The Visit - by MMB

Chapter 1: Reaction


It was an anniversary that she hadn't missed since her mid-childhood. Even knowing that it wasn't the actual date of her mother's death, Miss Parker had succumbed to the habit of finding herself in the Blue Cove cemetery on this day anyway. She walked slowly and purposefully towards the back of the broad expanse of green populated with so many standing or flush stones. It was a cold and overcast day, as it usually was; she was wearing a heavy overcoat, as she usually did. And she was alone, as she had been for every year except one - the year before all the treacheries and lies had started to come undone.

The tall stone with “Parker” carved prominently across the top stood as it always had, not far from the cypress boundary and the flowering dogwood and cherry trees that would shower flower petals in the spring. His name had been added to hers eventually - not only were they now united in death, but also united by the fact that neither of them actually were buried there. Catherine's body had been cremated and the ashes scattered - somewhere - she had never managed to convince Mr. Raines to tell her where. His body had simply never been found - vanished into the dark and briny deep of a storm-tossed night-time Atlantic gale.

The ironic symbolism of where she was and on what date did not escape her. Here she stood at a graveside with no bodies, remembering the day of her mother's death when her mother hadn't died on that day after all. It was all a lie - every last bit of it. Her whole life had been one lie after another until, like a house of cards, it had started to fall in on itself.

Miss Parker gazed down at the gravestone and felt - nothing. Perhaps it was that finally she had become accustomed to being left behind by everyone she had ever cared for. What kind of mother would fake her suicide in front of her own daughter? What kind of father would step out of a jet in the middle of the night over the ocean in front of his own daughter - or at least, the woman he'd claimed as his daughter all that time? And what kind of person was she to continue to go through the motions of grieving when there was nothing left for her to feel?

Halfway across the same cemetery was another stone, and at this one she could stand for hours and weep - but she didn't. She carried Thomas and the memory of his love for her around with her in her heart, hidden away carefully where no one could touch or threaten it. She didn't need to stand in front of a cold stone and wonder. He hadn't betrayed her or abandoned her willingly, but he too had left her behind when his life was stolen from him.

It was all falling apart now. Raines' paranoia and Lyle's serial killer escapades were starting to make everyone nervous - from Centre staff to the clients. Even the Triumvirate, which controlled the purse strings now, was no longer amused or looking the other way. The loss of many key players at the heart of the Centre's activities had made doing business with the Centre was no longer a wise fiscal move for the clients because of the number and type of projects no longer offered. With the loss of revenue and business, the subsequent loss of morale and personnel at the Centre itself was growing to such proportions that they soon would threaten the very life of the organization. Every day, another office or work station sat abandoned, empty, with no notice given, no forwarding address for severance checks - nothing.

A soft, cold rain began to fall, chilling her as she stood there with her hands full of roses and baby's breath. This was all that was left of her family, this stone and a three year old that she was rarely allowed to visit who had never, ever, seen the outside of the Centre. She raised her face and let the droplets hit her skin openly, not caring that soon her mascara would start to run in black rivulets down her cheeks. Today, she didn't care. Today was her Day of the Dead - black-streaked cheeks would be appropriate attire.

There was so much to mourn - so many losses over the past year and a half. Her father - or the man who had claimed that title for so long - had been only the first. Then Angelo, in the process of trying to perform to Lyle's and Raines' exacting and over-eager standards, had simply dropped dead of a heart attack, and his body cremated and disposed of long before news of his demise had been spread to anyone who knew him. Somehow, she had not anticipated how deeply the loss of that odd little man would affect her. Then, only a few weeks later, Jarod had called her late one night, as was his wont, but this time to say goodbye - that he didn't have either the heart or the desire to play the “you run, I chase” game with her anymore. He'd evidently already called Sydney with a similar message - and the aging psychiatrist had come to work the next morning, tendered his resignation and cleaned out his office with barely a backward glance at a lifetime spent there. Jarod was as good as his word. There was not another word, another clue, or another goose chase - it was as if he had walked off the face of the earth. Without Jarod toying with them, and without Sydney to analyze his last message, the search for the escaped Pretender had ground to a screeching halt.

Once it was known that even Sydney had pulled up stakes entirely and vanished - supposedly for warmer climes - Broots had finally listened to what she had told him years earlier about taking Debbie and just leaving. He had quit very abruptly when he received a hefty and substancial job offer from an up and coming West Coast firm. He'd been gone over six months now - his office yet another dark doorway into abandoned and empty space that she had to walk past every morning on her way to hers.

And she? She was trapped. Born and bred to Centre existence, she had nowhere to go, no one to turn to, and nothing to look forward to. She could sit at home and drink herself into a stupor for the rest of the weekend, but alcohol now bothered her ulcer to the point she couldn't handle the pain that would follow - so even that vice was denied her. She'd quit smoking long enough ago now that just a whiff of tobacco in the air turned her stomach. All she could do was sit in her office and wait - wait for potential clients whose numbers were rapidly dwindling, wait for a summons to Mr. Raines' office for another diatribe against an imagined opponent that even her twisted twin knew enough not to believe in anymore, wait for - nothing.

She closed her eyes and felt the beginnings of the burn that came as mascara ran into her eyes. How fitting. It had all been such a horrible waste, and for what? Power? Money? Reputation? A cold stone standing wet in the middle of a cemetery was all there was to show for two lives. She opened her eyes again and stared down at the headstone, doubting that she'd even merit that much. Not that she cared - she felt nothing. It was her Day of the Dead, and she was one of them.

There was movement on the edge of her vision - a man approached her; tall, in a black overcoat very much like hers, hands in his pockets and lapels turned up over silvered hair against the chill of the wind and the rain. She knew that stance - that posture - all too well, even though she hadn't seen it for the better part of a year. "What are you doing here, Freud?" she asked in a brittle tone, refusing to turn and look at him.

"I know what day this is," came the lightly accented answer. "I knew you would come."

"I thought you'd moved to Arizona now." It had been the last she'd heard of him.

"I have," he answered simply. "Scottsdale, as a matter of fact."

"Then what are you doing here?"

He moved closer; and as he did, she closed her arms around herself, around the bouquet, defensively. "I know what day this is," he repeated gently. "I knew you would come. I came to see you."

"I don't want you here," she snapped tiredly.

"Too bad," he responded with no heat at all. "I don't need your permission to be here."

She focused her gaze firmly on the headstone, shivering slightly as a gust of wind blew the chilled rain like sharp pellets into her face and neck. "Do you think it hurts to die, Sydney?"

He moved a little closer to her again. "I think sometimes it hurts more to live than to die," he offered thoughtfully.

"It hurts to be left behind," she whispered accusingly - to the two who weren't buried in the plots at her feet, to the one buried half a cemetery away, and to the man standing at her elbow.

"That's why I'm here," he answered her gently, worry rippling through his voice like an obligato. "Come in out of the rain, Parker before you catch pneumonia - you already look like death warmed over standing out here like this on a day like today."

She smiled a smile utterly lacking in either humor or mirth. "Oh, that's rich!" she quipped bitterly. "I think that's the whole idea. I AM dead, Sydney - it's just my body hasn't figured that one out yet. Maybe if I stand out here long enough..."

"Then you think you have nothing left to lose, do you? Is that why you're not taking care of yourself anymore?"

The accusation in his voice made her lift her burning grey eyes to his, and she found them warmer than she remembered. It hurt to try to remember, so she looked away quickly, before she could be burned by anything but running mascara. "What do you want, Syd?"

"What do YOU want, Parker?" he answered impertinently. "Let's start there instead."

She shook her head. "You're getting out of practice, Dr. Frankenstein. You used to be able to slip into your shrink's hat without being so obvious about it."

"That isn't an answer."

"That's all the answer I have for you today," she sighed. "I don't have time for games anymore. Goodbye, Sydney. It was good to see you. Drop me a postcard from sunny Arizona sometime..."

"Parker..."

"Look, I don't WANT anything!" she shouted at him. "There - are you happy now? I don't want anything, I don't feel anything... Everybody I've ever cared about is gone, and I'm still here... I just wish..."

He took one step closer. "Yes?"

She looked at him bleakly, the smeared mascara making her eyes look sunken in a painfully thin and pale face. "Forget it. What do you care, anyway?"

"I've cared about you since you were a little gi..."

"Bullshit." Her voice had grown hard and brittle. "That line lost all meaning years ago, Dr. Jekyll. All it took was for your precious Jarod to decide he'd had enough after Angelo died, and you were outta here so fast..." She drew in a broken breath. "And almost as soon as you took off, Broots made tracks too, taking Debbie with him. And neither of you bothered to ever call, or write... Tell me, Syd, what am I to think? Huh?"

"I didn't know Broots was gone now too." His voice had gotten soft with shock and dismay. "How long ago?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters, Parker. HOW LONG?" His voice grew gruff with insistence, and he reached for her elbow.

"It's been a while now," she shrugged dismissively. "Six, maybe seven, months now." She wrenched her arm out of his grasp.

"Merde!" He was aghast - Broots' leaving that quickly had never occurred to him.

"Like I said, it doesn't matter. I told him to take Debbie and leave a long time ago - took him long enough to figure out I was right, that he needed to think about his little girl." She sighed and buried her nose in one of the roses. "For you, it was always Jarod and Angelo. For Daddy - both incarnations of him - it was Lyle, or the Centre itself. For Broots, it was Debbie. For Jarod, it was his long-lost family. Once Momma was dead, no matter where I turned, I was a spare wheel, an afterthought, a hanger-on, until Thomas - and then he was taken from me too."

Her words stung because they contained a level of brutal honesty, and in her condition, he didn't dare try to defend himself when he knew himself guilty of her charge of partiality. "I suppose it may have seemed that way..." he began lamely.

She shot him a glower. "Go home to your nice, sunny Arizona. I'm tired, and I refuse to be an emotional charity case. I appreciate the gesture, but frankly, its too little too late."

But that stung, and deserved a response. She'd unloaded on him, by God, now he'd return the favor.

"You're right, Jarod and Angelo were always first in my mind," he admitted slowly, softly, "but only because every time I tried to approach you after you came back from Corporate, even just as a simple friend, either you or your fa... Mr. Parker... pushed me away. When Mr. Parker died, I tried again to reach out to you, to let you know that I was here... and what happened? You stopped talking, to me, to Broots, to anyone." His voice grew rougher, harsher, his accent heavier.

"When Angelo died, and then Jarod..." He paused and took a deep breath, struggling to get his emotions back under control. "Did you know Nicholas died in a car accident a week before Angelo died?" He nodded into her look of surprise. "Do you have any idea how much it hurt, then, when I handed you my resignation and had you wave me a breezy “see you around, Syd” as if you didn't care whether I lived or died and then turn your back and walk away? What was I to think, Parker?"

Her grey eyes flicked up to meet his, the guilt in them plain this time. "I thought..."

"And now you think I'm here looking at you as an emotional charity case." He shook his head sadly. "I don't know why I thought it would be any different now than before. You're still pushing me away, with every ounce of strength you have left in you. Well, you know what? Congratulations, you've finally succeeded. I can't fight you anymore. Consider me pushed away at last." He reached up and adjusted the lapels higher against the chilled wind and rain and turned away. "Goodbye, Parker. You won't be seeing me again."

"Sydney?" Her soft call kept him from moving away, but he didn't turn back to her. "Why DID you come?"

He sighed and pondered the wisdom of even trying to answer her question, then decided that honesty from him would be his farewell gift and turned to face her again reluctantly. "I came to try and talk you into letting me take you home with me," he answered with a shrug. "Silly me, I thought I would try to take you someplace warm, away from all of this," he waved around them at the dismal scenery and weather - and the Centre which always loomed just out of sight behind everything else. "I'm an old man, and just as alone in this world as you are - I thought that perhaps I could save just one of my children..."

He sighed again heavily. "I thought that maybe I could get you someplace where you could make a new and better life for yourself, now that things are falling apart here. I was hoping that maybe, finally, you'd let someone take care of you until you were healthy again and ready to start over. THAT'S why I came. I should have known better and saved myself the round trip air fare."

"But you left. You barely even said goodbye." Her voice was soft and accusing.

"You didn't seem to care one way or the other at the time." His voice was defeated. "It doesn't matter now anyway, as you say." He turned away again. "Goodbye, Parker."

"But you know I can't go with you." She said loudly enough to keep him from walking more than a step or two, bent and put her bouquet on the cold earth in front of the headstone quickly, then straightened. She looked at his back, wishing she dared reach out to him. "Even if I wanted to..."

"You can do whatever the hell you want to do - you always could." He looked back over his shoulder at her in frustration. "All you need to do is figure what you want to do, when you want to do it, and whether you can live with the consequences - and then DO it." He turned and began walking away again. "You can't keep blaming others for your own inertia or lack of decisiveness forever."

"What if I were to want to go with you - after everything that's happened between us over the years?" she called after him again, making his steps slow once more. "Would you still have me?" she asked very softly, afraid of the answer.

He halted, thought for a moment, then walked back to her. "What do you think?" he demanded. "I'm still here, aren't I, despite having told you goodbye twice now? You keep calling me back." His chestnut eyes, once warm, were now quite guarded. "For someone who wants to push me away every chance you get, you seem suddenly very reluctant to actually let me go now that I'm ready to stay pushed away once and for all. Make up your mind, Parker. Quickly - it's cold out here, if you hadn't noticed."

"I'm afraid," she admitted, astonished that she could even give voice to that most secret of feelings, "of leaving... of being alone..." She couldn't look at him anymore.

"I know," he said gently. "You're going to have to decide what you fear least, and then go with that, one way or the other. But, as I see it, you've really nothing to lose by leaving. Raines and Lyle are so busy running the Centre into the ground now, they'll probably barely know you're gone - not to mention that they'd no doubt take you back in a heartbeat, if you should decide later on to come back. God knows what they'd do WITH you once they got you back, but that would be your problem at that point. And you wouldn't be alone, you know..."

"Do you honestly believe I can walk away from the Centre? Just like that?"

"Yes! I do! You know it's what you've always wanted - and now's your chance!" His voice had gained a note of urgency. "The Centre's falling apart, Parker. Trust me, now's the time to walk away. You don't want to be here when things begin to get REALLY bad!" The eyebrows soared at the continued expression of hesitation on her face. "You don't want to be brought down with them, do you?"

She shook her head. What he was suggesting was almost beyond her ability to comprehend at this point. "I'm so tired." She lifted her grey eyes to his, and he could see the soul-withering fatigue that was slowly consuming her from within.

He shuddered inwardly - he'd waited almost too long. He'd been afraid of that. "I know you are. The sooner you get away from here, the better. For God's sake, let me help you. Please! Just this once..."

She looked deeply into his gaze, trying in vain to uncover any agendas. Finally she gave up, conceded that he actually had come back for her. He was the only one that ever had - that HAD to count for something. "I've missed you, Sydney."

"I've missed you too, Parker." He sensed something had shifted inside her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and gently pulled her close to him, deciding to leave off the lectures about the past or worried commentary about how frail and gaunt she had become for another time. "Think of it as finally taking that extended vacation you haven't had all this time to visit an eccentric old uncle who lives on the other side of the country. Give yourself time to rest and get well again, so that maybe, if you really want to, you can start a new life. Please?"

She closed her eyes and nodded slowly. "Take me with you, Sydney. I can't live like this anymore." She leaned into his chest tiredly and felt his arms enfold her tightly, making her feel warmer already despite the drizzle.

"Thank God!" He kissed her forehead softly and let go a sigh of relief. "Let's go home then."

And then the headstone stood alone in the freezing rain, marking forever the place where two people weren't buried. And the moments of the anniversary that wasn't slowly ticked away.

The Visit - by MMB

Chapter 2: Action


"Here we are."

Sydney turned the key in the lock of the front door and opened it, then stood aside so that a very tired Miss Parker could enter. He knew that his Arizona home would be far different than any of the homes she was used to in Delaware - he was counting on that drastic difference to eventually help break through the aura of melancholy that she still wore like a dark cloud about her head. Even he had found it hard to stay morose for long here once he'd settled in - and while his purchase of this particular unit had originally been because of the reasonable price, considering the location, he could no longer imagine himself living anywhere else for long.

She took a few steps into the foyer, which opened into a comfortably appointed living room with a picture window and balcony beyond that looked out over a band of green that stretched in both directions. If the rest of the condominium was anything like her first impression, then Sydney's new home was open, airy and apparently decorated in the soft pastels that characterized the Southwest. The furniture looked comfortably cushioned without being overstuffed, the accents were highly polished oak and brass, and the thick carpet beneath her feet was a warm ecru.

"This is nice," she commented softly, one of the first things she'd said to him for hours. The plane trip from New York to Phoenix had been a long one, and she had slept for most of it tipped over into her companion's uncomplaining shoulder. Oddly, it had been the best sleep she'd had in weeks, nightmare-free and genuinely restful - and yet she was grateful when Sydney began leading her through the spacious apartment toward the bedrooms. She wasn't going to be a night-owl tonight, or for a while to come.

"I'm glad you like it. I've become very fond of it myself," he replied in a gentle voice designed carefully not to jar or in any way disrupt abruptly. "Your room is this way," he extended his hand and let her precede him down the short hallway. "Mine is here, to the right. The bathroom is the door straight ahead - and you can have that one all to yourself because I have my own. This room I thought could be yours." He watched her put down a hand to the knob to the left of them and open the door to yet another open, airy room tastefully decorated in the Southwestern style, with a large window that looked down on an inner commons amid the condominium complex buildings. She laid her luggage on the queen-sized bed and moved past an overstuffed easy chair to the window and looked down.

It was quiet here, peaceful in a way she could barely understand. She had lived in urban areas before - but nothing like this. She turned to her host. "This will be wonderful, Syd. Thanks." She wrapped her arms around herself defensively against - she wasn't sure. "I'll be very comfortable here." She looked out the window at the fern-like trees and meandering walkways below.

Yes, Sydney decided, this change would be good for her. Getting out in the sun and having someone make sure she ate properly would mean she could lose her extreme and unhealthy pallor and gauntness. Hopefully the lack of pressure to perform at an impossible job or the stress of having to be ready to deal with the unsavory authorities running the Centre, would mean she could also begin to shed at last some of those defensive attitudes that had weighed her down so horrifically. Miss Parker was markedly ill - not only was she heartsick and deeply depressed to the point of causing him serious concern, but her physical condition had now started to deteriorate as well. Her recovery would not be a quick or easy one, and would have to be managed carefully.

"I figured we'd eat out this evening," he told her gently, not at all happy when the sound of his voice seemed to startle her, "and then spend some time stocking up the larder and pantry on the way home. I didn't know how long I was going to be gone, so I didn't leave much to go bad in my absence."

She carefully bit her tongue, knowing that he was just trying to be a good host, and eyed the bed carefully. "Perhaps I'll lie down for a while after I unpack..." Her eyes came up to meet his with insecurity in their depths. "... if that's alright with you, that is... When did you want to...?"

Sydney deposited his luggage by the door and walked into the room to her. "Parker," he began softly, putting a hand on her shoulder, "if you need to rest, then rest. I have my own unpacking to do, and then some friends to call and let know I'm home again." His hand moved up and stroked her hair. "Remember, this is a vacation for you. You don't HAVE to do anything you don't want to do - at least, not right away. Take some time to settle in first, if you need it." He smiled at her. "I'll come and get you after an hour or so, and then we'll discuss where you'd like to go."

"OK." It felt so strange to be in a position where nothing and nobody was pushing or pulling her about willy-nilly, almost as if all the necessary props of her world had suddenly evaporated. The lack made her nervous in and of itself.

His thumb stroked her hair once more, and then he moved away to gather up his own luggage. "I'll see you later," he told her, then closed the door behind him.

Miss Parker looked down again at the commons area and let her eyes follow one slowly ambling couple as they made their way from just below her to across the green and through an archway between two other buildings. She put the backs of her fingers to the glass and found it room-temperature, not surprising because the weather outside was warm without being overbearing. The temperature of the room itself was neither too warm nor chilly either, and she found that she didn't suffer the least chill when she shed the light sweater Sydney had convinced her to wear on the plane. With a sigh, she moved to draw back the door of the wide closet, exposing the chest of drawers conveniently placed inside to allow for maximum openness in the bedroom itself. Beyond, behind the other half of the sliding door, was the clothes rod and a healthy assortment of empty hangers, just waiting to be populated.

Opening the dress bag and suitcase, and slowly putting the meager belongings she had put together away did not help her feeling of being lost. Her mother's old hairbrush and mirror looked uncomfortably out of place on the otherwise empty vanity, a situation only barely made better by the addition of her perfume bottle. Of her massive wardrobe, Sydney had logically recommended that she pack only the fall and summer clothing, reminding her that she would not be seeing snow this winter in Arizona. And without a reason to dress like a fashion plate - like actually having a job where she needed to dress to impress - she had selected only a few of the more expensive coordinated outfits of silk and polyester. They soon hung in a lonely clump in the closet along with the few button-down cotton blouses and seersucker material trousers that constituted her “informal” collection. She had only had three pairs of denim pants to her name, and they ended up carefully folded in a drawer just below the collection of warm knit and angora sweaters she just couldn't be convinced to leave behind.

She had also only packed one very expensive pair of black stiletto heels at the bottom of the dress bag to grace her more formal wear. The rest of her footwear included a pair of slip-on canvas shoes, a pair of huarachis bought years ago in Acapulco, a pair of sandals, a pair of boots and a pair of tennis shoes, which she'd worn on the plane for comfort. These she finally kicked off as she sat down on the bed after bouncing gently to get a feel for the firmness of the mattress. She pulled the beige and white bedspread back and stretched herself out on top of the velvety blanket, finding her head comfortably cushioned on a pillow with a fresh-smelling slip and feeling a definite sensation of disconnectedness as she stared at the sparkling spackling on the ceiling.

Now that she was lying down in her quiet room with nothing else to occupy her mind, she could hear the low rumble of Sydney's voice somewhere beyond her door. That was right, he had said that he had some telephoning to do - friends to inform of his return. It was hard to imagine Syd socializing, having friends, even though she had known during the early years of the hunt for Jarod that he enjoyed the company of a couple of ladies whom he had escorted to comedy clubs and poetry readings from time to time. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to actually have friends who were interested enough in spending time with her that she'd have to call them to let them know she was IN again. All of her friendships had ended when she left school to return to Corporate...

She curled on her side miserably. Was the Centre all she could think of, even here? Was she so institutionalized that she couldn't imagine life without inserting the intimidating façade of the place she'd spend the bulk of her adult life into everything she thought or did? No wonder she felt like a fish out of water here - the only sign of the Centre in this warm and pacific setting was the permanent monument of ice and horror in her mind. What was she doing here, anyway? Why, oh why, had she allowed Sydney to talk her into this trek? She didn't belong here... Her eyes slowly closed, and she drifted into a troubled doze.

His packing finished and his few telephone calls made, Sydney knocked softly on the bedroom door and then carefully peeked inside when there was no answer. She had rolled over away from the door and pulled the bedspread over herself for warmth, her dark hair spreading out on the pillow behind her like a dark cloud. While he knew that, for her, sleep was now almost a refuge from the pain of living, he also recognized that the day would have been genuinely stressful and difficult for her even in the best of times - and in her current condition, had probably been even more so. Many were the times after they had landed and were waiting for their cab that he had seen her tired eyes look at him as if wondering why she had agreed to come with him at all. He also understood her well enough to know that there had been a couple of times in New York that she had been on the verge of turning back. She needed her rest desperately, whether it be a refuge from facing life at the moment or not.

He closed the door carefully again and shuffled down the hallway to the kitchen, pausing long enough in the living room to start some gentle background music in the CD player. He could let her rest for a little while more, then have some tea ready for her when he roused her.

The sound of the whistling tea kettle did the job of rousing her, however. She blinked and looked about her in confusion, having forgotten where she was and how she got there for a moment before remembering. The ambient light at her bedroom window had muted considerably - the afternoon had waned and it was approaching evening. She rolled over on her back and listened - nothing presented itself to her ears. Were it not that she knew that Sydney would not have just left without telling her, she could have been alone in the world for all she knew. She closed her eyes and pondered just rolling over again when a soft knock sounded at her door. "What?" she answered as if picking up the phone.

The door opened, and Sydney poked his head around the corner. "Ah - you're awake at last. I have some tea and shortbread to fill the empty spots before dinner." He smiled at her. "Then we can figure out what you're hungry for..."

"You know, Syd, I'm really not hungry," she told him brusquely, pushing herself to sit up and toss aside the bedspread. "Why don't you order in for yourself, or maybe get together with one of your friends for dinner out - I can..."

"No." The word was soft, but there was steel in the voice behind it.

"What do you mean, “no”?" Her eyebrow had risen dangerously. It had been a long time since anybody had directly defied her - other than Raines or Lyle, that is.

He stepped further into the room and looked down at her, sitting on the edge of her bed, with a fair measure of simple matter-of-factness. "Look. You haven't been eating properly for weeks - that's obvious. You look as if a stiff wind would blow you right off the map." She opened her mouth to retort, only: "Stow it, Parker. You're here to get well, not starve yourself to death on my watch."

"I don't need a wet nurse to stick a bottle in my face and burp me," she growled at him, ignoring the rumble in her stomach at the mere mention or thought of food.

"Really?" His expression was decidedly unconvinced and unfazed by her sarcasm. "You didn't eat more than two bites of breakfast, and then nothing on the plane. I can buy into ordering in and eventually going shopping on my own to restock, but when I order in, it will be for BOTH of us."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" The grey eyes were snapping with fire. "You aren't my father..."

"You're damned right I'm not," he shot back at her, answering her fire with his own. He was disgusted and frustrated to no end to be back to arguing with her already. He had hoped for at least a day or two of company manners before the kid gloves came off -he hadn't really expected their time together now to run any more smoothly than the previous several years' worth of work relationship had. However, the fact that she had the will and enough strength to argue with him at all was a sign there was hope for her still.

"Your father AND brother have conveniently been too busy with their own issues to give you a second thought for a very long time," he snapped, reminding her very bluntly of fully half the reason she was here in Arizona and not languishing in Delaware. "And as for Mr. Parker, he never did seem to give a damn what you did, or even care whether you lived or died, as long as you did what HE wanted you to before you croaked." He parked a hand at a hip. "I'm not expecting you to scarf down a feast, you know, but you will at least have a reasonably sustaining portion of whatever we order."

She glared up at him and found his chestnut gaze inflexible in its concern, and she found that she couldn't out-glare him this time. His barbs had been sharp and right on target, and the fact that he'd deflected her so easily didn't sit well at all - she wasn't used to losing arguments with him at all. But the sad fact was that she'd reached the end of her meager energy to fight back; and when she was honest with herself, she had to admit that she WAS a bit hungry. "Whatever," she shrugged and drooped disheartedly. Suddenly she really didn't want to fight with him anymore - he had taken her into his home, after all...

He saw the physical signs of her capitulation and immediately forced himself to step back from his ire. He wasn't going to give up on the objective of getting her to eat something that evening, but he could at least try to make the prospect less than onerous for her. "Come on, then, Parker. Have some tea with me - you don't have to have any shortbread if you don't want it - and help me decide." When she didn't move, he extended his hand down to her. "C'mon. You can order whatever you like."

A very heavy sigh proceeded her finally relenting and taking his hand and letting him draw her to her feet. "That's just it," she complained softly, "I don't know what I want." Now that the argument had fizzled, she felt more comfortable looking at him again, but the gentle warmth in his gaze made her look away again - this time in embarrassment.

"When you used to order in, what did you use to get for yourself?" he asked, tucking her hand gently into the crook of his elbow and escorting her down the little hallway and into the kitchen. On the table were a china teapot and two mugs, and a small plate of shortbread tea biscuits the kind that she hadn't had in ages.

"I don't remember," she practically whispered as he pulled out a chair for her and then scooted her in comfortably at the table and moved to take his own seat. "Honestly, Sydney, I don't..." she looked up at him again, her grey eyes tired and vulnerable again.

"It's OK," he soothed, reaching out to pat a hand and then lift the tea pot to pour two steaming mugs of a delicately fragrant brew. "Maybe starting with something general - simple and familiar - would be best. Do you feel like Chinese or pizza?"

She shook her head and buried her nose in the steam from her mug. "What do you want?" she tried to turn the question back on him.

"Uh-unh, I asked you first," he responded gently. When he saw that she still wasn't pressing her mind to the task of making a choice, he sat back in his chair. "When was the last time you ate ANYthing, Parker?" he asked softly, finally pulling her gaze to his.

"At breakfast..."

"Two bites of a piece of toast barely qualifies. What about before then?"

Her gaze grew ashamed, and she looked down into her mug. "I don't remember."

He watched her nurse her tea for a long moment, then rose with an "Uh-HUH!" and reached for the phone and phone book. Without consulting her further, he ran his finger down a list of restaurants, then dialed. "Yes," he spoke to the employee answer the phone, "I'd like a large order of your egg flower soup, and an order of stir-fried vegetables. To go, please." He nodded, then gave his address and phone number and got his sub-total. He pressed the talk button to disconnect, then looked over to find her watching him with wide eyes. "The soup is for you - nutritious and easy on a system that hasn't had much in it lately. The last thing we need is to get you sick with what little you DO eat. The vegetables are for me. OK?"

She nodded, then, with hesitant fingers, eased one of the small shortbread pieces from the small plate and nibbled at it. "I'm sorry, Sydney, I know you're just trying to help," she said softly once she'd washed some of the sweet down with a swallow of tea. "I don't mean to be..."

"Just understand this," he replied, watching with carefully disguised elation as she continued to nibble, afraid that his making too much of it would give her reason to stop, "I'm NOT trying to take the place of your father or your mother. But I AM a very concerned friend who is going to be moving heaven and earth, if necessary, to help you get back on your feet. I fully expect you to argue with me from time to time - but don't expect me to back down when it comes to matters concerning your health. No more skipping meals - and we'll be doing some walking in the morning too. My cardiologist wants me walking for at least twenty minutes a day now - and I think getting out in the morning sunshine and fresh air will do you good too."

"Cardiologist?" That got her attention and, for the first time in a very long time, her brows furrowed in concern for someone else. This was the first time she'd heard him mention ever having to see a doctor - for all these years, he had been hale and hearty, hadn't he? The idea that Sydney was no more eternal than her mother or Thomas - that his health might not be as good as it appeared - was suddenly very unsettling. "Sydney..."

But he ignored the question, not letting her sidetrack him from setting ground rules. "Also, many of the pressures and stresses you've lived under most of your life will not touch you here - that's WHY you're here, after all - but that doesn't mean I'm not going to push you myself when I know it's for your own good. You can rest up a great deal, but you may as well know right now that I'm not going to let you retreat entirely into that bedroom and sleep the rest of your life away. You can cry if you need to - I'll be glad to lend you a shoulder whenever you want one. You can even stomp around and yell and vent at me, at Raines, at the Centre, or just at life in general; but I will NOT let you withdraw completely - so don't even try."

"That seems fair," she responded softly, popping the rest of the small piece of shortbread in her mouth and munching thoughtfully, successfully distracted back to her own situation again - at least temporarily. "I just..." She sighed. "It feels so strange here. I keep waiting for the phone to ring or something calling me back to the Centre - and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to step away from the Centre in my mind. It's always back there..."

"I know," Sydney commiserated with her. "I went through my own withdrawals, trust me. I had no idea how much my every waking moment had been dictated by that place." He looked at her sympathetically. "I do understand the need for adjustment, honestly."

"Am I crazy, Syd?" she asked warily.

He shook his head. "No. If you were, you wouldn't have asked the question in the first place." His eyes grew warm again, and worried. "But you ARE ill - physically, as well as emotionally. You're not eating, you've lost a frightening and almost dangerous amount of weight, your moods swing wildly between anger and lethargy - those are warning signs that even YOU can't dismiss. That's why you came with me. That's why you told me you couldn't live like that anymore."

"But I don't know how to live any other way anymore." Her voice was empty, desolate.

"You'll learn, Parker," he reassured her gently. "I'll help.

"Why?"

He blinked. It was a simple question, but it came at him from a tangent. "Why what?"

"Why are you helping me, and why now?" She slipped another piece of shortbread from the plate and nibbled again.

"Because I care what happens to you," he replied automatically. "I always have."

"Uh-unh," she shook her head and took another sip of tea. "That one I STILL don't buy, Freud. Like it or not, you vanished the moment Angelo and Jarod were out of the picture. If you had cared at all, you would have stayed..."

"I cared, Parker," he insisted in a brittle tone, stung. "Had you but shown me one inkling that it mattered to you one way or the other WHAT I did, I'd have never left."

He paused and pondered the answers they each were giving the other, then sighed. "I suppose we could start another argument, if you want, over who cared the most - or least." He saw her shake her head slowly, and gave a small sigh of relief. "Good, because I'm tired from traveling and not really ready for another spat with you today."

The silence stretched between them, one full of accusations, admissions and regrets from both sides. She nibbled on her piece of shortbread, already feeling the slight boost as the sugar from the first began to enter her system. It gave her the energy to say what was in her heart. "I've just been waiting for so long for somebody, ANYbody, to..." She looked back down into her tea again. "I just want to be important to someone..."

"You are, Parker." Sydney reached out to her again. "Right now, you are the closest to family I have left. I swear it to you, on the grave of my brother. You ARE important to me."

The sincerity with which he had made his statement hurt because she couldn't muster the energy to invest in believing him - at least, not yet. She was in a strange place, with nothing resembling a “normal” life to sustain her. As much as she wanted to cling to him, the only person left who had been a part of her whole life that she still gave a damn about, she didn't know to whom or what she would be clinging anymore. "I want to believe you..." she started lamely.

"I'm not asking for your faith," he told her, then sipped at his tea as he held her hand gently. "I've watched your father beg and insist on your trusting him, on your believing in him, only to disappoint or betray you time after time after time. I prefer to let my actions prove what I'm saying is true."

"You left me," she stated again flatly, the grey eyes guarded as she pulled her hand out of his.

"Yes," he admitted gently. Little had he known how much that necessary step was going to hurt her at the time, or how his maintaining his distance would have only made the original injury worse over time. "I left. And you pushed me away just before I left. I suggest we both are equally guilty, and that scorekeeping accomplishes nothing."

She looked back down into her tea. Again, he'd deflected her argument - and what was worse, he did it by admitting she was right, and then turning it back on her. Then she remembered her question to him had had two parts. She looked up again sharply. "But why NOW?"

"What do you mean?" he hedged.

"C'mon Sydney," she pressed on, "why now? What is it that made you decide that the time had come to see whether I wanted to be “rescued” or not?"

"Well, I had no intention of going anywhere near the Centre itself - and considering Raines' state of mind when I left, I knew going to your house wouldn't be a good idea either. I knew the anniversary of your mother's d..." He stumbled over the words - the lie catching in his throat as much as it had caught at her mind since Catherine's true fate had been revealed. "I knew that, your being very much a creature of habit, you would probably still end up in the cemetery that particular afternoon."

Miss Parker slipped the rest of her second piece of shortbread into her mouth and felt it dissolve into buttery sweetness. "OK, I can buy the timing of our meeting. But you still haven't told me why you didn't, for example, wait another year or three. You thought I didn't give a damn - and you had left."

"Yes."

"So why make a trip to Delaware to see someone you figured didn't give a damn? Did you want to get pushed away again just so you could feel you made the right move getting the hell outta there, or were you intending to wave your successful escape in my face to make me pay for not caring after all, or what?" Her voice had grown more brittle and bitter, thinking that he might have had his own agenda after all. Why should he be any different...

He gazed at her sharply. "I'm no masochist, Parker, although perhaps a case could be made that I had been one for a very long time to have stayed as long as I did. And I would never..."

"You still haven't answered me."

His chestnut eyes flicked guiltily up to hers and his mouth opened to respond, when the doorbell pealed softly. She caught the fleeting expression of gratitude as he rose quickly and went to pay for their meal. "We aren't finished with this," she called after him, then sipped at her tea again. He wasn't telling her something - something important.

After a few minutes, he came back to the kitchen carrying a brown paper bag stacked on top of a sizeable Styrofoam bowl with plastic lid. Miss Parker could begin to smell the savory odors wafting despite the containers being closed, and her stomach gave a loud rumble that even Sydney could hear. He gave her a broad grin as he set his load down on the counter behind her. "Sounds like your stomach likes the idea of soup," he commented as he began rummaging around in cupboards for a soup mug for her and a plate for himself, then in drawers for silver to dish up and eat with - all of which he brought back to the table.

"Talk to me, Sydney."

The smile failed a little, but he continued opening up the container of soup and ladling out enough to fill her mug. He set it in front of her, along with a spoon. "There's very little to tell," he said quietly, then pulled the two familiar boxes from the paper sack for himself and sat back down. "Try the soup," he directed as he opened first the smaller box and put some rice on his plate. "I'm thinking smaller helpings won't overwhelm you..."

"Sydney..." Her tone told him she was running out of patience, but she lifted the spoon and brought some of the liquid to her lips. Her eyes widened at the delicate and savory taste and went for another taste, and he smiled down into his box of vegetables. He had chosen well. However, "If there's so little to tell, then spill." She dipped her spoon again, but it halted halfway to her lips. "Does this have anything to do with your having a cardiologist now?"

He flinched inwardly at the idea that she'd made the connection so easily, but nodded. "About a couple of months ago, I started to have chest pains and ended up spending a couple of days in the hospital." He looked up at her, finding her wide-eyed. "It occurred to me that I was getting no younger, and that if I wanted any peace of mind, there was one thing I needed to do. I only had one of my children left, you see, and I needed to..."

"You just made a big deal about how you're not my father," she reminded him sharply between sips of the delicious soup.

"That doesn't prevent me from thinking of you as the daughter I never had." The words, spoken defensively, slipped out before he could stop them. His gaze flew up to meet hers, both equally startled. "But..."

"How dare you!" She was suddenly and completely furious with him. He HAD had an agenda after all! "You God-damned son of a bitch - how DARE you!! You have got one helluva lot of nerve, bringing me here just so you'd have someone to take care of you now that your health is falling apart. Of course you'd need me to get better so that I'd be in shape when you start to cave in - and maybe, by then, I'd have bought into your claims of caring enough that I wouldn't be able to..." My God, she thought, that was an agenda worthy of Mr. Raines - of Mr. Parker - and he'd carried it off so well, complete with playing her emotions like a virtuoso!

Almost blinded by anger and disappointment, she threw her spoon down into the mug and rose to stalk off back to her bedroom and slam the door behind her. She looked around her, and her eyes slowly filled. He had gone to a great deal of trouble and expense piecing together this new version of the gilded cage - the apartment was warm and open and filled with the illusion of freedom for her. And how she had wanted to believe that finally, just this once in her life, someone hadn't been trying to manipulate her. But, in the end, all it had been was... She made her way slowly to the easy chair and sat down heavily and let the tears fall. Why did she keep falling for these things? Why did she never learn NEVER to trust anyone? Why did this latest betrayal hurt worse than any of the others which had come before?

A half hour passed, and then a soft knock sounded on her door. "Go away!" she barked in a voice still broken from sobbing, but clearly still furious. "You son of a bitch! You've done enough damage for one evening, don't you think?"

The door opened anyway, and a very quiet and tightly controlled Sydney walked toward her and laid a fold of glossy paper on the night table next to her. "I was hoping I wouldn't be needing this, but..." he sighed. "Here is everything you need to go home again - plane tickets, connecting flights, even cab fare from Dover. I won't stop you." He paused, seemed on the verge of saying something else, then turned wordlessly and walked from the room, closing the door very gently after himself.

She stared at the glossy paper for a long time before reaching out and bringing it over where she could look at what it contained. She'd seen enough of these to know that the tickets inside were very real - and first class accommodations all the way. Her anger swelled in her again, and she rose from her chair and stalked out of her room in search of Sydney again. She found him sitting on the balcony, his posture slumped.

"What the hell is THIS?" she spat at him, shaking the tickets at him. "A good way to make me feel guilty, now that I've seen through your little scheme, and convince me that way to..."

"They are what they are," he replied softly, his voice filled with defeat. "At this point, how or why they exist is a moot issue, that they will see you safely and comfortably back to Delaware should be obvious. What's important is that you are free to use them or not. That's your choice." His chestnut eyes looked up at her, and they weren't filled with guilt, as she had expected, but only heartsick resignation. "You have decided to assign to me the worst and most devious of intentions - turn me into a carbon copy of your father or Mr. Raines. I have neither energy nor heart to even try to argue with you anymore. Believe as you will. Stay or go, as you choose. I won't stop you. And now, I think, it would be best for all concerned if the discussion is closed. Permanently." He rose and simply moved past her, being careful not to allow himself to brush against her in any way. "I'm very tired. Goodnight, Parker."

