the two had shown and now, when there seemed no hope of it coming back, did she fully realise what she had lost.

May 3, 2000
Sydney sat at his desk, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Two months. Two whole months, or near enough. He went over in his mind what he had done on the last occasion that Jarod had spoken to him. By telephone, of course. It had been many months since they had met face to face. He thought of any hint that Jarod had given which might now help in locating him. Sydney was torn between the idea that Jarod was unable to contact them, or that he was unwilling to contact them.

"This is Sydney."

"What makes a person guilty?"

"I'm not sure I understand, Jarod."

"What is the difference between a guilty person and an innocent one? Is it the fact that the guilty person has committed an act, or is it the fact that he has been found guilty of committing it?"

Sydney had considered the question, as he usually did, with a moment of quiet thought. As he was about to answer, however, Jarod suddenly hung up the phone.

Sydney now wondered whether an answer he could have given may have helped. Would it have encouraged the pretender to maintain contact? He had no idea but the thought that he had been responsible for the division caused Sydney more pain than anyone else at the Centre realized.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 4

"The basic test of freedom is perhaps less in what we are free to do than in what we are free not to do."
Eric Hoffer


Suffering

May 3, 2000
Jarod curled up on the bed, his chin resting on his knees, and allowed his thoughts to flow freely for the first time. Most painful to him was his current surroundings, the worse because he had done nothing to deserve them and he knew that. But to admit to his deception would also result in an innocent man going to jail, and this innocent man had a family who needed him to support them and keep them alive. Whereas he, Jarod, had no one. He thought about the people that he considered family - and wondered if they would want to know him with the stain of prison on him. It was something that he could hardly bear on himself.

Suddenly Jarod sat upright and stared out of the window. He had lasted for two months without contacting them but suddenly his brain screamed that it couldn't wait any longer. His action caused the small window in the large, bolted door to open and the guard looked in, a curious expression on his face. Jarod ignored the expression and asked the question that now filled his mind.

"Am I allowed to write? Letters, I mean."

Just in time he remembered to use the slightly deepened voice of the man he was pretending to be. The guard, whose interest in the prisoner had been increasing daily since his arrival and was now pleased to see him interested in something other than himself, smiled and unlocked the door.

"Sure." He handed over a small pad of paper that sat on a table outside the cell and pulled a pencil out of his pocket. "I have to stay here while you do it, but I'll sit over here," the tall man pulled the chair over into corner and, rocking back on it, looked out of the small, barred window. "That will give you some privacy to do it."

Jarod smiled his appreciation and, seizing the pencil, quickly jotted down the brief messages he had in mind. Then he folded over the pages and scribbled the relevant address on both.

"Is it possible to send these without an address?"

"Sure, if that's the way you want to do it." The guard grinned and took the papers and pencil from the eager hand. He turned and left the room, looking once back over his shoulder. The grin dropped from his face as he saw that the prisoner had resumed his former position, with no sign that he had ever moved.

May 18, 2000
Miss Parker looked down at the small piece of paper on her desk bearing only three words. 'Cherish your freedom.' No signature but, after four years of such messages, she hardly needed one. It had been impossible to work out what she felt when Broots had dropped it onto her desk. The impossibility, however, had only been a personal one as she refused to accept the relief within her that he had contacted them again.

She had seen Sydney's reaction when the small note was delivered to the office and she had seen the speed with which he had torn it open and quickly read the short message it contained. Although she had tried, it had been impossible for her to read any of the three words which constituted Sydney's note. Despite sending Broots to look for it, she hadn't managed to find it and wondered whether it meant so much to Sydney that he carried it on his person.

Parker picked up the envelope that also lay on the desk and held it up to the light. There were no other hints hidden in the envelope, as she had first supposed, and she now held up the small scrap of paper to the bright overhead light and carefully examined it.

"Always suspicious, Angel."

Parker looked up in time to see her father walk in through the door and stood up, walking around the desk for his expected kiss.

"Daddy, what a suprise. I haven't seen you for such a long time."

"Well, I've been busy."

May 18, 2000
Broots flipped through the many pages of text that filled the screen, searching for any sight of the familiar name. The figure standing behind him acted as an incentive to ensure that he wasted no time with questions or other interruptions.

"There's nothing here, sir."

"There must be. Keep looking." The voice rasped the words, just above his head, and the technician kept his eyes firmly fixed on the screen. There was another long period, during which Broots desperately scanned the pages and searched for something, anything that might get Raines out of the room. Finally, with an impatient wave of his arm, one of the most feared people in the Centre swept the younger man off his seat and allowed another figure to take his place.

"Angelo, find me something. Anything. Find the details that this idiot overlooked."

Broots stood, hesitantly, at the back of the room, not wanting to leave but terrified to stay longer than he had to. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to the terrified figure, Raines turned to him.

"Are you still here?"

"No," replied Broots, and then he wasn't, going to obey the other set of orders, given to him by Miss Parker to report to her everything that he had done and Raines had said…

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 5

“Self-reliance is the only road to true freedom, and being one’s own person is its ultimate reward.”
Patricia Sampson


Stumbling

May 18, 2000
Jarod reached the end of the room and turned, a few paces carrying him to the opposite wall, where he turned again. This had been the pattern of several days and Jarod was beginning to look less like a man and more like a trapped animal with every day that passed. He didn’t notice the constant movement. Instead, before his eyes came images of people, countless people, with whom he had had contact over his brief period of freedom. A steady stream of faces, many of whom showed grateful expressions which had warmed his heart at the time and continued to do so now, even when he felt as though he had no chance of ever seeing them again.

The weeks and months stretched out in a seemingly endless stream and he shuddered inwardly at the thought that he would have to spend the time cooped up in a small room.

As he turned to complete another length, a different face floated into his mind’s eye. This one had no connection with any of the other faces and didn’t belong to those who were and would remain grateful to his memory for the things he had done for them. This face fell into a different category and had its own special place in his heart. The face was soon accompanied by others - all of whom had colored his life at the Centre, in one way or another, either for the good or the bad, starting with Raines, Kyle and Angelo and ending, finally with Kenny and Damon. A long procession of people, many of whom had been in his life for a short time and vanished, never to be seen by him again. The thought was disturbing, that he hadn’t managed to keep in contact with people who had, for a time, brought light and interest into his life.

But still there was the one face that stood out so strongly against all the others and meant more to him than all the rest together. The face was not young, as he could first remember it, but had aged gracefully over the years and the hair was swept back over the top of the head, a style that the man had worn for so many years. Now creases dignified the face that Jarod loved to contemplate, especially in difficult times like this. A shiver ran through the convicted man and he moved over to the bed, curling up on it and letting the memories flow over him in waves.

May 29, 2000
Miss Parker watched as the door closed behind the departing figure. Her father was leaving, to take up a position at one of the other Centre offices that had recently lost its head of staff. It had taken him just over a week to finish up his affairs at the Centre and she had watched as he checked through the desks and cupboards in his office. It was almost unnerving to see it, as clean as if he had never been there especially after so long working in the same office. She thought back to the discussion they had had.

“But why do you have to leave, Daddy?”

“Because the Tower has instructed me to, Angel. It’s all right; we’ll still see each other. It’s not as if I was leaving the States. I’ll only be in Washington, and you can come and visit me on your time off.”

She had considered laughing at the statement but decided that this wasn’t a good time for an argument. “But why can’t Raines go?”

“Because he has other projects that the Tower feels can’t be left to anyone else.” He closed the case and, picking it up, walked over to her. “Keep me informed about everything,” he smiled. “Sometimes you look so like your mother.” Closing his mouth, he turned and walked away.

June 2, 2000
Broots scanned the document and quickly converted the handwriting into text. It was easier than typing up the report and it also meant that he didn’t have to read the report that Miss Parker had written to her father and requested that he send while she and Sydney were chasing another vague lead about Jarod.

It was always a quiet office now as neither Sydney nor Miss Parker had much to say. Broots, in his own way, was also worried about Jarod. It was natural, he had reasoned to himself, that the fate of the man who had once saved his life and had also given him custody of his daughter, should matter.

It was that same daughter, though, who took up many of his main concerns. If they continued to fail in their quest to find any sign of Jarod, that daughter could be left without a father, or be used as what Raines was wont to call an ‘encouragement’. The door slamming behind him brought him several inches out of his chair but Miss Parker took no notice and stormed past him into her office. Sydney lingered for a moment by the desk.

“Still no sign.” He sat on a nearby chair with a deep sigh.

“So that was...?”

“An old lead, from more than a year ago. One we must have missed.”

“Sydney, we’ll find him.”

The older man looked up, the beginnings of exasperation on his face. “That’s what you’ve been saying for three months. One signal, in all that time, to let us know if he’s alive. And we don’t even know that he is!”

Broots, amazement dawning on his face, looked up. “You really do care about him. After all this time, denying it. He’s the most important thing in the world to you, isn’t he?”

Sydney got up from the chair, shot one look of anger combined with something that Broots could not understand at the technician, and slammed the door behind him as he left.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 6

“Any existence deprived of freedom is a kind of death.”
General Michael Aoun


Dying

May 29, 2000
41 weeks to go.

Jarod lay on the bed, uncaring of the commotion around him. He was conscious only of the need to keep breathing, drawing the air in and pushing it out. Somehow, suddenly, it was an effort. The guards had noticed it and, finally, the prison doctor had been called in. He finished checking his patient and then left the room, the small trapdoor allowing the discussion to filter through.

“So what is it?”

“Nothing medical.”

“What?”

The doctor paused. “This sort of thing generally happens in people who need freedom, like you or I need air. Often this results from abuse or some other form of torment that they’ve managed to escape from. The jail begins to seem like a return to that life and they decide that it’s not worth fighting to keep living.”

“And so he’s...”

“...given up living.” There was a deep sigh. “It’s a tragedy because it so often happens in the young, the fit and the strong who have so much to contribute and throw it away for some chance or event that seems like such a good idea at the time.”

“Will he live?”

“How much longer does he have?”

“About ten months.”

After another long pause, the doctor spoke again. “I doubt he’ll survive until the end of that time. In fact, I’d be very surprised to see him walk out of here. Either he’ll be wheeled out to die in a hospital, or else leave in a coffin.
Does he have any family?”

“We don’t have any contact details, but I’ll keep searching.”

June 7, 2000
Not even a speck of dust remained on the floor. She spent hours in here, just walking around and trying to find a trace of the father she had loved. Somehow it was easier to remember what she didn’t like about him, now when he wasn’t there to make her respect him. Love him. There was a difference, but she could only see it from a distance. The closer she came, the more the feelings meshed together until she couldn’t tell them apart. But she knew that she still needed to believe in him, to trust him.

“How can you still trust him?”

The words came back, taunting her and making her think about the person that she didn’t want to be reminded of. Suddenly she turned and abruptly left the room, with the other, unseen, occupant still continuing to hide in his corner. She walked down the brightly lit corridor to the one door of the Centre that she had only entered once in her life, a few weeks after Jarod had first escaped. She didn’t know what she expected to find in the room - there was no way that a clue could be hidden in there. She had no idea what impulse had made her come to this corridor and enter this particular place. Only that, suddenly, painfully, she had to be there.

June 7, 2000
Sydney stared at the photo on his desk. The words that Broots had spoken several weeks earlier had finally exposed and laid bare to Sydney the feelings that he had been fighting to hide since Jarod had first disappeared. He knew, and the knowledge brought a twisted smile to his face, how Raines had felt when Annie had been kidnapped and there had been no sign. Sydney had tried for so many months, and particularly since Michelle had been returned to his life, bringing to son Sydney had never know with her, Sydney had tried to deny what he had felt for Jarod. It was natural, he had argued with himself, that a child who was scared and alone should have roused his pity.

But it had never been pity, and Broots’ words had forced Sydney to finally admit that to himself, painful though it had been. A struggle to get over a wall that had been built over forty years of denial and self-deceit. And it was a fight Sydney had always known, at the back of his mind, would have to be fought that way. But how cruel that it should have to come now, when he was least ready and least able to fight it…

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 7

"The last of the human freedoms is to choose one's attitude."


Reliving


June 19, 2000
38 weeks to go.

"...the young, the fit and the strong who have so much to contribute..."

The words hadn't meant anything at the time. Nothing had. But, slowly, they began to work their way into his mind and, even more slowly, into his consciousness. Jarod looked up at the marks he had drawn on the wall, the sign of the weeks that he had to remain where he was. He calculated that he had been sick for three weeks - that was what a guard had replied, in answer to his almost inaudible question.

Now he mentally scratched three marks off from the chart he had drawn on the wall of the cell and slowly counted those that remained. Thirty-eight weeks. Two hundred and sixty-six days. Six thousand...he couldn't keep up the chain of thought. The calculations, simple as they were, took both time and energy and Jarod had little of either to spare.

Instead, for the first time, he began to think about the actions that had resulted in him being imprisoned. He thought of the man, able to be with his family instead of trapped in the cold, grey cell and the feelings that had prompted him to take the sentence for the innocent man swept over him again. He knew that the man was innocent. He, Jarod, had been close to uncovering the truth before he was arrested. It hadn't been a surprise when the turned up on the doorstep but it was frustrating. He had been so close. And now a convicted criminal, wearing another man's name and identity, was walking the streets, able to breath fresh air and see the sun and talk to people every day. Able to find other victims. Something twisted inside Jarod and there was a sudden sharp pain but this was different. This was the pain that would finally get him up and living again.

June 22, 2000
The room was dark and Miss Parker, as the door slid shut behind her, wasn't sure whether to be thankful for somewhere she could hide or frightened of something she couldn't see. She continued to stand just inside the door, straining to hear something in the silence and fighting to see something in the dark. It was worse, knowing that she could see nothing but a person choosing to view this room through the security system could see her hesitancy. Gradually fear built within her until she felt something twist inside her. Spinning, she reached out a hand for the button that would open the door but, instead, the room was suddenly illuminated by the pressure of her hand on the light switch.

Gasping with shock and fear, she stared at the door for a second, finally reaching out to touch it with a trembling hand and despising herself at the same time for her apprehensions. Finally, slowly, she began to turn. Each item came into her field of vision and she stared as if seeing it for the first time. Suddenly there was an abrupt movement and, catching it out of the corner of her eye, she turned and found herself confronted with the small mirror Jarod had been allowed to keep in his room. Slowly, cautiously she approached it and, acting as though it could blow up in front of her, she picked it up and examined herself carefully in it.

June 22, 2000
The corridor was wider than he remembered it but considering that he had been avoiding this part of the Centre since the last time he had visited it, soon after Jarod had escaped, it was hardly surprising that it should appear out of proportion. His eyes travelled the length of it, visually exploring the areas where he had never permitted Jarod to physically explore and the memory of this added further to the guilt he was feeling. The note hadn't helped. Sydney thought he knew what Jarod had been feeling when he wrote it but the words had only added to the burden that Sydney felt was becoming heavier by the day.

The memory of everything he had inflicted on Jarod came piling back in on him, enhanced by the words on that paper, until Sydney could feel himself bowing under the pressure. Pain had been building inside him for days, a pain which twisted and turned, seeming to burrow its way into his very core. He had struggled to relieve it, but found that it could be removed. At least, there was one way that it could, but Sydney was not yet ready for that to happen. He knew what he would have to face before it could occur and those demons were worse than the ones that tormented him now.

Finally he stood outside the door and, slowly, moved out one hand and released the lock on the door. As the door slid back, instead of the darkness and silence he expected, he was confronted by a bright light and a loud crash of broken glass.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 8

"Freedom is from within."
Frank Lloyd Wright


Living

June 26, 2000
37 weeks to go.
Jarod scratched another mark off the wall and sat with his legs pulled up to his chest and a smile on his face. He had found that there were things you could learn even in jail, if you were willing to get involved. It had taken a few days, but he was nearly back to the strength and energy that he had had during his first few days in the cell, before it had been worn away on pointless activity and extreme emotion. Simply recalling those first few days wiped the smile from his face and created a pucker on his forehead. His anger, directed at himself and his situation, created an unpleasant and unreasonable memory to look back on.

He had been close to admitting the truth about the con to anyone who would have listened and walked free. At the memory, Jarod reached into a small pouch that lay on the chair beside the bed and pulled out a folded photo. Looking at it, Jarod examined each of the six figures in the photo, the young couple and their four young children, and hardened his resolve to stay where he was.

Escape had, of course, been an option. He had thought about it almost constantly for the first few days. There were several strong arguments, though, for him to remain where he was. An escape attempt would be more difficult than in the Centre. There he had an intricate knowledge of everything to do with the place. Here, he knew only his immediate area.

Also, an escape attempt, even if not successful, could result in publicity, which might bring the Centre to him. Having adopted a new identity, including, for once, a new Christian name, he knew that he would be almost impossible to track down. But his photo in the paper would end all that.

Finally, the more he made himself known to the authorities, the greater the likelihood that his fake identity might be uncovered and the man in the photo would be torn away from his family.

Jarod had enough experience of that himself to know what it could do and the thought that an innocent man and his family would all suffer was enough to keep Jarod quiet about the truth.

June 28, 2000
Parker stared at the fragments of the mirror on the desk. Somehow it had seemed important to keep every piece, no matter how small. She had gathered them carefully, while Sydney watched, and had then left the room without speaking.

Something had drawn them both to that place, but she didn't want to admit to herself or anyone else that it might have been concern. Still she fought her own feelings, as she had been doing for years, and fighting to hide them under the hard exterior that seemed to become more brittle every day. One day it would crack and break, exposing all of the pain that was underneath. The thought of that was her deepest fear. Especially now, when she had no one to turn to for help.

She still wrote the reports to her father every week. Initially he had responded, just a short message but it made her feel loved and wanted. Slowly they had become less frequent, until finally, they had stopped altogether. In that way had she been abandoned. By Jarod, by her father and even by Sydney.

