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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
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.
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.