That wasn't the response she had expected, and she turned and watched him shuffle back through his house with her anger now doused as if with ice water as she pondered the previously unthinkable: what if she'd simply jumped to her conclusion and been horribly, viciously wrong in her accusations? What if instead he had inadvertently let her slip a glimpse into his heart - a glimpse into something he'd kept very carefully hidden and protected for years from her and from everyone else - perhaps even from himself? What if he had no agenda after all, and that his statement had been one of fondness instead? What if it had been her suspicion that he was no different than all the others that was the illusion? She winced, remembering his accusations of her pushing him away time after time when he would reach out to her. Had she just done it again?

"Sydney..." she called softly, moving back into the apartment, locking the arcadia door behind her and following him into the hallway to stand, finally, in front of his closed bedroom door. "Sydney?" She knocked softly, but got no answer. She knocked again. "Sydney, please..."

The door opened, and the chestnut eyes that looked into hers were deeply wounded, wary, exhausted. "No, Parker. As you so aptly put it, I think you've done enough damage for one evening."

"I need to know..."

"No. I said we're done talking, and I mean it." He shook his head, and his voice got gruff with tightly controlled emotions. "If you honestly believe I would do something that manipulative, then just use the damned tickets and get the hell out of my house. I don't want you here if you believe that's what's really going on. Go home, Parker. The sooner, the better." And with that, the bedroom door closed in her face, quietly but firmly.

It was his tone of voice - the same one he had used as he had prepared to walk away from her in the cemetery - that finally convinced her that she had indeed made a colossal blunder. The realization of what she'd done and said, of the hurt she had inflicted, stole from her the strength to remain erect without support. With a hard sob, this time of regret, she sagged down the door against the doorjamb with a hand pressed against the door as if touching him - calling him back. "Sydney, wait," she called softly, "please don't push me away." The door stayed closed however - only the sounds of quiet movement from within gave her any sign that there was life beyond that door.

Now comfortably clad in his pajamas, Sydney sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, totally bereft. He had known better than to ever make himself vulnerable to her - or to give her any indication of just HOW vulnerable to her he always HAD been - and she'd just proven why his caution had been necessary. As much as he wanted to help her, he now doubted he could cope with her constant distrust, with her need to discover agendas whether they existed in truth or not. She'd been lied to and betrayed too often, evidently - by him as well as by others - her ability to learn to trust him again was evidently destroyed beyond his ability to repair it. Her ready willingness to inflict as much damage as possible in self-defense made even trying unthinkable. He was pushing HER away? That was rich... He was done trying to hang on. He should never have allowed her to call him back in the first place.

He heard her soft call to him again and closed his eyes against his tears of disappointment and failure, then tipped over into his pillow and slipped his feet beneath the covers. He had made a huge mistake - two of them, in fact. First, he'd convinced her to come with him; then, he'd accidentally given her all the ammunition she needed to destroy him emotionally, on a silver platter no less. What HAD he been thinking? He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, tired beyond measure but certain that sleep would elude him for most of the night.

Miss Parker put her hand to her mouth to keep the sobs from escaping and made her way across the hallway to her room and closed the door behind her. Barely able to see, she went to the closet and drew out her suitcase and dress bag again and began retrieving her belongings from where she had stowed them. She had been offered so much - he had offered her a whole new life and a chance to start over - now she had destroyed it because she just couldn't bring herself to trust him, not even a little bit. And he couldn't even be convinced to speak to her anymore. She didn't blame him.

Once everything was again packed and ready to go, with the exception of her toiletries and nightgown, she moved the open suitcase to the top of the dresser and changed into the nightgown. Exhausted and emotionally depleted to the point of having no more tears to shed, she sat down on the edge of her bed and looked at the glossy ticket folder on the night table sadly, and then looked up at the door. Did she want to apologize - was she ready to do what it would take to win a chance to start over again - or was she willing to allow a tragic misunderstanding to force her to go back to the Centre? He had said it was her choice.

When the soft knock on his door came again, he rolled over and sighed. She was persistent, he had to give her that - it was probably the only way she'd stayed alive until now. But then he heard her speak. "I'm sorry for what I said, Sydney - so very sorry I jumped to conclusions. Maybe you would be better off if I did leave, because you deserve better than me. All I ever seem to be able to do is hurt you. I just want you to know that I was wrong to accuse you of..." There was a pause while she evidently collected herself, and then small and soft sounds that told him that she was leaning against the door. "I know you aren't like Daddy or Raines. And I know you don't want me here anymore either. I..." Her voice caught on her emotions. "I'll be out of your hair as soon as I...

Miss Parker backed away in surprise when the door was flung open suddenly, pulling the bedspread around her defensively when she saw that Sydney was frowning, his arms coming up and crossing across his chest in an equally defensive move. They stared at each other for a long moment, each as surprised as the other that he'd emerged from the privacy of his room so quickly. Then: "I didn't say I didn't want you here anymore, only that I didn't want you here if you could believe what you were accusing me of," he corrected her bitterly. "It's my fault - I should never have told you..."

"No," she shook her head vehemently and stepped closer, reaching out to him then withdrawing the hand again when he glared first at it and then her. "I did need to hear that - more than you can imagine. It's just you surprised me. I didn't know what to think."

"Sure you did. You immediately assumed the worst and threw it in my face in the most hurtful way you could." He shook his head, his voice filled with disappointment and accusation. "Even when I gave you the tickets that proved that you were still in control, you twisted everything so that I could be no better than a monster to you. I can't defend myself against your imagination, Parker."

"I'm sorry..." she began, but he merely shook his head at her again.

"I'm sure you are - NOW," he chided in a defeated tone. "But if you're going to constantly be suspecting my every action of underhanded agendas, then you're no better off here than you were back in Delaware. You're still living in a way that you know and I know is slowly killing you - and killing me right along with you. I'm sorry, Parker, but I refuse to live that way anymore."

"Please..." She hadn't thought she could have felt worse, but the picture he was painting for her was unacceptable - and she could see that he was right. Her inability to give him even the slightest benefit of the doubt would destroy everything. She looked down, completely ashamed now. "You're right. But the truth is, I really do want to stay, to try again to start over, if you'll let me." The hand came out from under the bedspread again, this time holding out the folder of tickets to him. "Or have I ruined everything now?"

"Parker..." His tone was cautious, and it felt like a slap. It was an answer all of its own.

She nodded. "I understand." She pulled the hand with the ticket folder away from him and looked down at the floor in defeat. "There's nothing left to say, then," she whispered, utterly shattered. "I'm already packed again. I'll leave in the morning, as soon as I can get a cab here." She turned around to head back to her room for whatever little sleep she would get before leaving as soon in the morning as she could manage.

"Parker..." he said again, this time his voice was sad, almost pleading. He had unfolded from his defensive posture, but held his hands tightly clenched at his side for fear of reaching out to her only to be pushed away yet again. Twice in an evening was about all of that kind of heartache he could handle. "I told you before, your staying or leaving was your choice, not mine. I just..." His voice caught, and then he took a deep breath.

"No, you haven't ruined everything, not yet, anyway. If you truly want to be here, to try again, you're welcome. I'd never turn you away, Parker, I told you - you're far too important to me."

She stopped and turned in surprise. "I want to believe you," she said softly, "I really do. But..."

"I can't help you take that first step towards trusting me, Parker," he replied gently and very tiredly, "and I can't take that step for you. I can only wait and then respond to whether or not you want to take a chance. You need to make up your mind."

"Did you really mean what you said before - what you said at the table?" Her eyes were wide and incredibly vulnerable.

"That I think of you as a daughter?" She nodded. "Yes." It was a big risk to be this open, this honest, this vulnerable - especially given her willingness to strike at where a person was most vulnerable when she felt threatened. But perhaps, just perhaps, his admission would unlock a door tightly sealed within her for so long. Perhaps it was action she needed to see on this issue too, and not just words. He just hoped he wasn't creating more heartache for himself in the process.

"What do you mean by that, though?"

He swallowed hard. He knew what she wanted to hear - three little words that said that his thinking of her as a daughter meant he felt an emotional investment in her as well. But he wasn't willing to offer her just more words piled on words when she still couldn't trust him or believe him. Finding and learning to trust in that emotional investment was too important to her very survival. It was going to be the foundation upon which she would finally be able to build her new life, and he was going to make sure that foundation was rock-solid. "That's something that would take time to show you - if you're really interested in getting an answer, that is."

It wasn't the answer she'd expected, but yet he'd given her had a hint that the answer might well be the one she wanted. "I want to believe you," she repeated softly.

"And I would very much like a chance to show you that you can," he replied quietly. "But I need time to show you these things properly - you just can't rush them. You'll have to be patient and give me a chance to make actions speak louder than words over time."

"I want to stay," she said softly, then stepped toward him and leaned her head tiredly against his chest. "I'm so sorry, Sydney."

"I'm sorry too," he responded, and finally he unclenched his fists and brought his arms up to wrap them around her tightly. He closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against her forehead with a sigh of relief. "It'll get better, Parker, I promise. You'll see." That, too, was just words - but hopefully enough to inspire her to take the risk he wasn't lying to her.

She closed her eyes and leaned harder into him. Hugs from Sydney had always felt more real than those from Daddy had, and this one was no exception to that. She wanted so much to believe him - ached to believe in someone, something, again. It was taking such a big chance, though, to try to trust that he wouldn't betray her. He'd hurt her before. Did she dare risk that he wouldn't again?

"I'll try to be patient and give you your chance," she whispered softly, and felt the arms tighten around her immediately.

"That's all I ask," he replied, then loosened his hold on her so he could set her back after kissing her forehead gently. "Go unpack again, then, and get some sleep. We'll start out with a fresh slate, both of us, in the morning."

"Thank you!" Her murmured gratitude was as heartfelt as anything she'd said to him in days. She leaned back against him for a moment and felt him enclose her again in a very gentle hug, soaking up the idea that what little life she had left to her had not been shattered after all, that she had her second chance after all. Then she pulled back a little. "Sydney?" The grey eyes blinked up into his in hesitant chagrin and expectation.

"What?"

She looked like a half-starved waif, standing there clinging to a bedspread that dragged on the floor like a too-big bathrobe borrowed from a parent. "Do you think I could have more of that soup before I go to bed? Please? You didn't want me to skip meals anymore, and I really am kinda hungry..."

The chestnut eyes went blank for a moment, and then a slow smile first ignited deep within them that soon spread across his face. She was actually trying to meet him halfway -with actions and not just words - and after everything they'd just been through, that was a hopeful sign indeed. "I think we can handle that," he replied gently, then put his arm around her shoulders and walked with her back towards the kitchen.

The Visit - by MMB

Chapter 3: Echoes


Sydney felt a hand insinuate itself into the crook of his elbow and cling tightly as the other came over and joined it in surrounding his arm firmly. He looked over into Miss Parker's face, for a change utterly devoid of make up, and marveled that she still could nevertheless paint herself with the façade of Ice Queen with such ease. "Relax," he said to her softly. "You're safe here."

Her answer was to cling just a little more tightly. She looked around at the grass and the little running brook that trickled gently just to their left and felt that same nervousness she had experienced the afternoon before. They had spoken once more that morning over their breakfast of toast and coffee of the lack of pressure or expectations that she would have to get used to. It would take time to remember that all the things firmly associated with her former job that had defined her life for her for as long as she could remember were removed here. Last night, just before their argument, he'd made mention of the need to go through a kind of withdrawal from the Centre and the way it had dominated his own life. Here, in the open air of an Arizona morning, she was beginning to see how right he'd been.

"It doesn't feel like winter at all," she commented quietly, still marveling that the grass about them was green and lush, and the temperature on her lightly sweatered arm was comfortably warm as compared to the near deep-freeze she had left behind.

"I know," he rumbled at her, enjoying her sense of discovery almost as much as he'd enjoyed the discovery when he'd made it himself. "Now that I've been back to Delaware, I have to admit that I'm not going to miss the snow and ice much at all."

They moved to one side and allowed a person with in-line skates to swish on past them, looking remarkably business-like. Parker blinked and turned to stare after him. "Don't tell me..." she started.

"Some people around here actually do commute to work that way when the weather's decent," Sydney shrugged. "It took me a while to get used to that idea too."

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," she sighed and then pulled herself closer to his arm again with a shake of the head. "What's the name of this place again?"

"Indian Wash Park," he answered her and then gestured around them. "When it rains here - and believe me, it CAN rain very hard here - the wash serves as storm drainage for a good deal of this side of town. Other times, it's a park, a golf course, a skateboard area..." He patted her joined hands on his arm. "We'll only walk a little ways today. This thing stretches for miles, and I don't think you're good for more than a city block or so at the moment."

They walked silently for a while with her clinging tightly to him, and he marveled at the idea that Miss Parker was willing to be so demonstrably needy and dependent on him - especially after her painful demonstration of deep suspicion and distrust the night before. He thought about it for a bit while watching the blue jays in a bare palo verde tree, and saw where another cycle of vacillation was starting - a healthier one in terms of being closer to the root of her underlying issues, but another challenge needing careful management nonetheless. The swing between clinging desperately and then pushing away desperately would more than likely move roughly in tandem with and hopefully eventually replace the vacillation between lethargy and anger that was more a symptom of deep depression.

She had grown up an abused and love-starved child, only coddled when it served an agenda and then pushed away, disappointed or outright betrayed otherwise. The only time she'd actually begun to trust in the support of another, someone that had genuinely deserved her trust, Thomas had been murdered and stolen from her. It was obvious she needed the freedom to cling - to get all the hugs and love from him she'd been denied all these years by her father. But her defensive independence and self-reliance were habits that would be hard to break, and so they would more than likely reassert themselves abruptly and without warning or reason.

He would have to be ready and willing to offer her whatever tactile support she needed at any given moment - to provide the hugs and coddling and love whenever she asked or needed them with a firm constancy that would let his actions actually speak louder than words. He had told her the night before that he thought of her like a daughter; to prove it, he would have to give her a father's unconditional love unreservedly no matter what she threw at him. And yet at the same time, out of self-protection if nothing else, he would have to be ready to step back lovingly when she needed to prove to herself she could stand alone again.

Neither of them needed her to cultivate a co-dependence on him. He would far rather she build a healthier kind of independence and self-reliance that was natural, not defensive - one based on knowing through experience she COULD depend on him for love and support when the need was real...

"Syd?"

"Hmmm?" Her soft voice had broken through his musing.

"What am I going to DO while I'm here?" It had been a thought that had run through her head in the long moments before she'd arisen that morning.

"Eat, rest, relax, get better," he began listing, counting the items off on his fingers.

"No, really," she insisted. "I can't just sit around the house all day between meals - I'll go stir-crazy, and then you WILL have problems with me!"

"Well," he thought for a bit, inwardly pleased that she was - at least for the moment - thinking in such terms, "you DO have a couple of errands that you shouldn't put off for too long. You have to take the cashier's checks in and establish yourself in a bank here eventually, and you should probably consider applying for an Arizona driver's license before too long. There's also the fact that you haven't seen much of the area yet - and I did purchase a car when I got here. We can drive around and see what there is to see..."

She pointed to a picnic table under a tree near the little brook, and while Sydney seated himself sedately on the bench, she climbed a bit and sat down on the table itself next to and behind him. "What have YOU been doing with yourself since you moved here?" she asked, keeping physical contact by scooting so that her knee was pressing his shoulder.

"You don't believe that I could have just taken advantage of an opportunity to catch up on all the reading I'd not had a chance to do for years?" he asked in a light tone.

"Not for a whole six months straight," she admitted, leaning her elbows on her denim-clad knees and watching the water trickle past absently. "And I seriously doubt you've become addicted to watching soap operas all day long."

"Hardly." His tone was so disgusted that it made her smile for a moment, remembering the way they used to be able to banter carefully years ago. "It so happened that one of my classmates at medical school retired here a few years back," he told her after a pause where he framed his response carefully. "We got together about a month after I arrived, and he told me that he was doing some consulting for one of the public mental health offices on a limited basis. You know me, I can't resist wanting to help people," he patted her nearby knee gently, "so I found the nearest mental health office to my home and offered my services on a similarly limited basis."

"So you're working as a shrink again after all?" Miss Parker tipped her head and looked at his face.

He nodded very subtlely as he watched a raven preen itself. "I had a total of three patients that I was seeing on a semi-regular basis before my trip to the hospital. But I told the agency that I might not be available to do much for a while just before I traveled to Delaware. They've made arrangements for another shrink to take their cases until I call them and let them know I'm ready to go back to work." He tipped his head back so he could look at her. "As far as I'm concerned, right now YOU are my only concern."

"So I'm just another patient to you, then?" the grey eyes narrowed slightly.

He closed his eyes and breathed softly through his nose to retain his calm. Yes, here was the push away to go with the clinging, just as he expected. It's just a bad habit you need to help her break, he reminded himself, don't take it personally - except insofar as you can make a point with it. "I thought we'd agreed that you were going to give me time and a chance to demonstrate something quite a bit different from that," he chided softly. "Although speaking of patient, to be honest, I have never known to you be very patient - despite your promise last night to at least try."

His words, although spoken gently, were like a soft verbal slap. She had indeed promised to give him the benefit of the doubt and time to prove himself, and he was within his rights to remind her of that. "Oh God," she sighed and hung her head. "I'm doing it again."

"Yes, you are," he answered gently, "and you're forgiven." She was silent next to him, and finally he turned enough to smooth a hand across her hunched back a couple of times. "C'mon," he urged at her without a shift in his tone of voice, "let's head back. I think you've had enough for now." He rose from his seat and turned, extending his hand to her. "C'mon, Parker. Let's go home."

"I'm going to hurt you again, I just know it," she murmured softly, not moving or looking up at him. "I don't know how NOT to."

Sydney reached out and grasped one of her dangling hands and pulled, succeeding in at least getting her to look at him again. "C'mon now," he urged again and then reached out with the other hand and captured her other free hand and helped her from her perch back to the ground. "Look, after last night, I don't have any illusions here. I have a pretty good idea what I'm in for," he told her in a voice he hoped conveyed confidence. He tucked her hand back into the crook of his elbow and turned them both around so that they could begin retracing their steps back to the condominium complex. It wasn't long before she had brought her other hand around and encircled his forearm completely, her grasp tight and sure. "It's OK," he soothed, putting his other hand over her two and patting them. "We'll get through this."

The walk back to the apartment took a little longer than the walk out as Miss Parker's still-meager store of energy began to run out a little ahead of schedule. Soon the grasp on the arm was as much for physical support as it was for moral support. Sydney stopped their movement once more, not far from the complex, so that she could again sit at a convenient bench and catch her breath. He seated himself patiently next to her and rubbed her back while she struggled to breathe normally again.

"This is ridiculous," she grumbled at herself.

"No, we went further than we should have the first day," he countered, continuing to rub her back soothingly. "I overestimated your stamina. We won't go quite so far tomorrow."

"But you need the walk too..." she complained.

"I'm doing fine, don't worry about me." He looked forward to the distance between where they were and the gate into the condominium complex. "Better?" he asked, leaning forward to look into her face.

"Yeah."

"Then let's get you home and resting again," he said, rising and extending his hand so that she could have help getting to her feet again. "Slowly now."

"I can remember when I used to be able to walk for miles," she chided herself bitterly, "and not even notice the effort."

"Yes, and you were in top form and used to eat more healthily in those days too, I'd wager," he countered as her hands sought out their now-familiar niche on his arm and leaned on him. "This is another area where you're going to have to be patient, Parker - only with yourself this time. Give yourself some time to get your strength back before you start knocking yourself for what you can or can't do."

"I'm a mess," she sighed, thoroughly disgusted with herself when she almost tripped because she wasn't lifting her feet quite as high as she needed to. "How did I let myself get into this shape?"

Sydney decided that the best course was to not respond any further, but let her vent at herself for a bit. At least now she had had her depleted physical condition brought home to her in a way that hopefully assured her continued cooperation in her own recovery on that account. Instead, he again put his hand on hers on his arm and patted her soothingly as he felt her lean on him just a little bit more.

But with that final grumble, the rest of the walk took place in a companionable silence again, with her focusing on keeping her feet firmly beneath her and moving steadily. They paused at the bottom of the stairs up to the condo, and Miss Parker was glad she was wearing denim when she sat herself down on the steps tiredly. "You're a cardiac patient, and you live on a second floor walk up?" she asked him with a wry and disbelieving tone.

"Yes, well, I bought this place before my heart began to give me grief," he answered, leaning on the banister next to her. "These stairs were half the reason the doctor kept me in the hospital an extra day - he didn't want me working that hard quite so soon. But now I'm glad I have them - they help me keep in shape."

"OK, so you have a part-time psychiatric practice now. What else do you do with your time?" she pressed as she leaned her elbows on her knees again.

"There are my weekly chess games at the club house here at the complex," he listed. "That reminds me. Once you start to feel a little better, there is an exercise gym at the clubhouse, and a schedule of some Tai Chi and aerobics classes that you can join. There's also a swimming pool, which is really nice on hot evenings to relax."

"God, I got tired just listening to you list all that," she said, a smile dulling the sharpness of her words.

He smiled back. "There's enough to do here that I doubt that you'll find yourself bored for long."

"Retirement community?"

"Not at all," he shook his head. "A few of the residents have children, but there are strict noise abatement rules and designated playgrounds for the younger ones."

"And some of these people are your friends?" she asked, curious. "The people you called last night to tell that you were back again?"

"Yes."

She got to her feet again. "I think that until I have got some of my endurance back, I'll wait on visiting your clubhouse."

"I hope you won't take it amiss if I return to my previous schedule, however," he queried as he moved to her side and put a hand at her elbow to help her up the stairs. "One of the things I like most about living here is that I finally have people with whom to play chess regularly again. I haven't had that since..."

"Jarod left," she finished for him with a dry tone.

"Well..."

She narrowed her eyes. "Of course, you never ASKED anybody else..."

"You think not?" He was surprised at her tone. "I had a chessboard set up somewhere in the Sim Lab the entire time you and I worked together looking for Jarod - and I can remember several times when I was either working out a chess problem or simply playing a game with myself as opponent in your presence. I assumed that you didn't play anymore when you never ever even offered a move. Even Broots and I would play a game every once in a while, or he'd kibbitz when I would be working a problem..."

"I always figured that you wouldn't be satisfied with any opponent less masterful than Jarod," she said quietly as she waited for him to open the door for her. "After playing against a genius constantly for years, you must be a master."

"Did you know that Angelo played?" he asked her with a smile, stepping aside so she could go past him and through the door. "And played surprisingly well at that? I didn't, until after Jarod left, that is. I was working a problem, and he came down out of his vent and made the next move for me - and it was brilliant..."

"God, Sydney!" She turned and was standing there, shaking her head at him, half angry now. "It was always Angelo or Jarod with you, wasn't it? Why was it OK for you to ask Angelo to play, or even Broots, but you never bothered to think that I'd be interested?"

Sydney stared at her, then closed the door behind them. "Parker! Are you listening to yourself? Think, woman! You would breeze in and out of the Sim Lab like this busy corporate executive, only spending just enough time to either give orders, intimidate someone or get information before you were out the door again. Just WHEN did you expect me to invite you to a nice, leisurely game of chess, eh?" He stalked over to her, his hands at his hips. "Just tell me what your reaction would have been if I'd walked up to you - perhaps while Lyle was standing there - and asked, “Pardon me, Miss Parker, but would you be interested in a nice game of chess after work?”? Or should I have waited until after you had just bullied Broots into five more years' worth of prematurely grey hair to offer you a chance to relax over a chessboard?"

"Did you even THINK about it once?" she shot back, stung by the image he'd painted for her.

"No." There was no candy-coating that truth. "Once you came back from corporate, you had made it very plain that you wanted nothing to do with anybody other than your father outside of work. After all, we did not socialize, you and I, after your father sent you away to school. If you hadn't noticed, playing a game with someone requires a certain level of socialization with that person."

"What about NOW?" she demanded.

"What ABOUT now?" he retorted. "Now that I know you play, and that you would enjoy sitting down to a game, I'm sure we will play - and probably play often. Does that mean I can't enjoy my games with my other friends too, though?"

"No..."

"Do you honestly think that just because I spent time with Angelo and Jarod over the years - and considerably more of those years with them than with you for many, MANY reasons - I didn't enjoy your company when you WERE around? Did I ignore you back then?"

"Not exactly," she answered, feeling pushed into a corner where she would have to really LOOK at what had made her so unhappy. "It's just..." Her words ground to a halt.

"Just what?"

She looked at him, having swung away from her anger suddenly and suddenly defenseless. "It's just that it never seemed fair to me that you spent all that time with Jarod, teaching him, leading him, caring for him... and then later with Angelo, trying to reach him, to work past the damage Raines caused... and yet Daddy never ever spent a fraction..." She blinked hard, her eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears. "And then you never even wrote to me after I was sent to school..."

Sydney gaped again. "You WANTED me to write to you after you went away? Did it ever occur to you that it would have helped if you had written first, so I'd have known where to send a reply?"

The finely arched brows slid toward the center of her brow as the anger returned. "What do you mean, IF I had written first? What about all those letters I DID write, telling you how lonely I was in Switzerland with nobody who wanted to speak my language with me... I waited and waited, but you never answered them..."

"WHAT letters?" Sydney frowned and stepped forward. "Parker, I didn't GET any letters - not at the house, and not at the Lab. I was hoping to, considering that you and I were on friendly terms when you left - not to mention your friendship with Jarod and Angelo. I swear I watched for them carefully for months. But after a while, I figured your life had taken you in a different direction that didn't include us..."

His tone forced her to look carefully at him and see that he was genuinely telling her the truth and was upset at hearing that she had written after all. Here was another cause of so much pain and anguish over the years, suddenly exposed for the illusion it actually was. He HADN'T received the plaintive cries for help from a very homesick little girl - he HADN'T just ignored her at one of the worst times in her life. "That bastard," she hissed, squeezing her eyes closed at yet a new piece of evidence of the way she had been manipulated and betrayed by the man who had claimed her paternity. In a way, she was glad she wasn't his daughter really, now... Not that Raines was any more acceptable...

"He must have had the mail watched both at your school and at the Centre, so that no word from you made it to the Sim Lab. I have a hunch that he would have made sure no word from us made it back to you either." He used the back of his fingers to stroke her cheek gently. "My God, Parker! I didn't know. I swear to you..."

"Damn him!" she spat softly, then more loudly: "Damn him to Hell. Damn them all! Why? Why couldn't I have just ONE person allowed close? Why couldn't I have just ONE friend..." She slowly walked away from Sydney into the living room and crumpled dejectedly finally into a corner of the couch. "All this time, I thought you had just been too busy with Jarod, that you forgot I was even alive the moment I wasn't right there in front of you." She curled up, kicking her shoes off and pulling her feet up onto the cushion so she could hug her knees to her chest defensively.

Sydney took advantage of her movement and physical withdrawal to head quickly to the kitchen and retrieve two of the small squares of shortbread from the plate that still sat in the middle of his table. He came back out to the living room, sat down on the couch next to her, then tapped one of her clasped hands with his until she finally was convinced to look at him. He held out the hand, and eventually she uncurled enough so that she put out an open palm to receive his offering. "Here, these will give you a little energy boost - I think you need it."

"I even asked him about it, one time when he came to visit," she continued while nibbling obediently but absently on one of the shortbread cubes. "He told me that your work with Jarod had reached a very exciting and delicate stage - and that you just didn't have the time to deal with simple homesickness. He told me that homesickness was a weakness that we Parkers didn't show unless we were defective. He made me feel so guilty for feeling the way I did..."

"Christ!" Sydney shook his head at the blatancy of the lie and the cruelty of the manipulation she'd endured. "My work with Jarod was never more or less exciting or delicate from one day to the next for over thirty years. And I most certainly WOULD have been very happy to write back to you, had I known you had written. And I would have written quite often had I known how lonesome you were there."

"Did he EVER do anything but lie to me, Sydney?" she asked plaintively, swallowing the rest of the first cube and feeling the sweetness pull the dryness from her mouth.

He shook his head again. "I honestly don't know," he told her sadly. "From everything we've discovered, though, I hate to say that I suspect not."

She turned wide and vulnerable grey eyes to him that still held a healthy helping of skepticism and suspicion in their depths. "You aren't going to lie to me anymore, are you?"

"No, I'm not," he told her firmly. "Even if the truth is painful to us both, I will not lie to you - either by commission or omission. You've had too much of that - it's time you got used to hearing the unvarnished truth when all I can offer you is words. Where actions are concerned, however, I'm thinking that eventually you'll be able to pick out the truth for yourself. That's why I asked for time."

"You really didn't get my letters?" Her voice was small.

He shook his head sadly. "No, Parker, I really didn't get them."

"You really didn't love Jarod and Angelo more than me?"

Chestnut eyes blinked in muted surprise, then half-closed as he framed his response carefully. "The answer to that one depends. If you quantify love as equal to the time spent in the company of a person, I can't help but say that I had no choice but to love them more. After all, your father sent you away to school for a very long time, then kept you at the corporate office long after that." It was a truth, and not a comfortable one. Miss Parker's eyes looked down at the last cube of shortbread in her hand until Sydney's hand at her chin raised her gaze again to his. "But if you quantify love as a measure of the fondness a person feels in here for another," he pointed to his chest, "then I'd have to say no. I loved you no more and no less than I did Jarod or Angelo. You three were the closest I was ever going to get to having children of my own - I loved you each differently, and I couldn't be open about it to any of you, but I loved you all very much."

"Do you still love me, even after all the things I've ever said and done that..."

"Parker," he interrupted, putting a finger on her lips to still her words, "I went back to Delaware to find you and bring you back with me so I could be the one to help you regain your health and build a new life. I've given you return tickets - the freedom to stay or leave as you choose - and not obligated you here at all. I've told you that I think of you as a daughter, and I asked for a chance to let my actions show that I mean what I say. So, what do you think?"

That was almost as good as an admission - but not quite. A tear swam. "Why won't you say it?"

"Because," he answered softly, letting his hand hold her cheek again, "if I said it now, it would still be just words. Your father told you he loved you too, over and over again - did his actions prove his words?" He waited until she shook her head slightly. "Then you see why I refuse to do things the way he did."

"Is it that you can say it to Jarod, and not to me?" The tear hit the cheek.

"No," he replied, using a thumb to wipe away the tear, "I never said it to Jarod either - because I always thought that if I did, I would hold him back from finding his real family eventually. I loved him too much to ever let that happen - and I know he will resent never hearing it from me for as long as he lives, and that's a pain that will never go away. If he finds his family, however, then that pain will be worth it."

"And Angelo?"

He smiled softly. "Angelo already knew - the same way Angelo knew so many things. With him, words weren't necessary."

"What about Nicholas?"

He looked up at her again, startled. "I admit I felt a father's pride in Nicholas - in his accomplishments and in the kind of man he turned out to be - but it wasn't the same kind of love I felt for you three. He was my biological son - but I had no part in his childhood. We never had the time to explore our relationship more deeply before..." He stopped - that death was one he hadn't completely dealt with yet internally.

"I really need to hear it said," she whispered.

"Then you'll need to learn to listen with your heart," he replied softly, touching her on her sternum, "because I'm saying it as loudly as I can in all the ways that really matter."

"I really need to hear the words too," she countered, beginning to lean.

He gathered her into his arms and held her close. "The moment I know you're hearing it with your heart," he promised into her hair, "you'll start hearing the words too, often. Just wait and see."

"Please, Sydney," she begged. "Give me something to hold onto."

"I'm right here," he soothed gently. "You can hold onto me for as long as you need to. Feel this?" He tightened his hold on her, then felt her nod against him. "You can do that too, you know." Slowly her arms threaded themselves around him and she leaned into him with a sigh. "There, you see? Something - someone - to hang onto, anytime you need to." He held her close for a long and quiet moment. Then: "I'm not going anywhere, Parker. When you need to hold onto something, I'll be right here."

"Except when you have your weekly chess game," she countered, making a weak attempt at banter to break through the heavy emotionality of the moment.

"I never said that you couldn't come along - keep me company, and maybe kibbitz a bit..." He smiled with relief. Another crisis issue successfully lived through, more or less - and without a knock-down, drag-out fight. This time, at any rate - no doubt this jealousy, something he hadn't expected, stood a good chance of being revisiting more than once. At least it was out, now.

"Is that allowed?" Her question pulled him back to the discussion at hand.

"Not really, but I'm sure Paul would make an exception in your case. He has a soft spot for pretty faces."

"Paul?" He felt her stir, moving to pop the remaining shortbread into her mouth and then settle against him more comfortably while she chewed thoughtfully. "Your retired psychiatrist friend?" she asked finally.

The surprised chuckle built from within him. "Paul a psychiatrist? Not hardly! He's a professor of cultural anthropology at ASU. I met him at the clubhouse not long after I moved here."

"Is he old?"

"Mid to late forties, I think."

"Cute?"

Sydney bent his neck so he could look down at her face and saw the unexpected poignant smile there. She was trying to pull out of the blues into which their latest slogging through issues had gotten her. In that case... "Gee, Parker, I wouldn't know about that - I'm not generally attracted to men. You'll have to check him out for yourself and then tell ME."

She tsked at him for his trouble, making him chuckle again. Then: "Married?"

It was a moment before he answered her. "No." He tightened his hold on her. "Does it matter?"

She was silent for a moment - his question had been gently barbed and hit his target as if at point-blank range. "It didn't use to," she admitted, shifting again so that she was looking down and he could no longer see her face, "but it does now. I don't need to keep making the same mistakes anymore either."

"Good."

That small word of approval broke through the bubble of tension that had been building within her. Sydney had never been very reticent about chiding her when her behavior became too outrageous or improper - or her dress code too risqué. How had she missed those small demonstrations of caring before now - or why had she consistently chosen to see them as anything BUT his subtle way of saying he cared about her enough to least comment? Certainly Daddy had never bothered to lift even an eyebrow at her antics, despite her never having done any of those things for any reason except to catch his attention. And how much more this tiny word of approval in such matters now meant in light of that small revelation. Actions speaking louder than words indeed. He'd been talking to her that way for a very long time, it seemed. She just hadn't been listening.

She took a deep breath. "When's this chess game?"

"Tomorrow evening," he answered, catching the note of curiosity. "Seven-thirty."

"Maybe I will check out your clubhouse after all," she decided, then felt him tighten his arms around her just briefly.

"Good." He felt her sigh against him and relax, thoroughly contented just to be held close for the time being. "Feeling better now?"

She nodded. "I'm tired, and my legs will probably ache later, but I'm OK." She lay against his chest and listened as his heart beat steadily below her ear. Eventually she closed her eyes and let the warmth of his regard and his arms about her lull her into a light sleep.

Sydney smiled to himself as he felt her relax against him and knew her to be asleep. This is exactly what she needed - what she had always needed - and he would hold her for as long as she needed him to be there. Her journey to recovery - and his quest to reclaim the last of his children from the poison that was the Centre - had begun in earnest.

There would be NO turning back now.

The Visit - by MMB

Chapter 4: Beginnings


"Are you ready?" came the voice through the bedroom door.

Miss Parker smoothed her hands down her angora sweater for what was probably the twentieth time and then opened the door. "Is this appropriate?" she asked in return.

Sydney smiled. "You look fine, Parker," he soothed, noting the heightened nervousness in her gaze. "Are you sure you still want to do this? I can understand if..."

"No," she shook her head. "I want to. Besides, you wanted me to check this guy out, remember?"

"Excuse me. YOU wanted to check this guy out," he reminded her with a slight smirk. "All I wanted was a report on your findings. After all, I'm only interested in his mind - and his chess game..."

She tsked at him loudly and gave the top of his arm a playful swat, then leaned in for a hug, closing her eyes as his arms wrapped supportively around her immediately and held her close.

This was a completely foreign experience, the idea that she actually could ask for a little fondness, for a little undivided attention from Sydney, of all people, and begin to trust that it would be given to her immediately and without any reservation at all. And yet, over the last two days, the hugs had become the emotional equivalents to those little cubes of shortbread Sydney kept in ready supply on the kitchen table for whenever her strength wavered.

The first real hug had been at Sydney's instigation, and had ended up with her falling asleep in his arms and waking up nearly an hour later still cradled gently and patiently. While the experience had initially embarrassed her, his invitation both before and after the nap to hold onto him whenever she felt the need had proven irresistible - she was drawn to the offer of warmth and affection like a moth to a flame. Later that day, fresh from her nap after making the trip to the bank to deposit the several sizable cashier's checks that meant her financial independence and stopping for bare necessities at a grocery store, she had approached Sydney while he was puttering in the kitchen.

He had worked patiently around her for a bit while she stood, trying to work up both the nerve and the right words to say. Finally he had turned to look at her curiously. "What?"

"I..." She had blushed furiously - had she ever tried this with her father, the consequences would have been beyond disastrous...

Then his hand had brushed her cheek softly and reclaimed her attention to him. "What's wrong, Parker?" He'd tipped his head to one side, listening to her with all his senses. "Do you need something?" She'd nodded wordlessly, still blushing. "Then tell me," he urged softly. "It's OK, just tell me what you need."

Her grey eyes had flitted up to his and then dropped. "It's stupid," she finally managed.

"Let me be the judge of that," he countered. "Tell me."

She still couldn't look him in the eye. "You said... if I needed... I could hold..."

Sydney must have had an idea that was what she wanted, for he had simply opened his arms to her and gathered her close immediately. "I meant it," he said simply as she leaned against him with a deep sigh of relief, and then sighed in relief himself. She would never how much of a relief - what a real treat - it was to him just to be able to offer support and affection to one of his Centre “children” openly without fear of reprimand or negative consequence from any quarter. That she had actually come seeking it was a large and positive step for her.

They had stood that way for a long moment, until her need to demonstrate her ability to function independently again asserted itself and pushed her out of his embrace. "What are you doing?" she asked, pointing at the kitchen counter and the food that had been in the process of preparation. "Can I help?"

He had nodded without making any further commentary and then handed her some salad vegetables to prepare for supper that night to go with the tender chicken and gravy and rice.

Since that time, she had slowly grown braver with her requests as the response continued to be immediate and unreserved. But this hug was different - this time she was clinging - and Sydney could feel her nervousness running through her like an electric current. "There's nothing to be afraid of," he shushed at her into her ear. "Nobody is expecting you to do anything at all. And when you get tired, we'll come home."

"And maybe ruin your game?" She was shocked. "That wouldn't be fair."

Sydney set her away from him so that he could look into her face. "Listen. I told you that right now YOU are my main concern. You've been ill, and you still aren't completely on top of your game yet. Your health is more important to me than a chess game - and I doubt I'd get much argument from Paul about this either."

"I'll be OK," she grumbled. She wasn't entirely sure she was, but it had become important to her to prove this to both herself and to Sydney. She could function in public - she COULD - she wasn't a complete basket case, yet.

"I know you will," he soothed, and then gestured towards the door. "After you. It's a short walk to the clubhouse, but you can sit and rest once we're there."

The air outside was crisp and fresh without being bitingly cold, something she was still having a hard time wrapping her mind around. She wrapped her hands around his arm at the crook of his elbow, as had become her habit. They slowly ambled their way along the randomly winding sidewalk that led ultimately to the center of the complex and a well-lit and obviously populated building on the edge of the huge swimming pool.

"Sydney!" called out a silver-haired woman from the back of the room. "You're back!"

The psychiatrist held on tightly to the hand at his arm as the woman swooped across the room and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek. "Lydia." He turned, his eyes glowing assurance at the tall brunette at his side. "This is Parker, my daughter." Miss Parker flinched inwardly at the strange introduction and then felt wonder and belonging fill her with unexpected warmth. This was her new life starting up for her, regardless of whether she was ready for it or not. These people would never know her as anyone BUT Sydney's daughter Parker - to them, she would never be the Centre born and bred “Ice Queen” MISS Parker. It occurred to her suddenly that “Parker” would be a given name, not a surname, to these people. She straightened slightly on Sydney's arm, a shift that wasn't lost on the Belgian.

"And what a pretty girl she is too," the woman smiled sweetly at her. "I had no idea you had children, Sydney - you've never mentioned them before..."

Sydney ignored the prattle. "Parker, this is Lydia Simmons."

"Nice to meet you," Parker said softly, letting go of his arm just long enough to shake the woman's hand before reclaiming his elbow.