They hadn't spoken since the scene in Jarod's old room, as if by some mutual agreement. Even in the moments when she had wanted to speak, she had found that she was too scared to face Sydney. Her fear that he would understand what she had difficulty saying was as great as the fear that he wouldn't.

June 30, 2000
Sydney sat down in the chair. After coming every day to the same place for more than a week, he didn't need the lights to show him where to go. He couldn't explain why he made the pilgrimage down to this place every day, nor why he performed such a ritualistic act, pausing to look down the long-abandoned corridors and then pausing as the door opened, as though expecting to hear the shatter of breaking glass, as he had when Parker had dropped the mirror.

He made his way, always around the left side of the desk, until his foot hit the chair. Then he turned and cautiously sat himself in it. It was possible, in such a situation, to feel as if you were entirely alone in the world and Sydney could never decide whether it was a feeling he liked or not.

He pulled out the note Jarod had sent him. He had no need to see it - the words were engraved on his memory and heart. It was the thing he had asked for so long ago and which the Pretender had not been willing to give. Jarod's forgiveness. But now, finally, when it had been given, it couldn't be accepted. The magnitude of the past, now finally coming home to haunt Sydney, determined that.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 9

"The outward freedom that we shall attain will only be in exact proportion to the inward freedom to which we may have grown at a given moment. And if this is the correct view of freedom, our chief energy must be concentrated on achieving reform from within."
Mahatma Gandhi


Admitting

July 3, 2000
36 weeks to go.
Sitting on the bed, the last rays of the sun lighting the room, Jarod looked around the room. For some reason, this was his favourite time of day. It was always peaceful, for some reason. Jarod liked to believe that the setting sun, often turning the blank walls a pale pink, had something to do with it.

This had always been his favourite time of day, especially when the weather was so lovely. Even in the Centre, he had liked to remember the few sunsets he had seen through the barred windows of his cell, before they moved him into his larger room, with no windows at all. Upon his escape, he had tried to always find time to enjoy the setting sun. He found it incomprehensible that people could just walk past it without caring. It wasn't something that he could ever ignore.

Suddenly the wind changed direction and began blowing gently through the bars and into the cell. Jarod closed his eyes and lifted his head slightly, appreciating the warmth that came with it. The summer had been unusually cold that year, with almost wintery weather replacing the usual warmth. Now, with the breeze, came the faint sound of music.

Leaning over, Jarod flicked on the small radio, a new possession he had placed next to the bed, and switched it on. After a second or so, he found the station and listened, numbly to the words.

"A winter's day
In a deep and dark December
I am alone
Gazing from my window
To the streets below
On a freshly fallen shroud of snow
I am a rock
I am an island..."

July 3, 2000
Miss Parker looked down at the report. One small explosion. That had been all. But it was more than enough. 'Sometimes you look so like your mother.' The final words. The last ever sentence. But there were no tears and no pain. She recalled the agony of her mother's death. The pain from that ran as deep as it ever had. But this was different and she couldn't explain it. So she didn't try. It was funny, but the one thing that hurt most was the fact that it hadn't been Jarod who had told her first. She was getting used to him providing the information that was always verified later. But now there was just a single piece of paper - a report of the Centre Office in Washiington, with the death of all members of staff.

Suddenly the oppressive silence of her office was too much to bear. She began to feel as though the walls were closing in and, in desparation, she reached over and turned on a small radio she kept near her desk. The music of a song flowed into the room, seeming to destroy the silence. Miss Parker paid little attention to the first verse, but the second...

"I've built walls
A fortress deep and mighty
That none may penetrate
I have no need for friendship
Friendship causes pain
It's laughter and loving I disdain
I am a rock
I am an island..."

July 3, 2000
Sydney continued to sit in the chair in Jarod's old apartment. For once, he had turned on the light and he looked around the room out of eyes that seemed to have age during the past three months. He had fought the idea that he was worrying. What, after all, was Jarod? Nothing more than a project, a lab rat as Miss Parker had so often dubbed him. It was Nicholas who should have meant more to Sydney.

That was why he had removed Jarod's photo from his desk and replaced it with one of his son. His real son. Revealed to him by another son. But that wasn't right. There was no connection, and there would never be a connection. Especially now, when the frail strands that bound them together had obviously been completely destroyed. Jarod had, no doubt, become so immersed in the outside world that he had forgotten Sydney completely, remembering only once in three months, to send him a message.

And it was so final, so complete. It ended the circle that had begun more than forty years earlier. And now Sydney was alone. His son was friendly enough but there was no real connection and the older man knew it. Nicholas would be unlikely to spare many thoughts for the man who had never even seen him grow up into adulthood. Sydney had watched another grow, seen him develop, and then lost him forever in a moment's oversight, when the boy, after becoming a man, had taken his chance and fled. And suddenly Sydney didn't want to be alone. He stared blankly at the radio on the desk for a few seconds without knowing what it was before the information slammed into his brain and, for lack of anything else to do, he switched it on.

"I have my books
And my poetry to protect me
I am shielded in my armor
Hiding in my room
Safe within my womb
I touch no-one and no-one touches me
I am a rock
I am an island
And the rock feels no pain
And the island never cries."

*Lyrics from Simon and Garfunkel’s “I Am A Rock”

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 10

"Liberty is slow fruit. It is never cheap; it is made difficult because freedom is the accomplishment and perfectness of man."
Ralph Waldo Emerson


Enduring

July 17, 2000
34 weeks to go.
Jarod couldn't help wondering, as the days slipped slowly past, if anyone was missing him, anyone at all. He was keeping busy and there was no doubt that it was helping the days to slip by. The first few weeks had seemed to drag, until the movements of the clock were barely perceptible. Now, with each hour having a designated activity, Jarod had less time to dwell on his situation. That all changed at night.

The nights, often times when Jarod had been awake and searching for answers to certain situations, now stretched ahead as empty voids, to be filled with the memories of people and places he had once enjoyed. The memories played in his mind like a tune, one following another and always in the same sequence. He consciously excluded from this pattern several people - his mother and father, Emily, Sydney and Miss Parker.

He was still unable to rid himself of the dread that they might learn what he had been doing and reject him, despite his innocence, forever. The thought of being without any of them was more than he felt he could bear. As the faces trailed through his mind, one suddenly sprang to the fore, one he had not thought of before.

Kyle.

Suddenly his brother's words came back with astonishing clarity. Don't tell them what I became. Now, for the first time, Jarod understood the hidden meaning in that sentence. His brother's fear then had been the same as Jarod's now - the terror of abandonment and the anxiety of being completely and undeniably alone. The sense of understanding, underpinned by that longing for companionship, brought tears to Jarod's eyes; tears which he brushed away with an impatient hand. Suddenly the knowledge of one important fact seemed to shine through into the sudden despair. This imprisonment would, one day, reach an end. Unlike the time trapped within the Centre, the period away from freedom would, eventually, reach a climax and he would be able to walk in the world again.

July 26, 2000
Miss Parker struggled to fight against the tears that flowed as the scene came to life before her eyes. She told herself that it was natural she should cry and that no one would be ashamed of tears as they watched their father mown down. But still she struggled to maintain composure in front of the others who watched with her. It was the first time in months that she and Sydney had sat in a room together and, even now, there were no words spoken.

In the weeks before the massacre in Washington, she had realized he blamed her for Jarod's lack of contact and, considering their final conversation; she had blamed herself as well. It had been difficult for her to realize how much Sydney was hurting from the disappearance, being too caught up in herself to see it, but every so often an expression came out that revealed his pain, showing it to be even deeper than hers. She had to admit that it was fair enough - the two had always been close and, even as a child, she had seen it. There could have been no other reason for Jarod to stay in contact with the Centre, jeopardizing his own freedom, unless there was a powerful emotional connection.

July 26, 2000
Raines watched the concealed emotion with a smirk. The death of the chairman seemed to be causing some reaction, which made a change from the state in which the woman had been for the past few weeks. He had had hopes that the circumstance, over which he had expressed his regret, would prompt the woman to some response and it appeared that his belief was now justified. He sat back in the chair and felt it creak slightly beneath him. It couldn't be denied that this chair was certainly more comfortable than his old one. In fact the whole office was preferable and he wondered, as he watched the scene progress on the screen in front of him, why he had let his fellow Centre operative have it for so long.

He looked over to the figure in the corner, who had also been watching the scene on another monitor, and, after carefully taking a deep breath, spoke.

"This has been very successful."

The other figure, seated half in shadow, laughed softly. His blue eyes glowed and his white teeth reflected the sparse light. Linking his hands, he stretched his fingers and groaned slightly as he felt muscles stretch across his shoulders before resettling the glove on his left hand.

"Indeed it has. Within a week or two, we should have no trouble convincing her to abandon the search for Jarod in exchange for more - beneficial activities."

He noted the wrinkle of concern that appeared on Raines' face the mention of the Pretender. "Don't worry. I'll find him. Without Miss Parker's concerns and Sydney's hesitations, this will move a lot faster."

"You'll need to find him, otherwise you're future here might be limited."

The figure stood up and, despite the fact that his face remained in the shadow, his eyes gleamed strongly. "Are you threatening me, Raines?

Because I have plenty of support, and yours appears to be mysteriously dying off. This is an arrangement of convenience, you know it as well as I do. But, once this is over, only one of us will have a future here."

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 11

"Clouds and darkness surround us, yet Heaven is just, and the day of triumph will surely come, when justice and truth will be vindicated. Our wrongs will be made right, and we will, once more, taste the blessings of freedom."
Mary Todd Lincoln


Struggling

July 31, 2000
32 weeks to go.
Jarod smoothly fed the metal into the machine and watched as it was punched into the required shapes. The experience he had gained while working as an ex-con was now being put to an equally positive use and he could definitely see the irony in the current situation. Somehow, as he continued at the frantic pace he was accustomed to, thoughts of the Centre began to work their way into his mind.

Glancing over, he saw a copy of a current newspaper sitting on a nearby bench but the date took some time to work its way into his mind. The 31st of August. Six weeks left. Why did that fact suddenly register? For several seconds, while his hands continued to work, his brain struggled with the fact, trying to make himself understand its relevance.

He felt himself almost at the end of the puzzle when a hand clapped itself onto his shoulder. Surprised, and with all thoughts of the Centre disappearing from his mind, he turned around to see the foreman standing behind him.

"Yes, sir?"

"Visitor, McCaffrey."

"What?"

The foreman was about to yell, but instead he reached over and pressed the button that stopped the machine. Once the metal had clanged and shuddered to a halt, he repeated his statement.

"You have a visitor."

Jarod pulled off the gloves that protected his hands from the hot metal and lifted the goggles that prevented his eyes from getting damaged, tossing them into a nearby basket as he walked past it to where two guards waited for him at the door. His mind, meanwhile, was frantically trying to work out who his potential visitor could be. He was still trying to solve the mystery when he entered the visitor room and saw a man quietly sitting in a chair waiting for him.

August 4, 2000
Miss Parker looked up in time to see Sydney walk past her door and she rapidly got up out of her seat and, leaving the office, followed him along the hall to his own sanctuary.

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Yes, Miss Parker, and it's nice to see you, too." The words were forced out and were barely civil. Miss Parker took a closer look and was secretly horrified to see the sunken cheeks and gray pallor that had crept into Sydney's face over the past few days.

"Sydney, you've been missing for five days. Where have you been?"

"Visiting friends."

"Really?"

Sydney sighed heavily and, without looking up, pulled a book towards him. "If you don't believe me, why ask?"

"Jarod?" The question, snapped out, took them both by surprise.

"I would tell you if I'd seen Jarod." The sentence was curt and short and Miss Parker imagined that Sydney simply wanted her out of his office. Looking away, she failed to see the sudden change that came over his face and the pain that became evident in his eyes as he stood up and began to walk away from the desk.

She picked up a piece of paper from the large pile that sat on his desk; she scanned it quickly and then replaced it. Finally she turned and began to walk out of the office. A small noise made her turn and she saw that Sydney had collapsed onto the floor. Yelling for help, she ran to him.

August 4, 2000
The dark-haired woman watched the scene unfolding before her with a smile curling her top lip and she moved the white stick around to the side of her mouth so that she could talk.

"It's working." A voice from the corner interrupted her.

"It's working wonderfully. In fact, it couldn't be better."

The man walked over and stood behind her, leaning over the back of the chair and rubbing his hand along her arm, his blue eyes glowing. "You know, ever since your tragic death, life's just gotten better, hasn't it?"

"Darling, it's superb." She smirked and choked slightly as the lollipop went slightly too far down her throat. As she recovered, the other figure retreated to his original seat.

"You really should take better care of yourself. If you were to die twice, it would begin look a little suspicious." The woman shot him a sharp glare and he chuckled.

"So when does the rest go into action?"

"Are you getting a little impatient, my dear? Don't worry. It won't take long for Raines to take the bait and then it will all start coming together properly."

"You really think this will work, don't you?"

"The only time my plans haven't worked it when other people allow emotion to get in the way of achieving the main aim. That won't be a problem for much longer, I promise."

"Bah, emotions! Waste of time and energy. If there hadn't ever been emotions at the Centre, we wouldn't have any of the problems that we do now."

The woman sat back in the chair and tucked her hands behind her head as she crossed her legs on the desk. The man on the other side of the office smirked and, getting up, began to walk towards her, his eyes glowing in eager anticipation.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 12

"No man has received from nature the right to give orders to others. Freedom is a gift from heaven, and every individual of the same species has the right to enjoy it..."
Denis Diderot


Fighting

August 7, 2000
31 weeks to go.
Jarod still had difficulty in understanding the reason that his visitor had come and seen him. After all, the danger that he would be seen and recognized was almost overwhelming. It had taken a few seconds for Jarod to recognize the visitor and, Jarod had to admit to himself, it was due to a fear that the person would be Raines, Lyle or, and this was the worst possibility, Sydney. Seeing the real Steve McCaffrey brought first a wave of relief and then one of anger. He managed to keep his voice a low, fury-filled hiss.

"What are you doing here? Do you know the kind of danger you're in, being here?"

"What about you?" The man's voice held the same level of tension as Jarod's. "Why are you pretending to be me? What do you hope to gain by it?"

"Your freedom."

The visitor's eyes widened and then narrowed. "So what? I'm not guilty."

Jarod leant closer to the man. "I know. But any jury would find you guilty. I'm proof of that. There wasn't a single person that could identify me as you, but I'm still here." He glanced up and saw that the guard had moved slightly closer. "Now listen, Michael," he stressed the name and knew that the other man understood the reason for its use, "tell Julie that I'm fine. It won't be for much longer and I've got a much better chance of things going well if she doesn't interfere. Just tell her to wait and not do anything that might cause problems." Jarod raised his eyebrows questioningly and the other man slowly nodded.

"All right. I suppose. Is there anyone I should tell?"

"No, nobody. The less people that know about this, the better."

The real Steve McCaffrey got to his feet and pushed the chair back under the table. "I...you'll understand if we...nobody comes very often..."

"Yes, I'll understand. Now you just go and take care of that family of yours. I'll be out before you know it."

The other man turned away and Jarod watched as he was let out of the room, before being taken back to his cell. He understood the feelings that the other man was harboring and knew how difficult it must be for him to see a man, innocent as himself, take the punishment for which a third man had gone free.

August 4, 2000
"Don't tell Jarod."

How cruel that the last words spoken by two of the most important men in her life should be about someone else. You look so like your mother. Don't tell Jarod. Both so impersonal. Admittedly, her father's comments had some personal meaning, but not enough. Never enough. And always the reference to her mother, as though the daughter was not a person in her own right but only a shadow of the woman who went before.

Miss Parker shook her head to clear the thoughts and rounded on the doctor as they entered a small office.

"So, what is it?"

"It's hard to tell, at..."

"Don't give that crap. Just tell me what you think it is."

"Sydney shows signs of...poisoning."

"What?!"

"He has an increased level of several sodium-related products which, due to the degree in which they've been absorbed, suggest that this has been occurring over a period of about a month. In fact it's incredible that there have been no signs before now."

"So he had a little too much salt with dinner every night," she growled. "Are you telling me that you haven't got the facilities here..."

"Miss Parker, this is not sodium chloride, or table salt. We're looking at sodium polyphosphates, carbonates and salicylates."

"So?"

"These occur in many common cleaning products, particularly in dishwashing powders."

Miss Parker stared at the doctor. "How on earth would he have swallowed that?"

"I couldn't tell you. But if it were deliberate, a small amount in foods ingested daily could easily result in levels this high."

"But, now you know the cause, you can do something about it."

"We're doing everything we can, for the moment."

"Which is?"

"The symptoms in this type of poisoning include severe pain in the mouth, throat and stomach, swelling in the throat, drop in blood pressure and the collapse that you witnessed in his office, an hour ago."

"But you can treat those symptoms and he'll be okay, won't he?"

"Treating the symptoms is all we can do. It's possible that he may have extensive internal damage in the mouth, throat and stomach due to the acidity of the sodium. The fact that he's still alive now, a month after the assumed initial poisoning, is a good sign but we need to keep monitoring him to make sure. If he's still alive in another four weeks, then he should probably survive. But there might be permanent injury to the throat. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get the results of the tests."

August 11, 2000
A week, and the doctor was still fighting for his life. Raines smirked and pressed the tips of his fingers together as he leaned back in the chair and watched the screen. The other occupant stood behind him and watched also, his eyes lighting up as he saw a dark-haired woman enter the room and slip a small syringe into the figure's arm, pressing the plunger and then rapidly disappearing. Suddenly the man's brow furrowed.

"You didn't order that, did you?"

Raines spun the chair around and stared at the figure. "I was under the impression that you had, my friend."

"Friendship doesn't enter into this. It's a business relationship, Raines, as you should be aware by now." He turned to the window and clasped his leather-gloved hands behind his back. The figure in the chair looked again at the screen and then chuckled softly.

"It would seem that we have a little competition."

"God! Of course we have competition," Raines burst out. "This is the Centre! But who is it?"

"The woman has a natural choice as a partner. And, indeed, wouldn't have much choice in the matter."

The two men looked at each other for a moment before the younger chuckled in much the same way as Raines had done.

"So much the better. We can kill a multitude of birds with a small handful of stones. How long until the plan goes into effect."

"Five weeks. That will give us enough time to get rid of any unforeseen problems as well as dealing with the ones we do know about."

The two men watched as another woman entered the room and sat down beside the bed, taking Sydney's hand in her own.

"And Miss Parker?"

"Will be dealt with."

"Good, good."

"Oh, and Raines?"

"What?"

"I'd better get my share."

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 13

"No man is free who is not master of himself."
Epictetus


Denying

August 21, 2000
29 weeks to go
Three weeks left.

Jarod spent every spare moment trying to find a way to solve the situation brewing in the heart of the Centre. He had simmed any number of possible solutions. Unfortunately all of them involved him being somewhere other than where he was at the present.

Now, and only in these circumstances, had he considered escape; now, when he knew the layout of the prison and the details of its weakest times, as he had studied the Centre, in such depth, prior to his escape and two weeks after his betrayal by Damon. But his original qualms about escape continued to haunt him and made him realize that he could do nothing but stay where his was.

His thoughts were constantly on the people within the Centre, and he could see, not the first time, that they were more trapped than he was. Somehow he knew that his fears were grounded, although he could not explain the feelings of nausea that swept over him at various intervals, always when he felt himself to be most alone.

The sadness, however, that had haunted him for weeks, was easily recognizable, and it was a struggle not to tell Miss Parker that her father's death might have been more than it had initially seemed. This time, concern for her fate would prevent him from waiting the four years he had taken to tell her the truth about her mother. He was determined. But still he couldn't bring himself to do it.

But he could warn her. He walked over to the phone on the wall. The call was answered quickly and he gave her no time to speak.

"Get out of there now!"

August 21, 2000
"Get out of where? Jarod, what are you talking about?" Miss Parker tried not to reveal the relief in her voice. He was back. Months after the communications had virtually been abandoned. "Where have you been? We've... Sydney's been worried sick!"

"I need to talk to Sydney, now! It’s urgent."

"You can't, Jarod. He's not here."

Miss Parker looked at the still figure on the bed, trying to convince herself that she wasn't lying. Sydney, the real Sydney, wasn't there. Only his body lay on the bed, and the man she had begun to consider her surrogate father was no longer there. Don't tell Jarod. The words reverberated in her mind again and she closed her eyes and mind to them.

"I don't have time to explain, but you need to listen to me. Parker, get out of the Centre. Take Broots and Debbie and leave, now. You're life is in more danger than it's ever been."

"Jarod, what game are you playing now?"

"It's not a game I'm playing. The rules have been set by a higher power. But if you don't get out, you'll be sacrificed 'for the good of the cause', as they like to put it."

" Jarod, I can't leave now. Sydney..." She trailed off and covered her mouth with her hand.

"What about Sydney?"

She could hear the fear in his voice and somehow it acted to magnify the terror that she felt in her own heart and mind. Jarod had played games before, but never like this. The fact that she hadn't questioned who 'they' were was evidence of that. But she had no need to answer. Jarod did it for her.

"They'll be after you next. They wanted Sydney first as a ploy to get me back, but they'll want you and, unless you get away, they'll get you. I can't help Sydney and I can't help you. But you can help Broots, Debbie and Angelo. Get them out and go somewhere, anywhere. If you leave you'll be safe. If you don't leave now, you'll never leave, ever."

There was a click and the phone went dead.

September 4, 2000
Raines replayed the tape that his henchman had taken from Brigitte's office the week before. Jarod's last words seemed to hang for a minute in the air. If you don't leave now, you'll never leave, ever. Did the genius know what was planned? Raines' brow furrowed and the tube of the oxygen tank slipped slightly away from under his nose. Without thinking, he carefully placed it back and let his hand drop onto the desk.

"He knows; I'm convinced of it."

Lyle reached the wall of the office and glared at Raines before turning back and continuing his pacing along the length of the room.

"And on what do you place that assumption? Jarod could simply have made an educated guess." Rained inhaled uneasily.

"With a week to go? He's not that stupid, although you must be if you underestimate him like that."

Raines stood up and pulled a gun out of its holster and trained it on the other man. "Do you still dare to threaten me?"

Lyle took one step closer and placed on foot on the length of clear tubing that had fallen onto the floor as Raines got to his feet. The gun dropped out of the hand and onto the carpet with a thud. The tall, bald figure began to gasp before the other man removed the weight.

"You don't have the guts to pull that trigger, Raines. Just like you didn't have the guts to shoot Jarod in the alley, all those years ago. I might be a product of this place, but it doesn't mean I have to have any respect for its maker!"

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 14

"Eternal vigilance is the price of freedom."
Raymonde Uy


Awakening

September 11, 2000
26 weeks to go.

Four years.

And now another important date. Jarod hadn't slept the previous night, but that was no great surprise. He could never sleep on the anniversary of his escape from the Centre, reliving everything he had gone through on that night. But now, his simmed escape complete, he couldn't avoid thinking about the coup. One of his sims in the Centre had focused on D-Day and he couldn't help thinking that this event would be equally as catastrophic.

Sitting in the chair, his mind traveled back to the day, only twenty-four hours before his arrest, that he had found the first hints of the impending disaster. Only a few hints but it wasn't difficult to put all of the pieces together and work out the full picture and then Jarod's only surprise had been that it hadn't occurred earlier.

The way things had fallen into place had been sudden but total, and now other factors showed how complete the picture would be. The poisoning of Sydney - somehow Jarod knew what had been done, and the sickness and weakness he had felt could be traced back to Sydney, he was certain.

Since finding out about the link that Miss Parker had with her mother, Jarod had tried to cultivate a similar feeling. What he had first understood to be feelings emanating from his father had eventually resolved themselves into the emotions that were washing over Sydney.

He could remember the first day, when Sydney had tasted the slight soapiness in his food, which he had attributed to poor rinsing in the dishwasher but now resolved itself into something more devastating.

And the helplessness that Sydney had felt echoed itself in Jarod, but Jarod's feelings came as much from the thought that he could do nothing for the people he had tried so desperately to warn. At the memory, Jarod's eyes moved to the phone card that lay on his bedside table, and which was one of his only links to the outside world.

September 11, 2000
D-Day. Zero hour. Brigitte waited outside the door to the small room. This was the best part of the plan and one that she was thrilled he had come up with. It would be so much fun. His calmness and insistence on knowing better had been the most irritating thing in her years of working in the Centre and now he would be destroyed.
Already weakened from overdoses of sodium, one final dose of acetone would be enough. And it wasn't even a big dose. Just a small shot and he would fade before her eyes. Or he would. If she had the time to stay around and watch.

It was so delicious that she could hardly keep the smile from her face. But she couldn't smile. The person she was impersonating never smiled. A complete and total Ice Queen - the epithet was particularly accurate and Brigitte had the greatest enjoyment out of pretending to be her.

Pretending. She had never realized what fun it could be and she wondered that Jarod wouldn't return to the Centre where they would let him pretend all he wanted.

She clutched the syringe somewhat more tightly and suddenly seemed not to be seeing the wall of the Centre in front of her but instead the wall of a cabin as she went through the last few stages of giving birth. The pain had seemed to tear her in two but there was the comfort of what was coming. Death had been easy, when she knew that it wasn't real death. Only a few minutes and she had heard the voices of the people who would save her from death.

After Miss Parker and her father had left with the baby, she recalled the twisted smile on Cox's face as he helped her up and out of the cabin to a waiting car, before the building went up in flames.

Of course she hadn't seen the baby since then but it didn't matter to her. She had no feelings for it and it was something she was rather proud of. Suddenly shaking her head, she broke away from the memories, wondering what had prompted her to think of it at all.

Entering the room, she was unaware of the several pairs of eyes that watched her through the air vent.

September 11, 2000
Raines waited for the hands on his watch to reach a prearranged point, even as his hand tightened on the gun. This was the part of the plan he liked least and the one he hated to participate in. He wished that there was some way to just walk in once the coup was accomplished and take his place as head. So his co-conspirator thought he was weak. Of course he hadn't pulled the trigger. He needed the man for this stage, and then there would be no weakness and no trembling, only servitude and terror.

Just as he liked it.

And so he would continue to rule over the Centre, which should have belonged to him for so long and finally would. The Triumvirate would have no part in the new order, except as he chose to allow them, and now he looked forward to watching them bow to his orders, rather than he to theirs. And if they thought that he had been bad before, it would be nothing to what he would manage once he had complete control. And anyone who got in his way would be erased, starting with the pretender, and Raines had no doubt that his compatriot would find the runaway and his family. What happened then would be completely up to them both. And once that was complete, the other member of the pair would vanish for good. Raines smirked as he looked down to see that, finally, time had come.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 15

"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose."
Janis Joplin


Striving

September 18, 2000
25 weeks to go.

Jarod couldn't help wondering if either or both of the coups had been a success. There was no way for him to be sure, but he suspected that the two groups would work together for a time, each trying to undermine the other, until one finally toppled. Then the more powerful partner in the pair would be eliminated and the Centre would return to semi-normality.

Then he would be released and the Centre would be shaken to its very foundations. He wasn't sure of his support but he knew that one person, at least, would be very valuable. Steve knew the Centre almost as well as Jarod himself - years as a sweeper had taught him well and a devotion to Jarod had helped them both. It had secured Jarod's freedom and, eventually, Steve's happiness.

But Steve remained unaware of internal events within the Centre and Jarod had no intention of enlightening him. There would be no way to prevent the man from rushing back to rescue his own charge and Jarod had hopes that Miss Parker had already achieved that on her own.

The feelings Jarod had received, now a week earlier, had pointed to the great change and, as Jarod had felt the pain in his arm and then the feelings that spread through him, he knew what was being done. The final dose. Of course, the poisoner could never know that Jarod's antidote had been stripping the earlier poisons from Sydney's system, leaving him able to fight the new toxin entering his system.

And, through Steve's former charge, Jarod had pictured the removal of Sydney from the hospital and the silent rush along the corridors to where safety waited in the form of Miss Parker, Broots and transport away from Blue Cove.

September 21, 2000
Miss Parker watched Sydney as he slept on the small bed. Ten days and, finally, he was beginning to recover. The thought that someone could deliberately inject a near-fatal dose of acetone directly into a living person was more than even she had been able to comprehend, and to watch Brigitte dressed up as herself - to know that the woman was even alive had been almost more than she could bear, and she felt sick at the thought of the tears she had shed at her younger brother's birth.

They had only waited for a few seconds before entering the room and she watched as Sydney began to react to the drug his body was absorbing. They had nothing, for the moment, which would cure it, and they couldn't risk wasting time while he brought up the substance.

Their entry into the room was marked by the movement of Sydney's eyes in their direction and his slurred speech, as though drunk, while he tried to get up. The noise he made when he hit the floor had caused them all to stop short but fortunately everyone else had been out of earshot and they got him, after many anxious moments, out of the Centre and into the waiting car. And then they had all come back here, to wait for the eventual changed in the Centre itself.

"Have you heard from Jarod?"

"No, nothing." Miss Parker tried to smile. "Do you feel better?"

"Mmm hmm. Never have a large dose of sodium anything and then a shot of acetone."

"I'll try to remember that."

Sydney grinned feebly. "Where are the others?"

"Broots is keeping an eye on developments while Angelo entertains Debbie."

"Good." Sydney shut his eyes and turned his head away on the pillow. Then he opened his eyes again. "You know, Jarod was right. We never belonged there, ever. Any of us. "

"Well, the people who do have probably got control of it by now." Miss Parker tried to disguise the hate in her voice. "And long may their reign."

"There's no point in being bitter." Sydney reached out and took her hand. "It will only make you more like them."

"I can't forgive myself for the things I've done to people there."

"Neither could I. Until they forgave me."

September 21, 2000
Raines looked across at Brigitte and tried to disguise the hatred in his voice. He could feel Lyle behind him and, strangely, it only made him braver.

"Well, now we only need to decide what to do next."

"What do you mean?" The white-haired man sitting beside the lollipop-sucking woman glared across the room, making no attempt to disguise his feelings. "The Triumvirate are all but gone and the only remaining member is so subservient that it makes me nauseous. The brainwashing of the sweepers is almost complete. Most of the projects are going ahead as planned. I would have said this was the perfect time to enjoy the spoils of our success."

"You're mistaken," Raines replied. "There are several small problems which still have to be dealt with."

"Such as?" Brigitte demanded impatiently.

"Shall I list them? In no particular order: Jarod, his family, Miss Parker, Broots, his daughter, Angelo, Sydney."

"Sydney is dead," the woman interposed.

"I'm sorry to have to contradict you but no body was ever located, the vent leading from his room was found to have been disturbed and Angelo, the constant occupant of the said vents, has since disappeared. I am therefore forced to draw the conclusion that he is not dead."

"He is dead."

"Show me the body, allow me to perform an autopsy and I shall believe you. And don't try to present me with the figure of his dead twin brother. That didn't work then and will not work now. Even if your technique of preservation was almost perfect. Of course, you did have an expert working with you, but I wasn't fooled and I won't be again."

"I still say he is dead."

"Present a body, Mrs Parker, and perhaps I shall condescend to believe you!"

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 16

"The freedom to fail is vital if you're going to succeed. Most successful people fail from time to time, and it is a measure of their strength that failure merely propels them into some new attempt at success."
Michael Korda


Contending

October 9, 2000
22 weeks to go.

So he had managed to survive more than half of his sentence and now it was the work, combined with the effort of struggling to make a connection with Sydney that sent him, exhausted, into a deep and dreamless sleep every night. He had tried not to worry about the activities at the Centre, realizing from the feelings he received through Angelo and, in some ways, from Sydney, that they were safe for the time being. All he could hope now was that the medication which he had instructed Miss Parker, during another phone call, to make would be sufficient to reverse the damage done by the drugs and leave no lasting effects.

His biggest fear was a complete lack of knowledge about activities within the Centre. He had never, until this time, been completely unaware of the events within and surrounding it but he had little time to concern himself with it. However a second visit from his only visitor thus far forced those feelings to the surface.

"Haven't you heard anything?" Steve prompted.

"How could I, in a place like this?" Jarod glanced around the room as he made his point.

"But Angelo - you don't know anything?"

"Angelo is an empath, as you know. He know my feelings, I haven't got the capabilities to work out his." Jarod told the white lie with the straight face and no emotion. It wouldn't do to excite the man in front of him with the strange, new skill he was developing.

"Where are they?"

"I don't know, exactly. I wouldn't let Parker tell me on the phone, in case the line wasn't secure."

"I should find them."

"And how would you know where to look?"

"Tell me where they are, Jarod, and I'll help you look after them."

"Can I still trust you?"

October 11, 2000
"Have you heard from him?"

"Not for almost a month. But you know that already."

"Do you think he's still alive?" Sydney looked at Parker as she sat in a chair on the other side of the room.

"Syd, I've never known as much about him as you have. I should be asking you that question."

"Alive," a soft voice mewed.

"What?!" Both Parker and Sydney spun around and stared at the savant who had crept into the room, moments before, unnoticed. The overhead light had created a shadow in which he had concealed himself, but he now came forward and climbed into an empty chair.

"Jarod alive. Can't get out. Won't get out."

Miss Parker turned back and stared at Sydney. "Could Jarod be back at the Centre?"

"No, I assure you, Miss Parker," a new voice stated calmly. "He isn't."

"I...I'm sorry Miss Parker but he...he knocked and you didn't hear him and when he heard your voice, he came in and then I couldn't prevent him overhearing and..." Broots trailed off as both Miss Parker and Sydney moved their amazed glances from the intruder to the technician, who shrank behind the newcomer.

Angelo broke up the silence in the room by ambling over and throwing his arms around the newcomer. "Steve!"

At this, as the former sweeper returned the embrace, Sydney got out of the chair. "I knew you looked familiar, Steve McCaffrey. But what on earth are you doing here?"

"I wheedled your probable location out of Jarod, when I saw him two days ago," Steve replied, as he shook the psychiatrist’s hand. "I thought you might need my help."

"Jarod? You mean you've seen him?" the older man asked eagerly.

"Twice, in recent times."

"Where is he?" The two men turned and stared as Miss Parker, unable to restrain her curiosity, burst out with the question.

"Quite safe, Miss Parker. It is Miss Parker, isn't it? It's been so long but I could never forget that face." He smiled tenderly, and it was obvious that he was reliving a fond memory, before his eyes became more focused and he concluded his comment. "Even if it was once obvious on the face of someone else."

October 20, 2000
"For the last time, where is he?" Raines snarled.

"I've told you, I don't know." The woman was turning sulky as the questioning became increasingly aggressive and now she was refusing to give the little information she had received earlier that day.

"From what you do know, however, he disappeared from the Centre this morning. Is that correct?" Lyle snapped.

The woman stared moodily ahead and refused to answer.

"So you won't tell us? Fine, well I'm sure we can change that situation." The thumbless man nodded at the two sweepers who stood in the doorway. "Take her down to the room that I prepared earlier."

The two men, their faces expressionless, nodded in unison, moved forward and grabbed the woman by the arms. As she was lifted off the ground, she began to struggle and kick furiously.

"Stop."

The sweepers, having now been made even more instantaneously obedient by their re-education than ever before, halted immediately and waited for further orders. The man nodded at his associate, who tilted a bottle over a small cloth and walked towards the woman. She shook her head violently from side to side, but inexorably, and ignoring her pleading eyes, his hand followed the movement of her head, at the same time bringing the cloth closer to her face. Despite her struggles, the fumes began to have their effect and by the time the cloth was sitting against her mouth, her head hung down and her body was limp in the arms of the two men who held her up.

"Now, take her down to the room and get her ready. We will be down shortly."

The two men, dragging the figure between then, marched out of the room and could be heard walking down the hall. Lyle and Raines exchanged glances.