"Paul!" This time it was Sydney who called out, then wrapped an arm around Miss Parker's waist. "This way, Parker - and then you can sit."

He led them surely through the collections of tenants, greeting some, introducing others, until he had reached the other side of the room and a small table upon which a chess set and timer box sat at the ready. The steel-grey head of the man sitting on one side of the table watched their approach, and then he rose to his feet to tower over her by at least half a head.

"Sydney - you sly dog! Leave it to you Europeans to find and monopolize all the really pretty ones..." The man's voice was a sonorous baritone obviously accustomed to public speaking, and he had hazel eyes that shifted between brown and green by the moment and twinkled merrily.

"Parker, this reprobate is Paul Ruiz, probably the worst chess player in the entire valley. Paul, my daughter Parker." Sydney released her hand so that he could snag a chair for her from another unoccupied table.

Paul's steel eyebrows raised appreciatively. "Daughter?" He put out a hand that was large enough that it looked more like a bear paw. "Well, well! An honor to meet you, Ms. Green. Will you be staying with your father for a while?"

"I... uh..." He'd called her “Ms. Green?” Now it occurred to her that Sydney had given her a new name for a new life: Parker Green. And he would be referred to as “your father” by others speaking of him to her. The novelties were a lot to take in all at once and still function in a conversation.

Luckily, Sydney saw the lapse and was prepared to come to her rescue. "She's between jobs at the moment, and is recovering from a serious illness. I talked her into coming back to Arizona with me and letting me take care of her for a while." Sydney's easy explanation was pure and unadulterated truth, and Miss Parker gazed at him gratefully for saving her from bumbling through a far less believable half-truth. "I thought I'd bring her along and let her kibbitz tonight."

"You did, did you? And you thought you'd get away with that?" Those dancing hazel eyes caught and held the hesitant grey, then turned back to his friend. "Well, I tell you what - because its YOU... and provided that she kibbitzes into MY ear and not yours..." Paul looked back and saw her eyes widen and then reflexively glance at the silver-haired psychiatrist for reassurance, and bent toward her conspiratorially. "Your father beats the tar out of me constantly - frankly, I can use all the help I can get."

"I don't know that I'd be much help," she finally spoke for herself in soft tones. "I haven't played for a very long time. How about I just sit this one out as a spectator?"

The craggy face fell melodramatically, then regained its smile. "I know - I'll consider you my good luck charm for the evening."

"Sit down, Parker," Sydney urged her quietly, gesturing to the chair he'd acquired for her. She moved the chair so that it sat directly behind the time clock and seated herself. "Do you want me to get you some water or a cola before we get started?"

"No, I'm fine. You go ahead with your game."

The chair was comfortable, and the game was a friendly one that seemed to flow along with the conversation between the men. She paid attention for a while, then began to look around her a bit. Once she had figured out that the people here were all in small activity groups, all animated and in good spirits, she returned her focus to Sydney's and Paul's game. Paul played well for not paying that much attention to his strategy, although it was clear that Sydney was deliberately not taking advantage of several openings his opponent had offered. Parker watched her host's face carefully and realized that he was getting as much enjoyment out of the conversation that had never lagged as he was out of the game, and thus must be loath to bring the game to too quick a conclusion. The banter between the men was genuinely entertaining to observe in and of itself and often had her chuckling softly as one or the other would land a real zinger on their opponent. But finally, inevitably:

"Check mate." Sydney moved his queen and tipped Paul's king on its side.

"So much for my being your good luck charm," Miss Parker smiled in chagrin at the tall man who was slowly putting the chess pieces back in their starting position.

"I don't know about that," the beautiful voice answered her lightly. "I lasted about as long tonight as I ever have against him."

"Tired?" Sydney inquired gently.

"A little," she admitted reluctantly. "Do you normally play two games?" She eyed the reset and ready playing board.

"No," Paul answered her question. "It's just that this board is always left up and ready for the next pair of players." He looked up at Sydney and jerked his head in Miss Parker's direction. "She always this quiet?"

"Nooo..." Sydney drew out, earning him a slight glare from her, "but then, she's off her feed. Wait until she's feeling better."

"Thanks a lot..." Miss Parker grumbled, but Paul only chuckled.

"Actually, I'm looking forward to it," he offered, those hazel eyes twinkling again merrily at her in a way that prevented her from holding on to her grumpy mood at all. He turned back to Sydney. "Same time next week?"

The psychiatrist put out his hand. "Wouldn't miss it," he replied, shaking Paul's hand firmly.

The tall professor turned back to Miss Parker. "And I hope you see you again too, pretty lady," he smiled at her and grasped one of her hands in his big paws and very cavalierly put his lips to the back. "Perhaps I'll see you around the complex sometime."

The gesture made her blush slightly, but she smiled back at him. "Perhaps."

Sydney put up a hand in a wave. "Goodnight, Paul," he said and then claimed Miss Parker's hand for his elbow. "C'mon. Let's get you home before you fall in."

"Goodnight," she turned back to the tall man, who waved at her with a huge smile and watched the two of them walk slowly through the slowly emptying building and out into the night.

"Well?" Sydney inquired as they followed the winding sidewalk again.

"Well what?"

He patted her hand on his arm companionably. "You've had your chance to check him out now - so tell me: what do you think?"

"He's TALL," she quickly stated the obvious.

Sydney smirked. "I hadn't noticed," he quipped, earning himself a bump with a shoulder. "What else?" he chuckled.

"He can't play chess worth beans," she added after a moment. "You were being awfully kind to him - not wiping him out immediately..."

"You saw that, did you?" He was frankly surprised, but then shrugged. "I was enjoying the conversation..."

"That's what I figured," she told him. "I think you're as addicted to giving Paul a bad time and getting one back at you as you are to a chess game."

Sydney walked quietly beside her for a moment, and she knew she'd pegged him precisely. Then: "What else?" He waited, and when no answer was forthcoming, patted her hand on his arm again. "C'mon - if I know you at all, you were checking out more than just his height and chess game..."

"Sydney!"

"Well?!"

Now it was her turn to be quiet. "He's nice, Syd. He has a good sense of humor, and seems very kind."

"That much I did know. The question I couldn't answer for you yesterday, in case you don't remember, was “is he cute?” So... Is he?"

She opened her mouth to complain, then saw the small smirk in the light of a lamp and decided she'd play his game. She thought for a moment. "Yeah. He is - in an oversized teddy-bear kind of way."

Sydney chuckled quietly and patted her hands again, then moved aside so that she could lead the way up the stairs to the front door again. She waited for him to open the door, then led the way inside and turned on a light for them both.

"I think I'm going to turn in," she announced tiredly, no longer trying to stifle a yawn.

"I want you to know that I'm proud of you," he told her with a hand once more at her elbow. "You did very well today."

"And we didn't even argue once today - did you notice?" she grinned at him impishly.

"Hush," he put a finger to his lips, "don't jinx it!" He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight, Parker."

"Sydney?" She hadn't moved a step yet.

"Hmmm?"

Now she moved - to step closer and put her arms carefully around his neck. "Thank you."

He wrapped his arms around her tightly. "You're very welcome," he replied, touched.

She brushed his cheek with her lips. "Goodnight - see you in the morning, Syd."

"Sleep well, sweetheart," he replied, letting her go and stepping back. The endearment had slipped out accidentally, but he couldn't find it within himself to regret using it. Miss Parker smiled very quietly, noting that tiny step closer to the three words she desperately wanted to hear from a man now consistently behaving very much like a surrogate parent, and headed off down the hallway to her room.

Paul Ruiz WAS cute, she admitted to herself as she slid her nightgown over her head and sat down at the vanity to brush out her hair - cute, intelligent, with a wry wit and a way with words. And altogether quite attractive, both physically as well as in a way she'd never fully appreciated before. He seemed to take real pleasure in life and in whatever was being offered him in any moment - a trait that maybe some day she could emulate. And even in the short time she'd known him, she'd discovered that he had the ability to make her laugh. She would never underestimate that power again. And tomorrow, she'd pump Sydney for all he knew about Paul Ruiz.

Although tired, she had enjoyed her evening more than she'd imagined she would. She wouldn't be hesitating to join Sydney in his weekly trek to the clubhouse the next time, and maybe someday make her own treks - just to see what might happen then. Maybe Paul was there more than once a week...

She extinguished the light and crawled between the sheets of her bed, rolling on her side thoughtfully. “Parker Green” she repeated to herself carefully. It was a name she could live with - given her by a man she was growing fonder of by the minute. She closed her eyes, still rolling her new identity around in her mind and letting it sink in slowly. She wasn't Miss Parker anymore - and she'd never be that person again. She slipped quietly into slumber promising herself that she'd be exploring the person “Parker Green” far more thoroughly in the morning too. Suddenly she was looking forward to the morning for the first time in a very long time. She snuggled down into her pillow with a smile - it felt good to be looking forward again.

The nightmare began insidiously quietly, placing her in her very own bedroom in Sydney's condo with her asleep in the bed. Then she began to hear voices in the background - faint but troubling voices that put her every nerve on edge. Unable to resist, she rose from her bed and opened the door to see what was going on.

~There you are, Miss Parker,~ Lyle's voice spoke in her ear, and her arm was caught tightly in his grasp. ~You knew better than to try anything like this...~

~Sydney!~ she called out in fright, only to have Lyle thrust his leering face in hers.

~Calling for the shrink, eh? Well, let me take you to him.~ Lyle began dragging her down the hallway toward the living room - and the feeling of dread and outright horror began to mount.

~No...~ she whimpered, both in her dream and in reality, as the living room came closer.

~No...~ she whimpered louder as she rounded the corner and found Sydney sitting slumped on the couch with a pacing and feral-looking Mr. Raines in front of him.

She jerked around as Willy came crashing through the condo's front door, a disheveled and confused-looking Paul Ruiz clasped tightly. ~Found him,~ the black sweeper announced with lethal calm.

~What do you think you're doing?~ she cried, struggling to free herself from Lyle's tight control.

~Teaching you a lesson, Miss Parker,~ Raines sneered and then gestured to Willy.

~MISS Parker?~ Paul gasped, his beautiful hazel eyes widening with horror. ~You're HER?~ And then he was on his knees, gasping as Willy pulled the narrow switchblade from between his ribs. ~Why did you do this to me?~ he asked her pitiably as he collapsed at the sweeper's feet.

~NO!!~ she screamed, both in the dream and in reality.

~Don't you know that you can NEVER leave the Centre, Miss Parker?~ Raines wheezed painfully, gesturing at Willy again. ~And now we're going to make sure you have nothing left you except to come home to the Centre, where you belong.~ He gestured again, and Willy raised the gun and pointed it at Sydney.

~NO! God! Not Sydney!!~ she screamed as the gun exploded, throwing what was left of Sydney's head back against the soft pastel of the couch and spraying it crimson. Her beloved surrogate father sprawled against his couch in a posture that looked so much like Thomas had, sprawled against the woodpile...

~You should never have left Delaware,~ Lyle laughed at her as she struggled against his hands at her shoulders, her eyes pouring tears. ~You BELONG to us, Miss Parker. And now see what you've done...~

"Parker!" Sydney shook her shoulders even harder, feeling her struggle against someone or something within her nightmare that had her screaming and dragging him out of a sound sleep. He pulled her closer to him and wrapped her in his arms, disregarding her struggles, and continued to pat a little less than gently at her cheek. "Parker! Wake up, sweetheart! It's just a dream!"

~You will never escape, Miss Parker. Your body may be somewhere else, but WE know where your mind will return...~

"Parker!" Sydney's patting on her cheek became a light slap. "C'mon Parker..."

With a jerk she pulled herself out of the dream only to find herself trapped within an embrace, and she continued to struggle until finally Sydney's calls to her penetrated her panicked mind. Then she sagged against him, wrapping her arms around him tightly and burrowing as deeply into his arms as she could get, sobbing bitterly.

"It was just a dream," he soothed into her ear, his brows furrowed in concern. He'd known Jarod had nightmares - and over time had come to understand how and why those nightmares had arisen. Thinking about it, he could now imagine that Miss Parker had been similarly plagued over the years - but what could have possibly triggered this latest one? The day had been such an easy and gentle one with no major conflicts... He began rocking her gently from side to side, murmuring soft and soothing nonsense sounds to her and softly singing snippets of French lullabies - anything to calm her from her hysterics.

Eventually her sobbing waned, leaving her gasping and limp and still huddled miserably against him. At last she could feel him stroking her hair, hear him shushing at her gently, feel the soft flannel of his pajama shirt beneath her cheek, hear the steady and healthy beat of his heart in her ear. She tightened her hold around him anyway, the vision of him sprawled lifelessly across his couch still echoing viciously in the back of her mind. "They... they killed you..." she finally choked out.

"Who did?" Sydney tightened his arms around her in response.

"Raines, Willy... and Lyle..." she shuddered. "You were sitting... on the couch... Raines ordered it and Willy... executed..." she choked on another sob. "I couldn't stop them..."

"Hush..." he soothed.

"There was blood all over everything...

He stroked her hair. "I'm here. I'm OK - it was only a dream..."

"They killed Paul too..." she continued, the tears starting anew. "...as a lesson for me... said I'd never escape..."

"Shhhhhh..." he hushed at her again, now understanding a little better. He had very deliberately taken several small but important steps with her that night - presented her to others as his daughter, taken her surname and turned it into a given name instead and given that to others as well. In essence, he had carefully and deliberately opened the gateway to the new life he'd promised her and let her glimpse inside. The nightmare, it stood to reason, was her mind struggling with the dichotomy between what had been and what now seemed to be inevitable.

"This is just the worst part of the withdrawals from the Centre. Remember me telling you about them?" He felt her nod slowly against his chest. "Mine were bad enough, but your exposure to that poison has been at a toxic level for years - it's no wonder this happened."

"I'm afraid..." She shuddered again as if to illustrate.

"I know you are. But I'm right here, and I've got you. Hang onto me, Parker." He cradled her as closely and as tightly as he could.

"They said I belonged to them..."

"Hush! You don't belong to them - you never did - they just want you to believe you do, it gives them control. You're free, Parker." He kissed her hair. "They don't even know where you are - you know that as well as I do. We left them no trail to follow."

"The cashier's checks..." she worried suddenly. The Centre was a master at sniffing out even a hint of a paper trail - it was an ability she'd taken advantage of far too often during the hunt for Jarod.

"You can withdraw it in cash in the morning and deposit it elsewhere, if you're worried," he soothed, "under your new name would probably be a good idea too..."

She settled against him, no longer huddling miserably but still very much in need of all the support he was giving her. What was more, she was slowly realizing that of all the nightmares she'd had in her life, starting when she was still a child not long after her mother had left, this was the first time she'd been comforted, soothed, since Tommy had been in her life. Not once had Mr. Parker risen from his bed to bother with a screaming or crying child - rather, he would wait until morning and then verbally scold and shame her for crying out and disturbing his rest in the night. All the rest of them, save the few that Thomas had helped her through, she'd had to handle alone - until now.

"I... I'm sorry I awakened you..." she said suddenly, just in case the apology could forestall any recriminations in the morning.

"Pfft! Don't be silly," he shook his head. "There's nothing to be sorry about." He stroked her hair again and then slowly loosened his hold. "Better now?" She nodded, still contented to lean against him. "Then let's get you tucked in so you can try to get some sleep."

Finally she let go of her desperate hold on him and let him push her back into her pillow and begin settling the covers over her. He settled back down on the edge of the bed next to her and gently brushed the hair back from her face. "You're safe, Parker. Go back to sleep now."

Grey eyes that were red and puffy from crying looked up at him trustingly. "Sydney?"

"Hmmmm?"

"I can't go back - I don't want to."

His hand continued to smooth back her hair. "I know, ma petit. You don't have to, I swear it."

"I don't know what I'd do if you..."

"I'm not going anywhere, Parker. I'm right here."

She thought for a moment. "You really don't mind if I take your last name as my own?"

Sydney smiled at her. Yes, it made sense that this would be something she'd want a little reassurance about - and that the discussion would come at him from an oblique angle. "I think that it would make sense, since I'm telling everyone that you ARE my daughter, that you have my name - don't you?" He smoothed her hair again. "For what it's worth, I would be very proud to share my name with you."

She gazed up into his face in the dimly lit room, and suddenly, she just knew. The realization flooded through her with a strength that she'd never known before. All that he'd done, all that he'd been doing for years - suddenly it fell into place. Some of the fears the nightmare had created within her withered and evaporated away - no matter what, the Centre would never be able to take this knowledge away from her. The road ahead might not be smooth, but she no longer had any doubts. And her newfound conviction gave her the strength to say what needed to be said.

"I love you, Sydney."

Those beautiful chestnut eyes filled with tears that quickly spilled onto chiseled cheeks. His hand moved to cup her face tenderly. "I love you too, Parker." He bent and kissed her cheek gently. "Close your eyes and go to sleep now, sweetheart. I'm right here."

Feeling more secure than she had in a very long time, with the words she'd so needed to hear echoing loudly in her mind at last, she did as he asked.

The Visit - by MMB

Chapter 5: Obstacles


Sydney shuffled quietly down the hallway towards the kitchen, then stopped as the first whiff of fresh coffee met him. Yawning, he pulled the edges of his corduroy bathrobe together and tied the belt more securely around his waist and then proceeded in the direction of the kitchen using his fingers to brush his hair into some semblance of order. For the first few days Parker had been staying with him, it had been he that rose first and made the coffee for breakfast - today, however, she evidently had awakened first. One look at her face and he knew the reason why she had awakened first.

He moved behind her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as she stood slowly preparing breakfast for the two of them. "You're up awfully early," he commented. "Don't tell me..." Her screams had awakened him again the previous night, in what seemed to be becoming a regular event. When she nodded wordlessly, he rubbed her shoulder gently through the velour of her bathrobe. "I'm sorry to hear that. I was hoping..."

"You know, Sydney, it's getting so that I'm afraid to go to sleep anymore."

"I know, ma petite," he soothed, reaching around her for the pair of coffee mugs and carrying them over to where the coffeemaker was still trickling dark wakefulness into the pot. "I know it's hard to believe right now, but the nightmares WILL stop eventually, I promise you."

"I sure hope so." She poured the scrambled eggs into the frying pan and began patiently tending them. She looked over her shoulder at her host, noting the hint of fatigue still written on his face as the result of more interrupted sleep. "This isn't much easier on you either - my waking you up in the middle of the night every night lately - and I'm sorry for that."

"Hush. You have nothing to apologize for," Sydney shushed at her. "I told you I knew pretty much what I was in for - and that I went through my own set of withdrawals. I admit I didn't go through anything half as drastic as you are..." He thought for a moment as he scratched his head sleepily. "I think maybe we should start having you take one-hour cat-naps throughout the day to make up for the lack of restful sleep at night, however."

"As long as I don't end up with my days and nights mixed up," she warned him, turning the yellow mass in the frying pan skillfully.

"I don't think we'll have to worry too much about that for a while yet," he told her frankly as he opened cupboard doors and put two plates next to her as she stood at the stove. "You have a long way to go before you're anywhere near caught up on your rest, Parker." He went to the fridge and pulled out a loaf of bread and a cube of butter. "At least this isn't messing with your appetite," he commented, dropping two slices of bread into the toaster and pushing the lever down.

"As if you'd let ANYthing mess with THAT," she responded with a patient glance over her shoulder at him. "And I have to admit that even though I'm tired, I'm not feeling that bad anymore. In many ways..."

He looked back at her fondly then turned to pour two mugs full of coffee. "Yes, you've come a long way," he admitted, "but let's not get over-confident here. You have a ways to go yet - and that's just physically. These constant nightmares are telling you that there are deeper emotional issues that are beginning to bubble up too. We'll have to work on that end of things too, eventually..."

"I've always had nightmares, Syd - ever since I was very young," she reminded him.

"I know that. Most people don't, however. And you're having them nightly - or more often than that now." He shook his head. "Something else is at work here other than just a fear that the Centre will start chasing you like it chased Jarod all those years."

"You mean, you don't think they're just Centre withdrawal symptoms anymore?" she asked unhappily.

"I'm starting to think that while the first nightmare or so was strictly withdrawal, it may have opened the door for something else that desperately needs to bubble out too." He put the mugs down at their places at the table, then turned back to the toaster to butter the newly heated bread.

"God, you'd think dealing with the idea that Raines and Company are going to slither into Scottsdale, murder you and haul me back to Delaware is enough bilge for one person's lifetime." Her voice was bitter as she put the frying pan back on the stove and carried the plates to the table with the scrambled eggs divided evenly between them, then sat down once the plates were in their proper place.

Sydney brought the plate with the finished pieces of toast to the table and seated himself at his now-customary place. "But that's just it - you're not the kind of person from whom I would expect this," he told her gently, "otherwise your overall personality would have been quite different - and your reactions to the events of your life quite different too. For you to be suffering repeatedly from such frankly stress-filled nightmares NOW means that there is something else powering the dream time paranoia - an event or experience that your mind has shut away rather than deal with."

"Why can't I just be normal?" she complained before sipping at her coffee.

"Don't worry - you ARE normal," he assured her firmly. "Normal people would need time to decompress after spending so much of their lives in that hellhole. That's why I'm not surprised at the nightmares per se - a certain amount of textbook-quality Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome from you was what I expected all along. But like I say, something else is behind what's going on now. And that's what we'll have to uncover and deal with in order to win you a restful night's sleep."

"But..." she continued, undeterred, "Why does it have to be ME who is developing these night fears NOW?"

"You might as well ask why you were born in Delaware, or why you're female," Sydney replied dryly. "We'll just have to be patient - whatever is fueling this WILL show itself eventually. Then we'll deal with it and be done with it."

Parker took a slow bite of her eggs and then moved some of the remainder about on her plate absently with her fork. "I'm really afraid," she admitted finally, looking up at him with wide grey eyes. "I don't know why, Sydney, but I'm so afraid... I don't like this..."

He put out a hand and clasped her empty one warmly. "I know, sweetheart. That fear you feel just thinking about it is, in itself, a warning sign too, you know. Whatever is coming will probably not be a walk in the park for you at all - more than likely, you've been hiding this from yourself for a very good reason. But just remember - you don't have to face this alone. We'll get through this." He squeezed her hand again and then let go of it to return to his own breakfast. "Maybe we can start investigating this a little bit. Why don't you tell me what happened after Broots and I were gone to make you so give up on living. I fully expected you to be miserable when I came back for you - but not to find you among the walking dead. How much do you remember clearly?"

She picked up her coffee mug as she searched her memory for events that had happened after Broots' sudden resignation. "Once everyone was gone - Jarod, Angelo, Broots, you - everything just seemed to slow down," she mused, propping her chin up in an open palm. "Raines assigned me a new team for the hunt for Jarod - another computer tech that wasn't half as skilled as Broots and probably the most dour and humor-deprived psychologist from the entire Psychogenics Department - and after several months of digging, we were still coming up with absolutely nothing. Lyle had his own team like mine, and I knew he wasn't any more successful than I was when MY computer tech found HIS computer tech hacking into our files."

Sydney nodded, pushing his empty plate away and taking up his coffee cup. "That sounds like Lyle - why work hard when you can steal the results from someone else."

She nodded. "Well, I found out why he was willing to steal. Once it became known we were still coming up just as empty as always, it wasn't a week before Raines had us both before T-boards. They kept at me for four days straight." Sydney winced. That was enough to give anybody nightmares. "Lyle's went for five."

Grey eyebrows rose in surprise. "Five?!"

"Raines considered that Lyle wasn't functioning under a disadvantage - I evidently was still under suspicion of helping Jarod stay free. Yours and Broots' sudden departures was twisted into implied evidence of that." She smiled humorlessly and then popped another bite of egg into her mouth. "So of course that meant failure, for Lyle, was a more costly issue."

"Is that what made you sick?" he finally asked carefully. "Did you stop eating after the T-board?"

"No..." She furrowed her brow and thought hard for a bit, then looked up at him. "You know, I don't remember very much after the T-board, though - not until the day you found me at the cemetery. Everything else is just kind of a blur..."

Sydney nodded knowingly. "Then whatever it is that is giving you these nightmares must have come sometime after the T-board exam."

Parker shuddered, yet forced herself to finish her egg before it was cold and unappetizing. "I don't want to think about it anymore," she pleaded, not meeting his gaze for the first time in a long time. "Please, Sydney? Just thinking about those times makes me feel like... I don't know... Let it go for a while, please?"

Chestnut eyes studied her mood and reactions carefully even as he nodded agreement. "I think I have enough to work with for the time being," he told her gently and saw her sigh deeply with relief and finally look up to meet his eye again. "I also think we'll just walk a block or so today - both of us are still a little tired, so there's no need to wear ourselves completely out before noon."

"Would you be very put out with me if I asked that we NOT take a walk this morning?" she asked with a yawn. "I mean, if I take a shower this morning, and I need to if I'm going to be publicly presentable, then I'm going to need a nap before I do much of anything else after that..."

"I'll compromise with you," he nodded. "You take your shower and then nap out here on the couch for an hour or so, and then we'll decide whether we go on a walk after that. How's that sound?"

She stood and then bent to deposit a kiss on his cheek before gathering the dishes. "You're a pussy-cat, you know that?"

"Remember this the next time you're angry at me for pushing you when you don't want to get pushed anymore," Sydney chuckled up at her. "Better still, I'll remind you. But go on, now - I'll handle the dishes, you go take your shower."

Parker smirked and deposited her dishes in the sink and then turned to do as he directed. Even that little bit of banter had had the power to help lift her mood - and a nice hot shower sounded like just the remedy for the early morning drags. She collected the clothing she had chosen for the day from where she'd put it out on the bed and headed for the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

She still could hardly believe the turn-around her life had taken since agreeing to come to Arizona with Sydney. Less than a week ago she'd been merely going through the motions of living amid the bleak and desolate ruins of a life that held no friends, no hope, no solace. Now she was wrapped in the warmth of Sydney's affections - he was shamelessly coddling her back towards a healthy life and comforting her when the dregs of that old and painful existence threatened her serenity. She had a new name - Parker Green - and a new life ready for her to shape it when she was ready to take up the challenge. Her old identity “Miss Parker”, “Ice Queen” of the Centre, seemed light-years away from “Parker Green,” Sydney Green's pampered and protected daughter. She even had made a new friend in Sydney's chess partner, Paul Ruiz, a friendship she hoped she'd feel more up to exploring in the near future. While Sydney gave her love and support without reservation, Paul had the power both to make her laugh and to make her feel dainty - the latter no mean feat.

When the water was hot enough, she opened the velour robe and slipped out of the silken nightgown and stepped into the tub and under the steaming and pulsing showerhead. When she'd arrived, she'd barely had the strength to walk from one room to the next. Now, with several days of Sydney's constant attention to her nutrition behind her, she was walking farther and feeling peppier than she had for a long time. She squeezed a small amount of her favorite shampoo into her hand and worked her hair into a lather. Were it not for those damned nightmares, she'd have been genuinely happy for the first time in her life since her mother left her - since Thomas.

Leaning back, she let the warm water rinse through her hair, running her fingers through it until they squeaked and told her all the shampoo was gone. She applied an equally small dollop of body wash to her bath puff and scrubbed herself with the fragrant lather that emerged from that. Then she stood under the hot stream and let the water wash over her, rinsing the soap away along with much of her fatigue. She rinsed the puff and turned off the water and stepped from the tub, using a smaller towel to wrap her wet hair in and then reaching for the huge, thick towel with which to dry herself.

And at that point, the lights in the bathroom died, leaving her in an absolute darkness that struck at her unexpectedly and viciously like a sledgehammer to the chest.

Sydney's brows furled briefly when he heard the refrigerator motor suddenly die, and he turned and gazed at the kitchen clock for a moment until he could see that the second hand wasn't moving at all. The sudden, dim wail of a siren slowly coming closer told him the story - someone had collided with some part of the electrical power grid. It was a bane of city life, drunks hitting power poles. He stepped over to the glass doors of the balcony and shifted the curtains back to peer outside at the stoplights at the busy intersection below, finding them also dark and the streets already clogged with drivers having to carefully take turns through the intersection.

With a sniff, he returned to rinsing the dishes and stacking them in the dishwasher for washing later, then shuffled down the hallway to his own bedroom and bath for a quick shower and shave to finish off his morning routine. He glanced at the bathroom door at the end of the hallway, a little surprised to see it still completely closed. There was no window in that tiny room of the condo to let even the smallest ray of sunlight in - so with the door closed, it must be pitch black in there. No sound of water running came to his ears. She must be out of the shower by now, he thought, and wondered again at the still-closed door. Something wasn't right.

"Parker?" he called softly, knocking on the door, "are you alright?"

He heard a soft whimper from within - a sound that galvanized him into action. "Parker?" he called a little more loudly, trying the knob and finding it locked. "Are you OK? Talk to me, sweetheart." The only sound that he could hear as an answer was another small whimper.

Grim-faced, he walked quickly into his bedroom and straight to his closet, dragging out an old and barely-used toolbox. Selecting the finest straight screwdriver he could find, he hurried back to the bathroom door and inserted the screwdriver through the little hole in the knob, searching for and then finding the slot that allowed the door to be unlocked from the outside. He felt the lock give and withdrew the screwdriver so he could turn the knob and push the door open.

She was curled into a small knot against the wall by the stool - her mouth open and obviously straining for breath and her eyes wide and terror-filled, with only the tiniest grey rim around the dark pupil. She had pulled her knees to her chest and was hugging them tightly even as she struggled to catch her breath. Slowly the realization that there was light in the room again penetrated her panic, and she finally focused on the silhouette of a very concerned Sydney standing in the center of the open doorway.

"Parker!" He moved and knelt by her, putting a hand on the chilled skin of her shoulder and feeling her tremble violently at the touch. "My God! What is it?"

"Can't... breathe..." she gasped painfully. "Chest... tight..."

Sydney frowned as he put his arm around her and pulled her toward him. A panic attack over being plunged into darkness? What the hell WAS she working through? "C'mon, sweetheart, let's get you out of here." It took work, and a good deal of soothing and coaxing, to get her back up on her feet. He reached for her robe, hanging on a hook, and drew it over her head. "Put your arms in the sleeves," he directed firmly, watching her numbly follow his instructions. He zipped the robe over the towel and then led her from the bathroom and back to her bedroom. With a tiny push, he had her sitting on the edge of her bed, and he was quick to sit down next to her, one hand moving in slow and gentle circles across her back. "You can breathe, Parker, relax. You're OK. Don't try so hard - shallow breaths, sweetheart..."

She leaned into him, and he held her carefully, his hand at her back still stroking her soothingly while she struggled to bring herself back into control. "I can't... do this... Sydney," she choked out, still shaking and feeling her heart beating so fast in her chest that she thought it might break free.

"We obviously can't let this continue this way," Sydney agreed, his hand still moving gently on her back. "I think waiting will only make things harder for you. It looks as if we'll have to go after this one deliberately - get through it as quickly and directly as possible." Parker whimpered miserably against his chest in protest. "I know, I know," he soothed then, "but this is the only way to put an end to stuff like this, and you know it."

She shuddered, and he tightened his arms around her for a while, giving her all the strength he could through his embrace. Then: "Get dressed, Parker, and I'll do the same - when you're dressed, just go crash on the couch in the living room. I'll be out shortly, and then we'll deal with this once and for all."

"What are you going to do?" she asked in a small voice, finally having her breath back enough to speak clearly again.

"Hypnosis," he told her quietly. "That way, hopefully I can help you look at whatever it is that's causing you so much pain without your having to suffer through the fear or emotions or pain again."

She looked up at him, and her eyes, while obviously filled with fear, also held a note of something he'd not seen from her in a long time: complete trust. She sighed a shuddering sigh as he loosened his hold and she sat herself up. "I guess the sooner we get to it, the sooner it's over," she commented in an almost defeated tone.

Sydney made quick work of shaving and just washing his face in lieu of a shower and then got dressed as fast as he could. She was already sitting primly on the couch when he returned to the living room, her hair still wet and merely brushed back out of her face.

"Lie down," he directed, finding a seat on the coffee table next to her, "and make yourself comfortable." He watched her settle into the pillows and move about a little until she looked up at him, ready. "Now I want you to listen to the sound of my voice. Close your eyes and let your concentration focus until the only thing you are aware of is the sound of my voice..." Slowly, gently, he talked her down into a hypnotic state until he was satisfied. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes." Her voice was soft and uninflected.

"I want you to let your mind wander back through your memories of recent days, back before your trip to Arizona, back to walking away from the T-board you sat after your new team found no traces of Jarod." Sydney watched as her brow furled slightly and she shifted as if nervous. "You will remember that you are only an observer to these memories. You will feel no pain, no fear. It will be as if you are watching the actions of someone else. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she replied, settling down again and her face smoothing into serenity.

"Do you go home after the T-board?"

"Yes," she replied softly. "I sleep and then go back to work the next day as if nothing had happened."

"Is this while Lyle was having his T-board?"

She smirked slightly. "Uh-huh." She sounded almost satisfied at the discomfort her twin was no doubt experiencing in his turn.

"What happens then?"

Parker's brow folded again. "It's about a week later. I am... in my office, drinking coffee and studying the latest psychological profile from the new psychiatrist, Filmore, and..."

"What?"

"I'm getting so sleepy..."

Sydney frowned. "Do you mean your coffee was drugged?" She nodded. "What is happening when you wake up?"

"I'm on a... hard bed..." she remembered, her brow folding more tightly now.

"Relax. You're just an observer, remember?"

She nodded and some of the nervousness evaporated again. "I'm in a room - in the Renewal Wing, I think. Mr. Raines is there. He's giving me some sort of injection. God!" She sat nearly straight up, her hands at her chest and throat. "I can hardly breathe..."

Sydney's hands were at her shoulders immediately. "Easy, Parker. Lie back and calm down. You are just an observer. You will feel no pain. Take a deep breath and tell me what you see and hear."

"Mr. Raines is telling me that he had warned me that failure was not an option. He says, 'Maybe THIS will convince you to look harder for Jarod.'"

She was still having problems keeping herself calm, and Sydney put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "Take a deep breath and let go of the memory for a moment. You are in a safe and warm place, where nothing can harm you. Do you feel it?" She nodded slowly. "Breathe in that safety and warmth and let it fill you from top to bottom. You will return to the memory, but you will be only an observer. You are full of safety and warmth, and nothing you see or hear will touch you. Do you hear me?"

"Yes," she said once more in a soft and uninflected voice, her face serene.

"OK, Mr. Raines has just told you that what he is doing will convince you to work harder. What is happening now?"

Her voice was shaking again. "He's giving me another injection, and my chest is getting tighter. I can't... breathe..."

Sydney tightened his hand on her shoulder. "My hand keeps you tied into that place where you are safe and warm. You can breathe, and you can tell me what happens next."

Parker shuddered, then took a breath. "He is moving my bed into... into a dark box... closing me into... Oh, God! I think I'm in a coffin... I can't breathe..." Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. "He's killing me..."

Sydney's stomach was roiling at the thought of this torment that not only had been perpetrated on Jarod many years earlier, but so recently on Parker too. For a brief moment, he knew that if Raines were in the room with him now, he WOULD kill him. "Move forward in time, Parker. Take a deep breath - you are safe and warm and moving smoothly past this darkness. What happens next?"

"I feel... pounding... on my chest... a tube in my throat..." She swallowed hard. "I can breathe again... but I hurt... a lot..." She rubs her chest over her sternum. "Mr. Raines comes back and tells me that the next time I come here, he may not revive me..." A tear slid down the side of her face. "My God! I'm going to have to go through this again because there's no sign of Jarod... I can't let him kill me like this... I can't live this way..."

"OK, Parker, I want you to let go and return to the warm and safe place." He paused a bit, and her face cleared of all emotion. "Are you back where it's warm and safe again?" She nodded. "You will remember everything about this event that you have previously forgotten. But now every time you think of this event you will feel my hand on your shoulder and immediately know that you are now safe and warm - that Mr. Raines cannot touch you here." He waited again and let his suggestions sink into her deep unconscious. "And now I want you to slowly bring your concentration back to this room, with me. You will open your eyes, feeling as if you had just had a restful night's sleep, when I count to three. One... Two... Three..."

Her grey eyes blinked open, and Sydney could see the memory of that horrible day was floating on the surface of her mind, free and unencumbered at last. Another tear slipped down the side of her face, and then she was sitting up, arms outstretched and reaching for Sydney to hold her. "My God," she whispered as she felt him enfold her tightly. "I didn't realize..."

"That explains why even the slightest possibility of being forced to return to the Centre is so distressful to you too," he soothed into her ear. "It represents a return to the very real threat of your own murder." He kissed her gently. "I had no idea that Raines would try such a thing! I should never have waited so long to come for you! If I had..."

"No," she countered, shaking her head against his chest, "if you had come earlier, I wouldn't have felt that my options were exhausted, and I'd have stayed. It's not your fault that Raines is a monster." She pushed herself away so that she could reach up and wipe away the tears that were falling from his eyes this time. "I know myself, Syd. I had to hit absolute bottom before I could hear you. Don't blame yourself! I'm just glad you did come back for me - now more than ever." She pressed herself back into his arms again. "I love you so much, Sydney."

"I love you too, ma petite belle cheri," he whispered against her hair, never so grateful that she was with him as in that moment. "My God, I almost lost you," he shook his head and leaned his wet cheek against her hair, pulling her possessively as close to him as he could.

Parker nestled contentedly against him and let her mind carefully examine the memory of the days that had followed the incredible event she'd just had restored to her, for they were no longer just an indiscriminate blur. Now she could bring to mind the knowing, threatening looks she'd received from Raines every day without fail following her near-death experience - the ominous phone calls at all hours of the day and night - and understand her violent reaction to them. Now she could see how each one of those glares and phone calls had weakened her will to live just that much more, how each had been a deliberate and malicious assault on her. Now she could see how, on the day she'd visited the cemetery, her hold on life - on sanity itself - had become so very tenuous. And now she could fully appreciate how Sydney's arrival had literally saved her life - because if Raines hadn't killed her soon as he threatened, she would have died soon anyway.

"I want to walk in the sunlight today," she announced quietly. "I have a new life to start, and I want to get well enough to do that. It's time to put the past behind me at last and start moving forward." She felt Sydney sigh and then nod above her. "And I want to do something else too from now on - I've been thinking about it for a while - but I need your permission first."

"What's that, ma petite?"

She pushed herself away from him so that they could once more look at each other. "I don't think a daughter should call her father by his first name, do you?" Slightly weepy and very startled chestnut came up to meet her grey. "And “Daddy” reminds me of something and someone I'd just as soon put behind me," she continued, and then grew just a bit hesitant. "Would you mind very much if I called you “Papa” instead?"

"Parker, I don't know what to say..."

"A simple yes or no will suffice..." A shaky smile disarmed what could otherwise have sounded like a barb.

"Yes!" The word exploded from him, followed by an equally hesitant smile that grew into one of his rare and wide grins of true pleasure. "I think I'd like that very much."

"Then, Papa," she tried the name on her tongue for the first time and found it easier to say than she'd thought, "how about I take you out to lunch? We can walk to that soup and salad and sandwich place we saw yesterday..."

Greying eyebrows rose. "Are you sure you're up to that after everything you've put yourself through this morning?"

She nodded firmly. "It's an early celebration for me. This is my first day hopefully free of that horrible darkness at last, and my first day with my Papa." She looked into his face searchingly. "This impromptu therapy session hasn't worn YOU out, has it?"

"Don't be silly!" he rose and held out his hands to her to help her to her feet as well. "Right now I think I could take on all comers."

"Let me go get my purse then..." she smiled at him, amazed at how rested she did feel after that emotional rollercoaster. Sydn... her Papa must have ended the hypnotic session with a suggestion that she feel rested once she awoke. She smiled to herself. Her Papa - that had a good sound to it, very acceptable.

Sydney watched her go down the hallway toward her room with a spring in her step that he hadn't realized had been missing for a very long time - since long before he'd left Delaware the first time. He felt cautiously optimistic that while the nightmares might take a night or two to resolve completely yet, he'd uncovered enough for her to be able to come out from beneath this latest cloud on her own steam.

The restaurant Parker wanted to go to was two full city blocks away, and the walk was a sedate but subtlely energized one. Her hands on his arm were quite clingy still, but this time she held onto him tightly in a very positive and possessive way - and Sydney had covered her hands with his free one in an equally possessive gesture. Their conversation as they ambled along steered completely clear of anything remotely related to Delaware, the Centre, Raines or her recovered memory - it was as if she was seeing the narrow green belt of Indian Wash Park through fresh eyes and was filled with questions about everything she saw. Indeed, she felt as if she was finally waking up from a very long sleep where her very vision had been restricted by blinders. The fresh and new leaves on the palo verde trees that lined the wash caught her attention, as did the ravens and roadrunners that flitted among the branches. The breeze of the warming springtime was gentle on her cheek and caressed her ears and neck, lifting hair that was soft and curly because she hadn't blown it straight.