"Re-education?"

"In circumstances like this, I believe it would be wise. We have no further use for her when she's like this. A short course and we will only have one opponent to deal with."

In another part of the building, that other opponent watched the activity and glared blackly at the figures on the screen, at the same time suppressing a small shudder.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 17

"There are two freedoms -- the false, where a man is free to do what he likes; the true, where he is free to do as he ought."
Charles Kingsley


Achieving

October 30, 2000
19 weeks to go.

"You have a visitor, McCaffrey."

Jarod entered the visitor’s room, half-hoping that the real Steve had come to tell him how the situation with the refugees was going. The other figure, however, was as much an encouragement as anyone else and he eagerly sat down as his eyes widened. "My God, how did you find me?"

The man smiled, his blue eyes, which made such a contrast to his black hair, twinkling, as his lips parted to reveal white teeth. "I admit that it wasn't easy. Even here you manage to hide well. What are you here for?"

Jarod's expression darkened. "The Centre's crimes, and preventing an innocent man with a loving family from having to be here."

"You mean McCaffrey? Yes, we met briefly some years ago. He has a family now?"

"Three small children. So you can see why I have to be here."

"I can. I might have done the same thing, in your situation."

"And the Centre?"

"Doing exactly what you simulated. The Triumvirate is gone, as far as they know, and they're facing off against each other like a couple of raging bulls. If I hadn't needed to talk to you, I would have stayed to watch. It's quite an amusing sight." The man's mouth twisted and Jarod couldn't help grinning.

"I can well believe it."

"Have you talked to Parker or the others?"

"Briefly." Jarod's smile dropped from his face and his expression darkened once more. "They're safe, from what she told me."

"I wanted to keep Brigitte away from Sydney, but I couldn't find a way of doing it that wouldn't make her suspicious."

"But you were giving him the antidote that we worked out," Jarod stated.

The man nodded. "Should I go see them?"

"No. Steve went, after forcing their location out of me. So I'd say they're safe. He's a good as anyone else."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Go and get in touch with that friend of ours, but don't let Raines, Lyle and the others know you're back. Keep me informed of anything that happens. I want to know as soon as possible. When I'm out of here, it’ll take all of us to finally get rid of them."

The man sat back in his chair and pressed the tips of his fingers together, his expression concerned. "I don't like leaving you here, Jarod."

"But I can't leave yet. It won't be that long, don't worry. Just keep me informed and, together, we'll do what we can to stop them."

November 2, 2000
"So you knew my mother?" Parker asked softly.

"Yes," Steve agreed. "She was one of the best people in the world. If you aimed to be only as good as she was, it’d make you a wonderful woman, Miss Parker. And you do have every opportunity that way."

"And at the Centre - "

"I was the sweeper primarily in charge of Timmy - Angelo," the man corrected himself. "It wasn't uncommon to see your mother down in SL-19, where his room used to be. Timmy always knew when she would be coming and was always waiting for her. He was one of the main children that she was planning to remove from the Centre. She used to discuss the plan with me, sometimes. Never the small details, only what would affect me. And I was so eager for it to happen. And then she staged her death and went to have your brother, Ethan..."

"You know about him?"

"Oh yes. Catherine told me. And..."

"Where is he?"

The man smiled. "You're always impatient, just like your mother. But as for Ethan, after the bomb explosion, Jarod brought him to us - our family. Ethan suffered extreme emotional problems for a long time afterwards, as well as some memory loss, particularly regarding his recent time with Dr…sorry, Mr Raines. He's doing much better now, though. Jarod helped a lot and so, Ethan says, did you."

"I? How?" Miss Parker stared at him.

"Apparently because of your similarity to your mother in looks. Ethan seems to have an innate sense of anything or anyone similar to his mother and it's only his wariness, which was caused by Raines' treatment of him, that makes him unwilling to immediately believe that a person will help him. If he'd known I was coming to visit you, he would have wanted to come but he needed a few more days to recover."

"And so he's living with you?"

"For the moment. We were hoping that Jarod would come and take care of him for a while but...well..."

"Yes, where is Jarod? I mean, you said that he wasn't in the Centre."

"He isn't, Miss Parker. Which is probably fortunate for him, considering how things are going."

November 2, 2000
"Is the treatment complete?"

"Almost, Mr Raines." The sweeper's voice was cold and emotionless and the head of the Centre, more interested in the victim than her guard, had failed to notice the twinkle that had appeared in the man's eye over the past few days. "A few more days and she should be everything that you want her to be."

Brigitte’s body was strapped to a table and her head lolled to one side. Raines' experiments on others had shown that the treatment had most impact when the victim was heavily sedated and this was one victim that Raines couldn't bear to have failed with. He nodded at the man standing at the head of the board, who reached over and slapped the woman hard on the face. His finger marks showed clearly on her white cheek and her eyes opened.

"Yes sir. What do you want me to do?" The voice was clear and free of the English accent that she had once adopted. Now her speech was monotonous and, accompanied by the lack of expression in her eyes, could have been terrifying to anyone who knew what real fear was. However the two men only exchanged satisfied glances.

"Is it infallible?"

"Not quite. There's no guarantee, if the treatment were stopped now, that it wouldn't wear off. There are still signs that the level of brain activity is higher than it should be. However, in a few more days, it should be permanent. Then we can move ahead with stage two."

"Good, good. Then we will have the perfect assassin. Proceed with the treatment."

Raines stood back and watched as his associate walked over to a small medical trolley and picked up a syringe. Clearing it of air bubbles, he walked over and injected the contents into the woman's arm. In seconds the anesthetic had taken effect. Then the man skillfully picked up a pair of electrodes and placed them on either side of the woman's head. The powerful voltage tore through her body, making it jerk violently against the restraints. After several seconds of such treatment, the man produced another syringe and injected the contents of this into the inert figure.

"Explain the treatment to me again."

"The electric treatment stimulates the brain, briefly increasing the metabolic rate which has been slowed by the sedative. This allows the body to more easily absorb the substances we are injecting into it, which in turn will be responsible for suppressing the parts of the brain which are responsible for independent thought and reasoning. Those areas have been identified through years of research in other Centre laboratories. This treatment will result in a perfectly obedient subject, who will do exactly as they are told."

The man, watching the scene from a distance away, opened and closed his mouth several times before pushing the screen over to the other occupant of the room.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 18

"Freedom is the right to be wrong, not the right to do wrong."
John G. Riefenbaker


Believing

November 13, 2000
16 weeks to go.

Jarod looked across at the screen the visitor had placed in front of him. After watching for several seconds, he looked up at the black-haired man opposite. "And the result is?"

"Exactly what you might expect. Brigitte is completely drained of her ability to think or act for herself, and obeys orders given by her masters immediately."

"So that leaves her former partner on his own," Jarod mused.

"The man whose side I was always supposedly on. Hah! If he only knew!"

"Luckily, he's too stupid to have thought that there might be a connection between the two of us. But I worry somewhat about what comes next. I mean, he's on his own with no support, as the sweepers have been trained to obey Raines and…Is that Sam?" Jarod caught sight of the figure on the screen and his visitor zoomed in on the picture.

"Looks like him. What about it?"

"It's just...that expression. Look closely. I get the feeling that any treatment they gave him is beginning to wear off, and I can guess why."

"Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess too?"

Jarod grinned. "To whom has Sam's loyalty always been directed? Come on, you've seen him at work."

The man snapped his fingers and sat up straighter in his chair. "Of course. Parker."

"Absolutely. He came to apologize to me after I was recaptured at the beginning of the year because of the way he had to treat me. Of course I forgave him. I had to. It's always a good idea to obey Lyle, unless, of course, you can make him tremble, the way you did when you accused him of killing Mutumbo. But Sam's always been loyal to both of us, and even treatment like he got isn't going to be as effective if the object of his loyalty isn’t the one doing the brainwashing. But of course they never realized where his real loyalty lay."

"And so now it's losing its effect."

"And if you get to him quickly, you might be able to get him out of there and to safety before they realize and give him another session."

"Where should I take him?"

"Bring him here and we can discuss the next stage."

November 15, 2000
Miss Parker watched again the images Broots had found while searching the Centre mainframe for information about the takeover. It was almost terrifying to see the immediate responses Brigitte made to the orders the two men gave him. Her marksmanship had improved to the point that Miss Parker knew she could never hope to succeed if it came to a shooting match between the two. Brigitte had become an automaton, like so many of the sweepers within the Centre.

The thought of trying to topple an empire like that, and with only the expertise of the people within the room, was frankly frightening and, not for the first time, Miss Parker wished that Steve would reveal Jarod's location so she could convince him to join them and defeat the situation.

"Hello, Parker?"

She snapped out of her reverie. "Sorry, what?"

"Any chance that you could join us for this discussion?"

"Mmm, sorry."

"I was saying that we should do something before that, " Sydney waved at the screen, "goes much further. But you disagree." Sydney looked at Steve with an expression that displayed both frustration and eagerness.

"I've told you, I’ve already spoken to Jarod and he has a plan with a greater likelihood of success than any we could devise. What we need to do, though, is wait until he's available."

Miss Parker brought her fist down on the table, making the crockery jump. "You keep telling us that, but you won't say where he actually is!"

"Believe me, I do want to tell you more than I am, but he doesn't want me to."

"What is he afraid of? That I'll drag him back to the Centre? Trust me, Mr McCaffrey, this is one time that I wouldn't consider it."

The man shifted uneasily in his seat. "He's aware of that fact, Miss Parker. However he feels that it would be better if you were not informed as to his current location. It's more difficult than you'll ever know for him to keep that information silent."

November 15, 2000
The sweeper returned to his room and, almost angrily, threw the belt containing his gun onto his bed. Another bloody awful day of pretence and facade. And still no sign of Miss Parker. He was so deep in thought that he almost missed the sounds that came from the air vent in the corner of his room, but finally located them and approached the screen.

"Who is it?"

"Sam? It's me."

"My God!" The sweeper strode over and lifted the cover. After several seconds he was able to see the outline of the man's head in the dim light. "What are you doing here? Do you know how much Lyle or Raines would give to get their hands on you now?"

"Then we'd better leave as fast as possible!" The man grinned, showing a perfect row of white teeth. "Are you ready?"

"Am I ready?" The man repeated the question while looking around the room in disgust. "I can't wait to leave. Let's get out of here."

"Wait. We have to make one stop."

"For...?"

In the dim light, Sam could just make out the nodding of the other man's head. "Great. Well, let's do it."

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 19

"You can't separate peace from freedom because no-one can be at peace unless he had his freedom."
Malcolm X


Knowing

November 27, 2000
14 weeks to go.

"My God!" The blue-eyed woman stopped dead in the doorway, her brown hair, now streaked with gray, hanging over one shoulder, and stared at the man sitting at the table, his hands on the scratched surface in front of him, wearing baggy orange prison clothes.

"Have I really changed that much? I mean, I know it's been a few years..." Jarod grinned and left the rest of his sentence unfinished as his latest visitor entered the room, Sam behind her. "I know I've grown up a bit. After all, thirty years is a long time." He looked critically at her as she sat down on the other side of the table. "You've hardly changed at all."

She looked at him longingly as she sat opposite him and placed her hands on his. "I'd love to put my arms around you again, like I did that last time."

"Save it," Jarod looked around in disgust, "for when I'm out of this place."

"I'm not sure why you feel you even need to stay here."

"To avoid the publicity that would go with any escape I might make. Neither Steve nor I can be publicly referred to, at least as long as Raines is alive. What I can't understand is why you took so long to get here."

"Trying to avoid the Centre. We tripped a new sensor as we were leaving and we’ve only been able to avoid them by moving around a lot. I don't know how you've managed it for so many years."

"It sure hasn't been easy..."

"I've been doing my best, Jarod."

Jarod smiled and gently squeezed her fingers. "I know you have, and I appreciate it. If it wasn't for you, my life and family would still be the blank slate it was when I first escaped."

"If only I could take you away from here..." The woman looked around the room with the same disgust that Jarod had.

"Save it," he interjected. "And then you can put your arms around us both together."

December 2, 2000
Sam watched the screen, replaying the bit of footage showing the reaction to the discovery of his disappearance and that of the other member of their trio. He was soon joined by the said members and they watched, in silence, the explosive reactions of those now in charge.

"Funny that there should only be two of them." Sam grimaced, his eyes traveling from Lyle to Raines.

"Oh, no doubt the ex-Chairman is hiding away somewhere and waiting to make his move. If my partner had turned into that," the black-haired man nodded at the screen showing Brigitte's subservient actions, " I wouldn't be too keen to show my face either. But I have no doubt that he's waiting behind the scenes..."

"With who?" Sam demanded. "There aren't too many left to conquer that army of people. Six or seven, at the most, that I can imagine. And against that lot! It would enough to turn even our beloved Chairman pale."

"But you know," the woman sat down on the edge of the other bed in the room and slung one leg over the other, "he was the one who completed all of the arrangements with the other international organizations. They recognize him as the major role player in the Centre and might see a threat to him as a threat to their own securities."

"If so," the third member spoke up, " then all we have to do is sit back and watch them destroy themselves. Very handy."

"And then," the woman looked at him, "the Centre will be more powerful than ever before, making them almost unable to be beaten. Besides, who would you rather have win? Raines and his cronies or my former husband and his accomplices?"

The doctor’s blue eyes widened in shocked realization. "I begin to see what you mean."

December 2, 2000
The man stared at the screen in front of him and then up at the pale figure in front of him. A pure albino was, in the man's view, different from himself and therefore inferior. Mr White was aware of this fact and it made him decidedly uncomfortable.

"So who else do we have?"

"I have a list of possible contacts here for you, sir. However all of the sweepers have been trained to become and army for Raines and his cohorts and are probably no use to you at all. Otherwise...well...that's it."

The man glared at his associate, who would have gone pale but for his inability to do so. "So I have to content myself with an army of imbeciles? Well, it will have to do. Call them and see what you can arrange. Organise a meeting for some time this week."

"Here?"

"Of course not here, you idiot! Do you want the whole world to know what we're up to?" The man scuttled out of the room and the remaining occupant turned the screen around and stared at the figures on it, frozen in time by the push of his hand. He was now waiting eagerly to be able to do such a thing in real life.

He thought of the mysterious disappearances which had occurred within the Centre in recent times and wondered, briefly, whether there was a third group at work, trying to undermine all of the great work which had been thus far accomplished. But no, he shook his head, that was impossible. Such a group would be unable to exist without someone finding out about it and, with his network of security cameras, he would know as soon as they did.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 20

"In the last analysis, our only freedom is the freedom to discipline ourselves."
Bernard M. Baruch


Pursuing

December 18, 2000
11 weeks to go.

Seventy-seven days.

One thousand, eight hundred and forty-eight hours.

One hundred and ten thousand, eight hundred and eighty minutes. Roughly.

Jarod didn't bother calculating any further. He didn't really need to. No matter what the numbers were, they were always one thing.

A lot.

Instead he turned his thoughts to the other thing that was taking up so much of his free time.

He still struggled - and this was the thing of greatest frustration to him. He struggled - in his attempts to make Sydney hear hiis thoughts and feelings. Jarod had begun to feel something of those which emanated from his former mentor but the feelings, like the man himself, were vague and difficult to understand and more than once Jarod had almost given up in frustration.

His connections with Angelo, however, had increased at a dramatic rate, although whether it was from the empath understanding what he now wanted or because his own ability was enhanced he couldn't say. He turned his thoughts in the direction and was happy to feel a flow of thoughts coming from Angelo. It had amazed Jarod that Angelo was capable of thinking in clear, grammatical English when he could not speak that way.

It seemed suddenly cruel to Jarod that he must have been trapped inside his own mind for so long. Jarod shook his head, glanced once at the stars he could see through his window and again concentrated on the task he had set himself.

December 22, 2000
Angelo's eyes flickered open as the wave of thought washed into his mind. Jarod. One word but it was enough and the empath opened his mind, allowing Jarod to 'see' all of the activity that had been done that day.
Not that it was a lot. The group spent much of their time conferring about the possible actions within the Centre and, sometimes, about Jarod himself and what he was doing.

Angelo felt the tears that sprang into the trapped man’s eyes as he 'heard' the discussions that had ensued.

'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine. They actually treat me pretty well here.'

'Are you happy, Jarod?'

'What do you think?'

There was a mental moment of silence.

'Get Sydney.' The thought was crystal clear and Angelo sat upright in bed. 'Tell Sydney how to talk to me.'

'How?' The empath carefully formed the word in his mind and waited for the response.

'Let me talk through you. Can you do that, Angelo?'

'I can try.'

The figure got up off the couch where he slept and walked over to where Sydney lay; feeling that Jarod was preparing himself for what would be a difficult task.

"Sydney, I need to talk to you."

December 22, 2000
"Angelo? What's going on?" Sydney sat up in bed and stared at the savant.

"Sydney, please."

The psychiatrist’s brow creased in confusion. This wasn’t Angelo’s voice. It was too firm, too deliberate, and most of all, too fluent. It almost sounded like… "Jarod?"

"Got it in one." Sydney saw the grin appear on Angelo's face as he pronounced the words. Reaching over to the other single bed in the room, he tapped Steve on the shoulder.

The former sweeper, who was planning to travel back to his family the following day, sat up rapidly in bed.

"What's going on?"

"It's...I'm not sure. It's as though Angelo is channeling Jarod."

Steve thought for a few seconds and then grinned. "Oh, now I understand."

"Well, I'm glad one of us does!" the psychiatrist snapped.

"Calm down, Syd. Now listen," foreseeing a long night, the man made himself comfortable. "Do you remember how we found out about an ability that Miss Parker had to hear her mother's voice? She and Ethan?"

"Of course. Well?" Sydney thought for a moment. "Oh, I get it. Jarod's decided that he can't let her be the only gifted one."

Angelo’s mouth twisted into a grin, but his eyes sparkled with something that looked like indignation. "Are you implying that I'm...?"

"Jealous, yes."