They were shown to a table near the window, and in the light Sydney was able to appreciate the difference just a week of care had made in his companion's - his daughter's, he reminded himself - face. She had taken the time to use makeup to hide the dark circles from her interrupted nights, but she didn't need makeup to hide sunken cheeks any longer. Some of the softer lines were slowly returning, and the gentle curls and waves in her hair was a pleasant change from the smooth that had been “Miss Parker.” He made a mental note to mention to her that he liked the new look that she'd chosen for the day and suggest she keep it. Her grey eyes were no longer tired and defeated - and for the first time in ages, there was the slightest hint of sparkle behind those expressive grey eyes that reminded him so much of her mother.

"I didn't realize you two came here for lunch," a rich voice spoke from behind Sydney, and he turned slightly as Paul walked up next to their table - obviously on his way to his own. "Hi there, pretty lady," he smiled at Parker, noting that she smiled at him much more easily than before. If anything, Sydney's daughter was even prettier than he remembered.

"Join us," she offered, gesturing at one of the empty chairs at their table. "We haven't ordered yet..."

"Thanks, but I have a department meeting that has just relocated from a board room to a big booth," Paul answered, using his nose to point to a boisterous group of people just seating themselves at the huge booth at the back of the restaurant. "Maybe next time?"

"OK," she answered gently.

The tall professor looked over at his colleagues, and then back down at the pair seated at the smaller table. "Look, there's going to be a potluck and dance at the clubhouse tomorrow evening. I know you don't normally go for such things..." Paul said to Sydney, "but I was thinking maybe I could lure your lovely daughter into joining me."

"You know as well as I do that the reason I've avoided those potlucks is because I'd have to put up with Lydia's outrageous overtures," Sydney grumbled good-naturedly. He saw Parker's raised eyebrow and hastened to explain. "Lydia Simmons is a widow who is on the lookout for her next husband..."

"And has pretty well announced it to the complex that Sydney is the one she wants," Paul filled in the rest of the story for his friend, then chuckled heartily at the dour expression that flooded the Belgian's face.

"Papa didn't tell me he had a girlfriend," Parker commented with a sideways glance at Sydney, who merely aimed his glower at her - making her chuckle before reaching out to him to touch a hand sympathetically. "I don't blame you," she soothed. "I've seen my share of the flowing dowager - they can be downright scary. Lydia IS something, as I remember..."

"You have no idea!" He opened his menu. "I've never escaped her clutches quite so cleanly as I did the other night with you in tow."

"I'm surprised she hasn't set her sights on you," Parker looked up into Paul's smile.

"Uh-unh," he shook his head firmly. "She knows she'd have to go into competition with all the pretty little coeds who throw themselves at me every term." He shrugged. "Not that those stand much of a chance either - I've watched too many others go down that path. But back to tomorrow night and the potluck..."

"What about Janine?" Sydney asked suddenly. "Don't you usually bring her to such things?"

"She's going to be at a slumber party," Paul answered easily. "She's barely going to come home from school before catching the bus for her friend's house." He looked down and saw the sudden questions in Parker's eyes. "My daughter is twelve and has this little pack of girls that she hangs with constantly," he explained. "You'll have to meet her sometime - I think you'd like her."

Parker looked over at Sydney, remembering the bond that had grown between herself and Broots' daughter, Debbie, in the days before everything had fallen apart. Losing the time she and the girl had spent together so abruptly had been a severe blow. She wasn't ready to walk down that road again quite yet. "Maybe sometime..." she hedged reluctantly.

"But what about tomorrow night? Can I interest you in accompanying me?" Paul could see that the subject of his daughter touched a tender nerve - hopefully not so much of one that Parker would turn him down.

"Would you mind..." she turned to Sydney.

"Ma petite, if you want to go, don't let my allergy to Lydia Simmons stop you," he patted her hand gently. "Just don't tire yourself out is all I ask."

"I'll take good care of her for you and bring her home long before curfew, Dad," Paul found himself promising his friend, then looked back down. "So - what do you say?"

"I think I'd like that," she smiled back up at him. "What time?"

"I'll knock on your door at about five-thirty," the professor smiled widely. "Great!" His smile widened even further.

"Hey, Paul!" came a call from the back of the room. "We need your input, man..."

"I'd better go," he sighed, backing away from the smaller table reluctantly. "I'll see you tomorrow, pretty lady."

Sydney watched his friend walk away with a couple of glances backwards toward Parker and then trained his attention to his “daughter.” She too was watching Paul's back, and the expression in her eyes told him everything he wanted to know.

Parker turned back and found his eyes on her face and a soft and contented smile on his face. "You really don't mind?"

"I really don't mind," he reassured her. "You have a new life to start - it's good to see that you're finally ready to face it." He picked up his menu. "Now, let me see what I'm going to let you buy for me..."

With a quiet smile, Parker opened her menu and began to study her options on the lunch front as well.

The Visit - by MMB

Chapter 6: Reawakenings


Under normal conditions, Sydney had no use for and generally got peeved at being bombarded by “elevator music” when he was shopping. He understood the psychological principle being put to work and didn't appreciate the manipulative concept whatsoever. But then, department stores were in the business of making money - and the music, however subliminal it might be, did seem to give an up-boost to the amount of profit an establishment could hope to net at the end of the day.

But today was different. Today he was putting up with the music because he was generally enjoying his day and the company he was keeping. Parker... not “MISS Parker” anymore... was looking for something light and flowing to wear to the potluck and dance she was attending that evening with Paul Ruiz - and she had convinced him to come along and offer a man's perspective on her selections. Not that he minded much or needed much convincing to come along - his “daughter” was blossoming, and he didn't want to miss one moment of the process.

"What do you think?"

He looked up toward the entrance to the dressing rooms, and then blinked. Parker's choice was a sleeveless and ankle-length number in light floral polyester that hugged her slender shape demurely and then folded provocatively about her legs. Combined with the new haircut that accentuated and invited her natural curls to brush at her shoulders and frame her face, he could hardly recognize her for the razor-sharp and hard-as-nails executive she used to be.

He rose to his feet and smiled one of his truly rare, wide and full smiles that lit every last corner and crevasse of his face. "You look stunning," he finally managed with a shake of his head. "Poor Paul's not going to know what hit him."

Parker gleamed. She'd seen the lights come on in his eyes as she'd walked out, and the expression on his face had been priceless. "The other one is a powder blue - which do you think, Papa..."

"No, no, ma petite. THIS is the one you want - trust me!" His gaze turned into a frank stare of masculine appreciation. The cream color of the dress made the light tan that she'd been working on during warm afternoons on the balcony give her a glow of health that she'd not had for years. To finish the effect, the blue of the small cornflowers in the print made the grey of her eyes look like a hazy morning in August. "Go run and put on the other one so I can see you in it, but do wear THIS one tonight."

She shot him a bright smile and bounced back toward the dressing room and the other dress. What a treat it was to be shopping with her Papa - to have a father's undivided attention and perspective at her command. All her life she'd wanted to be able to have her father's help in guiding her choices - in clothing, in friends, in life in general - only to remain disappointed and ignored, if not outright rejected or abused. It had taken a brush with death and then hitting absolute bottom physically and emotionally to discover that the man she'd been wanting all those years to spend quality time with had NOT been her father but rather the old friend standing patiently at her side all along. He had come for her and literally rescued her from death's door to give her a new life. Now, as far as she was concerned, Sydney - whom she had once cynically called “Freud,” “Dr. Frankenstein,” “Dr. Mengele,” or any number of other scathing epithets over the years - was and would always be “Papa.”

She hung the cream-colored dress back on its hanger and drew the blue one over her head, then looked at herself in the mirror. She liked what she saw as she twisted and turned and viewed herself from various angles, and so she trotted out to show off again with a sparkle in her eye.

"What about this one?" she asked, then spun for him.

Sydney chuckled at her high spirits. "Save that one for the next chess night, sweetheart. You'll have him so distracted, I won't have to work hard to beat him."

"Shame on you," she chided with a grin. "That means I'll have to break down and kibbitz into his ear after all."

"As if you intended doing anything else anyway," he shook his head at her. "Are there any others that you were going to try on?"

"Nope. That's it." She twirled and looked at herself in the tri-mirror. "So you think I should get them both?"

"Absolutely," he answered easily. "And I'll be over there while you change - I saw something I wanted to check out." He gestured noncommittally into the store and then ambled off.

Parker's brows arched as she noted her Papa wandering off through the women's clothing racks, wondering just what it was that he'd seen. She shrugged and headed back toward the dressing room. Shopping for clothing had always been a comfort activity for her - and now, with Papa in tow, it was a sheer joy. She'd found a light denim jacket and two comfortably light shell blouses for an intermediate level of dress - not formal, not severe, but sharp and classy. Something that brought home the fact that she was shopping for a new life that DIDN'T include constantly being a fashion plate.

Her selections had been made with an eye for the kind of dress a working woman wore in this much-different climate. When the time came, she knew she'd feel comfortable wearing them to a job interview. She knew she wasn't physically up to the demands of looking for work quite yet - and, to be honest, she was finally enjoying her Papa's pampering and spoiling - but the time would come soon enough that she'd want to be doing something with her life. She was starting to look forward to her new life, her fresh start; and staying at home for the rest of her life was not a part of that. She slipped quickly back into the light trousers and top that she'd put on that morning grabbed her purse and then draped her purchases over her arm to carry to the checkout counter.

Another hurdle had also been cleared that morning before the shopping trip - the checkbook that now resided in her purse was in the name of “Parker Green” with Papa's address. Eventually she would have a driver's license number printed there too - but not yet. She had however reserved a healthy amount of cash to make purchases like this with until her personalized checks came by mail.

Still nervous about the possibility of having left a paper trail behind for the Centre to follow, she had called and withdrawn the money from her previous account in cash. Because her account had been a sizeable one, she'd called the bank the afternoon before to warn them what she'd be doing so they would have the cash on hand to give her. She'd then turned around and taken that cash into another branch of Sydney's bank and opened several new smaller accounts entirely - two savings accounts as well as a checking account. She still didn't feel entirely safe, but there was a measure of satisfaction knowing that the paper trail on "Miss Parker" ended with the withdrawal. She had also left Sydney behind in the car waiting for her so as to leave no video clues as to how or why she had chosen that bank in the first place.

Sydney was waiting for her at the checkout counter with a bag of his own in his hand. "What's that?" she asked as she deposited the dresses and other tops to be rung up.

"You'll see," he answered cryptically with a smile. "Later." He chuckled as a look of purely mischievous curiosity filled her face and she began to lean. He pulled it behind his back. "And no peeking."

"Papa!"

The clerk smiled to watch the interplay between this father and daughter. These two obviously were very close - few men other than doting fathers or husbands would have shown the patience this distinguished and very cosmopolitan older gentleman had while waiting to see this pretty younger lady try on clothing. The clerk quickly and expertly ran the tags over the barcode reader then announced the final cost while folding the garments to put them in the bags.

Parker paid the woman in cash, amazed at herself for not having blown a fortune like she used to do but still having found quality clothing that made her look good nonetheless. She put her wallet away and took the bag from the clerk, then threaded her hand onto Sydney's arm. "So," she asked with a twinkle in her eye, "where are you taking ME for lunch today?"

"Depends," Sydney replied as the two of them found their way out onto the mezzanine of the vast mall. "How hungry are you?"

"I'd be happy with just a salad or some soup," she answered. "I have a potluck to go to tonight, remember?"

"How could I forget? You've been talking of little else all day..."

She rolled her eye, which made him chuckle again - as did her exasperated, "Papa!"

"No, really." Sydney patted the hand at his arm indulgently. "It does me good to see you looking forward to something with this much anticipation. You haven't been this up for a very long time."

"I don't remember the last time I felt this good inside," Parker admitted to him, tightening her hold on his arm. "I'm starting to wonder if this is all a dream, and I'm going to wake up in my own bed in the summerhouse looking forward to another dismal day waiting for Raines to eat me alive."

"That was another lifetime, Parker. You're safe here - and one of these days, you'll start to believe it too."

"God, I hope so." She pulled herself just a bit closer to her Papa and held on just a bit tighter yet. Sydney patted her hand again, wishing that the time would come quickly when just the thought of her former life didn't erode her self-assurance.

They sauntered down the mall until they found the massive food court, where several fast food enterprises of all different kinds catered to the mall clientele. "How about Japanese today," Parker suggested suddenly. "I haven't had good sushi since Tokyo - although today I think I'm more in the mood for a California roll..."

"I'm not much of a fan of sushi," Sydney admitted. "I never did develop a taste for it. So how about you order your California rolls, and then I'll go over there and see what kind of pasta they have today while you find us a table."

"My God!" Parker's hand at his arm suddenly tightened painfully. "Sydney, look!" With a frown at her suddenly reverting to calling him by name, Sydney turned to see what it was that had so shocked her to find three dark suited men walking quickly in their direction with extremely determined looks on their faces.

"It's alright," he soothed, putting his arm around her and pulling her into him so that she could hide her face on his shoulder as the men drew steadily nearer. He could feel her trembling as she watched as one of the men reached inside his jacket for something. "It's not what you think..."

"I can't go back. I can't let them take me back," she whimpered miserably, and suddenly Sydney had to hold onto her tightly to keep her from bolting from his side.

"Hush, sweetheart," he shushed at her firmly. "Don't panic. I'm right here..."

The dark suited man had drawn a cell phone from his jacket and was now speaking to someone on the other end of the line. The trio walked straight up to and then past the older gentleman with the woman in his arms, not once looking either of the mall shopping pair in the face as they passed on either side of them.

"See? They weren't sweepers, Parker - just businessmen," Sydney soothed, running his hand back and forth across her shoulder to help her calm down. "Easy. I told you that you were safe here. You're OK."

He could feel the moment she let go of her tension - she sagged against him limply. "I feel like such a ninny..."

"Withdrawals, Parker, remember?" he reminded her gently, then pushed at her to get her to stand on her own again. "Just because we know where some of them come from doesn't mean you're finished with them yet." Indeed, she'd had yet another of her nightmares the night before - awakening him yet again with her screams and needing to be held and comforted for a while before she could go back to sleep - as had been the pattern for days now. She had calmed faster this time for having had the memory that was causing her such anguish returned to her, although he knew that full recovery from such a horrific experience would take a while yet.

"I can't live like this..."

He took her shoulders firmly in his hands, and his voice was strong and determined. "Yes, you can." His chestnut gaze was warm and encouraging - and almost fiercely protective. "Don't let little setbacks like this one throw you so badly. You're stronger than that. Have a little patience - and a little faith in yourself."

The sparkle had died in her grey eyes. "Can we just go home, please?" she asked softly.

"Uh-unh." Sydney shook his head. "You were going to order some California rolls for yourself, and I was going to have pasta." She opened her mouth to protest, only to have him put a finger over her lips and prevent a single word from escaping. "No. Listen to your Papa now. You're OK - you gave yourself a scare, but you've survived it - and now we're going to have lunch. You don't need to retreat back into a hole and hide all the time anymore. You need to remember how to catch your balance again and keep going."

"I'm really tired..."

"I know, sweetheart - I am too. This has been a big day so far - and for you especially. That's why we need to sit down and take a break - relax and enjoy a nice lunch - not walk half a mile back to the car right away." Sydney took her hand and threaded it into his elbow again. "C'mon - let's order your California rolls."

~~~~~~~~

Papa had been right, Parker thought to herself as she stood patiently breaking the shells from the hard-boiled eggs that she was going to make into Deviled Eggs for the potluck, she had needed to remember how to recover her balance. And as if to prove his statement, much of her energy and good mood had returned in the time it had taken for them to order and then eat their lunch at the mall. She smiled at herself. He had always known her better than she'd known herself - and how she depended on that now!

Rather than allowing her to dwell on her mistaking businessmen for sweepers, Papa had directed their lunchtime discussion to center around the other steps that she still needed to take in order to establish herself in her new life. Consequently, she had made tentative plans for such things as getting a driver's license and perhaps a car of her own - to give herself a sense of autonomy and independence again. The discussion then had moved on to what kind of job she might want to start looking for eventually - and how she would know when she was ready to begin looking.

She peeked around the corner of the kitchen into the living room, where Papa was sitting on the couch with his reading glasses perched on his nose, devouring the daily newspaper as he did everyday at this time. He'd had no objection to any of her plans or the timeframes for them, and he'd been very helpful in helping her think through just what kind of work she was qualified to do. It surprised neither of them to discover that she wanted nothing further to do with the corporate scene - both of them agreeing that the last thing she needed was to willingly step into another Centre-like situation.

One option that occurred to both of them almost immediately was to investigate the security field - make beneficial use of the nearly fifteen years she'd spent in that kind of endeavor. Almost as an afterthought, however, she had reminded him that she had a law degree buried under those nearly fifteen years' worth of disuse. With a sly grin he had suggested that she talk to Paul about whom she should talk to at the university to bring her degree up to date and current to pass the Arizona bar exam.

Paul. She smiled as she began cutting the eggs in half and popping the yolks into a separate bowl, her mind spinning with curiosity and anticipation for the evening. The potluck and dance tonight were a new experience - another small step out of her old life and into the new. Potlucks had always been beneath the Parkers - at least, that was how “Daddy” had trained her. They were for the “little people” who did the work. Never mind how she had noticed that those people always seemed to enjoy those meals where everybody brought something different, a Parker never broke bread with the help just to socialize. But she wasn't a Parker anymore - she was a Green - and Papa was actively encouraging this time with Paul.

A glance at the clock told her she still had an hour before Paul would be by to escort her. Then she looked up and smiled as Papa came around the corner and leaned against the counter to watch her work. "How's it going?" he asked gently.

"Fine," she replied, taking a fork and breaking up the cooked yolks into small crumbs. "I haven't made these since..." She thought for a moment. "I think the last time I made these, it was for Thomas."

Sydney watched her face closely, and the mention of her murdered old flame's name didn't bring the slightest hint of remorse or hurt. The fact gave him hope - at least one bad scar was finally fading, maybe the others would too, in time... "Good memories?"

The smile on her face was a fond one. "Yeah - considering that Tommy was the one who was the better cook. About the only thing I COULD make when we first got together were Deviled Eggs."

"Could you leave me a couple, so I don't have to feel completely left out?" The exaggerated plaintive tone made her chuckle.

"You could just come to the potluck and have all you wanted," she teased him back, watching the look of mock horror spread.

He shook his head. "And have to fend off Lydia Simmons all evening? I don't think so..." He looked at her indulgently. "Besides, this is your evening to knock Paul for a loop - I don't want to get in the way of that."

"Papa, are you trying to play matchmaker?" Her grey eyes were wide and guileless.

"No," he answered slowly as he watched her spoon the condiments into the yolks casually, obviously measuring by eye, "I just know when a father should be sticking his nose into his daughter's business, and when he should stay out of things."

"I've had too many years of having a father who did nothing BUT stay out of things," she said with a touch of wistfulness. "You may find this hard to believe, but I like the idea of having you watch over my shoulder. Besides," she turned to him with a soft smile, "I was kinda hoping I could talk you into dancing with me later. Please?" Now it was her turn to turn on the plaintive tone.

"You're going to be wanting to dance with Paul, ma petite," he reminded her with a gentle hand to cup her face for a brief moment.

Her eyes dropped to watch what she was doing with mixing the yolks. "Yes," she admitted frankly, "but I'd like a chance to dance with you too. Kind of a celebration of sorts."

"Oh?" His eyebrows rose. "And what are we celebrating?"

"My new life." Grey met chestnut. "Please."

When she put it that way, Sydney could deny her nothing. "For you, ma cheri, only for you." He kissed her cheek. "And only if you'll protect me from Lydia."

Parker laughed out loud at that, and kissed him back. "I think we can keep you fairly well protected from the flowing dowager seeking to entrap you into a marital Hell, Papa."

~~~~~~~~

Sydney pulled his sleeveless sweater-vest over his shirt and suspenders and then walked toward his bathroom to brush his longish silver hair back into impeccable order. He hadn't attended one of these complex functions for months - ever since his casual friendship with the woman Parker called ”the flowing dowager” had somehow put it into her mind that he was good husband material. And frankly, he had missed the socialization with the complex community - after all, it had been at a potluck that he'd met Paul and discovered their mutual passion for chess. Maybe the time had come for him to let Lydia know of his acute lack of interest in her conjugal plans so that he could return to enjoying the active schedule of events the homeowner's association had set up.

Satisfied now that he was appropriately groomed, he reached for the bag from the department store he'd stored in an out-of-the-way corner of his closet and quickly cut the price tag from his purchase with some cuticle scissors. This would compliment Parker's new dress admirably, he thought to himself and smiled. What a treat it was to be able to buy her a gift and not have to worry about its reception.

He glanced at his watch - he had ten minutes before Paul was scheduled to arrive. He carefully put his purchase back into the bag, landed the bag on the end of the bed and then pulled open a dresser drawer to remove a crushed velour jewelry box. He ran his hand over it, remembering how it used to sit on his mother's dresser. It had been returned to him as part of settling Jacob's estate, along with the other items rescued from war-torn Lyons that Jacob had taken for his own. He opened the box and removed one of the few items it still held, then closed it and replaced it in the drawer. The piece of jewelry in one hand, the bag in the other, he opened his bedroom door and walked across the hall to Parker's and knocked.

"Are you decent?"

"Come in, I'm almost ready," her voice called through the door. He pushed the door open to find Parker seated at the vanity brushing her curls. She looked at him through the mirror and smiled as she put down the hairbrush. "You look very dapper tonight, Papa."

"And you look magnificent," he replied with a gaze of pure pride. "And I have something - actually a COUPLE of somethings - for you."

"You mean what was in that bag you wouldn't let me peek into?" she grinned mischievously.

"Yes," he admitted slowly, "but something else first. Do me a favor and close your eyes."

"Papa..."

"Trust me, Parker. Close your eyes."

Without a single thought, Parker closed her eyes with a huff of frustrated curiosity. Sydney moved quietly behind her and dropped the pendant over her head and had the clasp fastened around her neck even as her hand came up to touch the stone tentatively. "Sydney..." she gasped as she opened her eyes and saw the deep sparkle of the blue topaz reflecting the cornflower blue of her dress from amid the circle of tiny diamonds.

"Uh-unh," he shook his head. "Papa. In this new life we're celebrating tonight, you are my daughter. That means that this was your grandmother's - my mother's. Jacob and I weren't able to save many of her nice things after the war, but this..." He smiled softly in reminiscence. "The jewelry box was buried in the debris of our house in Lyons. I think she'd approve of your having it - and it deserves to be worn again by one of the family."

"Papa," she started, almost too choked to speak. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

"Thank YOU, Parker," Sydney whispered, dropping a kiss into the fountain of curls on the top of her head, "for giving me a chance to be a father to you. You have no idea how much it means to me to be able to claim you as my own after all this time."

"I have something for you too," Parker managed finally, after swallowing hard against the lump in her throat at the stunningly beautiful pendant and the expression of caring. She turned on her vanity stool and reached for his right hand. "I've been thinking about this all day. This is a part of the life I'm leaving behind me tonight - I'm hoping you'll wear it and remember that we BOTH have a new life now. We're both moving on, and it's only right that it move on as well." She looked down and pulled the square silver ring from her left forefinger that she had worn her entire adult life and slipped it on his right pinky when it turned out too small for his ring finger.

"Parker..." He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the forehead. "You don't have to give me anything..."

She stroked the hand that now wore her ring, and then sandwiched it between her two hands. "You've given me so much. Let me give this to you, Sydney. As Miss Parker, I'll will never ask another favor of you again; because Miss Parker will be disappearing in just a minute or two, and she'll not be coming back again - ever. So, please..."

He pulled his hand from hers and looked at it, then reached up and settled it just a bit more firmly on his finger. "I'll be glad to, Miss Parker. Thank you." His voice cracked a bit on the last phrase, and he too was having to swallow hard against a lump of emotion. Then, when he'd conquered his feelings again, he reached down both hands and drew her to her feet. "And, last but not least..." He reached into the bag that he'd put at his feet and drew out the lightly knit and fringed white shawl shot through with occasional gold threads and draped it about her shoulders. "Le piece de resistance." He stepped back to survey the effect. "You are gorgeous, ma petite. Magnifique."

Parker turned and caught sight of herself in the mirror. The shawl lay about her shoulders as if made for the dress, and the color in her cheeks accented the sparkle of her eyes. "It's beautiful, Papa. Thank you."

There was a knock on the door, and Sydney watched the excitement heighten the color in his daughter's cheeks just that much more. "You get the door, ma petite. I'll go for the eggs."

He paused on the way to the kitchen so as to catch sight of Paul's face when the university professor got his first good look at Parker. The slight drop of the jaw and widening of the eyes were worth it, and the psychiatrist chuckled his way into the kitchen to pull the foil-covered platter from the fridge. "Hello, pretty lady!" he heard the rich baritone chime in pleased surprise. "I swear, you get prettier every time I see you!"

Parker blushed. "Thank you. Uh... Papa decided to come along after all," she continued happily, contented with the reception her outfit had received and his response. Not that she was at all displeased with what had appeared at the front door - Paul was a study in different values of grey, from his trousers to his shirt and tie to the silken vest.

"Did he now?" Paul's steel-grey eyebrows were halfway to his hairline as he saw Sydney emerge from the kitchen bearing the Green family's offering to the potluck. "You're a brave man, Sydney Green, to willingly face the likes of the Dragon Lady Simmons..."

"Oh shut up," Sydney grumbled good-naturedly. "Parker promised me that you two would help defend me from Lydia."

"All you have to do is just tell her a nice, loud, firm “No,” you know..." Paul chuckled at his friend. "You really have to quit worrying about hurting that woman's feelings, Sydney - she doesn't have any to begin with."

"I'm a psychiatrist," Sydney reminded his friend archly, "feelings are what I deal with."

Parker leaned toward him. "Papa, you have a RIGHT to say no to her..." At his thoroughly unconvinced look, she shrugged. "Paul and I will do what we can, though, won't we?" She looked up into Paul's face.

"For you, pretty lady, anything." Paul found himself beginning to get lost in those storm-grey eyes. It was the kind of feeling he hadn't had for a very long time. He looked away to find Sydney watching him with a look of indulgent patience. "She's very persuasive, isn't she?"

The psychiatrist chuckled. "She's had me wrapped around her little finger since she was quite young," he replied far more honestly than Paul could possibly appreciate, then gestured with the foil-wrapped pan. "Shall we?"

"Where's your contribution?" Parker asked as Paul reclaimed her hand at the bottom of the stairs and replaced it at his elbow.

"I've already stopped by the clubhouse and dropped it off," he explained. "After all, I live on the other side of the complex and had to walk by it to get to you."

Parker found herself flabbergasted by the number of people moving in and around the clubhouse, and Paul felt her slight hesitation. "The whole complex comes out for these once a month potlucks and dances," he told her as he slowed to match her pace. "Even the families with kids show up for these."

It was the truth. The homeowner's association had wisely set up tables and chairs on the patio area, and the inside was filled with enough long tables and chairs to approximate a banquet hall. The noise level was higher with the boisterous voices of happy children coming from all parts of the building. "You two save me a place in line," Sydney announced, "while I go deliver these."

Paul straightened to his full height and looked around the hall. "You know, I don't see Lydia at all this evening."

"Is she really as bad as he makes her out to be?" Parker asked as quietly as she could and still make herself heard.

"Not really," Paul laughed. "Most of us who've been here for a while know her to be a slightly daft lady who's wealthy enough to behave outrageously and actually get away with it. Wait until another mature and unattached man moves in - she'll drop your Dad like a hot potato and start hovering over the new guy like a bee over jelly."

Her grey eyes stared up into his twinkling hazel in surprise. "Have you told Papa this?"

"I tried to warn him the first time I met him - before Lydia got to him," her companion admitted, "but I haven't had the heart to try since then. I can't help it if he didn't believe me..."

"You scoundrel!" The grey eyes narrowed slightly. "You're enjoying watching him squirm!"

"There IS that..." Paul smiled a thoroughly wicked smile and then leaned in close. "But please, don't tell him. A new guy, a retired doctor, HAS just moved in - and this guy bought a whole lot closer to her place than your Dad's is. I figure he'll get the message in just a little while when Lydia stops hanging over him and turns her attention to the new guy."

Her lips broke into a tiny smirk. "Alright - I won't say anything for as long as you promise to keep “defending” him with me until he gets it."

Paul laughed a full and hearty laugh then. Sydney's daughter could be as full of mischief as he was! "For you, pretty lady, anything!"

"What did I miss?" Sydney asked as he joined the pair at the table holding the place settings for the meal.

"Nothing," the pair said in unison, then looked at each other and chuckled.

"That's either encouraging, or seriously disturbing," the older man pronounced carefully, his gaze moving smoothly back and forth between the two and finally alighting on Paul. "And knowing you, I have a feeling it's the latter." He looked around at the people at the tables. "Is she here?"

"I haven't seen her," Paul told him truthfully as he handed his friend a paper plate. "Lucky you to have chosen the one potluck that Lydia decides not to make her dramatic appearance..."

"Stop it." Parker swatted at her companion's arm playfully, then reached for the plastic utensils. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Papa. Let's just enjoy the evening."

~~~~~~~~

The music from the jazz pianist and the bass player flowed over the remaining adults in the clubhouse like a cool breeze, and the floor space that had been cleared in front of the musicians contained several couples moving together. The hour was getting late, and most of the children had already been taken off to homework and bed by watchful parents, leaving only those who intended to enjoy the music and dancing occupying the clubhouse. Most of the long tables and chairs had been put away - a communal effort that had cleaned the hall of all signs of hosting a rather large dinner in less than half an hour.

Sydney looked about the room, fully aware that he wasn't the only one in the hall who was watching the pair on the dance floor that was Paul and Parker - they were an incredibly handsome and striking pair after all. Over the course of the evening, several of the eligible ladies, with or without children, had worn expressions of serious disappointment when Paul very obviously and consistently showered his attention on Parker alone. Sydney smiled - Paul was considered quite a catch, and had been gallantly resisting the charms of this resident or that for long since before he had made the professor's acquaintance.

Right now the dancers were swaying gently to the music, with Paul's arms looped loosely around Parker's waist and her arms looped up and over his shoulders, talking softly and occasionally chuckling together over something private. The evening, as far as Sydney was concerned, had been an unqualified success. The banter among the three of them during the meal had flown fast and furious, with Parker this time a full and capable participant in the verbal high jinx - both giving as well as receiving her fair share of ribbing. The relaxed smile that was coming so easily to her face that evening was like a gift - something he'd wanted for her for so long, and finally had seen come to pass.

And now the two dancers seemed to have eyes for no one else in the room as they swayed together to the music, apparently oblivious of the other couples that moved rhythmically with them. He had had a hunch that those two would hit it off, once Parker had recovered enough physically and emotionally to be more herself again. He watched as the flow of conversation between the duo made Parker drop her gaze and lean into Paul with a blushing laugh, and the psychiatrist smiled to himself again, more widely this time. Paul, with his razor-sharp wit and jolly sense of humor, not to mention his charming and thoroughly modern teenaged daughter, would be good for her.

Sydney folded his hands in his lap, and then toyed with the plain and solid silver ring that now graced his right pinky, not yet used to the weight it added to the finger. Yes, they both HAD moved on in their lives.

The music ended, and Paul made his way back to the table where Sydney waited while Parker stopped and talked briefly to the pianist first before following. The strains of the next song began, and Parker reached out a hand to her Papa. "C'mon," she urged with a soft light in her eyes. "You're next on my dance card."

"Yes, show us how it's done, old man," Paul teased gently as he stood aside so Sydney could escape from his corner and take his daughter's hand. "I'll be taking notes from here." The professor then sat down in the same corner and crossed his long legs comfortably beneath the table as he settled back into the chair to watch father and daughter take to the dance floor.

Sydney smiled as he recognized the tune. "Moon River?" he asked her gently as she moved into his arms and began to move with him to the music.

"Apropos, don't you think," she replied, curling into her Papa's arms happily and closing her eyes as she leaned her head into his shoulder. "That's the song you were playing in the Sim Lab the day you taught me how to waltz, remember?"

"Mmm-hmmm. I remember."

She felt his lips brush her forehead, and smiled. "I've waited a long time to be able to finish this dance properly."

"As have I, ma petite." Then it had been sweepers who, at Mr. Parker's orders, had interrupted the impromptu dancing lesson to collect her from the Sim Lab where she'd conveniently had very professional babysitting. Now there were no sweepers, no more Mr. Parker or Centre intrigue to interfere. She had come a long way from the half-dead and heartsick shell of a woman he'd found on that dreary day in the Blue Cove Cemetery.

Now her name was Parker Green - and she was HIS daughter. She was wearing his mother's topaz necklace, calling him “Papa” and resting contentedly in his arms as if she'd always known she had a place there. The shadows of that nightmarish Delaware existence were slowly but steadily fading, leaving behind them a woman slowly unfolding into the beautiful creature she had always been meant to be. This truly was a celebration of her new life - and how better to celebrate that new life than to finally finish something left undone in the old one.

Sydney kissed the side of her head again very softly and moved with her gently to the music, finishing at long last a dance that had started decades ago.

The Visit - by MMB

Chapter 7: First Steps


"No, if you move there, he'll be able to get your queen in two moves. But that bishop..." Long and tapering fingers pointed out a different move entirely.

Sydney looked up over the chessboard and found Parker looking at him with dancing grey eyes. "I should never have agreed to let you kibbitz," he grumbled good-naturedly. "I'm now at a distinct disadvantage."

"You mean I actually stand a chance of NOT getting beat?" Paul Ruiz grinned at his friend with delight as he made the move Parker suggested. He leaned closer to her. "I knew you would be a good luck charm..." His rich baritone voice was filled with enthusiasm.

"Don't get too cocky," she cautioned him gently, keeping an appraising eye on Sydney's suddenly very intent concentration on the game. "I've seen Papa get that look on his face while he was playing a certified genius one time and damned near beat the fellow. You may not lose immediately, but I'm afraid he's already got you if you're not VERY careful. You're already in a fairly precarious position."

"Played a certified genius, eh?" Paul's face crinkled into amusement. "And about how long ago did this match occur?"

Parker blinked and looked over at her Papa, noticing that he too had been caught short by the question and was gazing at her. "What is it now, twenty..."

"Twenty-four years ago," Sydney said softly. He remembered that match very well, not the least because it was one time that little Miss Parker had sat in quietly and watched the entire game where he match wits with Jarod. "You were... what? Twelve years old at the time?"

"Eleven," Parker replied with a smile. "And I was rooting for Jarod."

"That figures. You two were as thick as thieves back in those days," Sydney chuckled and moved his queen across the board. "Check."

She turned and whispered into Paul's ear, and then he reached down with a sly smile moved a bishop that both blocked the queen and, "Check," he pronounced in return.

Sydney stared at the chessboard for a moment and then looked up at Parker again. "And you told me your game was rusty!"

"It IS, I swear!" she threw her hands up. "I haven't even looked at a chessboard since that last game Jarod and I played before I went away to school." Then she looked down and chuckled. "But I did beat him once..."

"You didn't!" Sydney was agape. "He never said anything..."

She just shook her head. "I'm sure the subject just never came up. Besides, he made a really dumb mistake, thinking I wouldn't see it - and I mopped the floor with him. He didn't tell you because he was embarrassed."

Paul just shook his head at the two of them. "I'm surprised you didn't run home and brag to your folks," he commented to her in surprise.

"Mom was already..." Parker began, then looked down at her hands. "Mom was already gone by then. And Jarod made me promise not to tell him - something about protecting his reputation..."

Sydney smiled comfortingly at her. His daughter was doing better every day, tonight she was actually speaking of Jarod without any real rancor or loss - but she'd tripped over the reference to her mother. Wounds were healing, but the deepest were still quite tender.

Paul was watching his companion closely. Parker Green was an enigma to him - open and sparkling like a magnificent diamond one moment, closed and defensive like a clam the next. She was highly intelligent and quick-witted - she easily kept up with the banter and ribbing that he and Sydney tossed adroitly back and forth. Yet every once in a while, she gave him the impression of someone who had recently survived something so truly horrible that she could never completely share with anyone who hadn't been there. And then there were those other very brief flashes of an incredibly strong person, hard as nails and stubborn as a mule.

When Sydney had presented his daughter to him that first evening, he'd made mention of her recovering from a long illness. Indeed, the woman who had come to that first community game night with her father had seemed nervous, shy and almost withdrawn, not to mention pale and seriously underweight. Sydney had been very protective and supportive of her that night, going to great lengths to make sure she didn't over-extend physically or fatigue herself in any way. By the evening of the community potluck almost a week later, however, she was looking considerably healthier and had found her sense of humor again, and her father was very obviously celebrating her recovery. They had danced until late, and after her dance with her father, she had fairly vibrated with contentment. Tonight she had been nothing but sparkling until just that moment when she spoke of her mother.

"I didn't know you lost your mother so young," he said carefully. "I'm sorry if I said anything..."

"It's OK," she smiled at him, then focused her attention on the chessboard - and he knew he'd get nothing more out of her about it right then. Very briefly the tall professor found himself wondering just what it would take to win over her trust to the point that she would share some of these less happy memories with him as well as the happy ones.

Sydney followed her gaze and saw his move. He surreptitiously glanced at the clock on the wall - the game and banter had lasted a whole hour and a half already. Time to take pity on Paul and put him out of his misery. He moved the pawn forward one square to block the check and challenge the bishop and buy him the move he needed to finish the game.

Paul frowned at the move and glanced at his advisor, who was equally stumped by the purely defensive move. He was in no position to keep up the pressure on Sydney's king, however, and Paul moved a knight to a square from which to reassert that pressure - only to have Sydney suddenly smile a wide and triumphant grin and move his knight. "Checkmate."

Paul sighed and sat back in his chair in surprise while Parker's eyes widened appreciatively. "Sneaky. Real sneaky, Papa," she shook her head. "I am definitely rusty!"

"Well, I would love to stay and have some refreshments with you two this time, but I promised I'd pick Janine and her friends up from the movies in about..." Paul checked his wristwatch, "a half an hour." He joined Sydney in resetting the board. "Same time and place next week?"

"Of course." Sydney glanced over at the other side of the room. "Say, I thought Janine liked to play air hockey. I thought she'd be with you this week after her missing last week's game night."

"She does, but she's just recently decided she's in love with Leonardo di Caprio and just HAD to see his latest movie on premier night," Paul explained with resigned patience. "I suppose as long as she keeps her crushes to guys on the silver screen, I'll be happy and not worry so much. I don't know how you kept as much hair as you did when Parker was that young. As you can see, MINE is getting greyer by the hour," he ran his hand over his steel-grey locks ruefully. "Any advice to someone still in the trenches at the front lines?"

Sydney's chestnut gaze touched and lingered on Parker. "The best advice I can give you is just to make sure she knows you love her and to keep the lines of communication open between you, so she knows that she can talk to you about anything."

Paul sighed. "I'm trying," he admitted then smiled at Parker. "She's not a bad kid, it's just that sometimes it can be overwhelming, you know?"

"I know." There was a hint of sadness in her voice as she remembered one of the few times that she and Broots had talked about Debbie at work, and he had made much the same statement.

With that, Paul knew he'd again touched yet another tender nerve with mention of his daughter - one he'd touched before with much the same response - and carefully backed away from it. "Well, lovely lady, thanks for your help tonight." He made his voice deliberately light and carefree again.

"I had fun," she admitted, recognizing what he was doing and letting him lighten the mood again.

"And you, old boy, one of these days..." he chuckled and extended his hand.

"Now where have I heard THAT before?" Sydney laughed outright and shook his friend's hand. "Have a good week, Paul."

"You too. Uh..." Paul crooked a finger at Parker. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Sydney got the hint. "I'll wait for you outside," he told his daughter with a pat on the arm and then ambled easily through the tables and chairs. Paul waited until Sydney was nearly out of the door.

"I was wondering if you would consider having dinner with me and Janine Sunday night. I know..." he held up a hand to stop her words before she could barely get her mouth open, "...that you are a little apprehensive about meeting her for some reason. But, truth be known..." He put a hand very gently on her shoulder. "...I want her to get to know you too. Because I would like to see more of you... a LOT more..."

"I'm not going anywhere," Parker told him in a soft voice. "You'll see me again, I promise. But let me think about Sunday, OK?"

"OK," he accepted, grateful that she'd agreed to at least consider the invitation. "Let me know?"

"I'll be in touch before Saturday," she promised.

"Goodnight then, pretty lady." His hand remained warm and present on her shoulder.

"Goodnight, Paul." Her heart began to beat just a little faster, wondering why she didn't seem to want to back away from him.

Their eyes met and locked, and the community room seemed to fade around them for a bit. Then Paul took a deep and slightly shaky breath, swept his hand down her arm to hold her hand gently for a moment, then backed away. "Goodnight," he said again and then released her hand and turned. Parker stood and watched him walk to the opposite exit, then turn and give her a wave before leaving the building.

Finally she took her own deep breath and walked out the exit that her Papa had used just a few moments earlier, finding him lounging against a lamppost near the patio gate. "Ready?" he asked, seeing her bemused expression and not wanting to break it too abruptly. She nodded wordlessly and slipped her hand into his elbow, as always, but then reached around and clung to him a little more tightly than normal. "Is everything OK, ma petite?" he asked gently.

"He invited me to dinner on Sunday - with his daughter," she answered in a carefully neutral tone.

"Ah." Sydney nodded, understanding completely now. Of the many topics that they had discussed at length or worked through since he'd brought her back with him from Delaware, the loss of Broots and his daughter had been one that she'd shied away from. Surprisingly, it had proven to be an almost off-limits topic for her as yet - and something told him that she'd not been entirely up front with him in telling him the whole story of Broots' departure from the Centre. "Are you going to go?" he asked, letting her set the limits of their discussion now.

"I don't know," she admitted and rested her cheek against his shoulder as they walked.

He let her lean, knowing that she didn't get this clingy unless she was feeling insecure or unhappy. He led her to a bench beneath another lamppost and motioned for her to have a seat in warm April air. "Talk to me, Parker," he urged gently, putting an arm about her shoulder comfortingly.

"Papa..."

"Don't “Papa” me," he chided while hugging her. "Every time Paul mentions Janine, you become withdrawn and very quiet. I know you - this is about Debbie. Something happened, didn't it?" She didn't move, didn't respond. "Something happened with the Debbie after I left, didn't it?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she told him softly and leaned. "I don't even want to think about it."

He reached and smoothed her curls from her face. "Not talking about it isn't helping, ma petite," he pointed out. "Paul wants you to get to know his daughter - and he wants her to get to know you. Whatever it was that happened, it's making this new step for you much more difficult than it should be."

"I know. It's just..." She sighed, knowing that he would pull the story out of her eventually now that he knew that there was a tale to tell. At least now she felt secure enough in his affections that she was reasonably sure that the confession she would make wouldn't drive him away, and that sense of security and trust in him gave her the strength to start. "When Broots left, it was like the last straw. Angelo was dead, Jarod vanished, and then you vanished... The only people I had left in the world that I cared about at all were Broots and Debbie. Then..." She shook her head.

"Then..." he encouraged.

A tear started down her cheek. "Debbie and I had made arrangements for me to pick her up on a Saturday afternoon to drive into Dover to go shopping. Broots was working that day. He'd been getting more and more nervous about something he'd found in the mainframe - and he wouldn't tell me what it was, no matter how hard I tried to bully him into it. But as things went, I ended up late picking her up - Lyle had stopped the house by to discuss something and just wouldn't leave until I finally shoved my gun in his face and pushed him out the door. By the time I got to Broots' house..." She closed her eyes and leaned into her Papa, who had closed his eyes in reluctant realization.

"How badly was she hurt?"

She took a moment to pull herself together. "Sw...sweepers had torn the house apart looking for something - and one of them had pistol-whipped her, broken her cheekbone, then they were just going to leave her there. She was screaming, her face covered in blood. I called the ambulance - and Broots."

Sydney shook his head and held her close. "It wasn't your fault, Parker..."

"But I didn't protect her," Parker charged herself firmly. "I wasn't there when I was supposed to be... when the sweepers came..."

"You had no way of knowing this was going to happen, Parker - how could it be your fault? Besides, has it occurred to you that Lyle came to you in a deliberately delaying move - to prevent you from protecting her?" he spoke softly, seeing the linkage all too clearly.

"Yes, it occurred to me, but it didn't matter in the end," she answered bleakly. "I could see that Broots was upset with me and with the whole situation when I met up with him at the hospital. He never came right out and blamed me, but I could see that he was thinking along those lines. He did tell me the very next day that he'd received another job offer he was considering, and they were gone in three days. I never..." She took a deep breath. "He never even gave me a chance to say goodbye to Debbie."

Sydney shook his head. Broots had never really understood the depth of the relationship that had slowly developed between his little girl and his crusty boss. He had never fully appreciated how Debbie had touched that part of Miss Parker that she had kept most hidden and given her a reason, despite her Ice Queen training, to try to become the kind of role model for Debbie that her mother had been for her. For Broots to have just ripped the girl out of Parker's world like that must have nearly demolished Parker emotionally. Granted, the man had been more concerned about his daughter's safety - and rightfully so, it seemed - but the chances were good that Debbie had been as damaged in that abrupt severing of relationships as Parker had. Another piece of the puzzle that was the collective cause of Parker's severe decline fell into place, and Sydney felt a quick pang of guilt that he hadn't been there to help cushion the blow at the time. But he could offer comfort now...

"I understand," he leaned his head into hers. "When you were sent away to school, part of what had made my days at the Centre bright left with you. Jarod was inconsolable for weeks, and I kept expecting you come bouncing around a corner - and you never did. When you never wrote - or rather, when I never heard from you," he corrected quickly, knowing that she HAD written, and the letters had been intercepted, "I started to think I must have done something wrong to make you angry, but I never could figure out what. It's very hard, when you let yourself slip into a parent-child role with another person's child, to let go of that when the parent just moves the child on in their lives without you."

"Yeah," Parker gave a shuddering sigh. She hadn't thought of it that way, but now she could see that he DID understand - all too well.

"But that was then. Now the situation is very different. There are no sweepers to tear Paul's house apart or pistol-whip Janine. So tell me why the idea of meeting or getting to know her makes you so uncomfortable," he pressed gently.

"I don't want to go through that kind of thing again," she pushed herself away from him a little. "I'm not ready to step forward for another man's daughter just to have the relationship with the girl sacrificed if or when the relationship with the father falls through." She pulled her fingers through her curls to clear her face. "Hell, I'm just starting to put together a proper father-daughter relationship with YOU and to figure out who I am - and what I want to be when I finally grow up. Face it, Papa, I'm a mess and not all that far removed from being a complete disaster. Making healthy relationships is not something I'm really good at. My seeing Paul from time to time is one thing - getting introduced to his daughter..."

Sydney nodded. At least she was being honest - with herself and with him. "Do you want me to talk to Paul for you?" he offered.

"No," she shook her head. "I'll probably go and get the introductions over with. Putting it off isn't going to make it any easier. But I'm thinking maybe I can just stay a casual acquaintance for a good long time - just be the woman her father is seeing at the moment." She thought for a bit, then added, "I know I need to learn to meet new people and not automatically flash back to people I left behind, or who left me." She sounded less than happy, but determined. She leaned into him again. "Thanks for offering, but this is my problem to figure out. I can't expect you to come charging to my rescue forever, you know..."

He kissed her cheek. "It's a father's privilege to charge to his daughter's rescue, Parker - and after standing in the wings all these years, I really don't mind. But..." he kissed her again, "...I'm so very proud of you for wanting to handle this one yourself. It shows me you really ARE getting better."

Feeling relieved after finally getting that one painful episode out in the open at long last, she returned the gesture, then rose and held out her hand to him. "C'mon, Papa. Let's go home." He rose and tucked her hand back into his elbow again. "And thanks for listening."

"Anytime, sweetheart," he said, patting the hand on his arm. "Anytime."

~~~~~~~~

Sleep did not come easily that night. Parker relived every moment of that fateful afternoon when Debbie had finally been the one to suffer at the hands of the Centre, feeling the knell of blame and responsibility as a solemn toll in the background of the memory. She had not told her Papa of the screaming confrontation she'd had with Lyle and Raines after leaving the hospital that evening, or how she'd been very clearly told that she did NOT want to know what everything had been about. She hadn't told him that even Sam had taken her aside a little later and gently advised her to drop the subject - that Raines was not only willing but eager for a reason to make her face the same kind of scrutiny.

The memory of Debbie, huddled in a corner of the living room screaming and holding her face while black-suited sweepers had literally torn her home to pieces had long echoed in the back of her mind. The memory of Broots' face - angry and frightened - as he told her that he'd decided to take the job offer from Silicon Valley after all still haunted her memory of her formerly loyal computer technician. Memories began to impact memories in the familiar litany of abandonment that had played in her mind so often over the years. The memory of her Daddy's face as he stepped resolutely from the open door of the jet over the stormy, nighttime Atlantic flashed by next - followed by the vision of Thomas, sprawled and bloody and staring sightlessly - followed by the memory of the gunshot and a brief glimpse of her mother's body crumpled in an elevator.

Then there was Jarod, the memory of his face was fractured into the many times he had glanced up at her as he'd fled her custody added to the look on his face in front of a fire in a blind woman's house on Carthis. Of Angelo, the empathic little man who had been a fast friend in childhood despite his shattered personality, her best memory was his attempting to play the piano for her as his grip on reality slowly ebbed away. Both of these childhood friends were gone now, one to death, the other so deeply into hiding that she doubted she'd ever see or hear from him again.

With a shuddering sigh she rose and pulled on her velour dressing gown and slipped quietly from her bedroom and into the kitchen for a glass of water. She still had Sydney - of all the others, he had managed to survive the years at the Centre and still not only want her company but love her enough to actively seek her out and pull her free of that nightmare. He had become her Papa - the father she'd always wanted and never had until it was almost too late. And he was fast asleep, enjoying a rare night free from her nightmare-based screams and the need to rouse and give comfort. Parker filled her water glass again and carried it into the living room and over to the balcony doors. As much as she needed her Papa's love and comfort right now, at the moment he needed his rest more. She'd seen herself through her share of vigils like this in months previous - she could do it again.

She tweaked aside the drapes and looked out onto the nighttime street scene below. The sky was clear, and a few of the brighter stars could be seen twinkling. The openness and the sight of the line of palm trees across the wide boulevard reminded her silently of the drastic change her life was going through. This was Arizona, not Delaware. This was a new life - and the faces that had haunted her thoughts that evening belonged to the life that was slowly dropping away. Those memories belonged to Miss Parker, not to Parker Green - Parker Green was only now at the very beginning of making memories for herself.

It was Parker Green who was going to be accepting the invitation to dine with Paul and Janine Ruiz on Sunday. She leaned her shoulder and forehead against the wall and gently touched the cool glass with her fingertips. This was just another step away from that old life and into a completely new one - a life where the Centre, and Jarod, played no part at all. Parker Green had never betrayed the trust of a friend, never failed to protect a friend's daughter who looked to her for guidance. But was Parker Green betraying those friends yet again one last time by trying to let Miss Parker's memories pass on into the oblivion of a life discarded?

She sighed as a tear ran down her cheek. For years it had been the others who had left her or stolen from her - now it was she who was leaving THEM, and the process was no less painful.

"What's this?" Papa's voice broke through the nighttime silence from the end of the hallway very gently so as not to startle much.

Parker still jumped slightly as the unexpected voice broke through her reverie. "It's late - and I tried to be quiet... What are you doing up?" she asked, straightening and using the back of her free hand to wipe at the tear on her cheek.

"I'm used to your getting me up at this hour, evidently," he replied with some humor, "and awoke by myself when I didn't hear you call out." He pulled his bathrobe tighter around him and pulled on the belt, then padded across the room in bare feet and turned her into the dim moonlight from outside. "No nightmare tonight, but no sleep either, eh?"

"The ghosts are walking with me tonight," she replied, resuming her lean against the wall near the drapes. She looked over at him, noting the raised eyebrows. "I'm feeling a little schizophrenic tonight - stuck between two lives and fitting into neither properly."

"C'mon - sit down with me. It's cold over here by the balcony." Sydney took her by the elbow and led her to the couch. "Now. What do you mean, the ghosts are walking? You don't mean..."

"No, no voices," she assured him, leaning back against the cushion comfortably. "Just old memories that belong to a life I'm leaving behind." She turned her head so she could see him again. "Papa, am I betraying those memories by trying to walk away from them?"

"No," he replied, "but I'm afraid you're attempting the impossible. Those memories are your background - where you came from. You can't walk away from them anymore than you can abandon your face."

"But they aren't part of who I am... who I want to be eventually."

"Sure they are. They are the sum of your experiences to date - they are why you are who you are in this moment." He leaned back against the cushion and faced her. "You can make peace with them - you can stop letting them terrorize you or making you feel guilty by accepting who you were at the time the memories were made - but you cannot abandon them and walk away. They are a part of you - a very important part."

"Remembering hurts, Papa," she cried softly.

"I know it does, ma petite," he soothed, taking her hand in his. "But the pain will grow less in time as new memories are added to them. They will become the foundation of your new life." He paused to think for a moment. "Do you remember what Mr. Parker said to me after your mother's so-called suicide?"

"You mean when he told you “life goes on”?"

"Mmm-hmmm," he nodded. "Of all the things that man said, that was probably the most true. Life does go on. Debbie and what happened to her is in the past - nothing you can do now will affect what happened. It's up to you if you let the memory of what happened in the past keep you from enjoying something in the future. You do not betray the memory of Debbie by getting to know Janine, Parker."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," he chuckled. "If anything, your time with Debbie will have prepared you a bit for Janine - but only a bit. Paul wasn't kidding when he said that she could be overwhelming at times."

"I'm afraid the time will come and I'll need to protect her - and I'll fail again," she said softly, burying her nose in his shoulder.

"Damn it, you didn't fail the last time, so quit beating yourself over the head with things you couldn't have prevented!" he insisted firmly as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. "The Centre is what hurt Debbie - not you. You cannot make yourself responsible for all the evils the Centre perpetuated, and you know better than to try."

"But I wasn't there..."

"Because Lyle stopped you," he reminded her pointedly. "You know as well as I the strength of a diversionary tactic like that. He might as well have hog-tied you for a short time - he accomplished the same end. You were made a victim that day too, Parker - only your wound wasn't a visible one." He thought for a moment. "And knowing how the Centre works, tell me the truth: if you HAD been there when the sweepers arrived, do you REALLY think you could have protected Debbie?"

"They might not have..."

"...broken her cheek bone? Perhaps," he pressed on vehemently. "Then again, injuring Debbie to send a message to Broots might have been part of the plan all along - in which case you might have gotten hurt yourself too, if not killed, by being in the way."

"At least if I'd gotten hurt, it would have shown Broots that I was there, trying to help..." she whispered softly. "Maybe he would have moved away, but he would have at least..."

Sydney kissed the side of her head through her curls. "I think Broots over-reacted, and maybe dumped some of his anger at the Centre on you as a convenient target - but that when he calmed down, he'd know better. It could be that he feels he can't get back in contact with you to let you know he's taken you off the hook for fear of letting the Centre know where he'd gone - and he probably couldn't find you now if he tried."

She snuggled down against him. "Maybe..." She had to admit that he had a valid point.

"And I'll bet Debbie doesn't hold it against you at all, does she?"

Parker shrugged - she honestly hadn't had a chance to talk to Debbie after getting her to the emergency room, so she didn't know whether Debbie blamed her or not. If she were honest with herself, however, knowing Debbie's forgiving nature, she was fairly sure that Papa was right that the girl wasn't holding a grudge. Debbie was an intelligent girl - she knew where the line was between the Centre and Miss Parker. That realization lifted the weight of guilt from her almost immediately.

She closed her eyes and relaxed against Sydney's shoulder. "I love you, Papa," she said softly after a long moment of soaking up the warmth and caring that he still gave to her completely without reservation. Were it not for his unceasing nurturing and support, she'd not be in any shape to even attempt to piece together a new life - one that evidently included another motherless girl.

"I love you too, Parker," he replied with a tired sigh, not for the first time wondering if Parker would ever find the bottom of the deep well of heartache and tragedy that had nearly killed her. He closed his eyes and just held his daughter close, grateful that he could.

~~~~~~~~

Parker took a deep breath of the warm April afternoon and then started down the stairs on her way to the mailbox. The morning had been an active one that had seen a preliminary trip to set up getting her driver's license at long last, as well as a quick tour of a few used car lots to check out prices. Papa had decided that he needed an after-lunch nap after that long midnight counseling session, and so she had decided to take his keys and fetch the mail to save him the trip. She would have to do something to try to forestall another nightmare again too - Papa was starting to visibly wear down with the strain of caring for her almost twenty-four hours a day, and she was beginning to worry about him. He needed his rest, and he wasn't getting it properly.

She herself was feeling better, however, and not as apprehensive about calling Paul that evening and accepting the invitation as she had been. She sniffed at the warm air, still learning to appreciate the smell of a springtime desert, and headed toward the low cement cube that housed the mailboxes for that area of the condominium complex. She quickly found the proper box, inserted the key and opened the little metal door.

"You're Parker Green, aren't you?" a girl's voice sounded off to her left.

She looked over from gathering her mail to find herself pinned by brilliant green eyes in a wide and pretty face. With her straight dark hair twisted into a knot on the back of her head from which a ponytail-like fringe dangled and swung with every movement she made, the girl was trying to look older than she was. She was dressed casually, with tee-shirt and jeans and a backpack thrown over one shoulder. "Yes," Parker answered carefully. "Can I help you?"

"My dad talks about you all the time," the girl continued in an accusatory tone, and Parker blinked as she realized that THIS was Janine Ruiz - come to seek her out without waiting for a proper introduction.

"Really?" she answered blandly, her insides tightening into a knot as she carefully closed the mailbox and then turned to the girl. "Then you must be Janine Ruiz."

"Yeah, so?" The defensiveness of the girl's attitude was obvious, and Parker could appreciate her position. She had had her father all to herself for years - and now, it seemed, her father was starting to think about making room in his life for someone new.

"What can I do for you?" Parker asked, keeping her voice neither too friendly nor too ambivalent.

"I don't want a new mom," Janine announced suddenly, and Parker could see a brief flash of fear behind the bristling façade.

"That's good," she replied easily, "because I don't think anybody can ever replace a person's mom."

Obviously that wasn't the answer Janine had been expecting, because part of the belligerence dropped away for a moment and was replaced with confusion. "But... if Dad..."

Parker shook her head. "Your dad and I just met, Janine - I've known him less than two weeks. I think it's a little early to be worrying about my trying to replace anybody, don't you?"

"Do you love him?" The green eyes were piercing and brutally direct.

"I like your dad," Parker answered slowly, "but like I said, I've only known him for less than two weeks. That's not enough time to fall in love with someone. I don't know enough about him to know if I would or not."

"Do you have kids too?"

Parker shook her head. "No, I've never been married."

The dark head tipped. "What do you do? Do you work at the university?"

The idea that she was getting the third degree so soon from one so young tweaked at her sense of humor, and Parker found herself having to fight against chuckling. No wonder Paul had said something about being overwhelmed at times. "No, I don't work at the university. I'm kinda between jobs at the moment - I was very ill, and my Papa brought me back to stay with him so I could get better." She cast her own assessing eye over the girl. "It's a little early in the afternoon. Aren't you supposed to be in school?"

"I'm on first track, and I'm done for the day," Janine answered quickly, surprised that the role of interrogator had been usurped from her so easily. "What do you do, then?"

"I'm thinking of going back into law," Parker answered honestly. "I'm not sure, but that's what I'm considering. What about you? What do you want to do when you grow up?"

Again Janine found the tables turned. She shrugged. "I don't know - get married and have kids, I suppose..." She looked up at Parker again. "Don't you want to get married someday - have kids?"

"Maybe," Parker admitted, "someday. But until then, I work at just being who I am and doing what I need to do." She cast a firm grey gaze at the girl. "That's about all any of us can do, don't you think?"

Janine shrugged again and studied the woman in front of her. She was very pretty, just as Dad had said she was. And she was being honest with her answers, which counted for a lot. Janine hated it when grown-ups tried to doctor the truth to make it easier for kids to understand. "So you're really not trying to become my new mom?" she asked again, this time more softly and a little less defensively.

"How old were you when you lost your mom?" Parker asked back.

"Nine," Janine replied. "Why?"

"Then you remember her?"

"Yeah. So..."

Parker shook her head. "Then nobody can replace your mom - and I'd be a fool to even try. See, my mom died when I was maybe a year or so younger than you, and I wouldn't let anybody replace her either. So I know exactly how you feel. At best, I can be a friend - maybe someone you feel you can talk to sometimes, when it gets hard to talk to your dad about girl stuff - but I cannot be your mother."

"And if you and Dad get together?" Janine couldn't let go of her fear quite yet.

Parker sighed. "If your dad and I do get together, then we'd get together - and the three of us would have to try to put it together as a family. BUT, even then, I know I could never replace your mom. We could come to mean a lot of things to each other, but that would never be one of them - unless that was what YOU wanted. Even then, things with you and me would be very different from what you had with your mom."

"Do you want to get together with my Dad?"

"I told you, I want to get to know him first - and that's going to take some time," Parker answered truthfully. "See, I'm not a big fan of love at first sight - that's a great way to get burned." She looked down into less antagonistic green and tried a smile. "So... Do I pass muster? Do I have your permission to get to know your Dad a little better?"

Janine's face broke briefly into an answering smile that the girl worked hard to stomp down. "I suppose..." she answered in a tone of childish reluctance. "So, you're coming over on Sunday?"

"Yes, I am," Parker answered quietly. "I was going to call your Dad and tell him, but maybe you could give him the message for me?"

"OK," the girl agreed, sounding much more agreeable. "I'll see you around," she said, turning to head across the complex toward her home.

"See you Sunday," Parker called back, and turned to go back home herself.

"Say..."

Parker turned. "What?"

"What do I call you?" Janine asked.

"My name's Parker. You can call me that."

"OK, Parker. See you on Sunday."

Parker watched the girl walk spryly across the grass toward the community club house, then turned to head back indoors herself. No, Janine was nothing like Debbie at all, with the exception of being very close and protective of her father - which was something that Parker could now thoroughly understand from a daughter's perspective. She smiled to herself, thinking that much of the reason for the apprehension that had been building for Sunday had just been brushed aside by a young girl's defensiveness and curiosity. She'd have to tell Papa what happened when he got up - he could use the chuckle.

With her head held high and a bounce in her step, Parker headed home.

The Visit - by MMB

Chapter 8 - Movement


Miss Parker opened her eyes sleepily and then stretched in the early morning light. She felt rested but not completely refreshed because her sleep had been broken - as usual. But she was proud of herself. She'd done it again - caught herself before she'd slipped completely into her nightly bout of terror and awakened herself before she could make any noise to awaken her Papa too. This time, however, Papa had managed to stay asleep rather than rouse out of habit while she had prowled the living room and stared out at the nighttime boulevard for a long time. One day she hoped that she, too, would sleep the night through uninterrupted. But for now, she was content to know that Papa had.

Now that she was genuinely beginning to feel better, she was starting to become quite protective of her Papa's health. She had only just found him - only just started to discover and revel in the joy and security of knowing the unconditional love shared between parent and child - and there was absolutely nothing and nobody in her world right now that was more important to her. All the devotion she'd once showered on the memory of her mother was now pouring out for and on her Papa, and to her delight was being returned to her in full measure. She was happier now than she'd been since her mother's abrupt departure from her life, and all of that happiness was wrapped in an aging body that had already faltered once.

She slipped from beneath her sheet and light blanket and reached for her velour robe. She could smell the first, tenuous wafts from the coffeepot in the kitchen. It didn't surprise her that Papa was already up - he was, she knew, a creature of habit accustomed to rising early in the morning. She zipped the robe, dragged her fingers through her tumbled curls to give them at least the illusion of order, and padded down the hallway and into the kitchen with bare feet. "Sleep well?" she asked pointedly. She deposited a kiss on his cheek as she reached past him into the cupboard for a pair of coffee mugs.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," he answered her with an assessing look, not missing the dusting of dark beneath her eyes. "But you didn't, I take it?"

She glanced at him sharply, knowing better than to try to placate him. He simply knew how to read her like an open book - and always had, she had to admit. "I woke up in the middle of the night and had a hard time getting back to sleep," she admitted. "It wasn't anything urgent, though, and I didn't want to awaken you."

"Parker..."

"No," she shook her head at him firmly. "I've lived with nightmares most of my life, Papa. At least NOW I can wake up before they get far enough along that I CAN'T wake up, and end up waking you up with my screaming. That's progress." She turned with a full coffee mug in one hand and ran her free hand over his forearm. "It means you don't have to be on call 24/7 anymore. I'm not on the verge of a physical and mental breakdown anymore, and you deserve a break. Besides, it isn't good for you anyway to not be getting your proper rest." Her determined grey eyes met and held his startled chestnut gaze. "You've taken care of me - now it's my turn to take care of you a little bit."

"I know you mean well, but I'd really rather you did wake me up, ma petite," Sydney insisted, taking up the second mug and filling it with coffee. "Part of the reason you're coming out from under your cloud so successfully is that we've worked on the little problems immediately, the moment they pop up." He frowned at her while he took a seat at the kitchen table. "Sometimes, that moment happens in the middle of the night. You know that."

"I know, but..."

"But..."

"I don't like the way this is wearing you down," she complained truthfully, letting her concern show. "You aren't getting the rest you need, and it's starting to show and worry me."

"Come here." Sydney put out his hand to his daughter, and then tugged when she willingly put her hand in his. "Sit down." He waited patiently until she did as he had asked. "Now listen to me. I told you that I knew what I was getting myself into, didn't I?"

"Papa..."

"No." He shook a finger at her. "It's my turn now. When I told you I knew exactly what I was getting myself into, that included knowing that there was going to come a time during which neither one of us would be getting the kind of rest we needed. It's obvious now that your nightmares hold the keys to a large portion of what nearly killed you - and as hard as they are on you, I need them to help me understand and help you get rid of them. I need to be there when they happen - there is a moment when the underlying problem causing the trouble is just below the surface."

"But it isn't worth it if you wear yourself out and have another heart attack," Parker worried back at him. "I don't think I could live with myself anymore if you were to make yourself ill trying to help me."

"Ma petite worry-wart, I'm not going to have another heart attack," he reassured her and then reached out to pull her head forward so he could kiss her forehead. "But if it would help make you feel any better, I'll start taking a longer nap in the afternoon to make up for the rest I lose in the middle of the night."

"Do you promise?"

"Yes," he chuckled at the seriousness on her face, "I swear, Parker. Now, whose turn is it to make breakfast?"

"This isn't funny, Papa," Parker protested.

"I know it isn't, sweetheart - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. But you don't seem to understand that my just being sleepy isn't going to hurt me half as much as your not getting to the roots of your nightmares will harm you eventually. Promise me you'll call me from now on." He brushed back an errant curl gently. "Neither of us is working and having to keep to a normal schedule, so if we start making a habit of being up a two in the morning, there's nobody to criticize or complain. We BOTH can nap in the afternoon, for that matter."

"Papa..."

The finger wagged again. "Uh-uhn. I promised I'd nap. So in return now, you promise me you'll call me." The finger moved beneath the chin and propped it up so that she couldn't look away. "Promise me."

"I promise," she conceded reluctantly. "It's just... I don't want to lose you..." Her grey eyes were almost frantic. "I can't lose you - not now!"

The unexpectedness as well as the depth and persistence of her worry astounded him. "What started this?"

She shrugged and picked up her coffee to sip at it. "I got to thinking last night when I couldn't get to sleep that this was always about the point..." She sighed. "Every time I start to think everything will be OK, and that it was safe for me to REALLY love someone, something unexpected would come along and then I'd be alone again..."

Sydney shook his head gently. "I should have known that your abandonment issues had only been dealt with superficially. Listen to me, cheri. My health isn't that fragile. I've recovered fully from my heart attack, and my cardiologist has been very satisfied with all my test results since then. I'm not going to suddenly drop..."

"Don't say it," she barked, turning slightly pale. "Don't even think it! Tommy did that, just a few days before he was murdered - told me that nothing was going to happen to him, and that he'd will me all his shirts when he was gone..." God, but it hurt to remember that cavalier remark in the face of what had happened only day's later! "And just look at what happened to him..."

He looked at her compassionately. "This is going to be one of those things that are going to take a long time to prove to you - that we're free of Centre tampering in our lives. There's nothing hanging in your destiny just out of sight that is waiting to steal your life away again, ma petite."

"Call it the Parker Jinx, but it's there," she retorted stubbornly.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," he sighed and scooted his chair closer to her so that he could put his arm around her shoulder. "You're not a Parker anymore, remember? That life is behind you now. You're MY daughter now, and the Green family doesn't have a jinx." He felt her lean and snuggle into him, and he left his coffee mug on the table so he could wrap his other arm around her to complete the embrace. "You know, if you keep looking over your shoulder for the axe to fall, you'll never fully enjoy what you have right now. You have a whole new life in front of you - let it unfold for you in its own time, don't waste time looking back trying to anticipate disaster."

Parker closed her eyes and savored the embrace that surrounded her and the love behind it like a starving person who'd just been given a huge helping of their favorite food. "I don't know how to do that yet, Papa," she admitted in a small voice.

"You'll learn," Sydney reassured her in a gentle voice. "You'll learn. Give it time."

~~~~~~~~

Parker would never know what inspired her Papa to have turned on the TV to watch the news that particular afternoon. Neither one of them were very impressed with the fare offered on what they both agreed was better called an “idiot box.” Papa did, from time to time, turn on the national news to supplement what he read in the Arizona Republic that was delivered to their doorstep every morning. She generally didn't join him, however. Her interests had yet to stretch too much beyond just settling into living with another person, getting to know her new home community and learning about the issues specific to the region.

So she was totally unprepared to hear him bellow out loudly, "Parker! Get in here NOW!"

Still a little sensitive to her own fears and worries, she found herself dashing in from the kitchen, where she'd been taking care of rinsing dishes. "God! What is it?"

"Look!" Sydney pointed to the television screen, and Parker's jaw dropped when the very next shot of the newscast moved to a painfully familiar landmark.

Sydney turned up the volume as the camera panned across the imposing façade of the above-ground facility. "The unfolding scandal of influence-peddling, racketeering, tax evasion and fraudulent government contracts has rocked the Delaware State Attorney General's office and has even sparked a probe into the possibility of Federal charges being leveled against The Centre and its CEO, Mr. William Raines." The newscaster's voice droned on in a typical non-emotional narrative, "An anonymous tip regarding tax evasion and fraud put investigators on the trail of Centre activities over six months ago. But the unexpected delivery of documents detailing Centre business practices has now caught the eye of the FBI and its RICO taskforce."

"Federal warrants were served this morning against several of the ranking executives and employees of the company, including CEO Raines and his assistant, a man evidently known only by the surname Lyle. Lyle is also being held without bail on seemingly unrelated murder charges, although part of the investigation into The Centre's business practices apparently is focusing on witness-tampering and obstruction of justice in regards to the deaths of several Asian women over the past five years in several states." The camera re-focused on the newscaster, behind whom the graphic related to the story changed suddenly from a thumbnail picture of the Centre tower to a drawing of a dollar sign. "This latest bombshell from a corporation considered a pillar in the American business community has rocked Wall Street, where the price of the common share on the New York Exchange has fallen to..."

Parker turned her stunned gaze to Sydney. "Impossible."

He swallowed hard, barely daring to believe that The Centre had indeed been standing on such shaky ground that it would collapse like a house of cards under a stiff breeze. "Remember when I found you in the cemetery?" he reminded her in a shocked voice. "I told you The Centre was falling apart - and urged you to get out before you were taken down with it." His eyes returned to the appliance and he muted the volume. "I meant it, but I swear I didn't think it would happen so FAST..."

She moved around the end of the couch and sat down next to her Papa before her knees could refuse to support her. "They said there was an anonymous tip. You don't suppose..."

Sydney shrugged. "It could have come from anyone, Parker. Even from Broots, if what you said about his being nervous about something that he'd found in the Centre mainframe was true. Broots was always a very ethical person, trapped in a very UNethical situation. This could easily be his revenge for what was done to Debbie, you know..."

Yes, Parker thought to herself, the Broots whose face had been pale with rage in the hospital emergency room could very well have been behind this final chapter in The Centre. "Or it could have been Jarod..." she appended as a second thought.

"No matter where it came from, you do realize what this means, don't you?" Parker was still too stunned to answer, so she just gazed at him. "It means, ma petite, that there will be no late-night visits from Raines and Lyle and Willy, shooting up our apartment and killing me. There's no way for your nightmare to become reality."

"What if the investigation..."

"Parker," he smiled at her. "It's over. Between the FBI, the Delaware Attorney General and everybody else who's been offended by The Centre over the years, there's nobody left to come after you. You're free - we're free."

She shook her head. "Not yet, Papa. We can't let down our guard yet. Not until Raines and Lyle and Willy are put away for good. We can't trust that the Triumvirate won't just buy their way out of jail in order to keep the bloodhounds from finding THEM." She shuddered. "And if they think WE'RE the ones responsible for the leak that got everyone in trouble..."

"They're not going to think that..."

"We don't know that. Papa, please..." Her expression had grown almost frantic again. "Remember the other day, I told you that there seemed to be a point in time when it would appear safe to let down my guard - only to have that be the one time when everything was ready to just fall in... Now here it is again... It looks like The Centre is falling apart, and we start to relax our guard, and then..."

He opened his mouth to console her, but she grabbed his forearm. "We need to get out of here - go away for a while."

"Parker," he began his complaint, knowing that she could easily build her anxiety up into a full-fledged panic attack, "there's no need for us to go anywhere. They don't know where we are to begin with - especially you. Besides, you have a date to have dinner with Paul and..."

"We have to protect him too," she pulled at him frantically. "In my nightmares, he always ended up dead too..."

"Hush." Sydney reached out to her and gathered her close before she could spring to her feet. He clung tightly while she struggled against his embrace. "Slow down, and stop panicking. Take a deep breath, sweetheart. Breathe..."

It took a long time, but finally she was quiet against him. "I'm scared," she finally admitted in a tiny voice.

"I noticed," he told her not unkindly. "But you're going to have to face this one, Parker."

"Papa..."

"Uh-uhn. This is not negotiable. The only way for you to truly learn that you don't have to run or be afraid anymore is for you to stop running. You can do this," he told her, putting as much confidence into his voice as he could. "You'll go over to Paul's Sunday and have a nice meal with them, and then Monday you'll get your driver's license."

"That can wait for a while..."

"No, it can't." He put her away from him so that he could look her in the face. "C'mon, Parker. You're stronger than this, and you know it. We Greens are a hardy lot."

"Not when I have so much to lose again," she countered softly.

"You forget that I have as much to lose as you do now," he reminded her gently. "But I refuse to crawl under a rock when the promise of sunshine has such good odds. We'll be OK, Parker. Trust me."

She did trust him - she DID - it was the rest of the world she was suspicious of. Sydney could see that he hadn't convinced her yet, so he just kissed her forehead and let her go. "Listen to me now. We're not going to change our routine at all," he told her firmly. "They've left us alone for this long, there's no reason to believe that they'll bother us now. Besides, we've not done anything. If they WERE watching us, our not running and drawing attention to ourselves would tell them exactly that."

Parker rose and went back out into the kitchen to finish her task, her mind spinning. For once she was seeing the warning signs for herself, signs that Papa wanted her to disregard. She filled the detergent cup in the dishwasher with the powdered soap and set the dial, hearing the machine pick right up and begin to fill with water. She was anxious, antsy. Sitting around the apartment quietly for the rest of the afternoon just wasn't something she could handle.

"I think I'm going to take a walk," she announced to him as he sat on the couch reading the newspaper.

"Are you OK?" he inquired quickly, reading a deeper meaning in her sudden urge for activity.

"I'm fine," she reassured him. "I'm just feeling the need to DO something right now - if I sit around the apartment, I'm going to stew and get myself all worked up. I thought a combination walk and jog around the complex might help me clear my head and put things in perspective." She put out her hand. "Give me the key, and I'll pick up the mail on my way back in."

"I think it's about time we get you your own set of keys," Sydney commented as he fished in his trousers pocket for his key ring. He caught her hand in his as he dropped the keys into her palm. "Don't be gone too long - and take some water with you. It's warm today. Are you SURE you're OK?"

"I'm just jumpy," she admitted. "And I figured that rather than climbing the walls and driving you nuts, I'd take a hike around the perimeter."

"Just don't tire yourself out too much," he cautioned at her. "You know you still don't have all your strength back."

"I'll be fine, Papa - I promise."

~~~~~~~~

Papa was right - it WAS warm outside, much warmer than it had been that morning during their constitutional walk. Parker headed off down the sidewalk, glad that she'd broken down and bought herself a pair of comfortable sneakers several days ago. The breeze in her hair was warmer than skin-temperature, and her legs moved steadily as she walked down the sidewalk to the broad boulevard and then turned left to skirt the very perimeter of the condominium complex.

Palm and palo verde trees lined the sidewalk next to the boulevard, as usual accenting the fact that this was NOT Delaware, but Arizona. This was her life now - THIS, not that viper's pit that she'd seen for the first time in almost a month on a television news broadcast. The idea that Raines and Lyle were currently housed in cells not much bigger than the ones she knew they'd kept Jarod all those years seemed poetic justice in and of itself. Was Papa right? Had she managed to drop off the radar with him at just the right time and in just the right way that the Triumvirate wouldn't come looking for her? How much longer before she could draw a truly free breath?

There was a bus stop bench at the next corner where she'd be turning left again away from the boulevard, and she seated herself and took a long draught from the small drinking water bottle she'd carried with her. She looked around her, and then across the broad expanse of green grass to the balcony that she knew was theirs. Theirs - now there was a concept that had changed for her. Papa's incorporation of her into his life had been quite complete, and the sense of belonging was part of what she was so desperate to defend. She LIKED her new life, what she'd seen of it and the people with whom she was sharing it. She liked it well enough that she was going to do whatever it would take to hang onto it.

Feeling rested again, she rose and began walking steadily down the side street. Only gradually did she realize that she was comfortable walking down that street alone. The fears and insecurities that hounded her thoughts weren't present unless she deliberately invited them into her mind. She wasn't watching every car that passed lest it hold a pack of sweepers bent on retrieval. She wasn't eyeing other pedestrians to see if they were trying to stake her out or follow her. She was Parker Green, walking down the street near her home as if she belonged - and she did.

Understanding flooded her and made her steps falter and finally halt. Her fears were based in habit, conditioned responses to the poisonous environment in which she'd lived most of her life as Miss Parker. Conditioned responses could only be addressed and eventually reversed by conditioning herself to respond in new ways - a process that required time and persistence. That explained Papa's refusal to allow the news to change any part of the life they had now. He was right - she had to re-learn how to interact with life in terms that didn't include fear and suspicion as foundations, and to do it, she'd have to face the situations that she habitually responded to in that way.

She purposefully began putting one foot in front of the other again, determined to finish the circuit of the complex perimeter. As she moved forward, the walk began to take on an almost allegorical meaning. To make any progress at all, she had to face forward and put one foot in front of the other in such a way that she moved in the direction she wanted to go. Yes, this was a new life - and the fears and suspicions that were overwhelming her before belonged to another life completely. To make progress in this new life, she couldn't let them tie her back. She had to face this new life head-on, and to do that, she'd have to dredge up some self-confidence.

"Hey, Parker!" She turned toward the voice. Paul Ruiz was waving at her from the driver's window of a silver mini-SUV. "Fancy meeting you out here."

She looked both ways and then trotted across the street to where he'd pulled the vehicle to the curb and leaned against the car door. "Hi. What's up?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied, humor evident in his rich tone. He glanced up and down the street. "Where's your dad?"

She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the complex across the street. "He was reading the newspaper at home when I left."

That made the professor's hazel eyes glance up in surprise. "Everything OK? I mean..." he smiled with a little embarrassment, "I rarely see one of you without the other being not far away."

Parker grinned - she HAD been hanging very close to her Papa, once she'd found him. "Everything's fine. I just wanted to take a walk to clear my head." She could see his attaché case on the passenger seat next to him. "You just getting off work?"

"TGIF," he chuckled at her. "Only had the one class today, and no office hours. Decided to head home to enjoy the quiet while Janine is over at her best friend's." He thought for a moment. "Why don't you hop in? I have some apple cider cold in my fridge that might hit the spot for you."

Parker thought for a moment, then smiled. "That sounds good, actually." She moved around the hood of the vehicle while Paul retrieved his attaché case and moved it to the back seat behind him.

He unlocked the door so she could slip in beside him. "Say, I'm not interrupting a good power walk or anything, am I? You said you were trying to clear your head?"

"I think I have things pretty well figured out now," she replied as he put the vehicle into gear and let it begin to move down the street again.

"I'm glad I ran into you. I was kind of hoping that we'd get a chance to get to know each other better without others hanging around."

"You mean like my Papa or your Janine?" she asked with a mischievous smile.

"We do both seem to be rather well chaperoned, don't we?" he tossed back. "Were you and your dad always as close?"

Parker shook her head. "Not at all. We're..." She paused, trying to figure out how to explain her situation without shocking or confusing him. "We're just finally really getting to know each other after all these years. We'd lost touch for a while." She looked around her as Paul pulled into an unfamiliar complex drive. "What about you? Janine seems... very territorial."

Paul threw his head back and laughed. "When she told me she'd talked to you the other day, I just about had a litter of cats wondering about the kind of third degree grilling she'd given you - and whether you were still willing to subject yourself to more of the same on Sunday."

She shook her head again gently. "I remember being an only child after my mother died. It was just my daddy and me. I never had to worry much though, he was always working and hardly ever socialized."

"Sydney doesn't strike me as the kind of man who'd let his family drift away while he paid more attention to his work," Paul commented with his brows furrowed in confusion.

She glanced at him. "He was absolutely wrapped up in this one research project for a good number of years. The company he worked for didn't give him much time to think about much else either. I ended up in boarding school, and then went away to college."

"His idea, the boarding school?"

"No," she mused. "Not really." No, if her Papa had been actually in charge of things, she doubted she'd have been foisted off on school administrators or any other hired help - including Sydney, the Centre psychiatrist. If Papa had been her real father, she might very well have been raised within the Centre - but what a different situation it would have been. She took a deep breath, deciding to turn the tables on him again. "How long has it been just the two of you?"

"Almost four years now." Paul maneuvered the car around the corner and into the carport slot that was his with obvious skill. He glanced at his passenger as he turned off the key to the ignition. "Cancer," he said in explanation. "I think it was harder on Janine to actually lose her mother than it was on me - by the time it happened, I just wanted Tina to stop hurting, you know?"

"I'm sorry," Parker put her hand on his forearm. "I didn't mean..."

"Don't worry about it," Paul shook his head at her. "I've managed to touch some sensitive nerves with you a few times too." He reached behind him with one of his long arms and retrieved his attaché case again. "C'mon. Your apple cider awaits, milady."