"Very funny, Sydney. Now listen. I want you to be able to do this of your own accord, without Angelo having to act as my mouth. Try to work out what I'm sending you."

Sydney waited and, suddenly, his mind was filled with a strange emotion.

Peace.

The psychiatrist felt this, as it crept into his mind, and knew that it was coming from Jarod. As it grew, fearing what would come next, Sydney tensed and instantly the feeling vanished. Angelo let out a small sound that was like a laugh as he settled on the end of the bed.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Sydney. Shall we try it again? I won't do it if you don't want to."

"I want to."

Sydney relaxed and felt the waves of emotion become stronger in his mind. Then, suddenly, an image appeared on the edges of his mind. Sydney jumped as the mouth of the figure opened. 'Can you hear this?'

"Yes. Please don't do it again." Sydney was forced to speak the words, both to justify his actions to the others in the room and to calm himself down.

'Don't say the words,' Jarod’s voice stated in his head. 'Try to imagine yourself saying them. Build up a picture in your mind and try to send it to me.'

'Like a parcel.'

'Exactly.'

Suddenly the words passing between the two were shattered by a sound that Sydney did not recognize but which Jarod certainly did, as the bell that announced a room inspection.

"Damn." Angelo spoke the words, which also echoed in Sydney's head. "I have to go. Things to do, people to see."

'Places to go?' asked Sydney silently and with a smile.

'You might say that.' Jarod's words were strangely curt, and then there was silence.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 21

"Freedom all solace to man gives; He lives at ease that freely lives."
John Barbour


Endeavoring

December 25, 2000
10 weeks to go.
Christmas Day.

'Merry Christmas, Jarod.' The thought flowed in before Jarod was properly awake and he immediately recognized the source.

'Merry Christmas, Sydney. How are you doing?'

'Fine. Are you okay?'

Jarod restrained the comment that was about to appear in his mind and stopped himself from glancing around the room.

'Jarod?'

'I'm here. I was just...thinking about something.'

'Important?'

'You could say that.'

'Can I help?'

The Pretender sighed, wishing that it were that simple. 'Thanks, but no.'

'Jarod, where are you? Steve won't tell us and you know that, with the current situation, you know that there's no risk from Miss Parker.'

'Omaha.'

'And we're in Charleston. It's a shame we can't see you, today of all days.'

'You can see me.' Jarod projected an image of himself that Sydney had seen so often - the image on the photo that Miss Parker carried around as identification.

'Can't you do better than that?'

Jarod grinned. He sent an image of himself with Zoe in the hot tub as he had seen it in the mirrors that had lined the room’s walls.

'Okay, enough!' Sydney shut his eyes and shook his head to dispel the picture. 'I really didn't need to see that, you now.'

'I thought you'd enjoy it. It's the closest thing to a present I can give you. No, wait, I can give you a better one.'

Jarod conjured up his favorite image of Jacob and pushed it to the forefront of his mind. He heard the rapid and audible intake of Sydney's breath as the image appeared and he saw the tears Sydney mentally began to shed at the sight. Jarod filled his mind with other images of Sydney's parents and family, finishing with pictures of Michelle and Nicholas. Sydney's eyes overflowed with tears and Jarod turned his head away.

December 25, 2000
"Parker. Christmas"

"Is it?" The woman yawned and pulled herself up in bed. She stared at the empath, whose face bore an expressing akin to a child who has hidden the car-keys when you have an early appointment. "What is it, Angelo?" She leant forward. "What's the matter?"

Angelo, still wearing the same expression, placed a hand on her wrist. Suddenly, her mind was full of images and feelings which were not her own. Instead they seemed somewhat distant, as though belonging to someone else. Then, slowly, the abstract manifested itself into something more definite. She could hear voices.

'Thank you, Jarod.'

'You're welcome, Sydney.'

"Sydney, what the hell is going on?" The voice came crashing into the stillness and caused both Sydney and Jarod to jump.

"P...Parker?" Sydney appeared in the doorway to her room, slightly out of breath. "Good morning. Merry Christmas."

'Are you going to tell her?' Jarod's voice asked.

'Do you want me to?' Sydney looked at Miss Parker's face. 'Come to think of it, I think she may know already?'

'Angelo?' Jarod's voice could be heard by everyone. 'What are you doing?'

'I believe the phrase is 'letting the cat out of the bag' '. Sydney grinned as he heard the words echoing in his mind. He had heard Angelo and Jarod 'speaking' earlier and wasn't surprised by the perfect grammar that the empath displayed. Miss Parker, however, glared at him suspiciously.

"All right, who's going to be the first man to tell me what's going on?"

December 25, 2000
'Merry Christmas, Jarod,' a female voice soothed in his mind as he stared out between the bars at the gray sky.

'Is everything okay?'

'Fine. A little boring, but fine.'

'Have you heard anything else from the Centre?'

'Jarod, it's Christmas. Not even the Centre works then. At least, I hope they don't.'

'It's out of your hands now.'

The woman smiled gently. 'It was never really in my hands. My position has only been superficial for years, as you know.'

'Oh, you've had some clout.'

'Not for a while.'

'I know. They blamed you for my disappearance - and the fact that I've hardly been seen since.'

'Still, if I had the chance, I wouldn't have changed a thing.'

'Really? Nothing?'

'If I had changed even one thing, I wouldn't have had the chance to be a mother - or to get to know you and all of the other children at the Centre. That was worth just about everything.'

'I hope you'll feel that way later. This isn't over by a long shot and your part in the whole thing is probably one of the most difficult.'

'I know. But this was never going to be easy anyway,' the woman offered.

'Just as long as you keep that in mind,' Jarod responded, before his lips curled into a smile. 'Well, that and a few other things as well.'

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 22

"Forgiveness is the key to action and freedom."
Hannah Arendt


Forgiving

January 1, 2001
9 weeks to go.
A new year.

'Parker, you're getting very good at this.'

'You don't have to patronize me, Jarod. I'm doing my best.'

'I wasn't being patronizing. I'm serious. This isn't easy. I've been working at perfecting it for weeks.' Jarod tried to remember to keep his sentences short. It was easy for both of them to lose track if they became too long.

'How long until we can put whatever plan you've come up with into effect?'

Being careful not to transmit the image, Jarod looked over at the wall and counted the number of marks left. 'Nine weeks. I should be finished here by then, and we can come and join you.'

'Who's we?'

'Wouldn't you rather it be a surprise?'

'You know I don't like surprises. You've given me so many that I can't enjoy them any more.'

'Well, I promise you'll enjoy this one. You couldn't help it if you tried.'

'The biggest question is whether I should trust you.'

'Why wouldn't you? You've enjoyed some of my other surprises!'

'Name one.'

'Thomas.'

January 1, 2001
There were a few seconds of silence. Jarod could feel the tears that were welling up inside Parker and he wanted to avoid them spilling over if he could. Showing her emotions always made her more difficult to get along with, and her frustration and helplessness was creating enough difficulties as it was.

'Parker, I do need your help with something.'

'What is it?' Jarod could tell that she was as pleased as he to have changed the subject.

'I need Broots to create a computer virus to use as a form of attack against the Centre.'

'Why can't you do it yourself?'

'I don't have the time right now. This could take a while. It needs to be complicated and, as you know, you have a lot more spare time than I do at the moment.'

'I bet. You're probably on holiday somewhere, lying in the sun.'

Jarod tried not to allow the anger bubbling away in him, constantly fuelled by frustration, to burst out, and instead restrained himself.

'Can I possibly get you to write down what I need? Or else say it so that Broots can hear and write it down for himself?' The image of Miss Parker pacing the length of the room came into his mind and he had a good idea that it was exactly the way she was behaving, although he couldn't be sure.

'Okay, shoot.'

'First, the virus needs to create a small attachment, which should be sent out with all other emails that the Centre dispatches. This file needs only to be short but make sure it appears as though your father was the one who sent it.'

"Why?" Miss Parker asked the question aloud in response to the looks that Broots was giving her as he wrote down the directions.

'Don't ask questions. We don't have time.'

'Bully.'

'Listen, do you want to do this or not? I mean, we can all just stay where we are and rot while the Centre destroys more lives. It's up to you.'

'Jarod...' Sydney's voice was warning.

'Okay, Wonderboy, what comes next?'

Jarod managed a weak grin at the use of the nickname. 'Next another message needs to be sent which hunts for the file created earlier. It needs to be able to find the file, even if it's been deleted or the message has been put into the trash folder and cleared. I sent Broots a message on how to do that months ago.'

'Fine. Then what.'

'The virus itself needs to be time-activated and also impossible to locate or destroy. The file with the directions shows how to create a Hydra virus.'

'And the purpose of this?'

Jarod couldn't help grinning again. 'If you don't know what the Hydra was, you need to reread your Greek mythology. And you always used to be so good at it. Remember, you were the one who told Sydney about my origami figure, and not the other way around.'

'Stop trying to be clever and tell me more about this virus.'

January 3, 2001
Under the mask of indifference and instant obedience, she seethed. She knew well what would happen if she didn't hide her emotions and she was also aware of the reason that she had been allowed to retain her independence of thought, rather than making her a robot and automaton, like the others. He was playing both hands, rather than just one. He knew whom she had been working with and wanted a card to play in case things went against him. The way he had always done. She despised him for it yet, at the same time, admired the strategy and copied it when she could. Imitation, after all...

So she suffered the indignities of the beatings and insults, biding her time so that she could reveal the facade and step forward to enjoy the glory of success. Of course, she knew that her fate depended entirely on him. A payback for the information which he knew about and which she would do anything to keep hidden.

Her husband, if he knew, would never forgive her and he was not a person whom it was safe to deceive. She knew that, as did many others. His own daughter, in attempting to hide the progress of her affair with the handyman, had tried the deception, and it was only the blood connection that ensured she had been allowed to live.

She, Brigitte, had no such connection on which she could depend and she knew that any potential supporters would be more likely to help in tearing her apart. So she had participated in the farce and now pretended to be a mindless idiot. A person deprived of life, so that she might have a life afterwards.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 23

"Only our individual faith in freedom can keep us free."
Dwight D. Eisenhower


Maintaining

January 8, 2001
8 weeks to go.

'Is it ready?'

'Ready and in the system,' Sydney's voice responded calmly. 'Broots put it in yesterday, purporting to come from you to me in our usual style.'

'Great.' Jarod smiled.

'Are you going to tell me the purpose?'

'You mean you haven't guessed?'

'Please, no games, Jarod.'

'It's quite simple. This is the first step in the downfall of the Centre, as we all now know it.'

'But not it's complete destruction.'

'No. It still has functions, uses, which people could work with.'

'People being you.'

'Possibly. I haven't really thought much beyond the next few months. I might play some sort of role in it, but I'm not entirely sure.'

'What else is involved?'

'Eventually? Those involved in the upper echelons of the Centre, or at least those who are still alive, will somehow need to be removed. I don't exactly know how yet, although I do have a few plans up my sleeve.'

'Such as?'

The Pretender chuckled softly, and aggravatingly, before starting to explain.

January 10, 2001
'Jarod?' a female voice murmured in his head.

'Right here.'

'Are you okay?'

'I'm fine, really.'

'You don't sound fine.'

'It's just...well, there's only a few weeks left and...'

'I understand, baby.'

'I know you do.' Jarod shook his head and tried to smile. 'How's the drug going?'

'Almost finished. Sam had a lot of fun pretending to be a chemist so that we could get the things we needed. I think it's given him a greater insight into how it would feel to be you.'

"Wait until he has a few deaths on his conscience. Then see what he feels like," Jarod muttered the thought aloud before fully realizing what he had said and trying to take the words back.

'Jarod, dear, I know how hard it's been for you to realize what was happening with your simulations.'

'But you were never aware of their final use, were you? Please tell me you didn't know.' Jarod's begging was made in the tones of the small boy that the woman used to comfort during the dark nights when he was assailed by nightmares.

'I never knew why the buyers wanted that particular information. And if I thought that it would be used negatively, I tried to abort the sale. Of course, it usually didn't work.'

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't be making you think about it. Let's get back the original topic. So the drug will be ready in a few days. And it will be in the necessary form.'

'Ready for releasing into the air, as required. They'll never know what hit them.'

'And that was always the original idea. I hate to have to take anyone's past away from them, but, in these circumstances, I think it's necessary.'

'We've nearly finished making the film that will be required. It contains photos of Sydney, you, Sam and the rest of us.'

'How long does it last?'

'Long enough, Jarod. Plenty long enough.'

January 10, 2001
"Two months and still absolutely no sign! It's impossible! You aren't doing enough!" Raines turned and glared at the gang of sweepers in the room. "There's no possibility that they can have completely disappeared! They have to be somewhere, so you can't be looking hard enough. And now she's disappeared too!"

"Calm down, Raines. You'll give yourself a heart attack. They will be found. There aren't that many places that a group of four or five people can hide without being seen. Even Jarod didn't manage - "

"And where is Jarod? There's been no sign of him for months."

"Uh...Mr Raines, sir...there was an email from Jarod to Sydney this morning."

"Did you trace it?"

"We're...doing it now...sir." A small bead of sweat ran down the man's face. The brainwashing had instilled terror into every sweeper and the natural reaction was the trembling which made both Raines and his associate feel so powerful.

"Well, when it's done, I want to know immediately. Understand?"

"Y...yes, sir."

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 24

"Freedom is the last, best hope on earth."
Abraham Lincoln


Sustaining

January 15, 2001
6 weeks to go.
Jarod clasped his hands behind his head and thought through various stages of his plan. It would be only a few weeks until it could be put into operation and he looked forward to introducing one of his support groups to the other. It would be a glorious day for them all and one the most positive beginnings to any coup that had ever existed. And then there was his plan.

Jarod wriggled his toes with glee as he thought of the many stages of the deceptively simple plan. It needed to be simple so that no one would suspect who was behind it. No one, not Raines, Lyle or any of the others, believed him capable of a series of simple steps.

The SIMs and pretends had always been complicated and the final solutions involved many minute details. Instead, this time, there were sweeping reforms which would do away with the old and usher in the new.
First, the computer virus, Hydra, that Broots had made and which had already begun its trek. Secondly, there was the drug, Stymphalos, that had been made and now only awaited use. Then there was Jarod's favourite step. Geryon. The removal of Mr Parker's possible support in Centre contacts. Of course, that was connected to Hydra. In fact, many of the steps were interwoven, but not to the extent that they depended on one another for success. Jarod was too careful to let that happen.

Other phases of the plan couldn't be put into effect until Jarod and the others worked out the system by which the Centre was being run. He did, however, have a plan which he privately called Augeas and which would result in bringing to light all of the projects which the Centre had hidden within the sublevels. Jarod had no doubt that some of the victims would be totally unknown, not only to him but even Sydney or Miss Parker.

The other stages depended on the condition of these other projects and, as such made planning more difficult. With his support, though, Jarod grew daily more confident that it could be achieved.

January 18, 2001
Miss Parker stood by the window and stared blindly into the street. Tears, flowing down her cheeks only moments before, still left their gleaming trails on her face. She had learnt the art of mind reading and was now accomplished at it. Having done so, she had created barriers that would prevent people from knowing what she was thinking.

Now she had a reason for doing so, and it was one that caused incredible personal pain - she had sometimes heard her mother's voice, talking in the silence of her room, when she felt most alone. Miss Parker had not been kidding when she had told Ethan that she had heard her mother talking in her head, but that had been years earlier and the phrases had always been the same.

Now they were different, speaking of patience, trust and, most importantly, love. What hurt most, however, was that the voice was so close. Miss Parker could almost imagine that her mother was outside the door or, in some cases, just beside her.

She had tried to hide those feelings but guessed that Sydney, at least, realised that they existed. Of course, he could have no idea of their basis and she wasn't going to tell him. In a brief moment of folly, as she saw it, the barriers had been let down enough to show Jarod what she was thinking. It couldn't be denied, although Miss Parker tried, that their conversations since his discovery had been similar to the ones they had had as children, after Miss Parker's mother had died.

'She loved you, Miss Parker. Don't ever allow yourself to forget that. And I'm sure she will be watching over you, then as now.'

'Are you sure, Jarod?'

Hearing the almost childlike voice, Jarod had a longing to reveal the information he knew and she did not, but he restrained himself and only repeated his earlier assurances.

'I knew her, too, Parker. And I know that she's never stopped thinking about you.'

Jan 18, 2001
The woman looked up at Sam and smiled. "Only a few more weeks and we can put Jarod's plan into operation."

"It had better work," the sweeper growled as he paced the floor. "If it doesn't, we'll all be dead, or worse."

"Working for them, you mean? That should act as an incentive for you, Sam. Keep you going and make you work harder than ever to ensure that Jarod's plan is a success."

"And we're not even sure what that plan entails."

"You don't trust him?"

"Usually I'd trust him without question but this is the Centre!"

"The same organization from which he escaped and has successfully eluded for more than four years?"

"Well, yes, that one."

'Still doubting me, Sam?' a mocking voice echoed in the first Mrs. Parker’s head.

'Don't, Jarod. You know he can't hear you and it won't help.'

'What will help?'

'Showing him once you're out, the infallibility of your ideas. It's the fact that he can't do anything which is making him this nervous.'

'Do you trust me?'

'Implicitly. I always have - you know that. I'll talk to you later, okay?'

The woman reached out and placed a hand on the arm of the former sweeper, trying to make him feel the calm she pretended to feel.

"In a few more weeks, this will all be over," she spoke quietly, knowing that Sam and his fellow room-mate were not the only ones hearing her words, "and when it is, then we can have proper lives again."

"I only hope that's true." The man sat down on the bed and faced the woman, a look of sudden frankness appearing on his face. "I'm scared. Scared that it won't succeed and that we'll end up serving under them - instead of the other way around. Scared of what they might do to us. Death would be preferable but none of us would be that lucky."

"Which is why we have to succeed, Sam. Wait for the next few weeks, until we find out what it is that Jarod is planning. From the little that I've been told, it will be very likely to succeed."