~~~~~~~~

"Hi, Daddy," a happy voice called out, followed by the slam of the front door to the apartment.

"We're in here," Paul called back, motioning to Parker to stay silent and to stay seated.

"Daddy, you should see the really rad outfit that Michelle's mom got her for..." Janine skidded to a halt as she rounded the corner of the kitchen and caught sight of Parker seated at her kitchen table. "Oh. I didn't know you were here..."

"I ran into her on the way home from the university," Paul explained to his daughter, "and I invited her up for some apple cider." He lifted the half-empty container. "You want some?"

The teen shook her head. Today her black hair was down, and Parker could see that it hung in an abundant mane almost to her waist. "Nah. That's OK."

"You were saying about Michelle..." Paul prodded with a sideways glance at his guest. Parker was sitting and sipping at her cider attentively, but not getting in the way of his discussion with his daughter.

"Oh, yeah..." Janine snapped out of her reverie just as suddenly as she'd slipped into it. "Her mom got her this really rad outfit to go to the Spring Fling Dance next Friday night. AND she got her a new belly button jewel that matches! Can you believe that?"

Paul frowned. "Michelle's folks let her pierce her navel?"

Janine's face folded into an expression of frustration. "Oh, c'mon, Dad. It's the new millennium, and EVERYBODY's got their navel pierced."

"Not you," the steel-headed father announced in a tone of finality. "You're too young..."

"DAAAaaaaad," Janine complained, then gave a sudden glance at Parker as if only realizing she had an audience again. "Maybe we can talk about this later?"

"Sure," Paul replied reasonable, "as long as you realize there's no way in the world I'm going to let you get yours pierced for a good long time."

Janine's green eyes flashed, but she restrained her tongue and flounced from the kitchen. Less than a minute later came the sound of an interior door slamming shut.

"Sorry about that," Paul brought chagrined hazel eyes to bear on Parker's face, only to find her lips crinkling in a smile.

"You're right, she IS a handful," she commented wryly. She shook her head. "No wonder you're turning so grey."

"Oh, thanks a lot," he retorted grumpily.

She glanced down at her wristwatch. "I should probably be going. Papa's probably wondering where I went - I've been gone longer than I thought I would." She rose, and Paul was on his feet immediately. "Thanks for the cider - it tasted very good."

"Thanks for joining me," Paul replied, a hand at Parker's back to escort her to his door. "You've made the afternoon very enjoyable indeed. Say - would you mind if I walked back to your place with you? I need to get our mail anyway..."

"Me too," she answered with a smile over her shoulder. The hour she'd spent in his company had been a comfortable one where they had both gotten to know the other a little better. The more time she spent with the fellow, the more she was enjoying his company - and having that company for a little while longer wasn't a bad thing. "By all means. It will be nice to have company."

Paul let her lead the way down the stairs and then easily caught up to her and claimed her hand for his arm. "So, when are you going to talk to David Prouse in the Law Department?"

"I have an appointment with him on Tuesday of this next week," Parker told him, finding his having her hand tucked away in much the same way Papa did brought him closer to her - and had her heart beating just a little bit faster. This is ridiculous, she told herself. She wasn't a schoolgirl to be made breathless with a schoolyard crush...

"What time?"

"Mid-afternoon, I think."

He bent down towards her head slightly. "Good. Maybe we could get some lunch together at the Student Union. Their cafeteria there serves remarkably good stuff."

She looked up at him with eyebrows raised slightly. "You have a nice lunch-time break on Tuesdays?"

"Amazing, isn't it?" he grinned back at her, his eyes sparkling. "What do you say?"

"I suppose if I'm going to be attending this school, it wouldn't hurt to check out the amenities," she smirked back at him. "You're on. What time do you want me there, and where do you want to meet?"

Paul pulled her to a halt in front of a cement cube containing mailboxes just like the one on the other side of the complex where she and Papa got their mail. "Meet me in the union lobby at noon - I'll have to show you how to find the cafeteria." He inserted his mail key and opened the little door. "Junk mail," he grumbled as he fished several large and obvious advertising brochures from the tiny space. Of the wad of envelopes he pulled out, he dropped over half of them into the nearby trash receptacle immediately and then reclaimed her hand for his elbow again. "Now, on to YOUR side of the world."

Parker giggled as they started walking toward the clubhouse again. His sense of humor was contagious, and he'd had her in stitches several times during their leisurely discussion at his kitchen table. After the scare earlier that afternoon, she hadn't realized how much she had needed the lift his gift of laughter had provided. She heard his low and soft chuckle and knew that he was enjoying himself immensely - and evidently enjoyed her company as much as she was enjoying his.

"I'll have to remember you have Friday afternoons free - maybe the next glass of cider can be on me," she suggested, feeling almost shy in the invitation.

"I'd like that," Paul said gently, his hand pressing hers against his arm. "I was serious when I told you that I'd like to see more of you - a LOT more."

"Have you talked this over with Janine?" she asked, finally giving voice to her one reservation about what seemed to be the direction they were moving without any hesitation at all.

"Some. She was downright furious about the whole idea until you talked to her - I think your understanding exactly what she was going through made an impression." He fell silent while he pondered his explanation. "When Tina died, it was weeks before she would fall asleep in her bed by herself - I had to hold her and rock her to sleep and then carry her to bed. She and her mother were very close, and she was devastated."

"That sounds like me," Parker nodded. "When my mother died, I was so lost..."

Paul cleared his throat. He'd once wondered what it would take to get this intriguing woman to open up to him a little. Evidently shared heartache was one way. "Anyway, while she learned to go to sleep by herself eventually, and lately has gotten brave enough to spend more time with her friends going to movies and going to the mall for window-shopping sprees, she really hasn't figured out how to let me go yet."

"You don't have to explain," she reached over with her other hand and patted his. "Been there, done that."

He looked down at her with warm, hazel eyes. "Yes," he remarked slowly, "I suppose you have."

"So what does she think now?" Parker blushed and looked down at the sidewalk, finding the direct impact of his warm gaze disconcerting.

"I think you've made her curious, frankly. You were about as non-threatening as anybody could be in such a situation - and you treated her with respect." Paul's voice clearly communicated his pleasure at the situation as it stood. "She's actually told me she's looking forward to Sunday - although from what you saw today, that might be a little hard to believe."

"She wasn't expecting me to be in her kitchen," she reminded him. "Something tells me you were going to be fighting the battle of "but Daaaa-aaad" on navel piercings and all kinds of other pop culture ways for her to rebel whether I was sitting there or not."

"You're probably right," he chuckled ruefully. "And this Michelle she mentioned? Her mother is SUCH a flake..."

Parker laughed out loud this time. "Don't EVER let her hear you say that..."

"I don't have a death wish," he chuckled louder. "Trust me."

By this time, they had passed the clubhouse and had arrived at the cement block with mailboxes. Parker turned the key and retrieved the three white envelopes from within. "How do you manage not to have the junk mail?" he asked, astounded.

"Simple," she replied. "We haven't been here long enough for the marketers to find us yet. Give it another year..."

"So..." he tucked her hand away again as they began to move toward the building where Sydney had made his home, "what time will you be by on Sunday?"

"What time do you want me there?" she asked back, touched and amused at the possessive treatment he was giving her hand.

"I asked first," he grinned at her.

"You're the host. You set the conditions," she retorted.

"How about two o'clock in the afternoon, then," he responded after thinking for a bit. "That way we can have the afternoon AND dinner hour."

"Are you sure you're going to want me in your hair for the better part of the day?"

"If I thought I could pry you loose of your father at ten o'clock in the morning, I'd have asked for that instead." Paul's voice was rich and warm. "I told you, I want more of your company. You wouldn't be in my hair, no matter how long you stayed."

"Paul..."

"I mean it." He pulled her to a stop in front of the stairway that led up to her apartment door. "You're the first woman in a very long time who has climbed into my mind and stayed there. You're beautiful and funny and..." He pulled at her hand to get her to look up at him when she dropped her gaze in embarrassment. "...AND intelligent. You fascinate me, Parker Green."

"You're no slouch yourself, you know," she responded finally, her voice soft. "You make me laugh and keep me on my toes. I haven't had anyone do that for..." Jarod's face flashed through her mind. "...for a very long time. You are a very special person."

Hazel eyes dove deep into storm-cloud grey as a big hand came up and framed her face with a gentle touch. Parker found herself having to fight to keep from leaning into the soft caress, having to fight to keep from getting lost in the multicolored gaze. "I... should go in..." she managed finally. "Papa's probably wondering..."

"I suppose..." Paul said softly, and then gave into the temptation to bend down and just barely brush his lips across her cheek. "Sunday. Two o'clock."

"At two," she agreed in a whisper.

"Don't be late." He forced himself to step back from her. "See you then, pretty lady." He gave her a quick wave before turning about and heading home.

Parker watched him for a long moment and then mounted the stairs. "I'm back," she announced as she came through the door.

Sydney looked up from a psychiatric journal he'd been reading at for the last few days, obviously quite expectant. "You were longer than I thought you'd be," he began, then saw the color in her cheeks. "Ah," he smiled. "At least the walk did you some good."

"You could say that."

"Are you still so jumpy?"

Parker's face softened and her lips curled in a gentle smile. "Nope. Not at all." She blinked and wiped the expression from her face. "I ran into Paul, and he invited me up for a glass of cider - and I lost track of time a little bit. I didn't mean to worry you."

Sydney smiled as he contemplated the cause for the change in her attitude. "I need to remember that you're a big girl who can take care of herself," he told her. "You don't need to ask my permission to visit with your friends - especially if doing so will do you so much good."

She moved into the living room far enough that she could bend over the back of the couch and drop a kiss on the top of Papa's head. "Still," she told him, "it's nice to know someone cares enough TO worry a little. I love you, Papa."

"I love you too, ma petite," he answered, glad to see her in such a better mood. "And I'm glad to see that your time with Paul evidently helped you clear your mind."

Parker's face softened again as she remembered the soft touch and tenuous brush of lips to cheek. And Sunday was still two days away. "Oh yeah," she responded, bemused. "It helped a lot."

The Visit - by MMB

Chapter 9 - Insights


Sydney came out of his bathroom sniffing the air appreciatively, for the savory aromas of the evening meal that Parker was preparing for them were already making him salivate and his stomach growl. One of the nicest recent discoveries about his daughter had been that she had the talent to be a good cook despite the fact that she kept protesting her inexperience and her old habits of just ordering in. They had begun a routine of alternating cooking and cleaning duties of late, with Parker poring through some of the quick recipe books she found at the supermarket checkout lines for new ideas.

Then he stopped and listened, and began grinning ear to ear. She was humming as she worked! His suspicion that her whole outlook on life had shifted since that fateful afternoon TV report about the demise of The Centre was now confirmed. After having the verbal equivalent of a panic attack, she had gone off on her own to work through her thoughts while walking - and had returned to the apartment in a much better mood. Of course, she had spent time with Paul Ruiz, which could account for much of her mood shift. He'd hoped Paul and she would connect, and apparently they had. Paul was a good man with a lot to offer her.

He stopped and leaned against the wall just outside the kitchen door, marveling at the way in which his life had changed since his trip to Delaware. In just a little under three weeks, a woman who had literally been severely depressed and starving herself to death had made a complete turn-around. The hollows of her face were gone, her stamina for physical activity was slowly returning, and now it was obvious her emotional health had taken a decided turn for the better. He had brought home a reluctant orphan and now had the company of a devoted daughter. In the autumn of his days, he had finally found the life he'd always wanted, and for the first time in a very long time, he was completely happy.

"So what's on the menu for tonight?" he asked brightly, coming around the corner and being further pleased at the relaxed expression on her face as she tended her dinner.

"Guinea-pig Surprise," she replied as he came to stand over her shoulder and continue to sniff in the aromas appreciatively.

"Are you keeping track of what you're doing with some of these Surprises so that you can repeat the dishes again later on?" he asked as he patted a shoulder and then moved past her to the sink for some water.

She shrugged. "More or less. Mostly what I'm trying to keep in mind are the concepts of what goes well with what."

"Is Paul having you bring anything tomorrow?"

"I don't think so," she shook her head. "At least, he hasn't asked me to." She glanced over at him. "Do you think I should?"

"In some social circles, bringing something is almost expected, you know," he replied after he'd drained his water. "But I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you called him to find out. He can no more than tell you to just bring yourself..."

"Do you have his phone number?" she asked, curious.

"It's in the Rolodex in my bedroom. I'll bring it out after supper." He sniffed hungrily over her shoulder one more time. "I don't want to disrupt the creative process in here as yet." He reached around her to try to lift the lid of the skillet, only to have the back of his hand swatted back. "Wha...?"

"No peeking," Parker grinned at him. "It won't be a Surprise if you peek..."

"No fair," he complained in an exaggeratedly peevish voice. "I'm starving, and it smells SO good in here."

"It'll be ready in about fifteen minutes," she chuckled at him. "I'm sure you're not going to waste away to a mere shadow in fifteen minutes!" Sydney opened his mouth to complain, but then had his comments cut short by the sound of knocking at the door. "Saved by the bell," she chirped at him. "Go get that, and it should be ready by the time you get back."

"It's good to see you happy, ma petite," he told her finally with a peck on the cheek and then moved to the front of the apartment and peeked through the little spy-hole at whoever it was standing at his door. His jaw dropped and he seriously thought about the wisdom of opening the door at all. He got a hollow feeling in his stomach when he considered that Parker's apparent paranoia may well have had a legitimate basis after all.

Still, there was little to do but open the door - the person waiting on the landing knew exactly who they were expecting to find. He unhitched the security chain, knowing that it would be useless anyway. "What in the world are YOU doing here?" he demanded.

Parker reached out and turned off the timer on the stove and then the burner. Dinner was now officially ready. "Papa," she called the man who had been notably absent since the summons to the front door after hanging over her shoulder drooling. "Supper's on." She began taking lids from pots and moving them to the hot pads on the table for serving.

"Parker..." Papa's voice sounded strange - tight and worried - and she spun around to look at him. He moved resolutely into the kitchen and gently grasped her elbows. "Sit down," he directed, steering her backwards into a chair to match his wishes. "We have a visitor, and I want you to just hang on until you hear what he has to say."

"Who... Papa?" She tried to look around him, but could see nobody. "Who's here?"

"You can come on back now," Sydney called over his shoulder, his hands slipping down her forearms to capture her hands.

Miss Parker's eyes widened and she pulled against Sydney's hold on her as the tall, dark-haired man moved smoothly into her kitchen and into her line of sight. "Hello, Miss Parker," Sam said gently. "It's good to see you again."

~~~~~~~~

Sam sat uncomfortably at the kitchen table and observed the dynamics between two people he had once thought he'd known fairly well. In the weeks since Miss Parker had simply vanished without a trace from Blue Cove, things had obviously changed considerably with her. For one thing, she looked much healthier than she had the last time he'd seen her. He may have only been a sweeper - hired muscle ordered to carry out her every wish - but her steady physical and emotional decline after the breakup of her original team had worried him greatly. It did him good to see that she was at least eating better, and that her skin had the glow of regular time in the fresh air and sunshine. But the change went even deeper than that - the way in which she was behaving was neither her trademark self-confident Ice Queen imperial swagger nor the slump of defeat and despair that had punctuated her manner the last time he'd seen her.

Then, watching Sydney handle her, it became plain that the relationship between the two of them had also changed significantly, and that this was as much a part of the change in Miss Parker as anything else. There was closeness between them now that had never been perceivable or even imaginable before, with the old psychiatrist adopting a very paternal role in responding to Miss Parker's near panic at the sight of her old sweeper. It was Sydney that pulled a third place setting from his cupboards and put it on the opposite end of the table from her, and then made sure to place himself protectively between Sam and Miss Parker. She was obviously depending on him to keep her anchored - and she was calling him "Papa," which in and of itself was startling.

"This IS a surprise. How on earth did you find us?" Sydney asked as he dished a reasonable helping of a delicious-smelling casserole for Miss Parker and then took some for himself before handing the spoon to Sam.

Sam took the spoon and gave himself a small portion. "I..." He looked down in chagrin. "I always thought Miss Parker would want to find you again someday. So about a month after you left, I started looking for you myself on my own time without telling anybody what I was doing or what I found out. To be honest, I discovered where you moved to in about a week. I thought at the time that someday she'd ask or say something, and then I'd be able to tell her what I knew. Then she vanished, and I thought I'd just wasted my time.

"Then, when things fell apart a few days ago and somebody needed to find Miss Parker, I figured that the only way I might find her would be to look either you or Broots up. Of everyone at The Centre, you and Broots were the ONLY ones she might have kept in contact with. Broots had never made a secret of where he'd gone, and I knew how close Miss Parker was with Debbie, so I went there before I came here. Turned out he didn't know where she'd gone at all - seemed rather sad about it too when he found out she'd gone missing." His blue eyes dove into Miss Parker's wary grey gaze. "He said he owed you an apology. I was to tell you that, and tell you to give him a call, if I ever found you. But I have to admit, I didn't expect to find her here WITH you."

"Why?" Parker's voice was small, but at least she'd found it again. "Why did you come?"

Sam's blue eyes bore into her. "Somebody needed to tell you about the boy - about little Master Parker."

"What about him?" she asked without the slightest inflection in her voice.

"When the government moved in to close the place down about a week ago, they found him down below - on SL-27. It wasn't pretty." Sam's expression didn't waver. "But he IS your little half-brother, Miss Parker..."

"No," she corrected him very deliberately. "My name is Parker Green now. Miss Parker doesn't exist anymore."

Sam's gaze flicked back and forth between Sydney and Parker again as if taking the measure of the bond between them now. THAT was what had changed - they were acting as if they were father and daughter rather than colleagues or friends. No wonder Raines had never been able to figure out where she'd gone to - nobody would have ever suspected that she'd be posing as Sydney's daughter and changing her name to fit her new identity. Still, he'd come for a reason... "He's your half-brother. I thought that at least you'd want to know what became of him..."

Parker's eyes widened, and she looked to Sydney with something approaching anxiety. The Belgian looked over at the sweeper. "That sounds rather ominous..."

"Like I said, it wasn't pretty." Sam's eyes grew dark. "I saw him when they brought him up from the sublevels - the sight of the sun and all that open space absolutely terrified him. I don't think he's ever been allowed out of the Centre at all."

"That sounds like Raines and Lyle," Sydney commented bitterly. He looked over at Parker. "Did you know where the baby was?"

She shook her head. "Da..." The name still tasted foul in her mouth. "When Daddy was alive, I'd see him from time to time. But after Raines took over, I was told to keep my mind on my job and leave the child-rearing to the nursery attendants. I haven't seen him since..." She thought for a moment. "...since Daddy committed suicide."

Sam shook his head, apparently in disgust. "I'm not surprised. I heard later that the police had a psychologist check him out, and evidently he's been sensory deprived and pretty much left alone for a very long time - he couldn't walk or talk and refused to let anybody near him. I heard one guy mention something about a “Forbidden Experiment,” or something like tha..."

"Mon Dieu!" Sydney's voice was past outraged. "Raines has done some obscene things before, I know - but THAT..."

"What is a Forbidden Experiment, Papa?" Parker asked, chilled.

"It is to raise a human being without any social interaction at all and then, in the second phase of the experiment, study the way in which the formerly isolated person acquires socialization once contact is restored." Sydney's voice shook with the strength of his disapproval. "It is considered forbidden for several reasons. There are the serious ethical and moral ramifications of taking a sentient human being and deliberately isolating it from all other human contact in order to document language and behavioral development “au natural.” But also, modern psychiatric theory holds that the subject would be permanently damaged and never able to fully integrate into society once reclaimed. Until now, the closest anybody has ever come to actually running the experiment was to discover a child who, for one reason or another, ended up fending for themselves. There are only a small handful of cases documented, with no data on the development of the child in isolation prior to re-establishing human contact." He shuddered. "My God - Raines was most likely trying to fill in the gaps by documenting the boy's development during prolonged isolation."

Parker settled back into her chair, eyes wide. "They did that to my little brother?"

Sam's face showed his compassion and sympathy. "I'm really sorry to be the one who had to bring you this news, M... Parker, but I figured that since you'd most likely seen the news about the Centre, you might start wondering what happened to him..." He sighed. "And I figured you'd rather get the news from a friend."

Sydney watched his daughter carefully. "Parker? Are you OK?"

Her grey eyes had grown misty. "God, Papa, I..." Suddenly, all she could think of was the feeling of the newborn in her arms when she'd delivered the baby herself in that remote cabin - and the sense of family that she'd felt when she'd later held the baby those few times before her so-called father's death. She turned back to Sam, stricken. "The authorities - they're going to hold that bastard Raines responsible for this too?"

Sam took on a grim expression of satisfaction. "Oh, yes, ma'am!"

"What will happen to my brother now?" She looked back and forth between the men.

Sam shrugged and waved deference to Sydney's expertise. "They'll probably put him in an institution, where he can be taken care of properly and receive intensive therapy." Sydney wasn't happy about having to tell her the prognosis. "Depending upon the amount of damage done to his psyche, he may never be a “normal” person, never be able to live a “normal” life outside an institutional setting."

"God!" She closed her eyes and remembered the budding intelligence she'd seen in those grey infant eyes. "What should I do? Do I need to do something?"

"You may want to let them know that he still has a living relative, Parker, get yourself appointed his conservator or guardian," Sydney replied, his eyes flicking up to check out Sam's reaction to the possibility that the baby might not have a home here after all. "That way, nothing would ever happen to him without your knowledge and approval. You could at least make sure he gets the best of care..."

"And," Parker's eyes turned to Sam, "I'd have to go back to Delaware to do that, wouldn't I?"

Sam nodded. "More than likely, yes. I doubt, given the situation and circumstances of this being about the Centre, that they'll trust your word in a phone call." He took a bite of the casserole and found it as delicious as it had smelled. "The good news, however, is that they aren't looking for you to arrest you - or you either, Sydney. Whatever the evidence was that they had, it exonerated most of the people who worked there who hadn't done anything but work at an organization that broke the law. Only those who bought into the darker side of the Centre's agenda - folks like Willy and Cox, for example, who actually broke the law themselves in service to the Centre - were rounded up with Raines. If you went back, you might end up being questioned or debriefed - but that would be it."

Parker glanced at Sydney with her eyebrows climbing her forehead in a skeptical manner he'd seen so many times before over the years, then returned a wary gaze to their guest. "So you mean that except for a mild grilling by the authorities before I sign the paperwork, I'd be free of all involvement in the Centre or what it did for all those years?"

Sam continued to nod. "Yes, ma'am. If they treat you the way they did me, it seems that way."

"What about you? What happened? Were you there?"

The ex-sweeper's face broke into a grin as he nodded. "Yes, ma'am - and you should have seen it! When the authorities were ready to move in, the first thing they did was to cut off all communications with the Tower and main facility. When they finally DID move in, I think they had three SWAT teams armed to the teeth - anybody carrying a weapon was searched and their weapon confiscated. They evacuated the clerical and computer technicians first, then sent a team to the Tower to get Raines and Lyle. Once they had them, THEN they sent the SWAT people down to systematically clear out the sublevels one at a time. It took the better part of a day, but the place is closed down and locked up tight now while government techs go through the Centre mainframe computer - nobody's getting in or out without clearance."

Parker gaped at him. "You sound like you're glad it happened."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam looked up into her eyes without flinching. "Let's put it this way: I'm not unhappy about the way things went down. There was some seriously wrong stuff going on there. Obviously." He knew he didn't need to mention her half-brother - or the way the three of them had been ordered to hunt down Jarod as if he, too, were nothing but a well-trained animal that had escaped. "It was time something happened to put an end to it."

"They arrested all the sweepers and cleaners, I'd wager," Sydney put his fork back down on his plate in surprise at the ease with which the Centre had been over-run.

"Actually, no..." Sam answered calmly. "They seemed to have a pretty good idea of who was to be arrested and who was just to be detained and then released. They questioned me the first day for the better part of three hours, then let me go. They didn't even tell me I had to stick around - so I packed up my car and made tracks."

"What are you going to do now? Have you decided?" Parker's voice was small, but it expressed a kind of friendly curiosity Sam had never expected to hear aimed in his direction from his formerly prickly boss.

"I'm on my way back to Los Angeles - for what it's worth, my brother runs a small security business there and has offered me a job to help me get settled in." He cleaned up the last bite of his dinner and set his fork down. "I just wanted to see if I could find any trace of you, Mi... Parker, and let you know the news about your little brother."

"I appreciate that," she replied softly. "I'll have to think about whether I want people to know that I'm still breathing air, though... Even if it is only to a very small group of officials."

"I can understand that," Sam commented gently. "Look, I don't pretend to know what all happened that made you just up and disappear the way you did, but I DO know what I saw before you left. I can say it now: I was really worried about you - and I didn't know how to tell you or even if you let me say anything. But from some of the things you two have said just now, I'm getting the picture that it was pretty bad for you too." He leaned forward. "I'm just relieved to know that you're safe and doing better."

Parker looked across the table at the huge man and suddenly knew that this had been a friend she'd never realized she'd had all that time. He too, like Sydney, had taken her barbs and disdain and yet stayed loyally and protectively at her side. "I'm glad you came," she told him earnestly. "And I hope you'll consider staying in touch - just to let me know how you're doing every once in a while..."

Why had she never noticed that Sam had laugh lines at the corners of his brilliant blue eyes? "I'd like that, M... Parker. I'd like that a lot."

Sydney sat back in his chair and watched his daughter make peace with another part of her past through dealing with Sam, feeling a sense of accomplishment as she moved slowly and steadily from panic to acceptance and even friendship. She could never have managed this step even a week ago - Sam's reappearance in her life would have constituted a serious set-back complete with nightmares and panic attacks and drastic mood swings again. Now, however, he could see her finally starting to put her past behind her and actively choosing what parts of it were worth keeping rather than just turning her back on it all.

"Do you have a place to stay for the night?" he asked finally.

Sam shook his head. "Thanks, but no. I need to get back on the road. I should be able to make it to my brother's by very late tonight if I keep on going."

"You're welcome to the couch," Parker added her voice to her Papa's. "I'd hate to think that you have that far to drive while tired."

The ex-sweeper was touched that they would even make him such an offer, and he ducked his head in embarrassed agreement. "Well..."

"Have some more dinner," Sydney urged, moving the spoon in the skillet toward his guest again, "and don't worry about having to get on the road until morning. You know you'll drive more safely that way..."

"Not to mention that we can stock you up on coffee and something for lunch on the road," Parker added. She smiled at him. Sam held his breath as he caught his first sight of a purely friendly smile from her, one lightly seasoned with a dash of humor he'd never imagined he'd ever see. "Just nod your head and agree, Sam - I'm afraid we have you outnumbered two to one."

The chuckle started at the bottom of the ex-sweeper's stomach and finally burst forth. "OK. You talked me into it." He reached for the spoon in the skillet. "And before I go, will somebody PLEASE give me the recipe for this? It's fantastic!"

Sydney turned a sly grin on his daughter. "As I was saying earlier about keeping notes on your Surprises..."

"Oh, hush!" she grumbled at her Papa, then turned her attention back to their guest. "I didn't even know you had a brother, Sam. Come to think of it," she paused, a little embarrassed, "I don't know much about you at all."

"There isn't really much to tell," Sam shrugged and reached out for the spoon to help himself to more of the delicious meal. "I'm from LA originally, and my brother and folks are still out there..."

~~~~~~~~

"You drive carefully now," Parker worried at Sam as the three of them walked toward the street where he'd parked his car.

Sam pressed the button on his key that unlocked his car and turned. "I will," he promised. "You two take care too. It really WAS good to see you again - and to see you somewhere nowhere near THAT place."

Sydney waited until Sam had deposited his overnight bag in the back seat and the thermos of fresh coffee from their pot on the passenger seat before extending his hand to the big man. "I'm glad you knew where to find me," he told him with a deep and sincere tone. "Keep in touch, and come back to see us again sometime."

"I may just do that," Sam replied in a warning tone, shaking the Belgian psychiatrist's hand firmly. "There aren't many things that I'll miss about that old place - but some of the people I got to know there, I AM going to miss..."

"Know what you mean." Sydney covered their clasped hands with his free hand. "Good luck in your new job."

"Thank you." Sam turned to his former boss, hardly knowing what to say. "I'm glad I found you, and I'm really glad you're all right now. You take good care of yourself." He put out a hand to her.

Parker disregarded the hand completely, moved closer and gave him a gentle hug that clearly surprised him for a moment before he carefully returned the gesture. "You take good care too, Sam. You were one of the good people - I'm glad we won't loose touch after all." She let go and backed away to thread her hand through Sydney's arm.

"Don't forget to call Broots," Sam told her after he'd seated himself, started the engine and run the window down. "I think you'll find it worth it." He closed the door.

"I won't forget, I promise. Thank you for coming."

"See ya." Sam waved brightly to the two of them and moved the car from the curb.

Sydney and Parker waved at him again as he made a U-turn and put himself back on the boulevard heading south toward the freeway. Then they walked northward toward the stoplight at which they'd cross over and begin their morning walk through the park.

"Are you OK?" Sydney asked quietly, knowing that Parker had waited until they were alone again before wanting to touch on the subject of the half-brother she'd left behind her in the bowels of the Centre.

Her hand tightened on his arm. "I don't know," she admitted in a bleak voice. "To think..." she paused, putting the words together properly. "Am I a horrible person if I said I had forgotten completely about my half-brother?"

"No," he answered her gently, patting her hand on his arm. "You're not a horrible person, Parker. You've had quite enough on your mind already - and you said you hadn't seen your little brother for months before you came here."

"But to just abandon him myself..."

"Is that what you think you did?"

She walked along silently for a moment. "Raines wasn't letting me anywhere near him before I left - wouldn't even give me any news about him," she replied finally. "Then, when I came out here with you," she paused, hoping what she was going to say wouldn't be hurtful. "Face it: I DID abandon him to the Centre. I couldn't help him. I couldn't even help myself."

Sydney walked along for a bit, chewing on the insight she'd given him, and then pulled her to a halt at one of their favorite benches at which to rest. He dragged her down to sit next to him. "How do you feel about having abandoned him, Parker? We never have discussed him at all - and I have to admit that I never once considered the baby when I came back for you..."

She could feel his eyes on her face, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. "I felt lousy about it - like I'd done to him what Daddy had done to me in shipping me off to boarding school. But I didn't start to feel that way until just a few days ago, when I suddenly remembered that he was there. Then I felt even worse, knowing that I'd abandoned him in my mind - in my heart - when I was getting so sick, and then abandoned him in fact when I walked away from the Centre. I had to get better just to remember he existed." She looked up at him now. "What kind of person am I that I could just forget him like that?"

"You didn't just forget him, ma petite. You don't need to punish yourself for being human. You were ill - and then you were using all your energy to just get better. You didn't deliberately leave him." He tightened his hand on hers. "He was taken away from you, just as so many others were. This wasn't something YOU chose, it was something forced on you."

"And now, I can't help him..."

"Yes you can. You can make sure that he goes to the best psychiatric facility, either here in Arizona or back there in Delaware, and see to it that he gets the best care and treatment money can buy." Sydney patted her hand.

Parker gave a long sigh. "I suppose so..." She looked down and then up at him again. "But I don't want to go back alone. Will you come with me?"

"Yes," he replied gently. "I'll come with you. We'll have to buy two round-trip tickets, you know - that one-way ticket I bought back when for you just in case isn't going to get us very far..."

"We'll cash it in as credit toward the round-trip tickets then," she leaned her shoulder into his. "I was never going to use it anyway - this way, the money wasn't wasted. And make the reservations for as soon as possible. I want to get this over with, get him transferred to somewhere here in the valley close by, and then come home as quickly as I can."

Sydney's lips twitched. "So this is home now?"