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 25

"Freedom is knowing who you really are."
Linda Thomson


Repudiating

January 22, 2001
4 weeks to go.

Twenty-eight days.

Six hundred and seventy-two hours.

Forty thousand, three hundred and twenty minutes. Or so.

Two million, four hundred and nineteen thousand, two hundred seconds. Or thereabouts.

Jarod grinned as he climbed into bed. More amusing was to work out the number of times that he had made those calculations in his head. At least once a week and often more. Not that it helped, he thought ruefully, any more than any other device helped to make time move faster.

He suddenly remembered the occasion when Miss Parker had brought in an Advent Calendar, which she and her mother had made, and which had been when Jarod had first learned about Christmas. He smiled faintly at the memory and tried to suppress the urge to share the memory with the other person involved. He was trying to avoid her having to suffer any more than he knew she was already.

In his mind, he thought through the various stages of the plan to destroy the Centre. He had every stage mapped out and he had simmed every situation to try and cover every possibility. He was looking forward to some things more than others, particularly the chance to extract some revenge for the wrongs that had been committed against him.

'Be careful, Jarod. Don't let it overwhelm you.'

'Is it so wrong to want revenge?'

'If it makes you as bad as them, yes.'

'All I want is the chance to…'

'You’re assuming that it will make you happy. But it won't.'

'And you know this how, Miss Parker?'

'I just do.'

January 22, 2001
Miss Parker shut down the communication between herself and Jarod and sat back against the pillows on her bed with a sigh. In some ways it was nice to have some of their old confidences restored and she enjoyed the conversations they had now, and which reminded her poignantly of her childhood. Her thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of Sydney in her doorway.

"It's ironic."

"What is?"

"You urging Jarod not to seek revenge. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black."

"You were listening?"

"I was asleep and your conversation woke me up. You'll have to put up better barriers next time." Sydney's mouth half twisted and Miss Parker had to smile.

"I suppose it is a little ironic, me saying that. But I've been searching for revenge for years. It's taken me all this time to realize that it doesn't help."

"So why destroy the Centre?"

"So that it can't destroy other lives the way it destroyed ours. I couldn't bear to think that other people could have to go through the losses that we have."

"Just because the Centre will be destroyed doesn't mean that you won't suffer loss," the man reminded her softly.

Miss Parker looked up at him from the pillows, her face calm. "I know. But at least I will know that loss will be natural. It’ll be such a relief to know that I can stop looking over my shoulder."

Sydney ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, sadly and wearily. "I know exactly what you mean."

January 25, 2001
"How can they still be missing?" the bald man growled.

"Oh, don't worry, Raines. We'll find them."

"Don't worry? How can I not worry? These are the people that know most about every occurrence within the Centre and you're telling me not to worry? Anyone would think that you don't care. They've only got to drop a few hints and this place will be swarming with government agents. I don't know about you, but I don't plan to languish in a cell for the rest of my life and you know as well as I do that it could well happen."

Raines walked over to the other side of the office and sat down in the chair. "And while you're at it, where's the other half of our leadership group. I haven't seen him for weeks."

"He disappeared after we took over his accomplice," Lyle reminded him.

"I know that, you imbecile. I want to know where he is now."

"I think he’s down in SL-21. That's where he has been seen to go on the odd occasion that he is actually here."

"Anyone with him?" Raines demanded.

"Last I heard, that idiot albino was keeping him company."

"Well, watch him. If anything happens, I want to know about it. We can't let him have a chance to destroy any of our projects."

"Do you want to review the one we were working on yesterday?" Lyle plucked a manila folder from a pile on his desk and flipped it open, looking down at the photo taped to the inside cover of the dark-haired man, whose dark eyes glared out from the picture.

"Is there any change?"

"None, unfortunately."

"I always knew he was stubborn, but even I'm surprised at how long he's been able to hold out. Nearly two years and he's still fighting."

"Incredible, isn't it? Willpower is an amazing thing."

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 26

"The free man is he who does not fear to go to the end of his thought."
Leon Blum


Learning

January 29, 2001
2 weeks to go.

Fourteen days.

Three hundred and ninety-two hours. Or so.

Twenty-three thousand, five hundred and twenty minutes. Pretty much.

One million, four hundred and eleven thousand, two hundred seconds. Give or take.

Sun streamed through the bars and onto the bed and Jarod made the calculations in his head. Heck, it passed the time and the time was going so slowly at the moment that it was driving him crazy. He remembered the few days before his escape, leading up to those few minutes pressed up against the vent cover, waiting for the patrol to move away so that he could leave. Those moments had been terrible, when he couldn't move and would hardly breathe for fear of giving himself away.

This, though, was different.

Somehow, too, this was worse.

He was also nervous about the success of his plans. Although he would never have admitted it, there were certain factors that needed to be right for his ideas to work and he was not totally confident that this would occur. Of course, the team that he had working with him had a greater knowledge of the Centre's workings than any other threat that the organisation could face. He had qualms, though, about whether the two groups would fully trust one another.

Certainly there would be some friction to overcome first, the least of which would be he and Miss Parker working together, for the first time, for exactly the same aim.

February 4, 2001
Miss Parker stared out of the window and into the increasing darkness. Sydney had been quiet and uncommunicative, as he was every year on this date, remembering the day he and Jarod had first met. Despite trying to deny it, such actions showed Miss Parker and Broots just how much impact such events had had on his life and how much the people involved meant to him. But now they were all spending many hours silently contemplating their futures. Each one of them knew what would happen if Jarod's plans failed but they had never discussed it. Now, as the time drew constantly nearer, the tension was beginning to take its toll on all of them.

She turned her eyes to the three men who sat in different parts of the rooms. She couldn't reach into Sydney's mind - he, like Jarod, had blocked her out. Angelo, though, was willing to talk to her.

'They’re all nervous, like you.'

'Are you scared?'

'What can they do to me that’s worse than what Raines has already done? I've been a prisoner in my own mind for years. What do I have to be scared of? But do you really have so little faith in Jarod's abilities that you think his plans won't work?'

'What do you think has been his greatest achievement?'

'Escaping from the Centre - and staying out of it for so long.'

Miss Parker saw the twisted smile appear on the man’s face and the next thought shot out before she could help it. 'You! You're the one who's been helping him for so long.'

The empath shook his head. 'I'm not the only one.'

She folded her arms impatiently. 'Who then?'

A small grin curled Angelo’s lips. 'You'll be surprised.'

February 4 2001
Sam paced around the small room and finally looked up at the other two who, for the past few minutes, had been silently watching him.

"What time?"

"Ten past six."

"What an ungodly hour. Why can't they let him out at, say, nine or something?"

"Don't know. Policy, I suppose. And you know how important policy is."

"I know. And I've also known people to bend policy to suit themselves."

The woman smiled and flung her long hair back over one shoulder. "Is that a personal reference, Sam?"

The sweeper grinned before speaking. "And then?"

"Then we head off for Charleston, so that we can begin to finally put the plan into action, after all this preparation."

"Do they know we're coming?"

"No. Jarod wanted it to be a surprise." Sam eyed his co-conspirators. "And I'm pretty sure that it will be. I mean it's not as though they could guess."

The other man gave a half-smile, revealing his white teeth. "That's true. I can't wait to see their faces."

"They, on the other hand, probably can wait to see yours," the woman interposed.

"A few moments of amusement before they learn the truth."

"If they give you that chance. Miss Parker’s pretty quick on the trigger."

"They will. She never shoots without asking questions first, unlike her brother."

"And I'm sure Jarod wouldn't allow that happen. We need you." The woman smiled and the other men in the room couldn't help grinning.

"We need all the help we can get."

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 27

"We say, not lightly but very literally, that the truth has made us free. They say that it makes us so free that it cannot be the truth. To them it is like believing in fairyland to believe in such freedom as we enjoy. It is like believing in men with wings to entertain the fancy of men with wills."
G. K. Chesterton, 'The Everlasting Man'


Succeeding

February 6, 2001
The woman rose from her chair and began to pace. "I can't stand it, Sydney. Something's going to happen today, I just know it."

"That's very perceptive, Miss Parker," a cool voice responded from the doorway. "I congratulate you."

"Cox!" She spun around and stared at him, as did the other occupants of the room. "What do you want?" Her eyes narrowed and her hand snaked towards her gun.

"Now, now, Miss Parker. Is that any way to treat a friend?"

The familiar voice made her jump and, as Mr Cox moved aside, her eyes widened with shock as Jarod appeared and grinned at her while he closed the door.

"What do you mean, Jarod?" she hissed, still glaring blackly at the Centre operative.

"Mr Cox is working for me. In fact, he always has been." Jarod threw back his head and roared with laughter at the look on the faces of the other occupants in the room. He sobered as Miss Parker took a threatening step towards him. "Really, I mean it."

"I wanted to apologize," Mr Cox stepped forward, "especially to you, Mr Broots, but I did have a persona to maintain and it would hardly have been plausible if I'd suddenly been nice to some and not so nice to others."

Sydney looked at Jarod, his face still registering his own shock.

"Jarod, are you serious?"

"Sydney, would I lie? Particularly now that you can read my mind, do you think I would? In fact, have I ever lied to you in the past?"

"No-o." Sydney spoke slowly and Mr Cox approached him with a hand outstretched.

"I know that the image I projected at the Centre was never one which would encourage you to believe me now, but I beg you to try. Jarod came to me in November, suggesting that I might be able to worm my way into a quite powerful position with the Centre and thereby be a great assistance to him. I agreed and, purporting to come from one of the Centre's associates," he turned to Miss Parker and smiled, "I joined up with your father and appeared at the Centre itself within the next few weeks. He used me to get him back into the Centre; your brother Lyle believed, until Mutumbo was murdered, that I was working with him; and Mr Raines thought that I was keeping him informed of everything that I was doing. Therefore I knew just about everything that was happening- "

"And that information was very useful for me." Jarod grinned again.

"But what about the taxidermy?" Miss Parker interposed.

"That’s a hobby of mine, but it's not so popular as it used to be, which is why you saw me with that animal on the road, Miss Parker. I have to get them from somewhere and I prefer animals that are already dead to those that are still alive."

"It's sick," Miss Parker sneered.

"So is working for the Centre," Cox replied, "and we're just about all guilty of that."

"Before we get involved in a raging debate," Jarod's voice quelled the discussion, "I have a couple more people who are also on our side."

"I've seen that expression on your face before," Sydney moved over beside Jarod as Cox walked into the room and sat himself down on a high stool and Broots rapidly moved over to the other side of the room. "What are you up to?"

Jarod tried to look innocent, failed, shrugged his shoulders and then opened the door to reveal the figure standing there.

"Sam!"

"Hello, Miss Parker." The man's stern face broke into a smile. "It's nice to see you looking so well."

"And you're not…well…?"

"No, I'm not. Thanks to a little help."

"And your own stubborn and determined nature." Jarod interjected.

"…I'm fine and looking forward to working with you in shutting down the Centre entirely."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

As Sam shook hands with the other people in the room, a rarely seen smile on his face, Sydney looked at Jarod.

"You said other people. Who else have you got?"

"Someone who might be a bit of a surprise, even to you Sydney. Miss Parker!"

"What?"

"There's someone here who's been dying to see you!"

Jarod threw open the door again and, for a moment, there was silence. It was broken by one word, cried loudly and desperately.

"Momma!"

* * *

Sydney sat down on the sofa where Jarod and Cox were talking and examining the contents of a black case they had brought with them. Cox got up and, murmuring something under his breath, went into another room as Jarod shut the case and locked it.

"So, are you going to tell me where you've been?"

Jarod looked down and studied his hands for a moment. Before he could speak, Sydney continued. "Both Miss Parker and I realized that there was something wrong. You blocked us out at certain times and we were worried."

The younger man looked up sharply. "Did you think I can't take care of myself?"

"No. I think you were just too ashamed to tell us what had happened. Are you going to explain now?"

"It's complicated."

"Where you're concerned, it usually is."

"And it involves Steve and his family."

"Steve McCaffrey? How?"

Jarod half-smiled. "If you are going to keep asking questions, I won't tell you."

"Sorry. Force of habit."

"Okay. It began many years ago..."

Lord, Grant Me the Freedom…
Part 28

"Freedom suppressed and again regained bites with keener fangs than freedom never endangered."
Marcus Tullius Cicero


Daring

Jarod cleared his throat and began. "Steve, having married six months earlier, took part in a recruitment drive for the Centre, as did many of the other sweepers who are so familiar, including Sam and Willie. He’d lost his previous job a month before and had thought how providential this opportunity was. Later, he realized that the Centre had forced his boss of the time to release him so he’d have no excuse for not applying for the position. His wife wasn’t too keen on him accepting the position, but after a visit from several of Steve's future workmates one night while Steve was at a training session, she changed her mind. At least, that was how Steve described it to me, although I get the feeling they used force.

"Within three months, he’d gained a position among Raines' group of personal sweepers and was coming close to occupying the position that Willie holds now. Only one thing went wrong. He was the sweeper called upon to oversee a deal which Raines was handling and which involved the extraction of a large sum of money from a series of unwilling 'donors', as the Centre wanted to call them."

"Extortion?"

"With a little blackmail involved as well. During the discussion, Raines, as he occasionally did to protect his own identity, adopted the name of his sweeper and so it was the name Steve McCaffrey that the victim remembered."

"But if it was so long ago, why did it all come to a head now?"

"After the deal was completed, the sweepers, Steve being only one of several, fell on the victim and beat him. Unfortunately, the man didn't die but was left in a coma. Eighteen months ago, he regained consciousness for the first time and the police were able to ask him about the man whose name he had been repeating for so long. It was only when the man was guaranteed a spot in the witness protection program that he was willing to talk. And so the call went out to bring in Steve McCaffrey."

"So what happened?"

"He was found guilty and sentenced to twelve months in jail. He’d left the Centre, finally fed up with his job, and so they've been searching for him longer than for me. Steve didn't appeal the sentence because he didn't want the Centre to know that, after several attempts on his life and failed attempts at capturing him, he was still alive."

The psychiatrist eyed the younger man. "But how do you know all this?"

"Because I was there."

Sydney sat back against the sofa and looked hard at Jarod. "Explain, please."

"Steve learned, from something he’d overheard the other sweepers say when they had almost caught him the previous time, that I’d escaped. You were visiting Jacob one year when Steve protected me from an experiment that Raines wanted to perform and so, when he came to me for help this time, I did everything I could."

"In other words, you took his punishment."

"Correct."

"So you've just spent..."

"Twelve months in a solitary cell in a minimum security prison in Omaha." Jarod's face was sullen as he said this and he got up and stared out of the window, unable to face Sydney's eyes.

The psychiatrist was momentarily speechless and could only stammer an answer. "But why would you... your freedom...?"

"I sacrificed it so that an innocent man would not have to leave the family who depend on him for survival. He had small children, Sydney. How could I have lived with myself if I'd let him get arrested?" Jarod turned and his eyes pleaded with the psychiatrist to tell him that he'd done the right thing.

"And you never tried to escape?"

"If I had, the Centre might have learned where I was. It was difficult not to, sometimes. Like when I knew what they'd done to you."

"How did you find out?"

"Angelo told me, and sometimes I could feel it. I was able to tell him what to create so that the poisons could be neutralized. Luckily, the drugs worked."

Sydney raised an eyebrow. "You doubted yourself?"

"I couldn't test them the way that I normally would have. I had to take a chance."

"So what is all this?" Miss Parker, her arm wrapped tightly in her mother's, entered the room and tapped the case. The two men jumped and stared at her as though they didn't recognize her, and her voice became impatient. "Well?"

"My bag of tricks." Jarod grinned, somewhat feebly, as he moved over and snapped open the locks. The case opened to reveal one layer of assorted blades and pistols, which opened further to display a miniature chemists shop, full of mysterious vials and unused syringes. As Catherine and Jarod watched, Sydney and Miss Parker began picking up the various vials and examining the labels on them

" 'Stymphalis'." Sydney looked up curiously. "What on earth is that?"

"A new drug?" the younger woman put in.

"In a way," Jarod agreed. "It's a drug that effects the memory, or more specifically, any new artificial memories. In a way, it's an antidote to a specific drug that I know Raines was developing and which I'm positive he's been using. This drug blocked out a person's memory and allowed the creation of a new one, which Raines and whoever else was using the drug could adapt to their advantage. Fortunately, it didn't change the neurological structures, allowing this drug to reverse the process and block out the false memory."

"And who are you going to use this on?"

"Mostly the sweepers. If we allow Raines and his co-conspirators to use their army, we'll have no hope. With this, however, we're dramatically evening the odds. No pun."

"How did you know about the drug?" Miss Parker's face betrayed her curiosity and Jarod's showed his distress.

"I helped to create it. Raines set me the task in October 1995, before he and Lyle did their heart drug experiments."

Catherine moved over and touched him gently on the arm. "Jarod, it wasn't your fault. You didn't know, and even if you did, you couldn't have done anything to prevent it."

"I should have tried," Jarod muttered.

"We've been through this already."

"I know, but it doesn't make it any easier to accept." Jarod's head was bowed for a moment and Sydney and Miss Parker watched in silence and Catherine put both of her arms around him and held him for a moment.

After a pause, Sydney sought to break the silence. "Stymphalis, eh? So what are the other names of these stages of yours?"

Jarod smiled weakly as he looked up. "Think you can detect a pattern?"

"Absolutely. The virus that Broots created was called Hydra, this drug is called Stymphalis and I'm willing to bet that other stages are called Cereneia, Erymanthus and Cerberus."

The Pretender’s eyes were still serious, although his lips smiled. "Yes, they are."

"Okay, Hercules, so what about Nemea?"

The smile broke into a grin. "Struggle with a great beast and keeping part of it with me always to remind me of my success? What do you think?"

Sydney was about to answer when Catherine laughed. "Please, Sydney. Surely you can guess. Jarod's chosen the Lion of Nemea to represent his own escape from the Centre."

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 29

"In the light of his vision, he has found his freedom: his thoughts are peace, his words are peace and his work is peace."
Dhammapada


Renouncing

The darkness made visibility difficult but the headlights of the minibus were very bright and clearly illuminated the road ahead. The other occupants were asleep in the back, or so Jarod thought, until he saw one stand and make their way to the unoccupied seat beside him.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine."

Jarod reached behind him and pulled out a rug which he had stuffed into the pocket behind the seat. "Wrap yourself in this. It's cold."

"Thanks, Jarod."

There was a few moments of silence. The Pretender, knowing that Miss Parker wanted to say something, concentrated on the road to give her a chance to think about it.

"Jarod, Momma told me what you went through. Why do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Help people. Put your life in danger so that they can be happy. Risk it all for others."

"I don't know. A sense of obligation, I guess. And because I enjoy it." Jarod thought for a moment before he went on. "Before Kyle was killed, we had the chance, working together, to save a woman's life. It gave him the chance to find out how it felt to help someone - and he found out that it felt good. I found that out a long time ago."

"How long until we get there?"

"About two hours. I want to arrive at the Centre a couple of hours before daylight, so that we have a chance to set everything up."

She nodded, a motion just visible in the dim light, before speaking again. "Jarod - why does Sam trust you? He never did before."

"Not that you knew. But Sam and I have been working together for a while."

Parker sat sharply upright in the seat and stared at him. "What?"

"He used to give me some of my information."

"Why?"

"I saved his life."

"What?! How?"

"One of the other sweepers was involved in an embezzlement scam and blamed it on Sam. By doing a little detective work, I was able to trace it back to the proper source, and stopped Raines' sweepers from carrying out the extermination order that he had been given. Ever since then, Sam has done everything he could to help, when it was safe."

"All this time..." Miss Parker started to giggle softly. "And all this time, I thought he was loyal to me."

"He is, Miss Parker. And a divided loyalty is easier when the subjects of his loyalty are working together."

"If you're styling yourself as Hercules, what does that make me?"

Jarod grinned, but knew she couldn't see it in the dark. "Who would you like to be? Hera? Omphale? Hebe? Hesione? Which one seems most appropriate?"

"I thought - Athena."

Jarod took one hand off the steering wheel and took one of hers, squeezing it gently. "I can deal with that. The goddess of wisdom and military victory. And Hercules' half- sister. What could be more appropriate? We'll offer you some prayers on the victory of this mission when we arrive, if you like."

The two smiled briefly at each other before Jarod turned back to the road and Miss Parker made her way back to where her mother sat.

* * *

The minibus was barely visible beneath the low-hanging trees and the group slipped, undetected, up to the Centre and, led by Angelo, into the first of the winding maze of ducts within the Centre. Jarod halted the group when they were at the entrance to a darkened room and opened his computer. He connected it to a point within the room and typed a few instructions into the machine. There was a brief dimming of the lights which was only noticeable due to the high level of tension that the group felt.

"Cerenia is a success. The security system is now virtually disabled. Now, we need to get as quietly as we can into the vents."

Once they were in the dark area, Jarod turned to them again, his voice even softer than before. "Split up. Two groups. Myself with Sydney, Angelo, and Cox. Parker, you go with your mother, Broots and Sam. "

"What about me?" a voice interrupted and the Pretender jumped.

"Steve! What are you doing here? " Jarod turned and stared at the man who had appeared out of the darkness.

"Angelo told me where you were. Don't think you're taking on the Centre without me. They owe me too much for that!"

"Great! Okay, you go with Parker and the others. Ten feet along and you know what to do with the canister. "

Miss Parker pulled the silver object out of her pocket and grinned at him meaningfully before disappearing into the darkness, followed by the others. In the vent outside of the large dormitory-style room, Jarod opened his case and took out a large canister.

With a nod, he pulled a small mask out of his pocket and affixed it over his mouth and nose. In the dim light, he watched as others completed the same task. With a tense hand, he reached out and pulled back a tab from the top of the canister, which immediately began to hiss gently, before slightly opened the vent and tossing the silver object onto the only vacant bed in the room, which fortunately was closest to the vent itself. Within only a few seconds, the highly pressured air within the canister had been released and Jarod knew that the occupants of the room had inhaled enough gas to render them unconscious for hours. He opened the vent and, followed by the others, dropped silently into the room.

Moving over, Jarod opened the diving door between the two rooms and handed to each member of the group a handful of syringes. He nodded and the group split up, each taking a part of the room and injecting the sweepers with the mixture that Jarod had created. As they finished, each came to where Jarod was setting up a small projector and watched as he loaded a large reel, which, they all knew, contained images of themselves.

The drug, Jarod had explained to them in the bus, would leave the sweepers with a few moments of knowing nothing about themselves and they would automatically turn to the video as a source of information. This would establish their loyalty to the group, thus destroying the perfect army that Raines imagined he had created. Before leaving, Jarod firmly locked each door and pocketed the keys, leaving on the dividing doors open.

The group returned to the vents as the light began to enter the room and, still wearing the air-filtering masks, they crept along to where the vent divided into several braches. Staying in the groups to which they had earlier been assigned and with one member of each carrying a black case, they split up and approached the various offices to which they had been assigned. Within moments, the groups found themselves looking at the backs and head of the current power-players within the Centre.

'Raines, Lyle, Brigitte - is that it?'

Catherine picked up Jarod's thought and nodded, knowing what would come next and feeling the adrenaline pumping as she looked down on the man she had once loved.

Moving away from the cover slightly, Catherine watched as Sam and Steve opened the vent and silently dropped down into the room. In seconds, Mr Parker was being held in the strong grasp of two sweepers, a firm hand on his mouth. It was too dark for him to tell clearly who his captors were and neither Catherine nor her daughter gave him a chance to realize. A quick injection and the figure lay prone on the floor.

Miss Parker stood up and made mental connection with Jarod, in time to see the gas canister dropped silently into the room. She tried to hide her giggling as she watched the scene unfold.

"So, we are agreed. The first priority is Catherine Parker..."

"...and then Jarod."
Raines’ blue eyes bore into the younger man. "Are you sure that you can manage to do this without stuffing it up completely?"

"Please, Raines. I failed because I had incompetent help." Lyle was so harshly defending himself that he never heard the soft thud of the canister landing on his coat, which had fallen off the back of his chair and was lying on the floor. The indignant man sat back against the chair and took several deep breaths to calm himself down, even as the gas began to leak into the room and Raines turned to Brigitte.

"Woman, you will do whatever you are told. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." The words were monotonous but with something in them that caused Jarod to raise his eyebrows.

"And, Lyle, you will use any means possible."

"D...definitely. A...any....means..." Lyle brought a shaky hand up to his head as he muttered the words and slipped slightly down in his chair.

"What is it, Lyle? The strain taking its toll? Maybe you need a holiday." Raines voice was as harsh and sarcastic as usual as he looked at the other occupants of the room.

"I...I think...I don't...know..." As Jarod and the others watched, Lyle fell in graceful, slow motion out of his chair and landed in a heap on the floor. Brigitte, forgetting her artificial demeanor, jumped out of her chair and ran across to him.

"Lyle!" She bent over him and spotted the gas canister under the chair. Reaching over, she picked it up and, fatally, inhaled as she straightened. "Raines...I...I think..." Her knees visibly buckled under her and she slipped onto the floor, lying next to Lyle with one arm over him, as though protecting the unconscious man.

Raines reached over and plucked the silver object from her hand. As the group in the vent watched, he brought the canister up to his nose and, disastrously inhaled sharply. His graceful fall to the floor was marred by the oxygen tank, which got caught up in his legs and toppled with a loud thud.

The fugitives spent several more seconds simply staring at the scene, unable to believe their eyes, before Jarod set them off by putting his head against the wall of the vent and breaking into near-hysterical laughter.

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 30

"Freedom is always and exclusively freedom for the one who thinks differently."
Rosa Luxemburg


Understanding

Jarod recovered enough to join the others as they dropped into the room from the air vent, however just the sight of Raines on the floor came close to setting him off again. Only Sydney's intervention was enough to stop him.

"For heavens sake, will you calm down?"

"But it was so exquisite, didn't you see?"

For a moment Sydney smiled broadly. "Of course I saw, but we have things to do."

"You're right."

Jarod moved over and, with Sam’s help, picked up Lyle, who he then dumped into the large laundry-bin, which they had found outside the building and which had only just fitted into the vents, but which would be perfect for their purpose. All three unconscious figures were dumped into it, leaving room for the fourth figure which was preceded into the room by the figures of Miss Parker and Catherine, still wiping the tears of amusement from their eyes at the scene they had, through Jarod and Angelo, witnessed.

Mr Parker was loaded in with the others and the group proceeded merrily out of the office and down the hall. As Jarod and Catherine had surmised, the Centre was empty from a combination of the holiday weekend and the early hour. The nine individuals walked down the hall and into the lift.

"SL-19," Jarod called cheerfully as he was pressed between the back wall of the lift and the large container.

However there was silence until the lift reached the relevant floor. Only Jarod and Broots refrained from pulling out weapons as the doors opened and the group spread out to protect the two men who were pushing the bin along the hall, its well-oiled wheels running silently along the concrete floor.

Finally, they reached a heavily barred door and Catherine pulled out a ring of keys, which she used to unlock the door. Jarod reached in and, with Sam's help, pulled the first figure out and carried him over to the corner of the sparse cell. The man was left on the bed, still breathing heavily from the drug that Jarod had designed to remain effective for up to four hours.

The doors were closed and locked after the two men had exited the room. Then the procedure was completed three more times. As the last door was fastened on the prisoner, Jarod turned to his helpers and grinned.

"Well, shall we begin?" He turned to Broots. "You probably know Raines' office best. I think you've been in it more than the rest of us."

The technician rolled his eyes and laughed. "Well, for once, I don't mind."

* * *

Jarod watched as the last information appeared on the screen and sadly shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. The information that had been discovered in the hours since the raid had sobered the entire group and showed what could have occurred, had the leadership not been removed. Lists of deals appeared under the skilled hands of both Jarod and Broots, information that would have resulted in hundreds of deaths in an attempt to create a perfect race. Sydney, in particular, had been understandably devastated by the find.

"They never learn from history."

"They never learn from anything," Jarod reminded him gently. "Or anyone. But don't worry, Sydney. This isn't going ahead and nothing that the Centre does from now on will be dangerous or damaging. You will be one of the people seeing to that."

Jarod reached over and, with one finger, deleted the masses of information that had sat on the screen, leaving only the blinking cursor and the pile of printouts on the desk.

The room was almost completely dark, except for one strip of light that was directed to a single chair. Just visible some distance away was the outline of a long table and silhouettes of heads could also be faintly seen. In the distance, the jingling of chains could be faintly heard, a sound that grew louder as the atmosphere in the room grew tenser.

Finally a door opened and rapidly shut, casting only a second of light onto the group on the far side. The time was not long enough for the struggling woman to see the seven people who sat along its length and waited for her.

"Who are you?" The voice was harsh and almost a scream as the figure, chains around her ankles joined to those around her neck and wrists making a loud racket as they were fastened tightly to anchor points on the chair. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

"No. That is incorrect." The deep voice startled the woman, whose mouth fell open. "We will ask the questions. You will answer them."

The woman broke into pitiful whimpering, a sound which was halted suddenly by a familiar voice.

"Come on, Bridget!" the woman’s voice mocked. "You enjoy T-Board investigations. Being on the other side of the glass, you know."

"As you once put it so well, Miss Parker," a soft, accented voice spoke out of the darkness, "it all works out well, if you're on the other side of the glass."

The group broke into restrained laughter and the woman shrank down in the chair. "What do you want with me?"

"Didn't you hear what the Chairman said to you before? We ask the questions now!"

Brigitte’s eyes were wide with terror. "Chairman? Raines? Lyle? Who?"

The laughter at this point was louder than ever before and, at a mental signal from Jarod, the lights were turned on and the terrified woman was faced with the people from whom she knew she would get no pity or assistance.
Two hours later, the faux-Brit could do nothing but gibber. The questioning had not been particularly harsh but a fear of her future, or lack of it, was terrifying her. Despite all of her preparations for ensuring her continuing safety, this was one option that she had never considered. Angelo had tapped into her deepest thoughts and feelings and had shared them with the other members of his group, providing them with the ability to ask questions which related not only to her actions but to her very emotions.

"So, what should be done with this woman?" A few moments of silence had prompted this question and then group all spent several minutes visually examining the shrinking woman.

"I think we should see what her fellow-conspirators come up with. Then we can make a decision for them all together."

"Good idea! Sam," the sweeper came forward on the direction, "return Bridget to her room, and prepare the next person for their...session."

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 31

"The secret of freedom, courage."
Thucydides


Surmounting

"Angel, I know you're there." The man, stumbling into the darkened room, sent the verbal plea ahead of himself as he was pushed into the chair by the silent sweeper. "Please, Angel!"

"I believe, Mr Parker, that it would be wise for you to display a little respect to your new leaders."

"Jarod!"

"Very impressive, sir." At this instant, the lights flashed on, revealing the group at the table and the man slowly ran his eyes along the length of the group. Terror mounted until his artificial confidence was broken down.

"W...what are you going to do to me?"

Jarod turned and picked up a bundle of papers from the table behind him. "We thought that, as you were so keen on this project which would create the perfect human, we would allow you to remain involved in it. No," thanks to Angelo's insight, Jarod was able to answer the unspoken question, "not as the experimenter. With your record, we could not trust you to that extent. Rather, we believe that you would make a perfect subject."

The man began to protest, his panic mounting almost to hysteria, until his eye fell on the woman to whom he had once been married. "Catherine, you wouldn't let them do that to me."

"Really, considering the way you've treated me, why would I consider showing anything but the same...courtesy to you?"

The man, instantly understanding, threw himself forward out of the seat and towards the group, but the two sweepers came forwards and picked him up, dragging him away.

"Yes, take him back to his room. I'm sick of the sight of him." Jarod repeated the words that Mr Parker had used about him on several occasions. "Bring Raines here. We may as well finish this unpleasant task as soon as possible."

Raines made no protest but attempted to keep his dignity as he was dragged into the darkened room, despite the words that greeted him.

"The greatest criminal of all."

The man lifted his head proudly and glared at the group. "I am no criminal. I have done everything in the name of science."

"Hah! Kidnapping, theft, extortion, murder - yes, I can see how science would be involved." Jarod’s tones were filled with amusement but there was something in them that also displayed a note of disgust.

"So what decisions have the glorious leaders come up with?" Raines injected a note of sarcasm into his voice.

"We thought it better to leave your fate up to others. Steve!"

The other sweeper stepped forward. "Yes, Mrs Parker?"

"You and Sam bring the others here, please. Excluding, for the moment, Mr Lyle."

"Yes, Mrs Parker."

Raines’ eyes were wide and he had been spluttering incomprehensibly, but he finally managed to frame words. "Steve? Steve McCaffrey? Alive?"

"It's a shame," Jarod's voice held a note of amusement, "that you don't check to ensure whether your orders have been carried out. If you had, you would have discovered that Steve managed to survive all of your attempts on his life. A shame, really. It means that he had loyalty to us and none to you."

"Loyalty?" The prisoner's eyes lit up but he tried to hide the glee he felt. "Yes, loyalty is very valuable."

"Whereas false loyalty is not so valuable, nor as strong as genuine loyalty. A lesson you could do well to learn, Mr Raines."

At this juncture, the door opened and a large group of men appeared, dragging Mr Parker and Brigitte with them. The man sitting on the chair turned. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as he saw the expressions his formerly well-trained army turned on him, visibly shuddering.

In the meantime, the group at the table activated a large screen that sat behind them, on which a series of faces appeared. The other two prisoners were put beside their former leader and the group of sweepers fell back and awaited former instruction.

"Before we begin with this tragic but unnecessary step, I have one question." It was the first time that Sydney had spoken in nearly twenty minutes. "Mr Parker, where is your compatriot?"

"Who, White?" Mr Parker still tried to project a false sense of bravado. "I put a bullet through his head three days ago. And I'd do it to all of you in a minute if I could. I'm not scared of you." At this point one of the sweepers stepped forward and put the tip of one finger gently on the man's back. The older man leapt off the chair that had been provided for him and began to cower on the ground.

"No, of course not. I can see how that bravery is holding you in good stead." Miss Parker's eyes twinkled as she looked at the sweeper, who held up one finger and blew imaginary smoke away from the tip. "Now, shall we begin the conference?"

Broots looked up from the computer where he was keeping track of all that occurred and leaned over to Jarod. The whispered conversation was inaudible to anyone else in the room.

"Do I need an account of all this?"

"Of course. Why?"

"Well...it's just...this might look bad for you."

"Unlikely, Broots. We're not going to be that harsh."

"Sure?"

"Absolutely."

As Jarod pressed a series of buttons, a number of faces appeared on the screen. At the sight of many of these faces, the three people in the chairs lost even more of their composure and Brigitte began to whimper softly.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Or, for some of you, good evening."

The series of greetings came in German, Japanese, French, Spanish and many other languages.

Catherine continued. "We apologise for bringing you away from your work, but we felt that this was a series issue which warranted discussion."

The head of an English company had earlier been elected spokesman and he now spoke for the others. "You are quite welcome, Mrs Parker. We have all been looking forward to this, particularly since a development which has occurred for all of us within the last few days and which has been traced back to one of our former partners."

"Hydra," Jarod murmured under his breath, his brown eyes gleaming at his success.

"This virus, which we have discovered has been sent by the man who seemed to want our help," at which point Mr Parker slid down in the chair as far as the ropes would let him, "has been responsible for the loss of all data connected with the Centre. Millions of dollars worth of damage."