"Yes." The word was firm and sure. "The first real home I've had in a very long time."

~~~~~~~~

Paul's face eased into a wide smile as he opened the door. "You're right on time," he said as he ushered her into the cooler interior of his apartment. He gestured to the brown paper grocery bag she carried in with her. "What's that?"

"Sparkling apple cider, two bottles," she answered, letting him peek into the bag. "I thought they might go with the supper tonight."

"Maybe for Janine," he agreed, taking the bottles from her and leading the way toward the kitchen in an apartment that was just backwards to the one she shared with her Papa. "But I was thinking about some strawberry zinfandel for us..."

"I don't drink, I'm sorry." The words slipped out almost before Parker knew it. She looked up in chagrin to explain. "I have an ulcer, and drinking just about anything now gives me grief."

"An ulcer?" Paul's brows slid together. "How in the world did you get something like that?"

"My former job was very stressful," she answered truthfully, hoping that would be enough information to hold him for now.

He couldn't help but note that she was being just a bit evasive again already. He'd hoped that they'd gotten beyond that. "What did you do?" he pushed slightly.

Parker frowned slightly - she really didn't want to be discussing the Centre with him, not yet. "I was the head of security for a large corporation," she replied, again sticking to the truth but leaving out the details.

"Oh?"

"I'd really rather not talk about it, please," she told him firmly. "I've left all that behind me - although unfortunately my ulcer is one piece that I can't get rid of."

"I'm sorry," he turned from placing the bottles of cider in the bottom of his refrigerator. "It's just that I'm just very curious about you. You don't talk much about your past..."

"I have walked away from my past, for the most part," she told him firmly. "I'd rather leave as much of my past IN the past as I can."

"OK..." Paul gestured for her to sit down at the kitchen table with him again, then took a seat near her. "Oh, by the way, this morning, while Janine and I were on our way to the store for groceries for today, we saw you and your dad and another man - you seemed very friendly and were hugging him. I was wondering who..."

Parker looked up into Paul's face sharply. "He is an old friend of ours that I haven't seen since I moved out here. He's moving to LA, and just stopped by for a visit." Her eyes snapped. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Parker..." He put up his hands defensively. "Hold it! I'm sorry. I told you, I'm just very curious about you - and I want to get to know you."

"You're acting as if you're jealous," she bit off.

Paul at least had the good sense to look chagrinned. "I am, I suppose, a little bit," he admitted. "I guess I've gotten used to the idea that it was just you and your dad - and seeing you with someone else, and hugging him... It just hit me wrong."

"I don't care HOW it 'hit you,'" she narrowed her eyes to slits. "My life is MY business until I decide to bring you in - and even then, your right to pry into my life ends when I say it does. You have no idea..." She paused to take a deep breath before she let her temper overwhelm her. Where had it come from? "This is a bad idea. I need to leave..." She rose and walked out of the kitchen before Paul could process what was happening.

"Parker, wait!" he called and sprang to his feet. He bolted through the kitchen door and managed to snare her elbow just as she was reaching the front door. "Look, I don't know what I'm doing wrong here, so will you help me out?"

"I don't think so," she jerked her elbow out of his grasp, and then suddenly felt her anger rise up uncontrollably. She looked up at him with eyes blazing. "You know, I've had enough of people treating me like a piece of property with no feelings or rights of my own to last three lifetimes. I didn't come to Arizona just to end up having to withstand you interrogating me like a criminal for having friends you don't know or approve of. I will NOT be controlled - trapped - like that EVER again, do you hear me?"

Paul was taken aback at the fury she was heaping on him. There was obviously more going on here than a response to a mere social faux pas. He had seen previously how she normally just shut down when he touched on something sensitive - this almost unreasonable anger coming out of nowhere must be the stronger reaction to his having touched something truly painful. All he knew was that he was standing at the brink of losing her friendship completely almost before it had a chance to grow.

His voice softened. "I'm sorry - how many different times and ways do I have to apologize before you'll hear me?" He reached out to her, then pulled back when she glared at him. "I didn't realize your work history was such a touchy subject. I'm sorry I pushed. I'm sorry I got jealous too, although I'm afraid I can't help that. It's been so long since I've found anyone I was genuinely interested in, I guess I wasn't prepared for seeing you with someone else, no matter how innocently. I admit I jumped to conclusions, though, and I AM sorry for that."

Parker was amazed at herself, and appalled. Where had this overwhelming anger at simple, otherwise reasonable questions from him come from? She took another deep breath to try to put down that simmering feeling inside. "I'm sorry too - I guess I blew up a little faster than I should have. But still..." She narrowed her eyes at him. "It isn't your place to be jealous, or to think you can give me the third degree. You don't know me, and you sure as hell don't own me."

"I know I don't own you. I said I'm sorr..."

"Don't do it again."

Paul blinked. It was a solid, inflexible, non-negotiable condition to her not walking out on him, presented in take-it-or-leave-it terms. "I'm sorry," he repeated again. "You're right - I was WAY out of line. Please, don't go."

Parker was torn. She wanted desperately to take this sudden upsurge of negative emotion home to Papa, to have him talk her through it and help her understand where it had come from and why. If she were going to ever be able to have a relationship with someone new, she'd have to know where such unexpected rages came from so she could avoid them. One fine day she would HAVE to be able to talk about her past without flying off the handle. Papa could help her figure out just what button she wasn't aware of had gotten pushed and how.

But she had also looked forward to this time with Paul and his daughter for days, and he'd no doubt put no small effort into the meal from the smells that were wafting about the apartment. AND he was obviously trying very hard to apologize - it would be rude to just walk out on him. She didn't WANT to walk away, she finally admitted to herself. She liked Paul and wanted to get to know HIM better too, despite his presumption today. She could talk to Papa later.

"OK, I guess," she conceded, turning away from the door at last. At long last she looked about the apartment and noted that the two of them were still alone. "By the way, where's Janine? I'm glad she missed the fireworks just now, but..."

"She and Michelle have a standing date to go mall-hopping on Sundays," Paul explained, silently breathing a deep sigh of relief. "She'll be back about four-thirty. I had hoped that she'd be willing to skip this week, but..."

"She's still mad at you for saying no to a belly button piercing, I'll bet." Parker was beginning to relax again now that the conversation had moved to much safer ground. "This is her way of getting back at you, because she knows that you invited me over to get to know HER better. What better rebellion than to sabotage that just enough that it would be noticed, but not enough that it would get her into trouble."

"You sound like you know your way around teenagers." Paul had finally gotten brave enough to nestle her elbow in the palm of his hand and lead her back toward the kitchen.

"I've been around a few," she admitted, letting her mind test the waters of talking about Debbie to an outsider at long last. "My... one of my best friends had a daughter who was just pre-teen. Her parents had divorced and her mother was... well... a gambling addict. She needed an older female around every once in a while, and..." See, Parker, she told herself, you CAN talk about this without getting jumpy. "We ended up very close..."

Paul gently saw her back to the chair she'd been sitting in previously. "I see..." he prompted carefully, wary of tripping over something painful again and having to go through the agony he'd just barely survived all over again. "Are you still close?"

"No. There was a problem one day... and it caused a rift between me and my friend. I haven't seen him - or her - since." Parker closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It had been hard to talk about it, but just knowing Broots had sent an apology along had gone a long way toward healing that deep and aching wound in her heart. She could only pray that Paul didn't try to push again for more details. Only Papa was allowed to push - because he knew the details, just not the workings of her mind.

"I'm sorry to hear that." She was being evasive again - no doubt the circumstances of this rift between her and her friend was something else that she wasn't ready to talk about yet. This time, however, he knew better than to push her at all anymore when she began to become evasive. Parker Green was truly a woman of mystery - beautiful, attractive, and someone who had been obviously very badly hurt. If he were ever to become close enough to her that she would open up, he would have to be very patient with her and gain her trust. There would be no rushing this relationship at all, no matter how attractive he found her.

Something suddenly occurred to him. "Is that why you were so reluctant to meet Janine? She was the daughter of a friend too, just like before?"

"Yes." The answer was almost whispered. "I've lost... so many people..." She looked down and took another deep breath. "I didn't want to get close to anyone again if I was just going to lose them again."

"Pretty lady..." Paul's hand came up and cradled her cheek, and her grey eyes came up to meet his hesitantly, filled with pure grief. "I don't know what happened to you, but I know I don't want our friendship to cause you pain. Tell me what to do to help you."

"Make me laugh," she responded finally, finding that she didn't mind the feeling of his hand against her skin. "Help me remember that there is light and humor and fun and good people in the world still who are happy. Don't ask me to remember..."

"OK, OK. I get it." He threaded his fingers into her curls and stroked them back a bit. "We'll talk about today, about Janine and her strange friends and even weirder friends' mothers. And I won't ask you to remember anything that you don't want to." His hazel eyes dove into hers. "I promise."

"Thank you." It was whispered very softly.

Paul smiled. His luck was with him still, for he'd managed to snatch his chance to know her better from the destructive fires of his own impatience. "For you, pretty lady, anything. But..." He smiled a little wider. "Just so you know, I don't intend for you to lose me, or Janine either. I'm not going anywhere else, and neither is she for a long time. I would like to have you in my life, and I'm going to do whatever it takes to keep you here. You're not going to lose us. I promise that too."

The front door the apartment slammed, and Janine's voice called out, "Are you guys here?"

Paul's hazel eyes began to twinkle. "Although you may wish you could lose HER a few times more before she reaches 18..." He touched a gentle fingertip to her lips. "So smile now, pretty lady, so that you don't get the third degree from HER coming in here and wondering what's been going on to make you so serious. Wouldn't you know she'd come home early after all..."

Parker's lips twitched beneath his finger, and slowly a smile spread across her face. "We're back here," she called out to the teenager without letting her eyes leave his, throwing caution to the wind and giving up trying to keep her distance. Then, as Janine flounced audibly toward the kitchen door, she turned and gave her a wide grin as her face appeared in the doorway. "So, how was the mall?"

The Visit - by MMB

Chapter 10 - Second Wind


The apartment was dark as Parker padded barefoot across the floor and into the kitchen to fill a glass with filtered water, only to pad from there back into the living room to lean against the wall near the glass of the picture window. She tweaked the sheer curtain aside with her fingers so she could once more stare down at the nearly empty boulevard below. It was just as well the apartment was dark and still - she wanted a quiet moment alone to process everything that had happened over the last few days, and especially to review her afternoon and evening at the Ruiz home. Her time there had seen her emotions run the gamut from soft and accepting to cold and furious.

Most bothersome was the fact that she had flown into a rage with so very little warning - all over a case of curiosity and a tendency to keep pushing after being discouraged. She really couldn't blame Paul for being curious and wanting to know more - he had been fairly transparent with her, answering any question she put to him. After calming down, she had done her best to be accommodating without blowing up again - letting him know more or less the reason behind her previous reticence to get to know Janine had smoothed things considerably.

But as time went by, the questions about her past - often dealing with her relationship with her father - were getting awkward. Paul was working under the assumption that Sydney was her father; she DID call him "Papa" after all, and he had introduced her as his daughter. But the small details of her early life were becoming hard to gibe with the Sydney that Paul knew - a man who it was hard to imagine would be distant from his children or would ship her off to a boarding school. Not that the truth would be that much easier to explain...

Parker sighed and sipped at her water as she stared down at the now-familiar sight of the wide and virtually empty boulevard in the wee hours of the morning. Part of her wanted to put an end to the pretense and let Paul know the truth of her relationship with her Papa - and another part of her dreaded the moment when he found out that they had misled him. After a rather rocky start to the afternoon, Paul had been as good as his word to keep the discussions light and cheery, making her laugh and enjoy her time. It was beginning to chafe to be less than forthright with him.

She heard stirring behind her in the room, and grimaced. Once more, even her care not to make noise had proven ineffective against the pull of habit, and Papa had emerged from his slumber to join her in her midnight vigil. Moving almost as quietly as she had, he padded into the kitchen for a glass of water for himself, then back out to sit down on the couch behind her. He remained there silently, respecting her reverie and waiting for her to acknowledge his presence before speaking to her.

It had been later in the evening by the time she had returned home. Other than to ask whether she'd had a good time, he'd not asked for any more details of her day before retiring than she'd been willing to volunteer - not that she'd told him much at the time. She knew he was curious; and what was more, she knew she NEEDED to talk to him. With a sigh, she let the sheer curtain covering the window fall from her fingers to hang straight again and then walked over to join him on the couch. She put her glass of water next to his on the coffee table, tucked her feet up and leaned into his shoulder - and she wasn't surprised when he lifted his arm so she could snuggle in closer.

"Nightmare?" he asked softly after she'd settled down comfortably.

She shook her head against his chest. "Just couldn't sleep." She let her arms thread themselves around him. "I don't know what to do, Papa."

"About what?"

"Paul."

"Mmmm." He waited patiently. He knew that she'd explain her quandary to him in her own time eventually without his having to pry.

"I got so angry with him..."

"Why?" He would have sighed, but she was still far too sensitive to such things; she would have felt it and taken it as criticism. That didn't diminish his frustration that she hadn't gotten away from her visit from Sam unscathed after all. Maybe there had been no nightmares to soothe, but he knew all too well that her inner demons knew several other effective ways to manifest themselves - including sudden bursts of anger.

"Because he kept asking about my past."

He tightened his arms around her briefly, then let one hand rub small circles into her back. "You're surprised that he'd do that?" he asked with gentle chiding. "Sweetheart, he just wants to get to know you better..."

"I know. He kept telling me that," Parker sighed. "It was the way he wouldn't stop pushing even when I made it clear I didn't want to talk about my former job - and the way he acted injured because he saw me give Sam a hug..."

"Oh?" That surprised him. "Injured how?"

"Jealous." The word came out flatly.

Sydney sighed perceptibly this time. "I'm sure he didn't mean it that way..."

"But I took it that way, and it made me SO mad at the time - it was almost like..." She took a deep breath. "I told him I never wanted to be trapped into a position where I got put through the third degree every time I saw a friend he didn't know or approve of or be treated like property with no rights..."

"In other words, you flashed back and made him the target of things you've wanted to say to others for a very long time."

She blinked. Yes, that was it - she'd flashed back and responded to Paul as if he'd been either Lyle or Raines stepping on her again. "God, Papa! That's awful! He goofed, but he didn't deserve what I did to him. What am I going to do..."

"Be patient," he said, and then felt her heave a big sigh. "I know you hate hearing that from me all the time, but giving yourself the time to heal is the key to stopping the flashbacks - because with it comes repeated experiences of learning that he ISN'T treating you that way after all. It will take time for actions to desensitize you." His hand patted her back. "Poor Paul! I'll bet you confused the hell out him."

"That isn't all."

"Oh?" As if that wasn't enough...

"I'm lying to him, Papa. He asks me questions about my past, and I start to explain things that happened when I was a child with Da... Daddy - and I know he's having a hard time balancing what I'm telling him with what he knows about YOU."

"Ah!" Sydney leaned himself back against the back cushions of the couch and pulled her along with him.

"I mean, I don't mind that Lydia Simmons, for example, thinks that I'm really your daughter because I feel like I'm your daughter in truth, even if not by blood. But I've never really been a good liar to those people who..."

"Who mean something to you - whose opinion you value?" he finished for her gently. She nodded against him silently. "Then tell him the truth."

"What if..."

"What if he gets angry because we misled him?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

"He won't be so angry if he understands why we did what we did," he suggested softly. "But that takes you right back to talking about your former job at the Centre. Are you ready to be up front with him about who you are and what you and I both did for the better part of our lives?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I'm afraid to move forward, and I can't move back."

"It's too bad I can't just adopt you legally - then you'd not be lying when you say that I'm your father," he mused aloud without meaning to.

"Could you do that - even though I'm already an adult?" She straightened so that she could look at his face in the dim light. "Would you?"

He looked back at her, marveling at her reaction. "You're kidding! Would you actually want me to do something like that?" he asked.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, pushing herself back into his arms abruptly. "It would make my name change legal and permanent too. And then I wouldn't be lying to him at all anymore."

"Parker, my adopting you won't help you with getting Paul to balance the stories of your childhood you're telling him with the idea that I'm the “Daddy” you keep speaking of," he reminded her gently as he wrapped his arms around her again.

"I know," she replied softly. "But it would give him a more understandable basis for why we presented ourselves to him in that way. He wouldn't have to know WHEN you adopted me - unless it became important later." Her arms around him tightened. "Besides, I want it to be real - not just something we say."

"We can get your birth certificate when we go back to Delaware to take care of your little brother," he told her, beginning to work out the logistics of what needed to be done to make her his daughter in fact as well as emotionally. "Going through the adoption process there probably wouldn't be such a bad idea either, because it could coincide with being appointed conservator under your new name. And that would mean that when you apply for your driver's license here, you could get it under your new name legally."

"We need to get our reservations, then," she nodded, closing her eyes and letting the feeling of truly belonging soak in just that much more. "If you don't mind being a chauffeur for me tomorrow, we can hit a travel agency and set things up for Wednesday. I don't want my little brother to stay in Delaware much longer that necessary, but I have a few things that need to happen first..."

"That's right - you have an appointment at the university, don't you?"

She nodded. "I've decided to go with working toward passing the Arizona bar exam. I want my new life to be as different from the old as I can possibly make it." She smiled softly against his pajama shirt. "Of course, there's always the idea that from jumping from working for the Centre to becoming a lawyer means I'm just changing the swamps I'm swimming in..."

"I think I'll be far happier with a lawyer as a daughter than I would be with a Centre Security Chief as a daughter." She felt him kiss the top of her head softly and then just hold her close for a long, quiet moment. Then: "Feel better?"

He felt her nod against his chest again. "A little bit. I just wish we didn't have to work out these snarls in the middle of the night." She sighed deeply. "We both could use our sleep."

"That time will come, ma petite."

She gave another deep sigh. "You keep saying that, Papa..."

~~~~~~~~

The scrap of paper in her hand shook slightly. Parker looked over at Papa, sitting across the kitchen table from her browsing through the front section of that morning's newspaper while sipping at his lunch cup of coffee, and then back down at the paper in her hand. On it, in a scrawl she hadn't seen for over half a year, were two telephone numbers - a home number, and a work number for calls after nine in the morning. She'd promised Sam that she'd call, and he'd assured her that she'd find the call worthwhile. Still...

"Should I bother him at work?" she worried aloud.

"I honestly don't think he'll mind," Papa answered her whether she was expecting an answer or no. "Knowing Broots, he'll be happy just to hear from you." He dropped the one corner of his newspaper to look at her as she continued to stare at the scrap of paper in her hand. "Just do it, Parker. If you stew about it, you'll never make the call."

Grey eyes lifted to meet his and take some comfort and encouragement from him, and then she took up the handset and slowly punched in the ten digits.

"Intel Systems, Research and Development," a bland voice answered. "How may I direct your call?"

"Lazlo Broots, please." She turned and saw Papa drop the corner of the newspaper again to shoot a skyrocketing eyebrow at her at the sound of Broots' unfamiliar given name. She shrugged back at him and put her attention back on the voices in her ear.

"Just one moment please..." The line switched to an innocuous piece of elevator music for about ten seconds before being cut off abruptly.

"This is Broots." The sound of his voice in her ear caught her by surprise, and she stood there with jaw agape for a moment. "Uh, is someone there?" he asked again, a little peeved.

"Broots?" she said finally in a small voice. "It's me."

There was a short pause. "My God! Miss Parker? Is that you?" he burst out suddenly.

"Sam found me, and gave me your message." It was the only thing she could think of to say. She leaned the elbow of the hand holding the handset on the table when she started to shake.

"I'm glad he found you - heck, what am I saying? Debbie will be THRILLED to know that you're OK." His voice hesitated a second and then came back in a slightly worried tone. "You ARE OK, aren't you?"

"I'm fine," she smiled shakily. "I'm with P... with Sydney." Papa looked up at her again as she pronounced his name and smile at her.

"You're with Sydney?" She could tell the idea surprised him greatly. He began to chortle. "No wonder Sam was having such a hard time finding you, then." Then his voice grew serious. "I'm glad you called, Miss Parker. The last time we spoke..."

"It's just Parker now, Broots. No more Miss, OK?" she corrected him carefully.

He hesitated only a moment. "All right... anyway, the last time we spoke, I think I may have said a few things..."

"You had a right to be angry, Broots. What happened was beyond inexcusable..."

"But it wasn't YOUR fault, M... Parker. Debbie finally made me shut up and listen to her - and the sweepers hit her almost as soon as they came through the door, ten minutes before you were supposed to arrive."

"What?" She frowned. "But I thought... But Broots, I was late..."

"I heard about that from Sam - how Lyle just happened to “drop by” and detain you. Evidently Sam heard Raines and Lyle congratulating themselves on the success of the plan to do that." He paused. "I was angry, but I had no business laying the blame on you. I'm sorry - and I'm sorry I wouldn't let you and Debbie at least say goodbye. Debbie still hasn't forgiven me for that. She barely spoke to me for weeks."

Tears were pouring down Parker's face. "Is Debbie OK now?" she asked with a very shaky voice. Papa's hand suddenly engulfed her free hand on the table and squeezed, and she turned her hand in his so she could cling.

"There's just a small scar where the skin was cut open," he told her, startled at the sound of such a shaky, tear-filled voice from his former give-em-hell boss. "M... Parker? You OK?"

"Not yet." She took a deep and audibly shaky breath. "But I will be," she assured him, "one of these days - especially now that I know you're OK and not angry with me anymore..."

Broots' voice hesitated again. This was not the woman he had worked for at the Centre for years at all. "What happened to you?" he asked, curious and filled with a sort of dread. "Sam said that you just kinda started to cave in, and he was getting really worried about you when you just up and vanished..."

"Sydney came back for me," she explained with a sniff. "He talked me into coming back here with him, and he's had his hands full trying to put Humpty-Dumpty back together again ever since. I was a mess." She took a deep and cleansing breath. "But enough of that. Tell me, was it you that sent in the evidence..."

"Oh, that." Broots' voice gained a note of satisfied amusement. "I did most of the preliminary stuff - data collection, stuff like that. That's what they were looking for when they broke into my house, you know, everything I'd gathered on them so far. It began when I was running a computer check for unauthorized access for you - I found something they thought they'd hidden away in a completely non sequitor spot. I got curious and followed the thread - and found a very interesting can of worms. "

Parker frowned. "What do you mean, you only did the preliminary stuff?"

"Yeah," he answered. "I just did the hacking part at first, and then helped out with the rest of the digging. I let Jarod handle getting things to the right people at the right time."

Her jaw fell completely open. "Jarod?! You were working with HIM?"

"To bring down the Centre? You bet! They deserved it anyway, for all the things I saw while we were a team," he replied, his voice dark with still repressed anger, "and when they hurt my little girl to get at me for what I'd tripped over in the mainframe, that was the last straw. Jarod came to me with a proposition, but he didn't have to do much convincing to get me to work with him by then. Between him and me, we'd written most of the security software for the place anyway, so it was a snap to just slip in and go fishing for all the dirty laundry we could find. We turned over what I had collected before then almost immediately, so as to get the authorities looking too - but we held off on some of the really bad stuff we found together until about a month ago. Jarod wanted us to wait for some reason."

She stared off into space. A month ago, she'd walked out of the Blue Cove Cemetery with Sydney. It seemed impossible - Jarod wouldn't have wanted to wait until she was free from the Centre to bring them down, would he? "Did he ever say why?"

"Nope - only that some loose ends had to be taken care of first. Whatever those loose threads were, they put him in a real deep funk for days once whatever needed to happen happened. The only time I saw him smile after that was when he said the authorities had everything now, and all we'd have to do was sit back and wait for the explosion." Broots shook his head at the memory.

"Do you know..." Parker's eyes met Papa's. "Do you know where he is, Broots?"

"Not anymore," Broots answered a little sadly. "We had dinner the night he turned everything in - and he took off the next day. He said he needed to figure out what he was going to do with himself now that the Centre wasn't chasing him anymore. I haven't heard from him since." He could hear the emotion in the silence from the other end of the phone. "Sorry, Parker."

Parker looked down sadly at where Papa still held her hand tightly. Of course it had been too much to think that Broots would know, or that Jarod would have stuck around and not pulled another of his disappearing acts. "That's OK. At least I know you're OK and Debbie's better."

"Don't you dare hang up yet!" Broots demanded. "Give me the phone number and address there. You KNOW Debbie will want to talk to you..."

That started another tear down her cheek. She recited the address and phone number slowly, knowing he was taking dictation, and then reached for a pencil normally reserved for crossword puzzles. "What's your home address there?" she demanded back and then did her own scribbling.

"Tell Debbie I love her very much," she said finally, once she was finished writing addresses. "And if you ever decide to visit Arizona..."

"Same here, M... Parker. Tell Sydney I miss his company. And if you ever make it to California, you be sure to come by." Broots' voice was warm. "I'm glad you called - I'm glad Sam found you."

"I am too." Her voice was warm and solid now. "You take care of yourself."

"You too, Parker. I'm sure we'll be talking again soon."

She nodded. "You can count on it. Have a good day now."

"Bye."

Sydney squeezed her hand again. "OK?"

"He's not mad at me," she announced with a shaky smile. "And Debbie's OK. He said for me to tell you that he misses your company."

Sydney rose to his feet. "Come here," he said, opening his arms. She rose quickly and came to him, letting him enfold her and hold her close. "You see? Maybe now you'll stop blaming yourself." His arms tightened. "It's over now - REALLY over."

Parker leaned hard. The call had tired her more than she'd imagined it would. But Papa was right. Hearing Broots himself let her off the hook was a healing balm that her heart had desperately needed. The bad memories, the nightmares - everything that had been dragging her down and weighing so agonizingly on her soul - were slowly falling away with time and leaving her feeling as if one day she could fly. "Don't let go," she murmured to Papa, tightening her arms around him. "I'm afraid this is all a dream."

"I have you, ma petite," Sydney held on tightly. "This is real. Trust me."

"I do," she told him, meaning each word like she'd never meant it before. "Oh, I DO!"

~~~~~~~~

Sydney looked up from the case file that the mental health department had sent to him for an objective perusal when he heard the knock on his door. He set the folder aside on the coffee table and padded across the floor in his stocking feet and opened the door. "Paul!" He stood aside and let his friend into his home. "This is a surprise. What brings you here?"

"Where's Parker?" Paul was gazing around without finding her.

"She had a rather full and tiring day today, so she's napping at the moment. Shall I tell her you stopped by?"

"No, actually, I was hoping to talk to you, Sydney."

The silver-haired psychiatrist frowned. "Let's go to the kitchen - our voices won't carry quite so well and possibly awaken her." He gestured to Paul to lead the way.

"I need you to tell me the truth," Paul said as he lowered his lanky frame onto one of kitchen chairs.

"About what?" Sydney asked cautiously, joining him at the table.

"About Parker." There was no humor in the hazel eyes now. "What happened to her?"

"Mmmm..." Sydney hedged carefully, slowly shaking his head. "That's really her story to tell, not mine."

"But you know?"

"Most of it, more or less."

"Sydney," Paul leaned forward earnestly, "I think I'm falling in love with her, and I don't want a repeat of the mess I made of things yesterday. What CAN you tell me?"

"Falling in love with her? Are you sure?" Sydney blinked - he wouldn't have expected Paul to confide such a thing to him at all, much less this quickly.

Paul shrugged with a kind of desperate air. "Am I sure? The only thing I'm sure of is that she haunts my every thought, whether I'm working or at home. And the idea that I give her any cause for pain or grief..."

"I promise you, any pain or grief she discovers with you comes from within HER," Sydney assured him quietly.

"Why? For God's sake..." Paul shook his head in an attempt to order his thoughts. "Why would she accuse me of trying to trap her into a place where she wouldn't have the right to see her friends, or that I'd treat her like a piece of property with no rights?"

Sydney gazed at his friend sadly. "Because that's the kind of situation she's just coming out of - and it damned near killed her.

"What?!" That took Paul aback. He stared at his friend with shocked hazel eyes.

Sydney sighed and knew he'd have to be a bit more specific. "Your actions keyed in a memory - a bad one - and she said things to you that she had wanted to tell others for a very long time." The Belgian shook his head slowly. "Don't take it quite so personally."

"And when she said she'd lost so many people..."

"She meant it." Sydney's voice was uncompromising. "In most of the ways that it's possible for one human being to mistreat another, she has either been the victim or watched someone she loved be victimized."

"And she survived this?"

Sydney's chestnut gaze bore into him deeply. "Only barely. I was almost too late."

"Why did you wait so long, then?" Paul was completely confounded by the very idea that Sydney could leave her in such a desperate situation, seeing how much the man loved and was willing to protect his daughter otherwise.

"Because my window of opportunity to get her out of there was very small - and because I had to convince her to come with me." He continued to gaze at Paul while he debated exactly how much to tell the man. Maybe Parker was right - he was a good enough friend now that he could be trusted with bits and pieces of the truth. "And because I had to take the time to put myself back together again first, before I could go back for her."

Paul stared. "You worked in the same place?" Sydney nodded. "And whoever it was that mistreated her, mistreated you too?"

"Oh yes!"

The university professor suddenly understood something about his cosmopolitan friend that, until that moment, had never really added up. "That's why you never talk about what you used to do either."

Sydney nodded again. "Yes."

"But..." The lanky professor leaned forward and buried his chin in his hand. "How do I do this then?"

"Do this what?"

"How do I prove to her that she can trust me with the bad memories as well as the mediocre and good ones? How can I convince her to open up and trust me?"

Sydney shook his head. "Parker's trust doesn't come easily - she's been betrayed by just about everyone she's ever trusted. That even includes me, much to my eternal shame. The only reason she trusts me now is because I asked for the time to prove myself with my actions, and then came through."

Paul sighed. "You're telling me that the key to her heart is patience?"

"I'm telling you the key to her TRUST is patience. The key to her heart is another matter entirely, and one I know better than to try to predict."

Paul stared at his chess partner intently for a while, trying to read between the lines and comprehend the depth of what Parker must have gone through. "You know," he said finally, "when I asked what I could do to help her, her answer was to 'make me laugh.'"

"She hasn't had much laughter in her life for a very long time," Sydney nodded, understanding the mechanism that had prompted her response to Paul's question. "In many ways, that is one of the wisest things I've heard of her saying."

"Is that it then? I just keep joking, keeping things light, fun, superficial..."

"Not superficial - just keep the focus off of the stuff that hurts until she's able to face it properly." Sydney corrected him. "Just DON'T ask questions about her former job. From what she's told me, I think the time will come when she will want to tell you everything you want to know. Just be patient and let it happen in its own time. If you push, you'll run the risk of triggering another rage like the one she let loose on you yesterday."

"She told you about that, huh?" Paul sounded disgusted.

"Trust me, it bothered her at least as much as it bothered you."

Paul nodded, accepting that Sydney wasn't misleading him. "I suppose I'd better go before she wakes up then," he said finally, pulling his frame from the seat.

"Are you sure? She'll be sorry she missed you," Sydney told him, rising.

"I'm sure. I don't want her to get the idea that I'm trying to get you to tell tales on her out of school."

"Even though that's exactly what you were trying to do?" Sydney teased him gently.

"Touché." Paul ducked his head slightly in chagrin. "We can keep this discussion just between the two of us, can't we?"

Sydney smiled. "Of course we can..."

"Paul?" Parker's voice was sleepy and surprised. She slipped around the corner of the kitchen door running her fingers through pillow-mussed hair.

"Hey there, pretty lady." Paul gave her a slightly guilty smile. "Your dad said you were sleeping - we didn't awaken you, did we?"

She shook her head. "No. It was only a nap anyway..."

"Well," Paul turned and shook hands with Sydney. "Thanks again."

"Don't mention it."

"Is everything OK?" she asked them both, her eyes flitting from one to the other.

"Sure," Paul answered quickly.

"Of course," Sydney answered as well, only more slowly and carefully.

Parker knew that, if nothing else, she'd be able to convince him to tell her what she needed to know when they were alone again, and so returned her attention to Paul. "You don't have leave immediately, do you?" She moved to the table, closer to him. "I can always see if we have any apple cider..."

"No, Janine is home, and I have to get back and make sure that she does her homework before she sits down in front of the “tube” and lets her brain turn to mush." Paul put out a gentle hand and teased a wayward curl from near her mouth. "Maybe next time."

"Well, at least let me walk you to the door," she said, claiming at least that task from her Papa.

Sydney smiled and reached for his paperwork again. "Stop by again, Paul," he told the tall man. "It's always good to see you."

"You too, old man," Paul smiled as he wrapped a possessive arm around Parker's shoulder as he walked with her to the door. "So," he said in a soft voice obviously meant only for her ears, "I'll see you tomorrow for lunch?"

"Yes - and I'm to meet you in the student union lobby at noon," she repeated carefully. "I'll be there."

"And how about game night tomorrow night?" He pulled her through the open front door and onto the combination porch-landing. "Will you be my good luck charm again?"

This time, she shook her head. "Probably not. Papa and I are leaving for Delaware Wednesday morning - and I know I'll need to rest up before we go."

"Delaware?" Paul frowned. "What's in Delaware?"

"A little boy with no other living relatives - a very damaged little boy. I need to have myself appointed his conservator, and then have him moved to a facility here in the valley - where I can watch over him better."

"Your Dad's going too?"

She nodded. "I don't think I could even consider heading back... there... without Papa."

Paul filed the information away. Delaware - that was the place where her past had been left behind. But Delaware had been in the news lately, hadn't it? He couldn't quite put his finger on the details, but he knew he'd heard mention of the locale recently. "When are you coming back?"

Parker shrugged. "I'm not sure," she answered truthfully. "A lot will depend on what all kinds of official processes I have to go through to get things arranged properly. A week, maybe two." She winced; the disappointed look in his eye was very apparent.

His curiosity couldn't help but bubble forth around the disappointment, but he put a very hesitant and cautious tone around it. "Do you mind if I ask what this little boy is to you?"

For some reason this time, the question didn't seem so far out of line. He was at least asking permission to pry this time, not just prying as if he had the right to. "He's my nephew," she lied glibly, unable to think of any other reasonable explanation that didn't point to the morass that was her personal family history. That was one tangled web she didn't want to even begin to have to explain to him for a good long time. "I saw him a few times, not long after he was born, but haven't seen him for a very long time." That last, at least, was truth. She'd have to tell Papa her explanation for the boy so that their stories could stay straight with each other otherwise. But she'd had to tell an outright lie this time - and it bothered her no less than the lies of omission or misdirection had before.

"I'll miss you." It was a simple statement, but it tugged at her heartstrings in a way that nothing had for a very long time.

"I'll miss you too." And that was the truth too. She'd grown very fond of him just in the few weeks she'd known him - and despite his insatiable curiosity about the parts of her life she wished she could just erase. "But I'll be back when everything is arranged."

"Promise?"

Her eyebrows raised at the wistful tone. "This is my home now," she told him gently. "Besides, Professor Prouse is going to be telling me about how he thinks I should go about updating my degree - and I want to get busy on that as soon as I can." She gave him a slightly chagrined smile. "I can't stay away for very long..." Her expression grew soft. "I don't want to stay away any longer that I have to."

"Of course I don't have any part of that..."

She could hear the combination of frustration and wistfulness in even that statement, and decided to give him reassurance. She laid her hand gently on his shoulder, straightening the collar of his shirt a little bit, as if that was the reason for her reaching out to him. "You have a lot to do with that," she purred at him.

Paul's heart began to beat faster at the sound of that incredibly sexy alto voice, and his hands automatically reached out to her waist and pulled her just a little closer. "Just making sure..."

Those changeable hazel eyes suddenly connected very strongly and deeply with her storm-grey, and almost as if there were a hand pushing them both, they leaned in closer and touched lips. Parker stiffened for a moment and then relaxed, tantalized and enchanted at the completely innocent and experimental nature of the kiss. Almost as if he was shocked and afraid of her reaction, Paul ended the kiss after only a moment or two. He stared down at her again, waiting for those stormy eyes to fill with rage and for her to rip him up one side and down the other.

Instead, Parker's hand slipped just a little further around his neck while her other hand found his opposite shoulder. "Do you normally take a lot of convincing?" she asked in that throaty contralto that was making it hard for him to concentrate.

"Sometimes," he admitted in a voice that was getting slightly more breathless from her proximity as well as the implied permission her tone seemed to be giving him. He brought one hand up and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "I'm finding that when it comes to you, I feel very inadequate - like I'm a bull in a china shop... I don't want to..."

"I'm not quite THAT fragile," she told him gently.

The hazel eyes darkened with purpose, and Paul lowered his lips to hers again - this time with more clear intent. Her hand on his shoulder slipped around his neck to join its companion while his hand at her waist slipped around to her back to pull her into his embrace even closer. There was no innocence to this kiss, although it was clear to them both that they were still very much testing the waters. And when they pulled back as if in unison, both were breathless.

"Paul..."

The finger tips were stroking her cheek gently again. "Do you have the slightest idea how hard it is for me let you go, pretty lady - how much I just want to play ugly caveman, bop you over the head with my club and drag you back to my cave by the hair?"

"How romantic," she quipped, her lips twitching toward a grin.

The hazel eyes began to twinkle again. "Is that a challenge?"

"No, just something to keep you going until I come home again," she responded and then stretched up to meet his lips with hers.

This time there was no uncertainty, no experimentation - each one's arms wrapped around the other possessively until the need for air drove them apart, and then he pulled her head to rest against his shoulder. "I need to go home," he reminded her in a breathless whisper.

"I know." Parker was finding that she wasn't at all uncomfortable in this man's arms. "I need to let you go home..."

"Before your father comes out and accuses me of trying to seduce you in public," Paul was finding it difficult to loosen his hold on her - it just felt RIGHT for him to have her close like that. "Tell me to go home."

"Go home," she parroted obediently.

"You don't mean it," he retorted and kissed her again.

"If you don't go home pretty soon, neither of us will get any lunch tomorrow," she told him when they once more parted.

He reluctantly let her go and took a deliberate step backwards. "At least I have you around tomorrow."

"Yes," she smiled at him, finding her heart beating faster too. "I'm not leaving until Wednesday. Go home now and make sure Janine does her homework - I'll see you at the university at noon."

He bent forward and caught her lips one last time in a sweet kiss, then finally dragged himself down the stairs. "At noon."

"I won't forget!" she waved at him, then leaned against the metal railing at the top of the stairs while he walked slowly toward the other side of the complex. She hadn't felt like this toward another human being since Tommy died - and, strangely, she didn't feel as if she was betraying her old love. Thomas had been a practical man. She knew that he would want her to rebuild her life in much the same way that he'd rebuilt his houses.

At one time, for a short time after that disastrous trip to Carthis, she had thought that the only one with whom she could rebuild a life was Jarod. After all, the Pretender knew her at least as well as she knew herself, if not better; and she knew him better than he suspected. But Jarod had very deliberately dropped away from her - walked away and never looked back. And now here she was, with the memory of Paul's kisses fresh in her mind, and seeing how he had worked so hard to try to accommodate her difficulties and still get his questions answered. Maybe she could consider rebuilding her life with someone other than a man she'd known all her life. Maybe building a completely new relationship from the ground up was the better way to go about it too.

Sydney gazed at her with fondness and indulgence as she came back into the apartment, her face flushed and her eyes bright. He knew very well what she wanted, and he had no intention of holding back from her, despite what he'd told Paul. "He told me he thought he was falling in love with you," he said simply, then watched her blush. "I take it you know that?"

"Pretty much," she nodded. "What else?"

"He wanted to know what happened to you, so that he wouldn't hurt you anymore."

"What did you tell him?"

"What he needed to know," he told her frankly. "I told him that the things you accused him of doing HAD been done to you by others, that you only barely got out of that situation alive." He sighed. "I told him the unvarnished truth, but only the barest of bones."

"And then I turned around and lied to him," Parker confessed, her eyes finding a spot on the floor. "I told him that the boy we're going back for in Delaware was my nephew." She looked up at him, the sparkle in her eyes now from carefully restrained tears. "Where does it end, Papa?"

Sydney stepped close to her and wrapped a warm hand about her shoulders. "It ends where you say it does, Parker. When you're ready to face him knowing the truth about you, THAT'S where it ends."

"But..."

"And if he really loves you," he continued, a finger to her lips to silence her complaint, "he'll forgive you for misleading him because he'll understand your reasons."

Parker nodded and felt him let her go, then watched him carry his sheaf of papers back into the living room, where he'd left his briefcase open on the desk by the window. She knew he was right - that the lies ended when SHE decided they ended.

The trick was making peace with the truth once and for all.

The Visit - by MMB

Chapter 11 - Crucible


"You've decided WHAT?"

Parker didn't need to turn from rinsing the breakfast dishes to see the expression on her Papa's face - his tone of voice had communicated his surprise and consternation quite adequately. "I said I'm going to tell Paul everything," she repeated softly so as not to let the quiver of nervousness shake her determination. "Today, at lunch."

"Are you sure, ma petite?" Papa moved behind her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Are you ready for that?"

"It isn't going to be a question of getting ready," she glanced into his warm and concerned eyes quickly and then back down to her work. "I thought about it for a long time last night - and I've decided I don't want any of that in the way. I need to know if..."

"If he would still want you in his life if he knew who you really are," Papa finished for her. "Under normal circumstances, I'd be applauding you. But how many nightmares did you have last night?"

"That has nothing to do with it..."

"Yes," his hand on her shoulder pressed firmly enough to turn her to look at him, "it does. "If you intend to tell him everything, you need to be ready for the questions - for having to touch memories that still make you scream at night to explain yourself." His hand cupped her cheek. "I'm very proud of you for wanting to set the record straight. Never doubt that. My only concern is that you don't do yourself more damage in the process."

She looked at him with an expression of deep sadness. "I can't let this go on any longer, Papa. It seems that this relationship has a chance of actually going somewhere - I've decided that I'd like to see if it CAN go somewhere - and I don't want to jeopardize my chance by having him only know lies and misdirection about me." She took a deep breath. "And if it means that my nightmares get worse for a while, then sobeit. That will have to be the price I pay for having misled him in the first place."

"Tell me the deliberate lies you've told him," Papa insisted.

"I called my half-brother my nephew, I claimed that you're my father..."

Papa nodded thoughtfully. "You know how much lies and half-truths were a part of day-to-day living at the Centre - you and I, we've just continued in that way without even thinking about it. But when it comes to the boy, certainly you remember what Broots told us about finding Lyle and Brigitte together in a compromising situation in your father's office, don't you? Mr. Parker was virtually sterile, sweetheart - his chance of being your father was less than one in ten, remember? Tell me how a man who couldn't conceive a child with his wife in his prime was going to get a woman with fertility problems of her own pregnant as an old man. We can't be sure if he's..."

Parker shook her head. "Do you think I haven't thought of this before, Papa? That little boy could be anybody's child. For all I know, he could be another of Daddy's and Raines' eugenics experiment using reproductive material from me and Jarod to try to create a new generation of Pretenders, my SON!" That took Papa aback - his face paled by several degrees. "This IS the Centre we're talking about after all - anything could be possible. But. It. Doesn't. Matter. On paper, he's my half-brother. Paul needs to know this." She gazed at him determinedly. "Just as he needs to know that while you ARE going to be adopting me legally, you aren't my real father. Just the father I wish I'd had all along."

"How much do you intend to tell him?"

"As much as he wants to know about. Everything, if need be." She turned slightly, shut off the rinse water, and then leaned back against him. "I'm scared, but I have to do this."

His arms enclosed her and held her close. "I'm behind you, one hundred percent," he promised her softly. "Whatever happens."

She turned in his arms and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Hold me, Papa."

"I have you, ma petite," he reassured her gently. "You're safe with me. Everything will be as it should be." He felt her snuggle. "And if Paul really is falling in love with you, he'll recognize and appreciate what you're doing."

"I'm just afraid that he's going to be so angry - IF he even believes me, that is..."

"What do you mean, IF he believes you?"

She shook her head against his shoulder. "You have to admit that, coming from anybody else, the truth as we know it would sound pretty far out..."

"Hmmmm." Unfortunately, she had a point. "Still, granted that he believes you, the worst I'd expect of him would be to be quite disappointed that you didn't trust him from the start," Papa hushed at her, rubbing her back with one hand moving in small circles. "But either way, I doubt he'll be genuinely angry with you. I told him enough yesterday, I think, that he should be able to make the connections properly. He could see for himself how ill you were when you first came..." He fell silent and just held her close for a long moment. "I do wonder about the timing, however. Do you think telling him and then taking off for Delaware is the proper way to do things?"

She nodded against his shoulder. "It will give him some time to think things through too, if he needs it - and hopefully it will give me the time to prepare myself for having things fall apart when I get back." She sighed. "I read somewhere once that it was always wise to expect and plan for the worst and hope for the best - because that way, one would never be disappointed."

Papa kissed her hair near her ear and just held her, letting her lean for as long as she wanted to. He closed his eyes and prayed silently that Paul be as understanding and accepting a man as he had always seemed. Parker's inner strength had been sorely tested of late - losing Paul to the truth would be a hard blow for her new life to survive this soon. He could appreciate the wisdom of telling the tall professor the truth now, before leaving for an indeterminate time. She was right - her time away would give Paul the time he'd need to decide if he wanted to pursue matters further while also giving her the chance to mentally prepare herself for the worst.

And not for the first time, he felt the helplessness of being a parent having to let a beloved child make her own way in the world. He knew he couldn't protect her from this - he could only be here to give her support and comfort no matter which way things went in the end. He wondered suddenly if Jarod had ever appreciated how much he'd relied on his old mentor for comfort and support in those long-gone days - or if Jarod could have known how much he'd enjoyed filling the role of touchstone. He also chastised himself mentally one more time for ever having tried to fool himself into believing that he hadn't been just emotionally invested in his protégé back when as he could ever be in his daughter now. Holding his only remaining child to his heart tightly, he counted his blessing that he was being openly allowed this double-edged gift of parenthood after all.

~~~~~~~~

Papa pulled his silver sedan to the curb not far from the ASU student union building and pointed out to Parker the door she'd want to go through. He then turned and gazed at his daughter sympathetically and appreciatively. She'd dressed in his favorite sundress - the cream colored one with the blue sunflowers - and donned her topaz necklace like an amulet. She rarely went anywhere without it anymore, which was something that touched and pleased him in a very private way. With a small purse on a thin, white, leather shoulder strap and lightweight sunglasses holding her curls back from her face, she looked like the quintessential Arizona woman. She was so beautiful - and so very frightened. Her face was pale, and he could see her having to work hard to maintain a very neutral expression otherwise.

He picked up her hand as it lay on the seat next to him. "You'll be fine," he told her gently. "You can do this."