"I understand your frustration. However, you will soon discover that this is a blessing in disguise for you all. After much discussion, it has been decided that the best thing would be to hand these three over to the authorities, here in America. Of course, other nations will also be interested in possible legal proceedings, with the Centre's actions spreading so far across the globe. But with their connections to yourselves dissolved, you will in no way be incriminated."

Smiles began to appear on the faces of the people on the large screen, a very different series of expressions from those on the faces of the prisoners.

"We appreciate your consideration, ladies and gentlemen. Be aware that we will help with this activity in any way we can."

"And you may all be assured that this will wipe out the financial and other debts which you all owe to the Centre, thanks to the people that you see in front of you."

"You are very kind."

"Now we will call to an end this pleasant discussion and allow you all to return to your work. However, if Mr Tanaka is willing to remain, we would wish to speak with him."

"Of course, madam. And it is a pleasure to see you again." Over the greetings, Jarod turned to Sam.

"I think it is time for Mr Lyle to be brought in. Return these people to their cells and give them breakfast. We won't be accused of mistreating our - guests, regardless of whether we hand them over to the authorities or use them for medical experiments of our own."

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 32

"The only freedom which deserves the name is that of pursuing out own good, in our own way, so long as we do not attempt to deprive others of theirs, or impede their efforts to obtain it."
John Stuart Mill


Recovering

"Welcome, Mr Lyle. So good of you to join us."

The man arched an eyebrow as he was forcibly seated opposite the long table. "Your invitation left little choice."

Jarod fought back a grin, dying to laugh as he sat in the spotlight that lit only him and left the others in darkness. "At my last visit to this place, Mr Lyle, you spoke words that are forever engraved in my memory. As you said then, so I will say now. The world is changing. Mr Parker is gone. Mr Raines is gone. You and I are here. And, this time, I'm in charge."

"You missed one," Lyle retorted sharply.

"Miss Parker?" Dramatically, Jarod snapped his fingers, which action caused on light to be turned on and which revealed Miss Parker sitting beside him.

"Hello, dear brother."

Lyle glared at her. "Are you in on this despicable coup as well, Parker?"

"A 'despicable coup'? Now why would you call it that?"

"Parkers are always in charge of the Centre. And Jarod..."

"Not quite," Jarod interrupted the possible argument. "If you will allow me to show you the other leaders of this ‘despicable coup’, I have no doubt you’ll agree that we have as much right, or more, to be here as you or anyone else have ever had."

"But..."

"Enough! Sam, I'm sick of the sound of his voice. Stop it for me."

The sweeper stepped forward and placed a gag over the man's mouth. With his arms bound to the chair, there was no way for him to remove it and he could do nothing but glare.

"Now, Lyle, perhaps you would like us to show you this mystery leader of the take-over. I, as you do, only take orders." Jarod glanced over and the light above one figure was switched on.

There was a muffled exclamation from the gagged figure as his eyes adjusted to the light and he recognised the figure sitting in it. The similarities to his sister were enough to make it obvious who she was and Lyle, although having little respect for his father, had always secretly adored an image of his mother that he had created in his own mind. To be confronted with the real thing, particularly when, as far as he knew, she had died years before, was enough to throw him well off balance. Catherine’s expression was stern.

"My son, I am very disappointed in you. Through something that is, admittedly, only partly your own fault, you have become weak and unstable. However, you have never tried to resist the life which has been thrust upon you and, as your sister managed, to retain a sense of your own independence and self-belief. It hurts me more than I can say to see you this way and to know that there is nothing I can do to help you. Knowing that you would resist everything that I or anyone else could do leaves only one option and one which I do not appreciate having to perform."

Lyle's eyes begged to able to ask a question and Catherine nodded at Sam, who removed the gag. "How are you here?"

His voice was hoarse and his eyes held only terror. Through Angelo, Jarod, Miss Parker, Sydney and Catherine were all able to realise that the only thing he was feeling was fear. There was no compassion, no regret and no sorrow for what he had done. All five of the people who knew what he was feeling could realise that there was no hope of him ever becoming like them. Jarod's plan was the only answer. But first Catherine had to make him understand.

"You may think that the man you believe to be your father is telling you everything he knows, but this is not true. He kept from you the fact that I have never died. I know that you are aware of my staged and supposed death in the lift shaft in 1970. You may not know, however, that the DSA depicting my death at the hands of Raines some months later was also fake. I made a deal with Mr Raines and Mr Parker. I was to work for the Centre for the rest of my natural life on the condition that your sister would never be the subject of any experiments within the Centre. I was told, as you are no doubt aware, that you had died in childbirth. Raines had several years to work on you before I found out about your existence and for me to have tried to rescue you would have put your life in danger. Thus, for thirty years, I have been working within the Centre, keeping up my part of the deal. Even after you and the others took over, Raines convinced me to remain quiet. Then Sam and Cox came to rescue me."

"Cox?"

"Hello, Lyle. So you thought that I was going to help you? Sadly, you were mistaken." The man smirked and stood up from his seat between Sydney and Broots, performing a mock bow.

The group could tell that Lyle was at breaking point. All of the beliefs that he had held onto for so long were crumbling around him and, with no morals to which he could cling, he had nothing to hold on to. But there was one more point which had to be made and Jarod was determined that it would be done. He stood up.

"Your mother mentioned the man who you thought was your father, and you stated that Parkers are always in charge of the Centre. This places you, by your own logic, far out of the running. You are not a Parker, Lyle. Your correct surname should be either Jamison or Miller. The man who is really your father is a man named Ben Miller, who has a Bed and Breakfast in Maine." Jarod turned to Cox and nodded. The man stood and moved over to a door that was partially hidden by the darkness.

"Catherine, Miss Parker, I arranged a surprise for you. And for you too, Lyle. May I present, Mr Miller."

Cox opened the door and a man stepped through it and into the room. At the same instant, the lights were switched on overhead, fully illuminating the figure, at which Catherine rushed immediately.

Jarod turned back and was not surprised to see an almost painful expression on Lyle's face.

"One final thing, Mr Lyle. One other person is interested in speaking with you. I appreciate your patience, Mr Tanaka. May I invite you now to say something?"

"Thank you, Jarod. Mr Lyle, you once made a deal with us and I am going to hold you to that deal. During a private meeting, you claimed that, if anything went wrong, you would do anything to make up for it. I think the time has come for you to make good on that deal. A plane will be sent to you this morning and you will be brought here. I cannot promise that the work we require is pleasant. However I'm sure that, having worked on so many experiments before, you won't mind."

The man nodded once and ended the transmission.

Sydney looked across at the broken man. "Surely, Lyle, with the way you have treated everyone in this room, you were not expecting mercy or kindness."

"I...hoped..." He stopped and, although his face worked with some strange emotion, no sound came out of his mouth. Those capable of knowing could see the turmoil of emotion that was moving in his mind and Sydney, at least, recognised an onset of madness. Sam and Steve came forward, at a sign from Jarod, and returned the man to his room.

"At least he'll never really be aware of what they do to him," the psychiatrist murmured.

"So now what do we have to do?" Parker demanded.

"Augeas - the discovery and treatment of all of the other projects within the Centre. And I have just the person to help us do it."

Jarod looked across and Cox again opened the door. This time, the figure that stepped through it was smaller and younger than the first but still recognisable to many of the occupants. At the sight of him, Catherine gasped and disentangled herself from Ben's arms. She rushed across to the figure with her own arms outstretched and the boy responded to her embraces with some of his own. Only her words were audible. "Ethan! My son!"

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom...
Chapter 33

"Perfect freedom is reserved from the man who lives by his own work and in that work does what he wants to do."
Robin G. Collingwood


Outliving

February 14, 2001
A knock on the door distracted Jarod from the papers he was reading and made him look up. "Sydney? Come on in."

The psychiatrist walked through the open doorway and approached the desk, sitting down in one the chairs that waited there for that purpose.

"I thought I'd stop by and congratulate you. One week and everything seems to be finished."

"I know. The sweepers have had a chance to return to their families, and, unbelievably, many of them came back to work here. The other staff members are mostly still employed here, Miss Parker is finally happy, her mother is on cloud nine and everything else is just peachy."

"How's Lyle?"

"Slowly recovering. A few doses of Stymphalis are all that remain and he should begin to approach being a normal person. Of course, the nervous breakdown probably helped. Tanaka probably would have actually wanted him if he'd been okay. And, of course, Catherine is helping him a lot."

"Heard from any of the others?"

"Nope. As far as I know, Raines, Mr Parker and Brigitte are all still waiting for their day in court, not that it will help them. There's no way they could be found not guilty. We've seen to that. There could be trials going on for years!"

"So what's wrong?"

Jarod tried to smile and failed. "What makes you think that anything is wrong?"

Sydney arched an eyebrow. "Jarod, I've know you for years. And right now I know that there's something you're trying to hide."

The Pretender sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're right, as usual. I'll show you."

The two men took the elevator down to SL-26. When the levels had been designated for exploration for the various people, Jarod had allotted this level for himself, knowing that Raines had kept many of the worst projects down here. But it wasn't until he as going through the last of Raines files that he had found information on one particular subject.

It was a relatively new one, having begun only in April 1999, however some facts had interested Jarod and, the day before, he had gone in search of the subject with Cox. The two had found the man in a room with a hidden door. The subject cowered in a corner of the room, his hair long and unkempt and his body covered with fading bruises.

A week away from Raines and Lyle had obviously allowed him to heal somewhat, but his mind was damaged from the treatment he had received and he fled in terror to the far side of his small, padded cell when Jarod had appeared. Now Sydney and Jarod stood at a one-sided mirror and watched as he frantically paced the length of the room.

"You can see why I haven't said anything."

"It’ll destroy her," Sydney murmured. "She's only just gotten used to the idea that he was dead."

"I still don't know how they managed that. But they did."

"Managed what?" a voice interrupted.

The two men turned, seeing the one person that had hoped not to see. Miss Parker stood before them, a smile on her face and an inquisitive look in her eyes. None of them had read the others’ minds for almost the entire week and now, when Miss Parker tried, it seemed that she had somehow lost the ability. Instead, the look on her face demanded answers.

Jarod immediately stretched out an arm to block her view. "No, Parker. I really don't think you should see this."

"Oh, come on. What could it possibly be?" She stepped forward, past Jarod, and peered down into the room, ignoring the hands he placed on her shoulder. Her eyes fixed on the figure below and she froze, unable to believe her eyes.

"No…no! Tommy!"

The whisper was faint but Jarod heard it and wrapped his arms around her, trying to stop her from looking. Instead, she tore herself away and, pulling open the door, descended a flight of stairs into the room. At a nod, Cox picked up a rifle that stood near the door and followed Miss Parker down the stairs.

Miss Parker's sudden appearance into the room startled the figure, which hesitated for a moment before hurling himself onto her and attacking her with his fists. Jarod leapt into the melee and tried to pull the two apart but found that he couldn't. He did, however, turn the two around so that Thomas had his back to Cox, who immediately raised the rifle and shot at the man. Within seconds, Thomas had loosed his hold on Miss Parker and lay in a heap on the floor. Jarod held the distraught woman in his arms as she panted for breath. Finally she turned and stared at him, and at Cox who still held the weapon at shoulder height.

"You...you've killed him." Her whisper was forced out and full of pain as her expression crumbled.

Jarod took her face in his hands and forced her to look at him. "No, Parker. He's not dead, I promise. That was a tranquillizer and the only way to calm him down. He'll be fine. I guarantee it." Jarod looked up at Sydney, who came over immediately. "Take her back to her office and come down to the infirmary in one hour. Everything should be ready by then."

Miss Parker clung to Jarod as though trying to find an answer for what had occurred and, when Sydney slipped an arm around her waist, she rested a large part of her weight onto his shoulder. Her eyes had dimmed and her breathing was shallow as all color faded from her face. Jarod knew that it would be an effort for Sydney to take her alone and was grateful when Sam appeared in response to his summons and the trio left the room. Then he and Cox turned to see what they could do for Thomas.

Thirty minutes later, he was in a bed in the infirmary, still unconscious from the dart that Cox had shot into his leg. However he had been shaved and tidied up, a process that he had not allowed them to complete earlier. Now Jarod opened his black case and took out the final vial that nestled there.

"Stymphalis?" the doctor queried softly.

"The last dose I made."

"Will it work?"

"I don't know, Cox. I hope so." Jarod found a vein and slowly injected the contents. "It’ll destroy Parker if it doesn't. And this isn't pure Stymphalis. It's a small variant, which I named Hippolyta. It will hopefully also undo the effects of the other drugs he's been given." Jarod extracted the needle and dropped it in a kidney dish that Cox had held out for him.

There was silence in the room for a few minutes. Then the monitor that recorded Thomas' heart rate showed an increased pulse and, at the same time, his breathing became faster. Jarod leaned over and carefully touched Thomas' eyelid with a gentle finger, a grin spreading across his face as he noticed the reflex response. A few seconds later, the eyes flickered and then slowly opened. Thomas stared blankly for a second, before his eyes glowed with recognition and he struggled into a sitting position.

"Jarod!"

The Pretender beamed. "Hello, Thomas. How are you feeling?"

"Apart from a hangover to beat anything I've ever had before, not bad. But where's Parker?"

"You can see her in a while. But first, I really think that we need to talk."

* * *

Parker waited outside the room, her hand trembling as she reached out to knock. Before she could, however, the door opened to reveal Jarod standing in front of her. She grabbed his hand and held it tightly as he shut the door behind him.

"Tell me he's okay. Please."

"He's fine. A little groggy, still, from the sedative but otherwise fine."

"And…does he remember?"

"Vaguely. He has a slight memory of what occurred but, as with the other people we used Stymphalis on, his memories are disjointed and unclear. It's probably better to avoid the subject, if you can."

"So he...would know me?"

"You were the first person he asked about."

"Really?"

He reached out and gently wiped away the tear that was sliding down her cheek. "Really. I promise, and you know that I wouldn't lie to you."

She nodded, about to turn to the door, when she met his gaze. "Jarod, I'm sorry."

He raised one eyebrow. "Sorry? What for?"

"All this time, when you've been trying to help me, I've been ignoring you and resenting you for what you've shown me. When all you ever wanted was for me to be happy."

"And are you happy now?"

She nodded mutely and took a deep breath as he opened the door. He watched for a moment as Thomas held out his arms and Parker ran into them. Then, with a decided nod, he turned away and walked back to his office.

February 15, 2001
Miss Parker left Thomas' side and walked over to the door where Jarod stood, waiting, his DSA case in one hand and a bag containing all of his other possessions in the other.

"Why are you leaving? I can't really understand why you don't want to stay."

"It's not that I don't want to," he told her softly. "I can't stay, Parker. I don't belong here, with you. I need the chance to keep doing the work that I started to do, out there."

Miss Parker stared at him, tears welling in her eyes. "But I need you here, with me. I want you to stay. Please, Jarod."

He put down the bags and turned to face her. Gently he cupped her face in his hands and wiped away the tears that ran down her cheeks.

"You and Thomas have the chance to make the Centre, and your lives, everything that you ever dreamed of. Be happy, start a family. I still have things to do, not the least of which is to find my family."

"Isn't anything going to change?"

"Catch me if you can."

She tried to laugh and choked on her tears.

"Check in on me every know and then. I'll always find time to check out how you're going and I’ll stay in contact. Maybe a few more of those presents."

"I know everything about my family now. I have them with me." She looked back over her shoulder to the door where Catherine, Ben and Ethan had come to join Thomas.

"Maybe these will be just for you." He lifted her face to his and gently kissed it. "Parker, I'm leaving the Centre. My life is linked to the outside world and yours is connected to this place." Suddenly, as the tears began to run down her cheeks again, he smiled. "I want to ask a favour."

"Anything." Then curiosity got the better of her. "What is it?"

"Nothing much. Just a five minute head start."

Lord, Grant Me The Freedom…
Part 34

"Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for a hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone that soar above
Enjoy such liberty."
Richard Lovelace. 1618-1658.


Rejoicing

February 7, 2002
"Hello, this is Cerberus. How may I help you?"

"Could I speak to Mrs Gates, please?"

"Certainly. I'll put you through immediately."

There was a pause, with the necessary awful musical accompaniment, until the phone clicked.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Mrs Gates."

"Jarod! I knew you'd call!"

"Well I had to, didn't I? The one year anniversary of the takeover, and the start of the great changes that took place."

"All thanks to you."

"Please, credit only where credit’s due. I couldn't have done it on my own, and I wouldn't have attempted it."

"But it was all your idea..."

"Which is, I suppose, why you used one of them in the renaming of the place. Cerberus. The last of Hercules' twelve tasks and the most difficult."

"But it's been achieved, finally."

"And with a lot of very good work. I'm impressed at the way it works."

"Yes, I suppose it has gone well."

"And how is the new member of the family?"

"Wonderful! I never knew how good motherhood was! She's a perfect angel."

"With a perfect angel for a mother."

"Stop it, Jarod. You know I don't like flattery."

"At least not from me."

"Not from anyone."

"Except Thomas."

"I'm not going to comment on that."

"Because you know I'm right - again."

"No comment."

"Okay, I'll change the subject. How’s Lyle?"

"Not too bad. I suppose he isn't going to get any better. At least, that's what Sydney said."

"A nervous breakdown can leave permanent problems."

"When I think of what he was..."

"What? A psychopathic killer?"

"Well, that wasn't exactly what sprang to mind, no."

"And Ethan?"

"Sometimes I can still see a shadow of what he was before we got to him. But Momma can usually make it vanish."

"How is she?"

"Wonderful. Especially when Ben's around."

"So finally the Centre is a good place to be again?"

"Most definitely."

"I'm glad. You deserve it, Parker."

"How's...have you heard anything more from your family?"

"Not much. A few leads but I live in hope."

"I'm sorry, Jarod. It seems unfair that I should have so much..."

"Parker, if I hadn't wanted you to be happy, I wouldn't have given you everything I did. It's proof that you should have a wonderful life. And I know you will."

"I have to go. Thomas is calling me. Goodbye Hercules."

"Goodbye Athena."

The End