"I know," she said, her fingers curling around his. "I'll just be glad when it's over, you know?"

He nodded, then leaned over and deposited a fond kiss on her cheek. "You have your cell phone, so you can call me when you're through?"

She nodded and patted her little purse. "Right here."

"Ready?"

She knew that behind those dark glasses that Papa wore to drive in the daytime, his chestnut eyes were filled with love and concern for her. "Not really, but..." She drew in a long, deep breath. "Here goes." She leaned over and kissed his cheek in return. "Wish me luck, Papa."

"You know I do," he replied gently as she positioned her sunglasses where they could do some good and then climbed from his car. "You'll be fine," he repeated.

She pasted on a shaky smile and patted the top of the sedan and then began walking sedately across the sidewalks toward the student union building. Behind her, she eventually heard the soft purr of Papa's car pulling away from the curb. She took a deep breath as she reached the darkened glass doors, and then reached out to pull one open.

"There you are," Paul's voice sounded from not far away. Her eyes were barely getting used to the internal shade before she felt his hand at her elbow, his kiss on her cheek. "And wouldn't you know it, you're the prettiest lady on campus today."

She smiled as she settled the sunglasses back amid her curls, grateful for the compliment as a way to begin her difficult lunch on an optimistic note. "Thanks," she replied softly as she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.

Paul enjoyed the fact that several of the pretty coeds who had been chasing him this past term were in attendance when he escorted Parker down the stairs toward the combination lunch counter and cafeteria, and that they suddenly found an excuse to avert their eyes. Maybe now they'd stop hanging around his office building in the hopes that catching the professor's eye would lead to a date. A couple of his colleagues from the Social Sciences Department glanced up and then stared as he let Parker lead the way into the cafeteria and the line to the cashier. Paul wasn't too unhappy about that either - he was getting tired of the less-than-subtle suggestions for blind dates from them. Maybe now they'd see that he'd managed quite nicely without their help!

"You're very quiet today," he said softly as they each collected a tray, populated it with plate and silver and then moved toward the salad bar.

"I know," she responded with a glance up into his face. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm just glad you're actually here." He dished some of the lettuce from the deep bowl onto her plate. "Is everything OK?"

"We need to talk," she answered him frankly and then met his startled and apprehensive hazel gaze. "When we sit down," she added with a glance at the people around them.

"All right," he conceded warily. From her expression, he couldn't be sure that what she had to tell him was good news or bad - he only hoped that he hadn't overstepped himself the day before on her landing. "Tell me one thing though?"

"What's that?"

"Are WE still OK?"

The grey eyes connected solidly with his. "That will be up to you after you've heard what I have to say," she replied very cryptically before returning her attention to studying the array of appetizing foods she had from which to choose. Paul followed suit feeling even more confused and a-sea. What WAS it about this woman that kept him continually off-balance?

Finally they had their plates and drinks and headed toward the back of the room, where a number of semi-private booths were situated - one conveniently unoccupied. The two slipped quietly into their seats on opposite sides of the table. "OK," Paul said almost immediately. "We're alone..."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me," she began lamely, then paused for a brief moment of pain as she remembered saying something very similar to Thomas not very long before his death years ago. She deliberately turned away from that to look up into concerned hazel. "And since last night, I've been thinking that you... no, that I..." She paused to organize her thoughts. "I've been thinking that the time has come for you to know some of these things - because they may change the way you feel..."

"Parker, no." His big hand came out to grasp hers across the table. "I told you that you wouldn't lose me - I meant what I said."

"Hear me out first," she asked in a plaintive voice, "and then you can decide if you want to be held to that."

"All right," he agreed, hanging onto her hand still. "What is it that you want to tell me?"

"First," she started, feeling a slight sense of nausea beginning to build in her stomach, "my name isn't Parker Green." The way his eyes folded in concern only stirred the nausea. "My name IS Parker - but it's the family name of the man I believed to be my father, not my given name. Daddy never let anybody call me anything but MISS Parker - so people began to call me Parker for short. Papa..." Here she looked down, not willing to watch the disillusion that would inevitably come. "And Papa isn't my real father. He's the father I wish I'd had - and a man who did help raise me when I was younger. He's the only one who cared enough to come back for me..."

"I don't know about your exact relationship with Sydney, but watching you two together generally leaves very little doubt that you love each other as if you were his daughter," Paul said. "And I know you two have known each other since you were quite young. You were remembering chess games that took place when you were what? Twelve?" He tipped his head. "But if your name isn't Parker, what is it?"

"My mother named me Mariel."

"Pretty name for a pretty lady," he commented earnestly.

She shook her head. "That may be, but I've been Parker too long. When we get all the paperwork straightened out, my name WILL be Parker Green - legally - and I WILL be Papa's daughter - legally. I've asked him to adopt me, and he's agreed."

Paul gazed at her with cautious skepticism. "What about your real parents? Where are they - dead?"

"My mother... faked her suicide when I was ten, and then was murdered a few months later by a man she'd trusted to keep her safe." Parker's voice was stark. "The man I believed to be my father jumped from a plane in the middle of the night in the middle of the Atlantic a little over a year ago."

The steel grey eyebrows had climbed halfway to his hairline. "Is this for real? Parker..."

"I didn't want to lie to you, but..." She sighed. "You see, it was easier to just tell you I was Papa's daughter because the truth was so hard to believe, too fantastic." A single tear dropped from her eyelashes onto her cheek. "I also wasn't sure that it was safe to tell anyone who I was - they might have been looking for me..."

"Who?" Paul's voice had gained a note of real disbelief. "Was someone after you?"

Parker took a deep breath. His reaction was nothing less or more than what she'd hoped WOULDN'T happen - she knew her story sounded like the rantings of a conspiracy fanatic. "You've heard of The Centre in the news recently..."

"Yes..." Paul frowned. Some of the reports starting to trickle out to the media about what had gone on in that organization had been pretty fantastic. "What about it?"

"The man I believe was my father was the Chairman there until his death a little over a year ago. My last job, the one I really didn't want to talk about on Sunday, was as the head of the Security and Information Systems department. Papa - Sydney - was the head of the Psychogenics department."

Now Paul was shaking his head. "You didn't really expect me to believe all this, do you?" He asked, then took a bite of his salad and chuckled. "Honestly, Parker, you had me worried there for a moment, until I remembered that your father has a pretty quirky sense of humor too... I bet you two worked for days thinking this one through... I'll have to admit that this is a pretty decent pay-back for not telling him about Lydia, though..."

She'd gone too far to quit now. He needed to at least hear all of it - whether he believed it or not, it seemed, was going to be another question. "Paul, listen to me. Lyle - the man they picked up for all those murders of Asian girls?" He nodded. "That's my twin brother."

"Parker... Stop." She wasn't stopping, even though he'd figured out the prank. Paul blinked. Either she was an excellent actress, for her look of guilt was quite believable, or what she was saying actually WAS the truth. If so...

"And the little boy that Papa and I are going back to Delaware for? We're not exactly sure how or even if he's related to me. He could be Lyle's son, he could be Daddy's - the man I believed to be my father - and then again, he could be just a genetics experiment. On paper, he's my half-brother - and he was imprisoned at the Centre and abused there..."

God, he hoped that she wouldn't pull his leg about a child in this way! That would be going TOO far. "Did you know this - about the little boy?"

She shook her head. "Not until Sam came." She saw Paul frown. "The man you saw me hugging? He was my personal bodyguard while I worked at the Centre. He came looking for me after they found the child, in case I wanted to take responsibility for the boy because of our supposed blood tie."

"This Sam then - he really was just an old friend, then..."

"Yes." She pushed her tray back, not hungry.

Paul sat back in his seat and looked at her. She looked defeated, as if telling this tale had taken nearly every ounce of strength she had in her. "Is that all of it?"

Startled grey eyes came up to meet his. "Isn't that enough?"

"You have to admit that there are TV shows on the air that have more believable plots than that one..."

"I suppose," she shrugged. "But I can't help it if it's the truth."

Paul stared at her for a long moment, spaghetti hanging forgotten from his fork that he held suspended in mid-air while his mind worked to wrap itself around her story. "All right," he said slowly at last. "Your dad told me yesterday that whatever situation you were in before he went back to get you almost killed you." She nodded somberly. "What almost killed you?"

She swallowed hard. Papa had warned her... "I had been assigned to track down a man who had escaped from the Centre a few years back - he was a security risk for us. When my team and I kept coming up empty on clues to his whereabouts, as team leader I was taken aside in order to supposedly have more incentive instilled in me." The memory that Papa had helped her retrieve was a small mote of psychic agony - but she'd promised herself that she would tell him whatever he wanted to know. "The man who took over the Chairmanship from my father had me drugged and then made a subject in a reanimation experiment." At Paul's look of confusion, she closed her eyes briefly against the memory and asked, "Did you ever see the movie "Flatliners"?"

"Yeah..."

"Yeah." At his look of horror, she merely nodded. "When I was revived, I was told that this would happen again if I didn't start producing results - and maybe the next time, he wouldn't bring me back." Another tear hit the cheek, and then another. "Everyone I'd ever cared about was gone, and I had no way to defend myself against a man who wanted me dead..." She covered her mouth with her hand for a long moment while she at least got her emotions halfway back under control, after which she wiped at her eyes and looked at him directly. "I knew that I was going to die soon - so I stopped eating, stopped caring, gave up living. Then Papa came back and found me, and brought me here..."

"Geez!" Paul could see from the horrified expression in her eyes that this latest detail hadn't been just a story - that just retelling it had upset her greatly. He reached out a hand to her again. "They really did that to you?" She could only nod. "And these were the people you were afraid would find you if you told anyone..." She nodded again. "God! How do you sleep at night?"

"I don't," she answered bitterly. "You can ask Papa - I usually wake him up at around two in the morning just about every night with my screams."

"You ARE serious!"

He was starting to believe, and her nausea surged; but there was more that just HAD to be said. "I have said and done things, Paul, that no self-respecting person should ever have thought of, much less done. I am NOT all sweetness and light." Her voice had grown wispy, as if voicing her own self-judgment was almost more than she could bear. "I don't..." She looked at him, sitting there stunned and confused and very concerned. "You deserve better than me, Paul, and you don't deserve to be held to any kind of promise to be here when I get back from Delaware." She wiped away the tears that were threatening with a frustrated hand and then rose. "I should..."

He grabbed her hand before she could move an inch. "You should sit down and eat your lunch," he directed, not letting her pull away. "Don't you DARE run away from me yet - give me a chance to think my way through everything you just told me..."

"Paul..."

"Sit down, Parker." He looked up at her, her hand firmly in his control. "Please." When she still remained standing, he glanced around. "You don't want to cause a scene, do you?"

"That's blackmail," she complained after glancing around herself and then slipping back into her seat.

"As long as it works," Paul told her seriously, finally letting go of her hand. "Answer me this then: are you really interested in me - in US - or is that just a story too?"

Parker sighed and leaned her forehead into her hand. "If I weren't interested in you, I wouldn't bother trying to make sure you knew exactly what you were getting yourself in for with me," she told him in a frustrated tone. "I wouldn't have bothered telling you a truth that sounds more like the rantings of a crazy woman. I wouldn't have taken the chance that you'd tell me to take a hike." Her voice hitched, and then after a long moment, she sighed again. "I had nothing to gain by telling you this, Paul - and everything to lose. Yes, I'm interested. The question now is whether I've destroyed everything about US by telling you what you wanted to know."

Hazel eyes looked deeply into her grey, as if trying to measure how much he could believe the fantastic tale she'd just spilled into his ear. "God, Parker - you haven't destroyed anything, but..." He wiped a hand down his face. "You gotta admit that this all is pretty far-fetched..."

"I know," she said quietly, picking up her ice water and taking a sip to sooth a mouth suddenly gone quite dry. "I don't know that I would believe me either, if our roles were reversed."

"The stuff that you were able to tell me on Sunday - the stories you told Janine and me - that was the truth?"

She nodded and met his eye directly. "I don't like to lie, Paul. Except for those things that I just told you were about which you'd either been misled or lied to, everything I've told you has been the truth." She looked at him with a combination of frustration and sympathy. "Part of the reason I knew that the time was coming when you had to know everything was that some of the stories I was telling you about Daddy contradicted what you knew about the way Papa - Sydney - would behave. I knew I was confusing you. You had no way of knowing that Daddy and Papa were two different people."

"You can say THAT again," he nodded vigorously. "I can't imagine your fath... Sydney... leaving you in the lurch one Christmas after another. He has always been a man of his word - if he says that he's going to be in a place at a certain time, he's either there or I hear about why he's not going to make it as far ahead of time as he can call. And I've never seen his priorities be anywhere other than where mine would be - and that would be with you, with family." He chewed on his spaghetti for a while. "I'm glad to know that I hadn't misjudged him that badly after all."

"When Papa gives his word," Parker nodded, finally taking another bite of her salad and chewing carefully, "I know he doesn't break it under any circumstance - even when it would be better for HIM if he did. For example, he knew that my mother's suicide was faked - but because he promised her that he wouldn't ever tell me, I had to find it out on my own many years later." Her eyes darkened in memory. "I was so angry with him that day - I think that if he hadn't told me that he'd been keeping a promise to my mom, I'd have killed him."

"You don't really mean that..." Paul's voice died away as her gaze came up to meet his in deadly seriousness.

"I was a different person then," she told him calmly, but in a voice that had a whisper of cold steel behind it that he'd never heard before. "At the time, I was VERY capable of killing him - I even had my gun to his chest, if memory serves..." At his expression of shock, she shrugged. "I told you, I am NOT all sweetness and light. The kind of work the Centre wanted me to do couldn't be done by someone with many scruples."

"What about now?" he wanted to know. "Who are you now?"

She looked down into her food. "I honestly don't know," she answered in a soft voice. "Papa told me that I could begin a new life out here - and that's what I'm here to talk to Dr. Prouse about getting started. Before I came to work for the Centre, I graduated from law school - but never got to use my degree."

"And scruples?"

"I have them," she admitted, looking up. "Papa had been trying to teach them to me before I was sent away to boarding school - and even when we were working together - but now that I've been staying with him, I'm starting to see the reason for them. I'm not proud of the things I did as Miss Parker, Paul. I'm hoping I can make Parker Green a much more decent human being."

"Only hoping?"

She gave him a tiny look of chagrin. "I don't know her very well. She's still in the process of being born."

"Well, then let me tell you about the Parker Green I've come to know in these past few weeks," Paul said gently, reaching out to capture her free hand with his again. "She has a dark and mysterious past that she doesn't want to talk about very often, but she has her heart in the right place. She's been hurt very badly, and still she's willing to take risks to make a good new life for herself. She strikes me as a woman of integrity - someone who would make a very good friend."

"Paul..."

"And I'm very proud to say that somehow she's managed to catch my eye, and I've managed to catch hers." His hazel eyes began to glow. "I'm thinking that I still can't see any reason not to be here when she gets back from Delaware. If I have her father's example to live up to, then I guess I'd better get started, eh?"

When she looked up at him, her storm-grey eyes were swimming in tears. "You mean that?"

He leaned forward across the table and reached out a long arm so that he could cup a hand about her cheek. "I happen to agree with the notion that a person should never make a promise they don't intend to keep. So you listen to me very carefully, Mariel Parker Green, or whatever the hell you intend to have as your name when you get your paperwork straight. I promise you that I will be here waiting for you when you get home from Delaware and taking care of your little brother, nephew, or whatever the hell he is to you. I said I want you in my life - I meant it then, and I mean it now."

It took a while for Parker to compose herself to the point that she could speak without sounding like she was on the verge of tears again. "I was afraid you'd be angry with me - or not believe me."

He smiled at her. "I'm assuming that someday something will happen - someone like this friend of yours, Sam, will come to visit - and confirm what you've told me. And until then, pretty lady, I want to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"Why?" she asked him bluntly. "Why do you want to believe me?"

"Because," he hedged and then looked her directly in the eye. "OK. You told me some hard truths about you - here's one about me: I'm falling in love with you. I know that this is dangerous, letting my emotions get the better of my head..."

"I think I'm falling in love with you too," Parker confessed abruptly, the words tumbling unplanned and like unexpected pebbles into a pond. She blinked in surprise to hear herself, then looked at his directly. "I think I'm in love with you too," she repeated more softly. "It's too soon - you don't know me, I don't know..."

"Sometimes, Parker, we just have to go with these things," he replied with a quirky smile. "If your heart is anything like mine, it never listens to my logic or reason anyway."

"But I told Janine..."

"I heard all about what you told her," he told her, his smile getting wider. "And at the time, your assurance was enough to calm her fears. But she knows you a little bit now - and believe it or not, she genuinely likes you - which is a real accomplishment, BELIEVE me! You have no idea how many conversations I've had with her lately start out with the words, 'Do you think that Parker likes...!'"

"But she's running under the assumption that you and I wouldn't be trying to put anything together as far as a relationship was concerned for a long time... And I know how hard it is when a father starts to think about other women..."

His hand tightened around hers. "We'll just let things happen the way they're going to happen - and deal with Janine's reactions when we face them, OK?"

Her hand turned in his, and her fingers curled around his and squeezed gently. "OK."

"Now," Paul let her go so that he could continue eating his lunch, "you didn't have any OTHER bombshells to drop on me today, did you? Or can we enjoy the rest of our lunch in peace?"

~~~~~~~~*

Parker waited until Sydney had brought the silver sedan to a complete stop at the curb before she rose from the bench, and she held onto the packet of reading material that Dr. Prouse had given her so as not to lose a single one of the valuable papers. "I take it your day went better than you'd expected," Sydney smiled at her as she climbed into the seat next to him. He had been worried all afternoon long and had studied her face and movements as she'd walked over to the car. There was no upset in her face, no hesitation in her steps. She looked and moved as if she knew exactly what she was doing and was secure about it.

"Much better, thanks," she replied, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Paul is willing to give me the benefit of the doubt and didn't get angry..."

"See? I told you that I didn't think he'd be the kind of person who'd get angry with you," Sydney patted her hand and put the car into drive again. "Pardon me for being an “I told you so” today..."

"...And Dr. Prouse gave me all kinds of reading material to go through as well as a reading list to begin collecting sometime before next term. He's accepted my application to be included in the post-grad bar exam program to give me a chance to brush up on my law skills before actually sitting the exam."

Papa shifted the car into drive and pulled smoothly away from the curb. "I'd say this calls for a celebration of sorts. Where would you like to go for dinner?"

Parker leaned back against the headrest of her seat and thought for a minute. "Let's do Chinese - but let's order in, if you don't mind. I've been surrounded by more people today than I have since I came here, and I'm ready for some peace and quiet with just the two of us."

"Does being around a large number of people make you nervous now?" he asked, glancing in her direction. Was this something new just rising out of that seemingly bottomless well of despond that they had been patiently pumping dry?

"No," she replied quietly. "I just would like not to feel embarrassed if I suddenly decide I want a hug."

Papa reached down with his right hand and patted her left hand as it lay on the armrest between them. "Chinese take-out it is, then." He drove in silence across the bridge between Tempe and Scottsdale, feeling that she was relaxing and unwinding from more tension than she'd expected. Finally, as he eased the sedan around the corner and onto the boulevard that would take them home, he asked, "Tired?"

She nodded slowly. "I didn't think I would be, but I am." She glanced at him. "I'm sorry I'm not very good company right now."

He reached down and patted her hand again. "That isn't something you have to apologize for, Parker. I'd have been surprised if you hadn't been completely exhausted, the way you were keying yourself up for your talk with Paul." She was quiet next to him as he drove into the parking lot of their favorite Chinese restaurant. "What do you want?"

"You're just going to have steamed vegetables again?" He nodded. "Then get me some egg drop soup. I'm not very hungry, and that will be just enough for now."

Papa frowned slightly and covered her hand with his. "Are you OK, sweetheart?" he asked gently. "You haven't wanted just soup for a while now..."

"Believe it or not," she said with a small smile turned in his direction, "but ever since that first night here, I've thought of egg drop soup as a kind of comfort food. When my mind has put me through hell, the only thing I want to eat to unwind is egg drop soup. Besides, I really don't travel well on a full stomach - and I don't want to leave leftovers in the fridge when we take off tomorrow. A mug of soup to get me going will be just right."

"Worried about going back to Delaware?" he asked then.

She nodded again. "I know the fear is just in my mind - that there really isn't anything back there that will hurt me. But until I get there and see it for myself..."

He patted her hand again. "We'll talk about this more when we get home," he told her gently. "I'll be right back."

Parker watched Papa walk resolutely toward the glass door of the restaurant with a fond smile on her face and then leaned her head back against the headrest and let her eyes fall closed. It was a month, almost to the day, since Sydney, her former colleague, had brought her back with him after dragging her out of that bleak cemetery where she'd been mourning for a mother not buried there and waiting to die. It had taken him a month of nearly non-stop counseling and therapy and comforting to take the zombie he'd found in the cemetery and turn her back into a functioning human being with a life and a future.

And now, here she was. Her old friend Sydney had become her Papa and loved her in a way she'd only dreamed of being loved by a parent. Papa would go back with her to Delaware and be her support while she would put a very final end to her old life, literally and figuratively, by having him legally adopt her into a new one as his daughter in fact. And then, with the old life finished, her Papa would once more bring her home with him, this time to stay for good. This WAS her home now, and Papa her only real family. After a lifetime of want and loneliness, it was more than enough.

And now there would even be a tall college professor waiting anxiously for her return - a man who was beginning to love her in a way she'd only started to understand with Thomas, a man with a pretty daughter who was already beginning to look up to her. Paul at least now knew the truth of who she'd been once and for some reason still wanted to try to make their relationship work - he'd been very clear about the fact that he'd fallen in love with the woman she was NOW. His oh-so-gentle kiss goodbye at Dr. Prouse's door that afternoon had been bursting with hopefulness and optimism, despite the ugliness she'd dumped into his ear. She would miss his imposing tallness at her side, his never-fail ability to make her smile, while she was back east putting an end to her old life. But she had Paul to come home to - and the thought made her feel warm inside. She took a long, deep breath and let herself relax for a long moment into the reality of that new life that was just waiting her return to start in earnest.

Papa opened the car door and handed the small cardboard box with their meals across to her before climbing in. "Ready?" he asked as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Let's go home," she said quietly. "It's been a long day."

He didn't answer, but simply pulled the sedan from its parking place and nosed it back onto the boulevard, heading homeward.

"I love you, Papa." Somehow Parker doubted that she'd ever get tired of telling him that.

"I love you too, ma petite." And she knew she'd NEVER get tired of hearing him say that. That sentence had saved her life.

The rest of the drive to the complex was a quiet one, and yet the silence was not an uncomfortable one. That which she had so dreaded was now behind her, and only a long transcontinental flight and a list of legal formalities were left to deal with. Papa led the way back up the stairs and opened the door for her since she was carrying the food.

She followed him into the kitchen and set the cardboard box on the counter while Papa began pulling dishes and eating utensils from their places in cupboards and drawers. Parker filled the teakettle with water for tea and then moved the little plate with the seemingly endless supply of shortbread cubes out of the way. Her eyes caught his as she moved the plate to the far side of the table. "Dessert," she smiled at him.

"I'm surprised you're not sick of the stuff by now," he smiled back. "I've fed you enough of that these past weeks..."

"Egg drop soup and shortbread," Parker mused. "Helluva recipe for health, Papa - but it worked."

"You're in a strange mood tonight, cheri..."

She sat down and began sorting through the white paper containers. "I know - I was just thinking that it was just a month ago today that you and I shared a meal very much like this one..."

Papa snorted. "I don't think “share” is the proper word for what happened that night," he chuckled, then grew serious again. "You've come a long way since then," he said as he joined her, his eyes warm.

"I don't think I've ever said "thank you" for everything you've done..."

"Parker," he stopped her, "what's going on? You're talking like something's ending."

"It is." She looked at him. "This is the last time we'll sit at this table as just friends or former colleagues who merely feel like family. The next supper we have together at this table, you'll be my father for real. My name really WILL be Parker Green. I don't know if you understand just how much that means to me."

"I think I do," he said, his voice grown husky with emotion. "At least as much as it means to me."

"Then you know why I need to say "thank you" now. You saved my life - and my sanity." She reached out and touched the plain silver ring that had graced his right pinky finger since she put it there.

He caught her fingers with his and held on. "That's what fathers are supposed to do. It was my privilege - and honor." He squeezed and then let go so that he could begin dishing up his own meal. "Now, ma petite, tell me what you're feeling afraid of about going back to Delaware."

She looked up from carefully pouring some of her soup into a mug. "I love you, Papa."

"I love you too, Parker, but you didn't answer me..."

The Visit - by MMB

Chapter 12 - Epilogue


"Mom! It's Grandpa on the phone. He said Sam called and is already down there, waiting for us; and wants to know if you want Sandy to pick up anything from the store on the way to the park? Have we forgotten anything?"

"Tell him we need sodas - and ICE!" Parker called back to her stepdaughter, still struggling to get the tee shirt on her three-year-old daughter over her swimsuit. "And then tell him that Trisha is being difficult again, and that we might be just a little bit late getting there after picking up Tommy."

"Mommy! It's too warm..." the dark-haired imp was insisting, trying to squirm out of her mother's patient grasp.

"No, it isn't," Parker insisted, finally having success pulling a hand through a sleeve. "The breeze is chilly today, and you're just getting over a cold. It's a tee shirt, or you don't get to turn on the water spouts."

"Mom..." a deep voice sounded behind her.

"Daddy!"

Parker took advantage of her little girl being distracted by her father coming into the room to pop the second arm down a sleeve. She stood and swung the child up into her arms and then held her out to Paul to take. "Here," she said, brushing curls back out of her face and letting her breath out noisily. "You get urchin-duty today."

"Oh, thanks a lot," the tall man grinned down at his wife, never failing to admire the way she could handle both teenager and preschooler while nearly seven months pregnant. "I just came into see if you're ready yet."

"I just need my suntan lotion," she puffed, then pushed past him into the hallway toward their bedroom where she'd left the tube on nightstand when she'd found it earlier.

"Here," she heard Paul hand off Trisha to her older sister so that he could follow. "Parker?"

She turned, and her storm-grey eyes were glowing. "I'm OK - really. Just excited."

Paul patiently took the lotion from her hands and began spreading it across her shoulders and down her upper arms. From the heightened color in her cheeks and ready smile on her face, excited didn't begin to describe her. "You'd think you hadn't seen any of these people for decades, sweetheart."

"I haven't seen Sam since his wedding," she protested as his huge hands came to rest on her shoulders, "or Deb since her graduation from high school."

"I think you just like playing hooky from the office every once in a while - especially on a nice, warm summer afternoon." Paul bent and nuzzled into his wife's neck the way he knew would get him a response. "Even your Dad's starting to fuss at me to talk you into not going in on Saturday mornings anymore."

She patted the bulge in her middle. "Trust me, I'm not going to be going into the office at ALL after a bit. We're going to be a single paycheck family soon enough. "

"Touché," he chuckled at her. "C'mon. Everybody's waiting for us."

The two of them walked out of the bedroom to where Janine was waiting for them next to the stack of grocery bags and wicker picnic basket. Without a word, Paul reached out and whipped the cap from his oldest daughter's head and turned it around so that the visor was in front where it belonged. "Dad..." was the immediate complaint.

"Don't." was the firm response, backed by a shake of the head from Parker when the girl looked to her for backing. "Not today, OK?"

Janine's face folded into a frustrated grimace as she bent to pick up her share of the load. Parker bent with her, putting her dark curls down near her stepdaughter's long, straight locks. "Just for today, OK?" she bargained with the girl earnestly. "I'll talk to him about it tonight."

"Mom, you KNOW that I'm not..."

"Yes, I know you're not - but your cooperation today would go a long way toward helping me convince him not to land on you so hard about it all the time. What do you say?"

Green eyes not completely lacking in suspicion took the measure of her stepmother's intent. "OK, but you PROMISE you'll talk to him?"

"I promise, baby."

Janine sighed and then straightened with several bags snared to her arm. She gave her father a frustrated glare and then headed out the front door and down the stairs two at a time. "One of these days you're going to fall down those steps and break your neck if you keep taking them like that," Paul called after her.

"Ease up on her, honey," Parker put a hand on his arm around his youngest daughter. "She does that only because it's the only way she can rebel right now. I swear, I need to get you two Nerf bats or boxing gloves this Christmas at this rate!"

"And I thought fourteen was a tough age for her," he grumbled, then gave his littlest girl a squeeze. "Whatcha say we go to the park and have some FUN?"

"Yeah!" Trisha crowed happily.

~~~~~~~~

Sam, ever the athlete, had even remembered to bring a Frisbee. While Deb and Janine took Trisha over to the wading pool to cool off in the water, Paul, Broots and his new wife Sandy and Sam and Sam's new wife Becky spread out across the grass by their picnic site to play a rowdy game of catch. Sydney and Parker both bowed out of the game, each for their own health reasons, to set up for the meal and rest in the shade. A shy and retiring eight-year-old boy sat on the grass at their feet, his attention divided between the raucous game and the bugs crawling through the grass.

"How are you feeling?" Papa inquired as Parker finally took her seat next to him to watch the antics of the other adults, her hand smoothing across her bulging tummy. "Everything OK?"

She glanced at him indulgently, sitting next to her with his still-customary beret perched jauntily on an even balder head over thin-wired sunglasses. "I'm fine, Papa - the baby's just active today." She gazed out at her family. "Hard to imagine six years ago that one day we'd be doing this, isn't it?"

He chuckled and put his arm around her shoulder. "Unimaginable is more like it," he responded as he patted her far shoulder. "Have you heard the news yet - Becky's expecting too."

Parker turned and stared at her Papa. "Already?" she breathed with eyebrows flying high on her forehead. "That didn't take them long..."

"He waited long enough to marry the girl, ma petite - I'm not surprised they decided to start their family right away."

"Did he tell you that his brother has opened a branch office up farther north, and he and Becky are thinking of relocating to Ventura?"

"Thinking about it - Becky admitted that they're already looking for a house between Ventura and Ojai." Papa smiled - it wasn't often that he was more up to date on the family gossip and developments than his daughter was. He blinked as a pink rubber ball from a family game a few picnic sites away from them bounced up to his feet. Tommy started badly and then bent to retrieve it and hand it up to the old man sitting next to his half-sister. "Thank you, Tommy," Papa said gently, taking the ball with one hand and smoothing the boy's hair back with the other.

"Uh... mister? Did you see my ball?"

Sydney handed the preschooler the ball with an easy smile. "Here you go," he said.

"Tell the nice man “thank you,” Josh," spoke a deeper voice from behind the picnic table - a deep voice that neither Parker nor Sydney had heard for years. Both turned as if electrified.

"Jarod?" Parker was the first to get past her complete shock to speak, while Papa sat next to her with his jaw agape.

"Parker?" The tall, dark-haired man did a double-take, then looked at the older man sitting next to her. "Sydney? My God, is that you?"

Parker rose slowly and moved into arms that were held out to her and then hugged her very gently. Jarod pushed back and looked down at the bulge in her middle. "Seven months?"

"Almost," she answered, letting him go so that he could put out a hand to pull her Papa to his feet and embrace him too. She looked out across the grass and saw that the Frisbee game had come to a halt while Sam and Broots stared at the commotion near their tables and Paul frowned and began to walk toward her. "Paul, Broots, Sam! You'll never guess who we just found!"

"Oh my God!" Broots gasped. "Jarod!"

"Paul," Parker bubbled at her husband the moment he came close enough for her to grab onto, "I'd like you to meet Jarod. Jarod, this is my husband, Paul Ruiz."

Paul studied the face of a man about whom he'd heard plenty in the years since he and Parker had begun seeing each other. "So you're the friend she played with all those years ago - the genius?" he asked cautiously, putting out a hand.

Jarod chuckled and shook the offered hand heartily. "So they tell me, and yes, I grew up with Parker." He shook Broots' hand next. "Good to see you again, Mr. Broots."

"You too, Jarod. I always wondered where you'd gotten to."

"Where's Deb?"

"Over there," Parker pointed, turning to look at the wading pond. "With my daughters Janine and Trisha. Trisha's the one screaming..." She turned back and couldn't help but notice a somewhat shy little boy sidling close to Jarod's pantsleg, much as Tommy was trying to hide behind Sydney's pantsleg. "And who's this?"

"This," Jarod said, swooping down and hauling the child up in his arms, "is my son Josh. Say hello to the nice lady, son..."

"You're living here in the area now?" Sydney demanded, sitting back down again with a slightly pale face.

"Papa?" Parker was immediately attentive. "Where are your pills?"

Sydney waved her off with a casual hand even as he fumbled in a breast pocket for the little pillbox that held his supply of nitroglycerine tabs. "Damned angina," he grumbled in a low voice.

Jarod moved to sit down next to his mentor and watched the older man take his medicine with a concerned look on his face. "My wife and I moved to Phoenix about six months ago - we just found out about this park a week ago. Sydney..." His eyes flicked quickly between his mentor's face and the pale face of the little boy who hung on Sydney as if for dear life.

"Well, I'll be damned." Sam joined the group with his arm around his petite wife's shoulder. "I always knew that the Lab-rat would show up again one of these days..."

"Lab-rat?" Becky repeated, gazing up into her husband's face in confusion. "What?"

"It's an old nickname - one that I'd hoped had been forgotten," Jarod smiled at the pretty little blonde and then gazed up into the huge ex-sweeper's face. "Hi, Sam. Long time no see."

"Your wife?" Sydney was craning his neck to look past Broots in the direction the ball had come originally.

"Yeah. Laura and I met when I helped her father with an accountant that was bleeding him dry, and we just hit it off..." The Pretender turned and waved at someone in the distance, then put his son back down on the ground. "Josh, go tell Mommy to come over here, OK?"

The little boy collected his ball from the ground and set off at a trot for his mother. Jarod returned his attention to his former mentor. "Sydney, you're having trouble with your heart?" he asked again, obviously not willing to take silence for an answer.

"Papa had another heart attack last year," Parker spoke up, knowing how reluctant her Papa was to discuss his own health of late. "We're having a hard time getting him to take it easy lately."

"Fuss and bother," Sydney waved his hand again dismissively. "I want to hear more about YOU. What are you doing now?"

"I actually stayed in one place long enough to do my degree in psychology and counseling," Jarod admitted with a shy smile. "Of course, I had a reason to stay put for a while - Laura was pregnant with Josh. But lately, I work with children in the foster care program here. I just transferred in." He bent forward and touched Tommy's head very gently, making the boy start and snuggle in closer to Sydney again. "Who's this?"

"My half-brother, Tommy," Parker told him, moving to sit next to Sydney and provide her semi-autistic little brother with just a bit more protection. "Raines got to him." Her eyes told him the rest.

Jarod swallowed hard. "God, Parker, I didn't know..."

"He's much better than he was at first," Sydney explained in a soft voice that had the boy looking up and finding comfort, as was the intent. "We've been able to take him out with the family on picnics for about a year now - and he's slowly socializing." Sydney's face pinched slightly. "He still doesn't talk, however, and he tends to stick fairly close to Parker and myself when out in the open like this."

Jarod watched his former mentor's fingers thread themselves gently and repeatedly through the boy's close-shorn locks. Then his dark eyes found Parker's. "What else have you been doing with yourself lately, besides raising a family and taking care of little brother?"

"I've been working for the public defender's office for the last two years," she told him as Paul found a seat next to her and gathered her close to him yet again. "But I'm going on indefinite leave in about eight weeks."

"I should hope so!" Sydney spouted from his seat, and Jarod chuckled at the paternal defensiveness displayed so carelessly.

"Jarod?" a shy voice spoke from behind the crowd, which then parted to reveal a tall and thin woman with her hand held carefully in her son's. "Josh said you wanted me over here?"

Jarod stood and looked around at the group of people he'd tripped over so suddenly. "You know how I told you that there were some people who were very important to me a long time ago - and that someday I'd find them so you could meet them?" He smiled at her. "Well, this is Sydney, the man who raised me. Sydney, this is my wife, Laura." He barely waited for the two to shake hands before he was leading her on. "And this was my best friend, Parker."

Laura's thin eyebrows could fly up a forehead with almost as much skill as Parker's ever could. "You mean, the infamous MISS Parker?"

Broots snorted in amusement and Sam chortled heartily. Even Parker gave a soft chuckle. "Just plain Parker now," she corrected, putting out her hand. "So you're the one who finally caught him?"

Laura gazed down at the woman her husband had always told her was intimidating and cold and found that she had a wonderful sense of humor. "Took some work," she admitted to her husband's former huntress, then looked up into the face of the man who had put a very protective and slightly jealous arm around her. "You don't look like you did too badly for yourself either though..."

Parker's arm tightened possessively around her husband's waist. "I was lucky," she said fondly as she patted a knee. "He practically fell into my lap."

Jarod stood and put his arm around his wife in a mirror gesture of Paul's, but his eyes dove into Parker's. "Are you happy?" he asked softly.

She nodded and leaned against Paul reassuringly. "And you?"

Jarod kissed the top of his wife's head. "Very much so." He glanced over at Sydney. "You call him Papa now?"

"He adopted me legally years ago," she explained. "He got me out of there, and saved my life."

"He got you out of there?"

"He came back for me." Parker didn't want to dampen the jovial mood. "And then he gave me 24/7 therapy until I was ready to live again." She did, however, have one question for her former nemesis. "Tell me, though - Broots told me once that you waited for some “loose ends” to be taken care of. Did you mean..."

"When you disappeared, I was hoping that it was because you'd finally woke up and got the hell out of there," Jarod admitted, "but I couldn't find out where you'd gone to. You left very little by way of paper trail, you know. All those years before that, I always knew where you were - and suddenly you dropped off the face of the earth. Yeah. You were my loose end. I waited until I thought you were safe." He looked back and forth between her and Sydney. "You came to live with Sydney and changed your name to his. No wonder I couldn't find you - I never imagined you'd ever accept anybody's help getting out of that hell-hole."

Paul's arm tightened around his wife. Even though she was with people who knew what she'd been through, he knew how much she hated to be reminded of those days. "Sydney kept her safe," he told the tall Pretender firmly, "until I could take over for him."

Parker patted his knee again, knowing that, despite his bravado, Paul was feeling just a little threatened by the reality of a man who probably knew his wife even better than he did. Once she had his attention again, she leaned into him, letting him know by her closeness that he had nothing to worry about, wrapping his hand across her belly so that he could feel the movements of their child as yet more reassurance. She had told him about Jarod long ago, before their marriage - told him everything about their closeness and decades-long relationship - and hopefully after today, he'd never have to wonder about whether he'd lose her to this old flame again.

"And we're all safe now," Broots told them quietly. "All of us."

"Mommy! Mommy! Janinie pushed me in the water and Debbie jus' laughed!" Trisha came streaking across the grass from the wading pool, water dripping from her hair and suit.

Parker was ready for her with a towel in which to wrap her daughter the moment she was close enough to grab. "Come here, imp - I want you to meet someone." She presented her daughter to her best friend. "Trisha, this is Jarod, someone Mommy knew when she was very young. And this is Laura, his wife."

"Hi," the child chirped in a small voice. "Mommy, I sit with Grandpa now?"

"You come and sit with Grandpa now," Sydney held up his arms for his granddaughter and then looked at Jarod with twinkling eyes.

"Grandpa," the Pretender repeated, then bent to his own son. "Do you know who that is?" he asked the boy. Josh shook his head solemnly. "That's your Daddy's mentor - someone just as important as any Grandpa. That's..." he thought for a moment, "...Grandpa Sydney."

"Hello, Josh," Sydney greeted the little boy very graciously, then looked up into his former protégé's face. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Jarod nodded at him firmly. "If you don't mind..."

Sydney looked around him, and then up into his daughter's face. "Of course not. We are all family here, after all."

He had thought the happiest moment of his life was the day he'd signed his name on the paper that had made Parker legally his, or the day that he'd walked her down the aisle to be married to his best friend. But this day would forever be right up there with those two others - for this was the day he got his other child back.

Contented beyond all measure with one wet grandchild on his lap and another sitting shyly and inquisitively close by, Sydney watched his family make room for the new additions. Broots and Sam accompanied Jarod to fetch his picnic supplies to add to the group's while Parker, Becky and Sandy did their best to make Laura feel at home.

His gaze impacted with Parker's over the top of Trisha's head as the women began to ready the food for serving, and he could almost hear her voice in his head: "I love you, Papa."

"I love you too, ma petite," he mouthed silently back at her, and saw her smile.


FIN.